#I’ll draw the other part of your request some other time when I have better skills hahaha

[lindonwald]

for @lactodebillus-bulgaricus who asked for bul + medieval (I tried haha,,,,,)

[thatanimeramenchick]

Yandere Vox x Secretary Reader Part One

No one asked for this, but whatever. Bite me. I’ll get to the asks, I swear

3,516 words

Part Two - Part Three

–-

The last thing you wanted was to draw attention to yourself. In a place like hell, where the worst of society sunk together and only somehow seemed to get worse, it was a good idea to not catch other people’s eyes. If their eyes were on you, it was almost never for a good reason.

So when you decided to start working, it made sense you would do something quiet and in the background like data filing for a large media company. While there were many more unsavory jobs that paid more, you wanted to avoid the obvious and dangerous crime life of hell as much as possible in your daily life. You had had enough of being unwillingly tied up in that kind of stuff when you were alive. You might as well spend your eternity in some type of peace, or at least as much as someone in hell can get.

So, you made sure you were presentable as you walked into Voxtekk on your first day to work, dressed simple business attire and keeping a quiet demeanor.

“There you are!” said who you presumed was your new boss, a short man with glasses and a blue hair dye, “Was wondering if you were going to show up!”

“Sorry,” you said, “The traffic was bad.”

“Well, you better get used to leaving early,” he said, “Traffic is always a bitch in this part of Pentagram City.”

He continued to speak as he led you to the elevator.

“So, I’ve been told you have a lot of experience with this sort of thing on earth,” he said.

“Yes, I did library work while I was alive,” you said.

And some smuggling. Especially with weapons.

You didn’t think it would be necessary to tell him that though. The job had come in handy though by giving you a knack for remembering where things were.

“Good, good,” he said, “I expect you’ll be able to figure out how to do this on your own then.”

He led you to a room that was filled with file drawers as well as a large computer off to the side.

“There’s thousands, if not millions, of files in here, both physically and digitally. It’ll be your responsibility to make sure that everything new brought in gets put in its proper place, as well as that anything that is requested can be easily found,” he said, “As the biggest media company in hell, it’s important that we know at all times where every piece of information or media can be located.”

It was overwhelming, like the world’s largest and most complicated library. It made your head spin a little looking at it all, but you always liked a challenge.

“You think you can handle it?” he asked.

You nod with some confidence, though you don’t quite feel it. This was going to take some getting used to.

“I hope for both our sakes you’re right,” he said, “Last filer I hired couldn’t tell left from right and Vox fried me to a crisp. Took me a good week before I was able to regenerate properly.”

Crap, that sounded bad. Note to self, don’t let that happen to you.

“I think I’ll be all right,” you said.

---

It was a bit overwhelming the first few weeks. You were competent enough to keep things in order though. Your experience was paying off, and you weren’t hearing any complaints or news about any assistants getting fried, so you supposed you were doing your job well enough.

Within two months of starting your job, you finally met the rumored big man himself. He had come in one day, visibly in a bad mood as he walked over to your desk, a man trailing behind him.

“I don’t know why I even pay you morons,” he said, “I have to hear important information secondhand from fucking Valentino because you can’t be bothered to keep up with what’s happening in hell.”

“Look, sir, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to not tell you,” he said, “I just didn’t think you’d care.”

Vox had stormed over to your desk.

“So you KNEW and thought it would be a good idea to just not tell me at all?” he said.

“T-that’s not it! I just-”

Vox held up a hand to interrupt him before turning to you.

“I want the file we have in here on Alastor,” he said, a static buzz of irritation on the last word, “Now.”

“Of course, sir,” you said.

You hurried over to the file cabinet and quickly located it.

“See, not everyone around here is as useless as you are,” Vox said to his other employee.

You saw the hapless employee mutter something under his breath out of the corner of your eye, and before you knew it a chain had appeared and Vox yanked him closer.

“What was that?” he said

“N-nothing, sir!” said the now visibly sweating employee.

A shock went through the poor guy before Vox released him.

“Useless,” he said, “You know what? I think you need some time learning exactly who is in charge around here.”

Vox pointed a clawed finger at you.

“You,” he said, “It’s your lucky day, kid. You wanna promotion?”

“Um… yes?” you said.

“Great. Samuel, have fun in janitorial work for the next decade,” he said, “You’re being replaced. What’s your name?”

“F/N,” you said.

“Hope you have customer service experience as well as filing,” he said, “You’re moving up to my office. Need someone with a functioning brain to run the front desk. Pack up!”

You hesitated for a minute before grabbing the stuff under your desk. You figured the last thing you wanted to do was piss this guy off more than he already looked.

---

Despite him being in such a bad mood that first day, you soon found that most of the time Vox was relatively calm, at least compared to what you heard about the other employers in this building. While he at times could get pretty irritated with things, especially if a certain never-to-be-named demon was brought up by an idiot intern, he rarely took it out on you. He usually took the daily bothers of running the company in stride.

Besides that, running a front desk of an office wasn’t too different than running the front desk at the library. You didn’t have to do near as much organizing in terms of files, but you still did spend a lot of time making sure that everything in Vox’s life was organized from his meetings to when he had lunch.

He didn’t talk much with you outside of work related stuff, which is why you were so surprised when you found out what he was doing one day.

It was a nice enough morning, at least as much as a nice morning can be in hell. You took a sip of your coffee briefly as you stretched and looked out your office window. While you missed the blue sky of earth, the red sky of hell had its own sort of charm you supposed. You glanced down, looking at the people walking back and forth, small as ants. Running around willy nilly. Someone was moving into the building that afternoon, a common occurrence here, as you had heard talk that Valentino liked to keep his employees in close quarters. Seems like they had a similar taste in furniture to your own. Almost frighteningly so.

Except… wait. Was that your sofa? And your dresser? Your bookshelves? You lowered your coffee to the windowsill as you squinted down at your entire catalog of furniture being moved into the building. Something wasn’t right.

You knocked on your boss’s door and entered in a bit of a rush as you heard him say to come in.

“Vox, what on earth is going on?” you asked, trying not to sound panicked.

“F/N, that could be ten different things. I need you to be more specific,” he asked, his tone nonchalant as he didn’t even look up from his phone.

“I just saw what I’m pretty sure was all my belongings being moved into the building,” you said.

“Oh yes, that. Well, I had wanted to surprise you, but I guess it’s too late for that,” he said, somewhat absently, “I hate that you have to take such a long commute to the other side of town. And I know all the apartments there are so run down, I figured I’d just move you into the studio like a lot of our other valued staff.”

What? While it was true your apartment was kind of rinky dinky, it was yours. And you liked the privacy and soft solitude it offered after work. Besides, you didn’t like the idea of your boss just moving you willy nilly without your permission. Still, you didn’t want to show him you were upset.

“Vox, you don’t have to do this,” you said, “I’m ok with where I’m at. I don’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble at all. Think of it as a courtesy as my secretary,” he said.

You could feel your entire face tighten as you got more frustrated. Some of it was probably starting to show, despite your best efforts.

“I never asked for this though,” you said, trying to tread carefully, “and I like my old apartment. I… I don’t really want this...”

“But you do want this,” he said, finally looking up at you, “You want to be in a nicer apartment, closer to work, safer, don’t you? You always want to be here.”

That… You supposed that was true. Something about his tone soothed you, sent a pleasant lull through your skull and made your body relax as he looked in your eyes. Your protests now seemed a bit foolish and childish. In all honesty, you supposed it just made sense that you move in to the studio. Everything you needed was here, truly, why would you want to live away from here? You did want a nicer apartment without the stressful commute.

“O-ok,” you said, a small uncomfortable feeling of doubt still in your stomach, “Yeah. That’s true. I do want to be here more… closer to the office...”

He smiled at that and walked over to you. He placed an arm around you, guiding you back to your own office.

“Of course you do! And besides I already had them move everything here, so why don’t you just go back to work, and they’ll have finished moving everything in by the time your shift is done,” Vox said, “I guarantee once you’ve had time to think it through you’ll be glad we did it.”

“If you say so,” you said.

As he walked you back to your desk, he continued his calming chatter.

“That’s a good girl. You and I both have a lot of work today, anyway, so I think we can agree that you should just focus on that for now,” he said as he nudged over to your desk.

You sat down and turned to the planner on your desk as you heard your boss walk into his personal office and closed the door. You just stare blankly for a good minute, feeling a little light, like you were on Zoloft before shaking your head back and forth. Might as well just go back to work. You could think more about this later.

---

It had been happening so slowly. One day, week, month at a time, Vox was implementing himself into your life inch by inch, despite the fact that the two of you weren’t bound on paper. He had moved you into the building, where you knew that you were almost constantly on camera. He kept you so loaded down with work you barely had a social life anymore, with no time to hang out with friends or date. The pay was ok, you supposed, but it felt minuscule compared to the amount of work he was expecting you to do on a daily basis.

And then there was the… weirder things that had been happening. Whenever you tried to talk to him, he had a way of getting you to forget about whatever it was you were upset about, at least for a little while. But it would always come back eventually, and as you thought about it more, it irritating you that he was dismissing your concerns.

You hadn’t really noticed it until he had gone on vacation for a week with the other Vees. You had been quite busy with work, but without him there to calm you down whenever your “concerns” came up, you realized that maybe you had let your priorities get a little askew. You needed a career change.

So, perhaps against your better judgment, a few days after he had returned, you had left a two weeks notice on his desk before he came in. It only took about fifteen minutes after he came in for him to summon you to his office.

“F/N? What is this?” he asked, holding out the letter.

“It’s my resignation,” you said, trying to sound steady and confident.

“I’m sorry… your what?” he said

“I-I regret to inform you that I will be moving out and relocating to the Doomsday Sector in two weeks,” you said, “I appreciate all that you’ve done here for me as I worked here, but I am making a career change.”

He looked baffled for a second, like he couldn’t believe what you were saying before chuckling a little.

“No, you’re not,” he said, “You don’t want to leave he-”

“Stop!” you yelled out with more force than you intended.

As soon as he had started speaking that familiar fuzzy feeling had entered your mind, and you had closed your eyes, shaking your head. You didn’t want him talking you out of this.

“I-I’m sorry,” you said, as you reopened your eyes, but didn’t really look at him, “But I don’t want to talk about this.”

It was awkwardly silent for a minute.

“Is it a pay thing?” he finally asked, “Because that can be adjusted. You do good work. I certainly wouldn’t mind paying you more.”

“It’s not a pay thing,” you said, “It’s not anything. I-I don’t want to talk about this, so I’m going to go-”

“You’re not leaving!” he said, slamming his fist on his desk.

You jumped, a little surprised at his reaction. While you knew he wouldn’t be thrilled, you hadn’t expected him to be so volatile. He was always so calm and collected that this kind of reaction to something so minuscule confused you.

“Vox, I know you like my work, but I think you’re overreacting a little bit,” you said.

“Overreacting?” he said, looking pissed, “Overreacting?!”

He grasped at the air, a look of surprise entering his face when no chain appeared. You look at him bewildered. Had he really just tried to…?

“Vox, we don’t have a contract?” you said, “Did you forget that?”

Had he really gotten so comfy with you that he thought that you were another one of his little pets? To hell with the two week notice, you were going today.

“I think I should go back to work,” you said.

He didn’t say anything as you went back to your desk. You finished filing information extra fast that day, doing a bit of a sloppy job. As soon as it was noon, you left for what appeared to be a lunch break, but you had decided was actually going to be your escape.

This situation was getting uncomfortable. You hurried to your room and haphazardly threw clothes and necessities into your suitcase. Anything you left behind on accident you would just have to replace. On a final note, you shoved your wallet into your back pocket and walked over to the door.

Except it didn’t open. The nob didn’t even turn when you yanked on it. You tried it a few times, to no avail.

“Dammit,” you murmured under your breath, and you pounded your fist on the door.

You were about ready to start kicking it when you heard a burst of static behind you. You turned to see your boss coming in through the camera system. While it had always been an eerie feature to your arrangements, it was a million more times so to see Vox using it to his full advantage.

“What the hell is going on?” you asked.

“I should be the one asking that,” he said, “Just where do you think you’re going?”

“None of your damn business!” you said, “I don’t know what security you have on this door, but you better take it off now or-”

“Or?” he asked.

Now it was your turn to look tense as he gave you a self-satisfied smirk. You could feel your face flushing in a quiet rage as he spoke. Though you were hiding them behind your back, you could feel your fists clenching, as well as the shape of you mouth hardening.

“Vox, you are being ridiculous! We don’t even have a contract! I’m not bound to you, so you can’t keep me here,” you said.

He cocked his head at you, raising an eyebrow, “Oh really now?”

Something about the nonchalance in his tone only pissed you off more.

“Yes, really!” you yelled, “I’m not staying here. I’m leaving whether you want me to or not.”

“And just how do you expect to do that?” asked Vox, “Jump out the window? I mean you could splatter yourself on the ground, but it’d be a bit rude considering I’ll have to send some unlucky interns to scrape you off the pavement and put you back in your room until you regenerate.”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in and clenching and unclenching your hands with an unnecessary amount of force. You tried to calm your voice down.

“Vox, I understand that you like the work I do for you, but you’re being ridiculous,” you said.

���You think this about work?” he said, “F/N, don’t act stupid. I can get a new secretary anytime I want, ten secretaries. You and I both know that’s not what this is about.”

You looked at him confused. It wasn’t?

“For someone who is so smart with data, you are being so unbelievably slow right now.”

He advanced on you, causing you to shrink against the frame of the door as he leaned over you. He pushed you against the wall and gripped your chin in his hand, forcing you to look him in the eye. It all happened in a flash, too fast to register, and before you could realize it, he was pulling you into a rough kiss.

It wasn’t what you had expected, though it wasn’t as if you had thought a lot about what kissing your boss would feel like. On the rare occasions when you had wondered about it, you had assumed kissing Vox would be like kissing the screen of a laptop. Apparently though, he had a literal working mouth as you could clearly tell from the sensation of his tongue and even teeth connecting with your own. Your chin ached in his firm grip, which could have been more tender if it didn’t feel like he was keeping you from turning your face away. You tried to do so, but he didn’t even seem to notice it, he was so preoccupied.

He held you like this for a good two or three minutes, his saliva coating your mouth. Though it was barely there, you could feel a slight buzz to it, as if some of his electricity was in his fluids. He finally released you though, some of his spit getting on your lips as he removed himself. A sigh filled the air as your lips parted.

“Even better than I thought it would be,” he murmured

He shifted a bit and was leaning in for another kiss when you kicked him in the shins.

“Ow!” he said, releasing you and giving you time to dart away.

You had moved in a burst to the other side of the room, glaring at him with what you hoped was resentment. There was also something else though. A feeling of deep rooted anxiety and fear was stirring in full force, despite the fact that over the past few months you had been pushing it down as much as possible. You hoped he couldn’t see the weakness in you.

Whether he did or not though, you could tell he was visibly pissed for a minute. He finally got his features under control, but as he spoke his tone held all of the avarice that had left his face.

“Whatever,” he said, “Contract or not, you’re still mine, and you’re not going anywhere until you accept that. Throw a tantrum if you want to, but you’re stuck here.”

You watched as he went back into the camera system as easily as he had come. You curled up on the floor, burying your face in your arms.

[monzabee]

lean on you – cl16

masterlist

Summary: The one where you learn to lean on Charles more than you thought you ever could.

Pairing: charles leclerc x medstudent!reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: it’s been a while since i went to an actual hospital, so that, and also worried charles, mentions of sickness and vomiting, also mentions of food poisoning

Request: “Hiiii! I don’t know if you still accept request😅 but I have something in my mind if you are open to it, like the reader is quite sick before Charles’ race, he wanted to stay to take care of her but she insisted that he go on with the race and that she’ll be fine. But during the race, Charles’ got a call that she have been taken to the hospital by Lorenzo since she almost passed out. Charles went straight to the hospital and bit mad and angry at her being so stubborn. I just think Charles can be over protective and can be so upset or angry when he get very worried. Like how Charles will emphasise that she have him instead of being so independent all the time. 🤍🤍🤍 thank you if you will do it, but if not, it’s alright too! I just love and enjoy reading all your works!🤩 ”+ “Can you write a fic where the reader is a med!student with Charles? (definitely not projecting🫣)”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i loved both of these concepts and i though they’d go well together, because most of my friends who are also med students love diagnosing themselves?? i kind of wanted to based the reader off of bow from black-ish if you guys ever watched it, it’s my current watch and i love her so much!! it was very fun for me to write, and thank you to both of the anons for their requests! Feedback is always appreciated, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

“Are you sure you’re fine, mignon? You look worse than you did last night.” Charles lets his eyes look over your fatigued figure in your bed, worry etched into his eyebrows.

Giving him a weak smile, you do your best to reassure his worries by reaching for his hand resting on the side of his body. “I’m fine, love, I feel better than I did yesterday.” Charles sighs softly, his worry not entirely dissipating. He moves closer to the bed, his hand tightening around yours, and you squeeze his hand gently, relaying the message that you appreciate his concern. “I really am, you don’t have to worry about me, okay?”

“You say as if that’s an easy thing, love.” He emphasises, giving you a small smile that still allows you to see the dimples on his cheeks. “I just don’t want to leave you alone, you seem worse than you did last night.”

Your expression softens as you recall the way he doted on you the previous evening, no matter how much you told him that you were doing fine. “I promise I’m feeling much better, it’s nothing but a stomach bug – and I promise I’ll rest today, too.”

Charles leans down and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. “You better keep that promise and rest, it’s doctor’s orders," he says with a hint of playfulness in his voice. "I'll hold you to it.”

You chuckle weakly, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. “I promise, Charles. I'll stay in bed, take my medicine, and rest. I have some lecture stuff I have to go over, anyway." You pause, looking up at him with sincere eyes. "And you need to focus on your race. I don't want you to worry about me, be careful out there please.”

His lips form a mock pout, making your facial muscles to pull in an involuntary smile, “But my favourite part is the part where my doctor takes care of me,” his thumb draws a comforting circle on your hand, “your kisses help immensely.”

You blush at his playful comment, grateful for his affectionate nature even in times of worry. “I promise I’ll give you kisses when you come back, but only if you promise you’ll be careful.” You sigh deeply at the boyish grin he sends your way, “I’m serious, Charles.”

Charles's expression softens, and he reaches out to cup your face in his hands, his touch gentle yet firm. "I promise, my love. I'll be careful. Do you need me to bring you anything before I leave?”

Your nod is sluggish and doesn’t go unnoticed by Charles, but he chooses to remain silent as he gives you a moment to think about your answer. “Can you just give me my computer and anatomy book, please?” You watch as Charles nods in understanding. He leans down to give you a tender kiss on the lips before making his way to the desk where your belongings are kept. Retrieving the items you requested, he returns to your bedside, placing them gently on the bed beside you.

"Here you go, mignon," he says softly, his voice filled with genuine concern. He notices the way you keep fiddling with the collar of his your sweatshirt – a habit you usually display when you’re sick because the clothing usually causes overstimulation in your mind. “Do you want me to bring you some water? Or maybe order room service?”

You shake your head to the either side this time, giving him a sleepy smile as you start talking, “I’m good, but thank you, darling.” You let out a small giggle at the unapproving glance he sends your way, “I promise I’ll order some food when I get hungry, Charles.”

Charles chuckles softly, his eyes filled with a mix of amusement and concern at the way you emphasise the word. "Alright, love. Just make sure you take care of yourself and eat something nutritious. I don't want you skipping meals, even if you're not feeling well."

You nod, appreciating his reminder. "I promise, Charles. I'll make sure to eat when I need to. But for now, I think I'll focus on studying and getting some rest."

He leans in to press a gentle kiss to your temple, his warm breath brushing against your skin. "That sounds like a good plan. I'll leave you to it then, but remember to reach out if you need anything, okay?"

"I will," you reply softly, your eyes growing heavy with fatigue. "Thank you for taking care of me, Charles. I love you."

He smiles warmly, his eyes filled with affection. "I love you too, mignon. Rest well and take all the time you need. I'll see you soon." With that, Charles gives your hand a final squeeze and presses his lips to your forehead in a parting kiss before reluctantly pulling away and leaving the room. Taking a deep breath, you focus on the task at hand, determined to make the most of your day even if you’re feeling a bit down.

It’s not easy for Charles to focus on his driving that day, not easy at all. He can’t seem to focus on the track when you seem to occupy his mind and linger in his thoughts. The people around him notices the way he seems almost detached at the garage that day, and also noticing your absence, thankfully they accommodate him and his aloofness the best they can. He keeps an eye on his phone the entire time before he gets in the car – something he usually never does before a race just in case you call him in need of assistance. Charles takes a deep breath, trying to clear his mind as he prepares for the race. He knows he needs to focus, but his thoughts keep drifting back to you. Concern and worry gnaw at him, making it difficult to fully immerse himself in the adrenaline of the race.

Before climbing into his car, he approaches his brother, who is thankfully standing nearby. He looks into Lorenzo's eyes and speaks in a hushed tone, “Hey, can you do me a favour?”

Lorenzo, sensing the urgency in Charles' voice, gives him a nod, his own concern mirrored in his eyes. “Of course, Charles. What do you need? Is everything alright?”

Charles takes a moment to gather his thoughts before responding. “I need you to keep an eye on my phone, Y/N wasn’t feeling too good this morning, and i have a bad feeling about it.” He hands Lorenzo his phone, making sure to check one for one last time to see whether you’ve texted or called him, you haven’t.

Lorenzo's brows furrow with worry as he listens to Charles, but he understands the gravity of the situation and the significance of Charles' request. "Don't worry, Charles, I'll take care of it – and I'll let you know if anything happens. You focus on the race, and I'll make sure everything is handled."

With that assurance, Charles turns his attention back to the race ahead and quickly puts on his balaclava and helmet. He climbs into his car, adjusting his helmet and securing himself in the cockpit. The anticipation and excitement of the race surround him, but his mind remains consumed with worry for you as he tries to assure himself that you are fine and resting back at the hotel. The race begins, and Charles pushes the limits of his car, manoeuvring through the twists and turns of the track. But no matter how hard he tries, he can't fully immerse himself in the competitive spirit. Thoughts of you and your well-being linger, distracting him from the task at hand. His racing instincts seem dull, his reaction time slightly delayed, and he struggles to find his usual pace.

As the laps pass by, Charles notices that he's slipping further and further behind, unable to keep up with the leading pack. Frustration mounts within him, battling against his worry for you. The race that should have been a chance for him to shine becomes an arduous struggle to maintain his composure, as he struggles to keep up with the cars infront, the ones behind him seemingly passing him with ease and causing him to drop out of points. So despite his best efforts, Charles finishes the race with a disappointing result, far from his usual position on the podium. He steps out of the car, feeling a mix of exhaustion and disappointment washing over him. The familiar cheers from the crowd seem distant, overshadowed by his concern for you. His mind is occupied by imagining the worst as he gets out of his car, takes off his helmet and stumbles towards the team's garage. The once vibrant atmosphere now feels muted, as if the world around him has lost its importance. He can sense the curious glances and sympathetic looks from his fellow team members, but he can't bring himself to socialise with any of them.

His eyes hastily search for his brother, but Lorenzo is the one who finds him before he can spot him. Lorenzo's concerned gaze locks with Charles’, and he quickly makes his way toward him, his steps mirroring Charles’ urgency. Understanding the look in his brother’s eyes instantly, Charles asks, “What’s wrong? Is it Y/N? Is everything alright?”

Charles watches his brother expectantly as he places a comforting hand on his shoulder, making him want to slap his hand away, but the next words that come out of his mouth is enough to takes his breath away, “Carlos is on the phone with the hospital–”

“Hospital?” Charles interrupts Lorenzo, “Qu'est-ce que tu veux dire par l'hôpital qui t'a appelé?” What do you mean the hospital called you?

“Calm down, Charles, laisse-moi t'expliquer.” Lorenzo gives him a pointed look, and gently steer him towards his teammate’s cousin, “Y/N called me from the taxi, she said she was going to the hospital because she wasn’t feeling well,” he raises a hand to stop Charles from interrupting again, “she also told me that she’d call me once she got to the hospital but she didn’t, I’m guessing her phone died and the hospital called me instead. But my Spanish is non-existent and Carlos is talking to them, so for the love of God, calme-toi un peu.”

Charles's mind races with a mix of relief and anxiety upon hearing Lorenzo's explanation. He takes a deep breath, trying to regain his composure as he listens to his brother's words. The realization that Y/N is at the hospital sinks in, bringing a wave of concern to the forefront of his thoughts. Nodding in acknowledgment, Charles tries to calm his racing heartbeat and focus on the information at hand. “My girlfriend is at a hospital in a country she’s not familiar with, how do you expect me to calm down?”

“Just wait for a moment, we’ll have more information when Carlos is done talking to the hospital-people.” Lorenzo reassures him, and it helps Charles to focus on the current issue at hand – learning the name of the hospital and finding his way there as fast as possible.

Taking Lorenzo's advice to heart, Charles tries to steady his racing thoughts and focus on the present. He takes another deep breath, reminding himself to stay calm and composed. The minutes feel like an eternity as they wait for Carlos to conclude the call. Finally, Carlos hangs up the phone and approaches Charles and Lorenzo, his expression grave but determined. "The hospital confirmed that Y/N arrived safely," Carlos begins, his voice steady. "They're currently conducting some tests to determine the cause of her discomfort. The initial assessment suggests it may be a severe case of food poisoning."

A certain degree of understanding and relief washes over Charles as he lets Carlos’ words sink in. He offers his teammate’s cousin a grateful look, “Thank you for your help, Carlos,” he nods his head in appreciation, “do you have the name of the hospital?”

Carlos returns Charles's grateful look with a reassuring smile and a nod, “It’s the Hospital Quirónsalud Barcelona, she’s a smart girl, Charles, it’s an international hospital so she shouldn’t have any problems communicating with the doctors.” He pats Charles’ shoulder when the latter gives him a confused look, “You weren’t exactly quiet, mate.”

Charles lets out a small chuckle, realizing that his worries may have been more apparent than he thought. He appreciates Carlos' attempt to lighten the mood and offers a grateful smile. "You're right, I probably wasn't the most composed person just now," he admits, "but I'm glad Y/N is in good hands at hospital and thank you for your help, I appreciate it."

“No need to thank me, I hope she’s doing okay.” The older man smiles and gives him a final nod as he makes his way towards his cousin.

“Charles,” one of the PR people starts as they make their way towards the duo, “you still have media–”

The look Charles gives the poor intern in return can only be described as a mix of exhaustion and frustration. He interrupts the PR person before they can finish their sentence. “Bill me.” He, then, turns to his brother as he shoots him an expectant look, “Can we go?”

“Come on, I’ll drive,” Charles hears his brother’s voice, which causes him to raise his eyebrows and receive in return, “you’re obviously too high on adrenaline right now, let me drive.”

Charles, recognizing his own state of mind, doesn't argue. He nods in agreement and takes a seat in the passenger side, grateful for his brother's support, but because he is Charles, he mumbles, “You better drive fast,” under his breath as he follows his brother out of the garage.

As the car navigates through the busy streets of Barcelona, Charles finds himself lost in his thoughts – he glances out the window, his eyes darting from building to building, as if searching for answers that lie beyond the glass. The tension in the air is palpable, the silence between the brothers punctuated only by the hum of the engine and the occasional sound of horns from other impatient drivers. He tries contacting the hospital once again, but it seems like luck is not on his side as the operator speaks to him solely in Spanish, which makes him reconsider what Carlos told him earlier. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the Hospital Quirónsalud Barcelona comes into view. Charles feels a surge of hope mixed with anxiety as Lorenzo skilfully manoeuvres the car into a parking spot. Charles is out of the car before Lorenzo even turns off the engine, which earns him a scolding from his brother, but he’s almost halfway through the walk to the entrance as he waves Lorenzo off.

As Charles approaches the entrance of the hospital, his pace quickens with a mix of urgency and concern. The automatic doors slide open, welcoming him into the bustling lobby. The sterile smell of disinfectant fills his nostrils, and the sound of footsteps echoes through the halls.

He makes his way to the reception desk, where a receptionist greets him with a warm smile, and (thankfully) speaks in English, “Good evening, how can I help you?”

Breathing heavily, Charles tries to gather his thoughts and speak clearly. “My girlfriend was admitted through ER earlier today, Y/N Y/LN. Can you please tell me her room number and how she’s doing?”

The receptionist nods sympathetically. “I understand your concern, let me check the system for you.” She begins typing on her computer, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. After a few moments, she looks up at Charles. “I do see her in our system, but I don't have access to that information. You'll need to speak with someone from the emergency department.”

Frustration wells up within Charles, but he takes a deep breath and reminds himself to stay calm. "Can you at least direct me to the emergency department?"

The receptionist offers an understanding smile. "Of course. Head down this corridor and take the first right. You'll find the emergency department entrance on your left."

Thanking the receptionist, Charles follows her directions, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and worry. He walks briskly, determined to reach Y/N's side as quickly as possible. As he enters the emergency department, the sense of urgency intensifies – he watches the hustle and bustle of the hospital; how the medical staff rush by, attending to patients in need and people who are waiting to see their loved ones just like him. His legs aimlessly takes him to the nearest a nurse station and approaches a nurse who seems available. “Excuse me, Miss” he calls out, trying to catch her attention. The nurse turns to him with a professional yet compassionate gaze. “I'm looking for my girlfriend, Y/N Y/LN. Can you please tell me where I can find her?”

“Let me check her records,” the nurse smiles at him, an attempt to calm him and goes through the papers on the chart in her hands. “Here she is, it seems that she was recently moved – she’s supposed be in room 376, it’s on the third level, at the end of the main hallway.”

Relief floods over Charles as he receives the information from the nurse. He manages a grateful smile and nods in appreciation. "Thank you so much. I'll head there right away."

After thanking the nurse, Charles makes his way towards the elevators, following the signs that lead him to the third level. As he steps into the elevator, he can feel his heart pounding in his chest, a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. He makes sure he sends Lorenzo a text message to let him know where’s he’s headed, the ride to the third floor feels agonizingly slow, each passing floor adding to his impatience. When the elevator doors finally open, Charles steps out and finds himself in a long, well-lit hallway. He scans the room numbers, his eyes quickly landing on the sign indicating the direction of room 376. With determined strides, he makes his way down the hallway, passing by other patients' rooms and medical staff going about their duties.

Finally, he reaches room 376, and his breath catches in his throat. Taking a moment to steady himself, he gently pushes the door open, revealing a small but comforting space. Inside, he finds you lying in the hospital bed, an IV connected to your arm and one of your textbooks open on the bed beside you. He realises you’re asleep, however, as he watches you from afar. Seeing you lying there, Charles feels a mix of emotions overwhelm him—relief that you’re safe and being cared for, concern for your well-being, and a deep longing to be by your side. He approaches the bed with cautious steps, taking in your pale complexion and the weary lines etched on your face.

Gently, Charles pulls up a chair beside your bed and sits down, not wanting to disturb your much-needed rest. He reaches out and lightly brushes a strand of hair away from your face, a tender smile gracing his lips as he watches you sleep. Gently, he reaches out and takes your hand in his, offering her a tender squeeze. "Hey," he whispers softly, not wanting to startle you. "I'm here. You're going to be okay."

You stir slightly, your eyes fluttering open. A weak smile graces your lips as you recognise Charles. "Charles," she murmurs, her voice hoarse but filled with warmth. "You came."

Charles feels a surge relief wash over him, he leans in closer, his voice filled with genuine concern. "Of course, I came, I'll always be here for you, chérie. What happened? How are you feeling?"

“I’m better now,” your voice comes off hoarse, and it makes Charles cringe inwardly, “I just wanted to come to the hospital because i kept throwing up and thought I had all the signs of food poisoning – but, honey, what are you wearing?”

Charles glances down at his attire, realizing he's still in his racing gear. “I didn’t have time to change,” he explains, his head tilted to the side as he gives you a strict look, “I should have just stayed with you.”

“You had a race, Charles,” your eyes widen in recognition as you remember the race. “Oh my god, how was it? Did you–”

“The race doesn’t matter, Y/N.” Charles interrupts, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “I wish you wouldn’t try to be so independent all the time.”

He watches as your lips form a pout, your voice coming off more vulnerable than before as you ask, “What?”

"Y/N," he says softly, his voice filled with emotion. "What were you thinking? Why didn't you tell me you were feeling this sick? I could have been here for you."

You give him a guilty look, the pout on your lips becoming deeper. "I didn't want to worry you, Charles. I thought I could handle it on my own."

His frustration melts away as he takes in your weakened state. He moves closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. "You don't have to handle everything on your own, love. I'm here for you, always. I would have been by your side if you had just let me. I should have been there with you today, not at some race when you were puking your guts out.” He pauses, his thumb caressing the back of your cheek soothingly. “I know you value your independence, and I admire that about you. But sometimes, it's okay to lean on others, especially when you're going through tough times. You don't have to carry everything on your own.”

You listen to Charles's words, and a mixture of emotions swirl within you. His concern and care touch your heart, but you also understand the frustration he expresses. With a soft sigh, you squeeze his hand gently. You shift slightly in the bed, wincing at the discomfort. "Being independent has been a part of me for so long, and it's hard to let go of that mindset completely. But I'm learning, slowly, to find a balance, and I'm learning to lean on you when I need to and to share my burdens with you." You give him the softest smile you can muster, “I promise I’ll try to be better, darling.”

His thumb brushes away a tear from your cheek, his touch gentle and comforting. "You don't have to apologize, mignon. I understand why you wanted me to race, but your health and well-being will always be my priority. I don't want you to ever feel like you have to face things alone. We're a team, remember?"

You nod, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know we are, and I’m sorry for worrying you, darling." You lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hand against your skin, and with a soft sigh, you begin speaking again. "I promise that I’ll lean on you more and remember that we’re a team.”

Charles leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "That's all I ask, love. Just remember that you have me, and I'll always be here for you, okay? I love you."

As you feel his lips on your forehead, a sense of comfort and love washes over you. You gaze into his eyes, filled with gratitude and affection. "I love you too, Charles," you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. "Thank you for always being there for me, even when I push you away. I'm so grateful to have you by my side."

[outerbankies]

“it’s late, come back to bed.”

PROMPT CELLY GO BRRRRRRRRR. thank u for requesting this one (forever ago) bestie!!!! 💓🤩👯‍♀️

—

new light: space and time

rafe x reader, part of the 2k prompt celly for new light (masterlist if ur not up on NL). we’re back in the present!

A stubborn knot about the size of a fist had settled into place at the top of Rafe’s spine slowly over the last few weeks, right in between his often-taught shoulder blades.

He guesses it was during the late nights like these that it began to form, when he’s hunched over his sketching table in the garage lit only by the warm lightbulb in the work lamp over his head—drawing and erasing and scrapping to start over again and again. Or when he’s on his laptop tinkering with his website or any of the platforms he uses for invoicing and processing orders, easily his least favorite part of all of this, until his eyes are irritated and red.

Though it’s certainly not made better by the other half of his day, where he’s hunched over or crouching under his projects as he brings them to life, doubting himself the entire time, twisting himself into weird angles just to make sure everything holds and looks how he pictured it. But at least he likes that part.

A hand, holding a warmth that Rafe can feel through the cotton of his long-sleeve t-shirt, settles directly into place over that knot at the top of his spine, and he feels himself take a deep, steadying breath as he leans back into your touch.

“What’s this, baby, the built-ins?” you ask, your voice softer in these midnight hours.

“Yeah,” Rafe sighs, immediately rubbing his hands into his eyes, his knuckles turning his vision bleary momentarily. “For Beau’s friend.”

“Mmm,” you hum, slightly digging the heel of your palm into his back. Rafe lets out a groan. “There?”

“Right there,” he confirms, letting his head drop back gratefully, accepting a few sleepy kisses once he goes.

You place your other hand on his shoulder for some leverage, leaning over him to peer at his catastrophe of a workstation. “I thought you’d already gone over the sketches with them?”

“I did,” he says. “But they go in tomorrow.”

“Right,” you nod, scrutinizing them again, looking to see if they’d changed at all. “I remember.”

“So I’m just making sure—” Rafe stops momentarily, letting out a hiss. “Careful, baby.”

The pressure on his back eases immediately, and you take to rubbing your hand across the span of his shoulders instead. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I’m just making sure I have everything down,” he continues, leaning forward again. “I wanna know my stuff before I head in.”

“What if I quiz you? On measurements and colors and finishes and—”

“I appreciate the enthusiasm,” he interjects, his smile rivaling yours when you finally settle into his lap like he’d been angling for you to since he heard the garage door open and knew he’d be getting that reprieve from the mess inside his head. “But it doesn’t really work like that, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, snaking your arms around his neck anyway, the pads of your fingers rubbing circular motions into his trouble spot again. “Then how else can I get you to come back to bed?”

Guilt settles into Rafe’s stomach like a rock, the soreness in his back momentarily forgotten as he sees the plea in your eyes. “I swear I’ll be up soon.”

“Rafe, it’s late.”

“Coming from you,” he retorts, virtually no bite behind his words. Because as Rafe had left Beau’s company months ago and only since then become more entrenched in his new job, in starting his own business, you’d seamlessly settled in at your job at the publishing house, not overworking yourself nearly as much as the two of you used to argue about. Still more than Rafe would ever prefer, naturally, but he’s not sure he has room to talk anymore.

“We’re turning into perfect little Figure 8 capitalists right on schedule, aren’t we?” you say, wiggling around in his lap in a way he isn’t convinced isn’t a punishment for abandoning his side of the bed a few hours ago.

You lean forward, grabbing one of the pencils Rafe had discarded and tapping it on your chin while he checks his watch, feeling his eyes widen.

“God, I’m turning into my dad.”

“No you’re not,” you laugh, still leaning out of his reach as you seem to start writing something in one the margins. You pause, pointing the pencil at the long-cold cup of coffee next to his pencil cup. “Unless there’s secretly liquor in your decaf over there. You know decaf still has caffeine in it, right?”

At Rafe’s silence, you turn to him with your eyebrows raised, the pencil dropping out of your hand and clattering onto the table.

“Like… trace amounts, right?” he asks sheepishly.

“My sweet, sweet boy,” you sigh, running your fingers through the hair on top of Rafe’s head that’s really beginning to need a cut.

“Probably need it,” he shrugs. “I’ll only be up a little while longer though. Promise.”

“You’re really worried about this one, aren’t you?” you ask him softly, some of the mirth fading in your eyes as you trace a finger around the shell of his ear.

“It’s Beau’s friend, baby, I… these guys could have anyone working on their houses. And Beau was really good to me about quitting. I just wanna nail this one and be done with it,” Rafe admits.

He doesn’t tack on the bit about how this feels like one of his first big tests; his first custom, built-in piece period, outside of the ones he’s made for his most forgiving audience, his sisters and you. Because it’s one thing to make a piece for a friend of a friend of a friend, or even to sell one in a store where someone can see it and touch it and decide that they hate it before they have to commit. But it’s another to have someone counting on him to deliver exactly what they envision, let alone someone who could be Rafe’s foot in the door to a wealth of opportunities. He wants to be done with it at this point, sure, but he doesn’t want it to be the end of this road.

“Exactly,” you say, shrugging. “They could have anyone. And I love you, Rafe, but I mean literally anyone else. But your designs are good. Really good. And your craftsmanship is impeccable. They want you.”

He feels his cheeks heating up, and knows it’s showing based on the twinkle in your eye. “You’re an expert in furniture and carpentry now, are you?”

“I am, because I’ve now lived in two Pinterest-level apartments without ever having to hire a contractor. And I’m a picky bitch,” you say, laughing around the last bit.

“You are not,” Rafe laughs. “And half of that is your decorating. Maybe 70, 75%.”

“Your modestly will never not exhaust me,” you declare, smacking one last kiss onto his lips before standing up. “You’re gonna be fine tomorrow, alright? But you’ve got to get some sleep.”

“Ten minutes?” he pleads.

“I will generously give you ten seconds instead. It’s your lucky day,” you say, shuffling toward the doorway back into the house, where two curious dogs await your return.

“Thanks,” he answers sarcastically, before standing to check everything over one last time. These guys could have anyone, he tells himself. They chose him.

He’s gathering his pencils to deposit back into the cup, just about to reach over his head and turn off his work lamp for the night when he sees it, what you’d been scribbling into the margin on one of his designs: you got this RC. hurry home!

At just the same moment that he’s he’s tracing over your loopy “y” and the heart you’d finished your note off with, you call out his name from the doorway, his family waiting for him.

You give him a saccharine-sweet smile, your arms crossed over your chest. “I wasn’t asking.”

[belphieslavenderscentedpillow]

Obey me Boys as students

Thank you for the love on my other posts, every reblog, note and follower is appreciated!

Also feel free to request something!

This is more of a human high school AU, so there is more human talk than devildom.

There is a bit of Nsfw in asmodeus part, but other than that it’s pretty fluffy/maybe crack?

Lucifer

Straight A student, what did you expect?!?

But I’ll tell you, he’s honestly kind of annoying to be in a class with

He’s such a suck up without even ACTUALLY TRYING to be a suck up

When the teacher makes a mistake he 100% corrects them with no shame

But he’s still somehow a teachers pet

People hate him because they wanna be him fr fr

I honestly don’t think he’s naturally academically intelligent like belphegor or interested in subjects like Satan

The only reason why he actually tries is probably because he thinks failing academically is embarrassing

That being said I think he’s a hardworker, always practicing and learning

Definitely pulls all nighters regularly to finish assignments

Favourite subject is probably physics like a granddaddy

Has a very simplistic pencilcase in black with an ink pen

Mammon

Literal class clown

HE is the reason why class is low key fun

Everyone keeps saying he’s annoying but high key miss him when he’s not there

That being said he’s incredibly charismatic

I think he’s got lots of friends in class cause he’s super easy to be around and he’s funny asf

he’s probably one of the kids on the teachers “hate list”

Literally always gets picked on from teachers

Always goes red when they point out his mistakes but he turns it into a joke

I think he’s an average student but is crazy good at like music or something artsy

He’s that one kid who always ALWAYS forgets his stuff

If he’s lucky he might have a chewed up pen somewhere in his bag (maybe)

He’s definitely a pen biter you cannot change my mind

Leviathan

Oh boy

He’s a very shy kid, and honestly most people forget he’s there

Even the teachers which is kind of a good thing honestly

He sits in the back of the class and does his work calmly

Never talks like NEVER

Probably has one good friend in ONE class who he goofs off with but I think that’s honestly it

That being said there’s def some type of popular demon crushing on him

He has potential to be above average academically but I don’t think he cares enough

I think his favourite subject is art because he gets to practice drawing boobs I mean he gets to practice anatomy

Has a bunch of cool stationary from animes

Definitely has some sanrio type of stationary that he NEVER shares

Satan

A student that gives 110%

He would literally be the perfect student because he has this amazing combination of politeness, academic intelligence and actual academic INTEREST

would be if he didn’t absolutely despise all of the teachers

He knows more than the teachers so sitting in class is incredibly boring to him

Thinks the teachers have no teaching ability and knows he could teach this class better than them

He is such a good student for being such a bad student if you get what I mean

Super organized but not at all at the same time

Polite but disses the teachers- really it depends on the day

He loves all subjects but I think he’s a biology or maybe a literature guy wink wink

someone hc him to send answers in the groupchat while cussing them out- that is 100% Satan

He‘s probably super popular I mean, smart, pretty and a romantic- can’t get better than that! (Well lets skip over the anger issues)

Asmodeus

Your residential play boy/fuck boy!

But just add sweetness to the mix; like he makes sure the person knows his intentions before starting anything with him

That cute boy in class that has a bunch of friends and is super popular for an ACTUAL reason

He does literally EVERYTHING but pay attention

He‘s still a teachers pet though

Probably fucked a teacher to get through the year

Has a bunch of stationary and has really pretty notes even if he doesn’t know what anything means

His favourite subject is probably geography or design (art)

Beelzebub

Jock. What more is there to say?

He‘s not your typical jock, cause unlike all the other jocks he’s actually humble

(The sport bring fangol obvi)

That being said he’s crazy popular, because he’s athletic, cute, sweet, friendly and humble

People are all over him all. The. Time.

Yeah sure he might not have a whole bunch of brains and his grades are below average but at least he’s cute right???????

Yeah he’s not much of a academic person, like AT ALL- he only likes PE, maybe a little bit of art (cause it’s easy)

The teachers surprisingly don’t really care all that much about him- just a random student 🤷‍♀️

Belphegor

This little shit

He‘s that kid who is a genius for no reason what so ever

He reads the paragraph once and never again and still gets an A++++

He barely pays attention in class, skips like 60% of the time and still rivals Satan

Lucifer and Satan get pissy about it because he doesn’t even TRY

His fav subject is math because it’s just understanding a few rules and that’s it

His favourite saying is „mathematicians are lazy“, please tell me your teachers told you this too

He is so charming for no reason, and that makes him a little shit

All he has to do is smile and the person just melts

That being said a smile from him takes a lot of effort

He never takes his stuff to school so he just asks another person and they never hesitate to give him stuff

Teachers just don’t care about him since he barely shows up anyway 💀

Diavolo

Literally cannot focus in school

He‘s like a jock mixed with student body- super charismatic, super hot and reallyyyy popular

He‘s that one friend who has like a gazillion friends and says hi to someone every 2 minutes

But when he’s in class he cannot focus to save his life

At home he’s a mashine- finishing task after task but in school he gets distracted over every little thing

He has so many expensive items, shoes, pants, stationary EVEN HIS SOCKS

Nr.1 crush for literally anyone

Favorite subject is any social subject really

He‘s a pretty average student but his teamwork ability make him stand out

Teachers gossip about other students to him 😃

Barbatos

Straight A student, no one knows his methods

Diavolo is his best friend even if they are polar opposites

Very well liked, by students, teachers but he only willingly talks to diavolo and his crush we all know who wink wink

Very well organised, always has his stuff

Even the way he wears his uniform is neat

He‘s so mysterious…… which makes him kind of hot honestly

He probably doesn’t care about the attention though

Simeon

Ugh literally the perfect student

Smart, kind and charismatic

Literally a teachers pet

Probably is in a whole bunch of clubs

I could totally see him in the drama club

Favorite subjects; drama and literature

He probably reads shakespear in his lunch breaks

He never cusses in class- even when the teacher gets on everyone’s nerves

He has so many friends! Seriously it’s hard not to like him

That being said his weakness is computer science

Yeah not really his strong suit

Luke

Poor baby gets teased relentlessly

He is super cute though

is such a sweetheart genuinely

Don’t be mistaken if anyone actually has the guts to bully him, his 11 family members are ought to get them

He works really hard to get good grades and make Micheal and Simeon proud!

He‘s in the baking club and his favourite subject is probably science honestly

Solomon

This little shit (#2)

He‘s such a mixed bag of different student traits

He‘s lazy, but hard working

Social but introverted

Super popular but gets hated on

His favourite subject is science specifically chemistry

If you are in his chemistry class he‘ll pull some chemistry pick up lines to annoy you

He‘s also in the baking club which makes Luke get cold sweats every night

Also a huge shoutout to @kkeromenoo , thank you for the love!! Sadly I can’t respond to the comments 😭 someone pls tell me how it works..

I just also wanted to say sorry for the fact that 1) this post took so long and 2) some of the characters are shorter. Probably will edit this later, but again hope you enjoyed!

Proofread!

All credits go to @belphieslavenderscentedpillow

[headkiss]

I feel like I’m in withdrawal from ur Hotch stories!! I would love some sort of blurb w protective Hotch and BAU reader if ur taking requests for him!! Any scenario I honestly don’t even care I just love hurt/comfort w my guy

babe!!! not withdrawal!!!! thank u so much for requesting <3 i hope u like it | 0.7k fluff, teeny mention of blood

Hotch tries to stay calm on the job. He has to, really, to be as successful as he is. It’s hard with the things he sees, the things he hears. Even harder when you’re about to go and do something dangerous when he’s not there to help.

You’re the only one at the scene right now, and even though he’s trying to convince you not to, you’re about to go inside and catch the guy.

“We aren’t far,” he tells you.

“I know,” there’s a shout in the background, and his heart sinks ‘cause he knows what that means. “I gotta go in.”

Hotch utters your last name, concern, something like desperation buried under his firm tone.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, and then you’re hanging up.

“Garcia,” Hotch knows she’s on the other line, and he knows she’ll find him a shortcut without instruction because she’s great at her job and even better at knowing what people need.

“I’m on it,” she tells him, and then she’s rattling off turns to make through alleys to get to you quicker.

The unknown is the worst part, Hotch thinks. If he was there, at least he could be sure that you’re alright. He doesn’t doubt your skills, not for a second, but when it comes to you, he doesn’t seem to think so rationally. All he feels is the pounding in his chest that won’t slow until he knows you’re okay.

By the time he makes it, there are cop cars outside, flashes of blue and red paint the dark street where everyone’s parked. His tires screech to a stop, and he leaves the car parked and running when he gets out. There’s a cop pushing the guy into the car, another nodding at Hotch as he walks by.

And finally, finally there’s you, sitting in the back of an ambulance with a bandage on your forehead.

He all but runs over, his hands finding your jaw to tilt your face up towards him in a way that certainly isn’t professional but he isn’t really worried about that right now. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine, don’t even need stitches,” you tell him.

“You’re bleeding.”

You sort of melt at his worry, at the almost unnoticeable shine in his eyes that you only see because you’re looking so closely. Hotch doesn’t have to say it with words, because it’s written all over him, the delicate hold he has on your jaw, the way his thumb draws a small pattern over your skin. Back and forth, back and forth. He cares about you.

“I’m fine, Hotch,” you say again, because he’s still looking at the bandage on your head with a furrow in his brows.

“You should have waited.” He doesn’t mean it, but he still says it. He knows this is the job, he knows it was the right call, but he should’ve been there.

“You would’ve done the same thing.”

“I know.”

His eyes still won’t meet yours, so you grab one of his wrists in your hand, squeezing it once, twice, three times.

“Aaron,” your voice saying his name is enough, Hotch’s eyes flick down and lock on yours, “I’m okay. No stitches, no concussion, just a little cut, alright?”

His fingers are still on your skin, calluses trailing down your neck until his hands are on your shoulders. There’s a trail of warmth that follows his touch, your eyes fluttering, your breath slowing.

He nods, “you’re okay.” It’s so quiet that he’s saying it to himself, even though you catch it. He repeats it, “you’re okay.”

Neither of you are thinking about the fact that you’re in public, that the team is probably watching you both and sharing looks with each other because they can see the feelings you and Hotch both have for each other clear as day. They are profilers, after all.

Hotch is only focused on you, and you’re focused on him and his hands and the sort of affection that’s rare from him, but speaks enough volumes to last a long, long time.

“I got the guy, didn’t I?” You say, trying to lighten the mood despite the circumstances.

“You did good,” he tells you, and the praise has something soaring in your chest.

You shrug, shoulders moving under his hands. “I learned from the best.”

And when you’re back on the plane, your head resting on Aaron’s shoulder where you’d fallen asleep, he doesn’t care one bit about the smirks he’s getting from the team.

He simply shakes his head at them, fighting a smile as he turns back to his paperwork.

[dailyhatsune]

hi! not exactly a request but i do wanna ask, whats your process when you're rendering more paint like art? (if that makes sense, English isnt my first language so apologies hdskhsjdbd) i really love how you use the colors and im curious how you do it :0

i’ve been meaning to answer this one for a while so here’s how i painted miku in today’s post (put under the read more because yeah prepare for a long post

i’d also like to preface this by saying that i never follow a set way of doing things, so in terms of what my personal process is like, these are only broad strokes of what i do! sometimes i’ll combine or skip parts entirely, depending on how i feel. also, this is not a tutorial, just how i do things, so please don’t treat it like one :’D this will read like the ‘how to draw an owl’ picture if you do

first, like every artist, i sketch. more specifically, i’m getting an idea of what i want to paint later on. this could be how a scene is set up or in this case, how a character is posed. here i’m not concerned about details or getting everything perfectly, i’m only planning how the thing will be composed. maybe a lot of canvas size changing, or adjusting what miku’s doing (note how busted miku’s right hand looks from all the transforming!) however, i still have to be concerned with how clear the sketch will be to future me, because the sketch won’t be any good if i can’t read what miku’s doing

after that, i lay down a flat gray under the sketch, mainly focusing on giving miku a clear silhouette. this is also a good time to make adjustments to the composition on the fly if i suddenly feel like something can be improved upon, like shortening miku’s left arm from the sketch!

after painting a flat silhouette, i start shading in grayscale, focusing only on lighting. i usually do it in two passes, one for the lightest and darkest tones i’ll use (not black and white) and then a second for midtones to blend them better with the base gray but i forgot to screenshot the result of the first pass 🗿 nevertheless, here is where i can start adding some amount of details. i’m not including any extra accessories yet, just focusing on the base design of the outfit and the character herself (for anyone wanting to draw characters from That Gacha Game, this is how i personally make the process more bearable for myself.) i still use the dark gray to separate where certain details (like the facial features and fingers) begin and end, mainly to make colouring more bearable later.

now here’s where i get the Good Colours. it’s a cheat lol. i put a gradient map layer over the grayscale painting so that there’s a little bit of color to start. some gradient maps can be applied as is, some need the layer settings adjusted to make it look good. this one, for example, is a (free) gradient map set from the csp assets store that needs you to set the layer opacity to 20% and to set the blending mode to color to achieve this result. in general, i tend to pick which gradient map i want to use based on vibes, or basically whether i want the work to be warmer or cooler, colour-wise. but this does do quite a bit of lifting for the colors in my stuff.

and then, finally, i add the colours. i add flat base colours in an overlay layer. at this stage, i’ve made the character silhouette clear enough that i don’t need to refer to the sketch anymore for what miku looks like. also, the gradient map layer does its magic by making the shading a bit more vibrant than it would’ve been without it. after that i paint over with a new layer to add details like the lace.

and then i put some extra shading on top. basically this is where the ‘better lighting’ happens. again, this isn’t a tutorial, so i’m not here to say what each part of the lighting is, but i’ve labeled which layers do which job. in other works where the lighting within a scene is more defined (from a window, from a small crack in the walls, etc) the glow dodge layer may be more opaque and sharper, but since this isn’t a work with that, the lighting was applied using an airbrush. the linear burn layer is also there to make the whole thing darker so the glow dodge doesn’t end up oversaturating miku. i also usually match the lights to the vibe i want, and use a complementary color for the shadows. so here you can see i have warm colors on the glow dodge layer, but light purple on both the linear burn and multiply layer.

and that’s it for the character—here’s a gif showing how each layer adds to miku! (sorry it’s so toasty)

as for the background, depending on the complexity, it may go through a similar process, or if i can settle with flat image backgrounds, i just go for that. it’s ok to use external image materials. i didn’t have a background in mind for this miku in specific, so i got some default csp materials and threw together something

and that’s about a rough overview of what my process for more finished works looks like! again, art is a fluid process so i never specifically stick to certain steps all the time, and you shouldn’t either. i can probably answer why i’d pick this colour over another in one particular work, but it’s something that kinda has to be learned on a grander scale. i think everyone can already feel what colors work with what atmosphere or what setting, even if they can’t immediately explain why. colors and composition do take some level of experimentation to find what works best!

[gay-wh0re-slut]

Heyy, I just wanted to know if you could write a story with rhea x Fem! reader where the reader is ashamed of her body hair and Rhea comforts her,ending with a big smut✨️

Sorry for this request but my body hair makes me very uncomfortable and I need to read something like this🥺

don’t be sorry! body hair is normal and everyone has it! society has told us (women esp) that body hair is bad but it’s not, it’s natural! you can do whatever you want with it, shave it, don’t shave it, hell braid it if it gets long enough lol, i know it’s easier said than done but never be ashamed for things that happen naturally as a human being but don’t worry friend, i got you.

Ever, Ever

rhea x fem!reader

content: talks of body hair but then turns to hot sexy times with hot buff goth wrestler gf ooooo (slight choking, praise, oral, fingering, squirting hehe)

You giggle at a funny post you found on instagram, “look!” you turn the phone to Rhea who was sitting beside you on the bed.

She was doing some work on her computer but she turned to look, “oh, that’s a good one,” she laughed with you.

The two of you continue to sit in comfortable silence as she types away and you scroll away. You both loved nights like this, nothing going on, just being together, relaxing and enjoying each other’s presence. It was a good reset for both of you, with your nine to five job and her crazy one, it was good to just be.

She slammed the enter key one last time and closed her laptop, “finally,” she sighed as she placed it on the side table. “Do you want a snack?”

“Ooooh, yes please!” you smile at her.

“I’ll be right back,” and she walked out of the bedroom.

You smile thinking that there’s no where else you’d rather be. You’re with the love of your life, having a night in, doing absolutely nothing, well, now you were. She comes back in with a lot of things.

“I wasn’t sure what I wanted or what you wanted so I brought options,” her arms were full with cheez-its, fruit snacks and who knows what else.

“Oh,” you chuckle, “thank you, baby.”

She displayed them all out over the bed, she gestured dramatically over them twinkling her fingers to show you the options.

You decide on the fruit snacks, two bags because one is never enough.

“Good choice,” she said picking up the protein bar.

“C’mon, live a little,” you joke to her.

“Fine, fine,” she throws the bar down and taps her chin thinking. Finally she chooses the potato chips, “better?” she held them up, they were still the healthy ones.

“Yes, thank you,” you laugh.

“I’ll take the rest back,” she gathers up the remaining snacks and heads back to the pantry.

The two of you sit on your phones, enjoying your respective snacks, showing each other funny tiktok’s, memes, and cool drawings people made of her.

Her hand landed on your thigh, but you thought nothing of it, she loved to be touching you whenever she could.

You didn’t notice her put her phone down but you did notice when she moved herself closer to you and started kissing your arm. You kissed her head in a response but she kept going. Gently kissing up your arm until she made it to your neck. Wave after wave of pleasure sent through your body with every kiss. She took your phone out of your hand, that you weren’t really paying attention to anymore, and put it on your side table.

The hand on your thigh moved up to gently caress your hot center, “c’mon baby,” she whispered.

You moaned softly into her touch but suddenly stopped her, “no wait-”

“What’s wrong? You okay?” she immediately pulled her hand away.

“Yeah, it’s just… you’ve been away so I haven’t, uh… shaved,” your face was red from embarrassment.

“Baby,” her face softened, “I love every part of you no matter what. A little hair isn’t gonna hurt me.”

“But I don’t want-”

“Unless you got some crazy thing going on down there, like teeth or something,” she chuckled, “I don’t mind one bit.”

You tried to talk, “But it’s gro-”

She put a finger over your mouth, “It’s not gross, it’s not ugly, it’s normal. Do you care when I don’t shave?”

She didn’t move her finger so you just shook your head.

“Exactly,” she finally removed her finger, “if you don’t want to continue, that’s perfectly fine, but unshaven or not, I’m still gonna love you,” she smiled.

You gave her a weak smile, “are you sure? Because it’s pretty gnarly.”

“Baby…I promise.”

You stared at her for second to make sure she was really sure, “okay.”

“Now, can I get back to what I was doing or…” she said jokingly.

You giggle, “yes, please.”

Giving you a devilish grin, she bows her head to kiss your neck again, leaving soft slow pecks on your skin. She moved herself on top of you straddling your hips. Your hand tangled into her hair keeping it out of her way.

She nibbled at your ear until she whispered, “You’re so…” she kissed your jaw, “hypnotizing…” she kissed down your jawline, “and beautiful…” one of her hands snuck to your neck and gently squeezed, “and…” her hand clutched to your neck hard as she looked you in the eyes, “don’t you ever, ever think otherwise.”

Your eyes were wide but your smile was huge at the sensation, “yes Mami,” you choke out.

“Good,” she barked as she released her hand, “my sweet girl,” she then she dragged her hand over your shirt down to your pajama shorts, sneaking it under the waistband. Her fingers found your dripping center, “look at you,” she gently swiped her fingers against you, “barely even started and you’re already ready for me.” She teased at your entrance, but decided against it. So she settled for teasing your clit instead.

Your back arched as a long moan left you, “mmmmcan’t help it,” you released your breath. One of your hands was behind her neck while the other was on the back of her thigh pushing her in closer, digging your nails into the tattoos as she continued to work her magic. You pull her neck down so that she could kiss you, and that she did.

You didn’t expect it to be, but it was hot and sloppy and you begged for more. Her hand below went faster as the kissing became more intense. You made small whines into her mouth between labored breaths. Her lips finally let go of you as she pulled her hand out.

You huffed at the loss, but she quickly got off of you and yanked your shorts and underwear off and threw them onto the floor. Without hesitation, she spread your legs and immediately began to lap at your wet folds.

“Fuck,” you groan as your hands found their way back to her hair.

Her arms curled around your thighs, “you taste so good, babygirl,” then she began to suck on your clit.

You tightened your grip at her words as your eyes pinched closed but you could feel her smiling against you. You were squirming but she was holding you perfectly still with her insane strength. She finally let go of one of your legs, teasing her fingers at your entrance once more.

“Mhmm…yessss, please!” you whine.

“You know I love when you beg,” and she pushes her way inside.

“Oh fuck,” as your back arched again.

She was pumping in and out of you at a steady pace as she continued to use her tongue on your pulsing bud. You writhed under her grip but she kept your hips still. The pressure in your stomach was quickly building, “harder, mami, please!”

“Oh, you want it rough today, princess?”

“God yes, please,” you beg.

“As you wish,” she grinned.

You barely noticed but in one second she removed her hand, flipped it over, plunged back into you so now the heel of hand was facing up and her two middle fingers were pumping into you at an outrageous pace. She kissed your thigh before she maneuvered herself back on top of you. She kissed you, making sure that you could taste yourself on her tongue.

She trailed her kisses down your neck, then began to bite, rolling your skin in her teeth, “you’re doing so well,” she whispered, she sucked at your skin not caring if she left a mark, “you feel so good on me,” she said in your ear.

You were untangling beneath her, your eyes were in the back of your head, your hands were gripping at anything you could reach, her arms, her back, her hair, the sheets. You barely had any air in your lungs, your hips were riding her hand that was setting the ungodly pace, trying so hard to keep up.

“I know you want to, baby,” she grinned at the noises that were spilling out of you, “I’m not going to stop you,” her voice was calm and sultry, it was driving you insane, more than you already were.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!” you screamed.

“C’mon baby!” she yelled over your deafening whines.

You gasped for air as you curled up with your mouth wide open and your eyes rolled back, “FFFUUCKK!!” the pressure inside of you released so violently that you slammed your head onto the pillow beneath.

She immediately pulled her hand out of you as you squirted all over the sheets and her hand that couldn’t move fast enough.

“Holy fuck,” you heard her say over your loud moan. She plunged back into you when you were done and continued her pace smiling from ear to ear, “again,” was all she said. Though this time, her free hand found its way back to your neck and squeezed.

Your hands gripped her arm as you gave her a wicked smile. Just a minute later, the pressure was back and ready to be released again. You groaned, whined and moaned as well as you could under her hand.

“Just one more time, princess, one more for me,” she commanded.

You followed orders and the knot in your stomach untangled again. You couldn’t say anything but a loud scream of pleasure, as she removed her hand, still not fast enough, and you squirted once more.

She released the grip on your neck and you immediately pulled her in for another sloppy kiss. Your lips smacked as she pulled away, “You’re so fucking hot,” she breathed.

You couldn’t fathom saying anything you were so weak so you settled for the wicked smile. You kissed her once more before going completely limp underneath her.

She sat on her heels next to you. She looked the mess you made underneath your bottom half and chuckled, “We gotta wash the sheets.”

[starlazergazer]

I’ll Make it up to You

Pairing: Anakin x reader

Request: Can you do a fic where Anakin and the reader get into a fight and he says something bad or man and gravels after?

Warnings: Just Anakin being mean

Word count: 5.5K

A/N: I was so excited to write this one!! Thanks to the lovely @katebushesbush for requesting I hope this is something similar to what you were thinking and enjoy it, than you so much for your kind words!!

You had to admit just seeing him smile back at you, even through hologram, made you feel better. And you hated yourself for it. Because you didn’t deserve to feel better, because you had left your clone captain behind. Not by choice of course, but ultimately did that matter? The effect was still the same.

“Hey are you even listening?” Anakin’s amused voice snapped you out of your thoughts prompting a tired groan to slip past your lips.

“I’m sorry Ani”

“Don’t be” He chuckled, “tell me what’s going on”

“It’s Ace” you dropped your head into your hands defeatedly “Last mission he was captured”

“Captured?” You watched Anakin slip into mission mode, his posture straitening and his arms coming up to cross over his chest “so he’s still alive?”

You nodded in response, drawing your knees up to your chest as you rested your back against the wall, sitting on the floor of your room “They transmitted a recording…offering his life for mine”

Anakin’s jaw visibly clenched at this, his hands balling into fists as he huffed angerly “Of course they did”

“Yeah” you sighed softly, resting your head back against the wall, refusing to say what you were sure Anakin could see coming.

“No”

That was all he said, admittedly all he had to say. His voice had dropped an octave, his gaze darkening as he stared back at you and even though he was planets away it was as if he had caused the temperature in your own room to drop.

“Anakin it’s my fault he is there”

“It doesn’t matter” Anakin was quick, his voice coming out restrained and quiet as he tried to keep himself under control.

“It does!” you protested “They’re torturing him”

“And you’re just going to what? take his place?” He asked, bits of venom dripping off his words.

“I can get him out”

Anakin froze on the spot, you could see him try and bite down the first words to spring forth, to think through what he wanted to say before he said it “You want to go and rescue him?”

“Of course I do!” You exclaimed

Anakin shook his head with an exasperated eye roll, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation before squaring his shoulders once again with a deep breath “and what does the council say?”

You rolled your eyes back in response “since when have you been one to listen to the council?”

“Since it meant you weren’t running blindly into what is so clearly a trap!” He let his voice rise just a little too loud this time, rapping on a nearby metal door making him run an anxious hand through his hair as he swore beneath his breath “Look just don’t do anything until I get back”

“He’s being tortured Ani” You had hoped the nickname would lend you some help in persuading him, using a pleading tone as well, pulling out of trick you could. But of course it had no effect.

The knocking sounded again on his end, vaguely you could hear Obi-wan call his name eliciting another string of swear words “I mean it Y/N do not do anything without me, I’ll be back in just a few days”

Admittedly you had never been one to say no to Anakin, and he was hardly one to ask for a lot. But as they say: desperate times…

“Duty calls”

Anakin shook his head at you, his gaze snapping back towards the knocking sound before snapping desperately back to you “Please Y/N”

And that was all he said before hanging up, leaving you alone on the floor of your room.

A knock on your own door sounded and slowly you stood to answer it, a clone trooper in armor standing on the other side.

“Are you ready to go general?”

You nodded.

-

Normally the ride home was the easy part. It was the promise of a full night’s sleep, the end of threats to your life, a sense of accomplishment if you were lucky.

And this time you were. Admittedly the mission had gone far from smooth, but everyone was still alive, most having sustained only minor injuries at worst, and Ace was back. And ultimately that was all that mattered.

You had a funny feeling that wasn’t how Anakin was going to see it.

And precisely because of that you felt worse now that you were landing than when you had taken off.

So it was with hesitant steps that you descended the ramp, doing so last in all attempts to delay the inevitable.

And even from across the hanger your eyes met his immediately. At first his were wide and panicked causing you to mentally chastise yourself for exiting last, the anxiety you must have forced on him to have to wait to see if you were okay. But then his expression changed to one of pure relief, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly as he seemed to relax upon being able to fully take in your physical state. And for a brief moment your heart swelled, hope rose within you that maybe this wouldn’t be a fight, that maybe he would just be happy that you were alive.

But of course this was Anakin Skywalker you were talking about.

In a fraction of a second his whole expression had hardened, his arms had tightened over his chest as every muscle in his body seemed to tense. Wordlessly he gestured with his head towards the nearby hallway before disappearing down it himself, clearly intending for you to follow him.

“You know I may actually be on his side with this one” Ace’s voice from over your shoulder surprised you, spinning around to meet the familiar clones eyes “you shouldn’t have come after me”

You just shook your head in response, crossing your own arms over your chest before he continued “but I sure am glad you did”

You turned back to stare at the spot Anakin had once occupied, “I’m not going to apologize for rescuing you, I still say it was the right call”

Ace was silent behind you for a moment before placing a comforting hand on your shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze “thank you general”

-

You knew exactly where Anakin would want to meet. It was a mostly empty storage room the two of you had found ages ago, the perfect spot to waste time as you hid from your masters back in your padawan days. Never before had you struggled so much to cross its threshold.

You knew Anakin could feel you on the other side of the door as you just stood there trying to calm yourself.

Because there was of course panic that was rising within you. Anakin was your best friend, has been since you were both younglings, and you always hated when you fought. But another emotion was also stirring in your chest: anger.

Because ultimately was it fair for Anakin to be mad at you? You did not owe him anything he was in no way involved in any part of Ace’s capture and escape so what right did he have to demand you sit around and wait for him. You were perfectly capable of rescuing him yourself.

But anger was not good right now, anger was not how you approach an angry Anakin, you cannot fight fire with fire.

So with a deep breath you pushed everything down and entered the room, coming immediately face to face with a very pissed off Anakin Skywalker.

He was silent for a moment, silent for perhaps too long, as he stared down at you, and it was all you could do to try and not shrink under his gaze. Doing your best to maintain eye contact.

“I asked you to wait”

His voice was clipped and restrained, disappointment and anger seeping into every word.

“I know”

You could hear your own heartbeat echo in your ears, forcing deep breaths.

“You know?” He dragged it out as a question, practically spitting the words back at you “then what are you doing getting off a ship with Captain Ace?”

“I couldn’t just leave him”

“A few days” Anakin practically cut you off with a shout “I asked for a few days that’s it”

“I am not your padawan” You were shouting before you could think to stop, sick of worrying what Anakin would think, sick of worrying about this fight, sick of having to consider Anakin’s feelings in a decision that objectively did not involve him. “You do not get to order me around as if I were”

“I do not ask you to wait because I think I can order you around” He was quick to return your energy, the hushed closed-door fight rapidly escalating to a screaming match “I ask you to wait because you cannot handle rushing into traps such as that on your own”

You physically recoiled at his words. Sure you knew he was angry for you having put your life in danger like that but to tell you he didn’t think you could handle it without him, that had to be crossing some sort of line. Your voice dropped back to a near whisper suddenly feeling yourself grow quiet and defensive “I got him back”

“This time!” Anakin’s voice was still at a shout as he put special emphasis on his words. His chest rising and falling rapidly with angry breaths as he stared down at you before turning his back to start pacing, anxious hands running through his hair as he did so.

“I am so sick of watching you make stupid decision after stupid decision to put your life in danger, to put your clone troopers lives at stake because you think you’re a better Jedi than you are”

You froze on the spot, your mouth hanging open slightly as you watched Anakin continue to pace, continue to mumble angrily to himself, continue on with the fight without noticing you were no longer really a part of it.

You had never been so caught of guard before. That was truly the best way to describe how you felt in this moment. You and Anakin had had fights before, he has been angry with you before for one thing or another, but never had he brought it to such a personal place before, and you had no idea what to do next.

You didn’t feel angry anymore, you didn’t feel scared anymore, all you felt was numb.

Anakin continued to pace before you, continued to rant but the ringing in your ears had long drowned out whatever he was saying.

And quite frankly you were tired of listening to him.

-

Anakin paced furiously back and forth but he could feel that his anger had come to an apex, could feel himself start to calm down with every trip back and forth across the room, with every sentence to pass his lips without thinking.

“You can’t keep treating your life as if it doesn’t matter”

His words had lost nearly all bite at this point his tone much more somber now than anything else.

“Because it does matter, and if it doesn’t matter to you then it matters to me okay?”

He’d finally finished, finally come full circle on his anger, finally the lid was back on the pot and he could really talk about why you walking into a trap by yourself bothered him so much.

He turned back to you, ready to face whatever wrath you had only to be faced with an empty space.

Curiously he scanned the rest of the small room, hesitantly calling your name as if you were going to pop out behind the one rack pushed up against the wall.

But he was alone, you had just left without saying anything which was unlike you. You knew Anakin struggled to contain his anger, knew he often blew up before being able to have an actual conversation, and never before had you wordlessly left as a result of it.

And it wasn’t till then that the full weight of Anakin’s own words hit him.

He couldn’t have really said that, could he?

Sure he was angry, he was downright furious, but he didn’t even think what he had said was true. He knew you were an excellent Jedi, you were about the only person at this point who could come close to beating him in a lightsaber battle, your connection to the force was unmatched and you were an excellent leader. So why had he said otherwise?

Because he wanted to hurt you.

That was what it came down to. Because you had hurt him.

The panic he had felt when he landed with Obi-wan, ready to see you once again and plan Ace’s rescue only to find out that you were gone, that you had played willingly right into the separatists’ hands, that he might never see you again.

And like usual he reacted in anger, wanting to hurt you has much as you had hurt him.

But at least you had a good reason to do so, he knows he would have done the same for Rex.

What reason did he have?

-

You really didn’t want to be here.

Sure that was usually true with these debriefing meetings but today it was especially true today.

You hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, and by much you meant any.

Anakin’s words were replaying over and over in your mind

you think you’re a better Jedi than you are

Was that true? Sure you thought you were okay with a lightsaber, but also you could hardly ever manage to beat Anakin. Your connection to the force was okay, you could always get what you needed to do done but was that enough? Did others have more? And that was before you even got started on your skills as a general. You had lost Ace. Even if you got him back it was your fault he was captured in the first place.

The entire room seemed to pause when Anakin walked in, him and Obi-wan sharing a small nod before Obi-wan went back to his debrief, before Anakin’s head turned to make eye contact with you.

You had never wanted to be able to disappear on the spot more.

You stared back at him blankly, refusing to show him any emotion, truthfully not having the energy to.

Maker you needed a nap.

You turned your attention back to the hologram in the center, ignoring him as he made a beeline for your side, ignoring him as he stood just a little too close.

His closeness had never bothered you before, though it was hard to miss. The way he stood or sat right next to you, his knee softly bumping yours, a hand falling naturally to your shoulder, it was the kind of closeness you had come to expect of him. But right now you couldn’t stand it.

You felt like you were drowning in his presence, unable to focus on anything but him. Your mind was a sea of every negative thought you had every had about yourself. Every doubt, every fear was rising to the surface and you struggled to breathe around them.

In the past Anakin had been the person to keep them at bay, a calm, subtle assurance that you were okay, that you were doing a good job, that you deserved to be there. Now he was the very person bringing them on.

“Hey are you okay?”

His soft words broke you out of your trance and suddenly you realized the meeting was over, everyone had broken into their own smaller groups for discussion.

And then you were looking up at Anakin who looked back down at you with such concern in his eyes that you almost believed him.

But then his words were echoing back through your head.

“Yeah I-uh”

His frown deepened as you stuttered through a response, his hand coming up to touch your arm and almost on instinct you stepped back. Reacted before your tired mind could even catch up.

And then his hand was frozen in midair, inches away from where your arm used to be. And he looked down at you with confusion and hurt and it was entirely too much.

“Y/N-“

“Don’t” You cut him off and you could hear the wobble in your voice as you fought so hard to keep it at bay.

You had to get out.

“Y/N please just let me-“

You cut him off again “Anakin don’t I just-I can’t do this right now”

“that’s okay” he was quick to assure you “I just-“

And still he tried to talk to you, even after you told him you couldn’t handle this right now. You searched desperately around the room, catching Obi-wan’s figure just before he was about to disappear through the doorway. “Master Obi-wan”

He spun around, pausing on the spot to face you, and your mind scrambled to come up with an excuse “I-uh-I have a question if you don’t mind”

The master’s eyebrows drew in confusion as his eyes bounced back and forth between yours and Anakin’s forms as he started to approach “of course not”

“No” You quickly stopped him, all but extracting yourself from Anakin as you walked back towards Obi-wan “that’s okay let’s walk and talk”

He sent a look back to his former padawan, clearly reading further into what was going on than you would really like but right now that didn’t matter, right now you just needed to get out.

And luckily Obi-wan happily obliged, nodding for you to exit through the entryway and following you through.

And once again you left Anakin alone, a hand still floating in midair before him.

-

You were right when you said you just needed a nap. Or maybe a full night’s sleep.

Nevertheless, you had to admit you felt much better than yesterday. But also you admit you still felt the need to clear your head. So naturally you sat beneath a tree on a grassy patch, legs folded beneath you as you meditated. And your thoughts, despite your best efforts, never strayed far from a certain Skywalker.

Parts of you were already jumping to his defense. His anger was something he had struggled with since you were both younglings and he wasn’t above saying anything he could to make the other person just as mad as he was.

But did that excuse him?

What he had said had struck deep into every insecurity you’ve ever had about being a Jedi. More than ever before Anakin had hurt you. That wasn’t just something you could make go away with a simple apology.

But you hadn’t really given him the chance to do so either.

You had almost missed his approach, so lost in your own thoughts, though your force sense reached out for his almost instinctively as he got close. And you let it.

He sat down next to you, careful to keep more of a distance than he would normally, and crossed his own legs joining you wordlessly in meditation.

And a part of you appreciated this more than anything else.

You could feel him wanting to say something, feel his eagerness to apologize, but right now that still wasn’t what you wanted. As if in contradiction to yourself what you wanted was just him. As if him simply existing next to you served as a reminder for why you were such good friends in the first place, why you truly wanted him in your life faults and all.

And yet on the same note you needed him to speak.

“It’s okay if you still aren’t ready to talk” His voice was slow and calm, of an almost rehearsed quality “you can tell me to stop at any point and I will listen”

Instead you stayed quiet, kept your eyes closed, accepting how childish you were being in refusing to acknowledge his pretense. Afterall, he deserved it.

Anakin took your silence as an invitation to continue “I just want you to know how truly, deeply sorry I am for what I said” he paused with a deep breath “those words came from a place of anger and fear and in no way reflect what I really think”

You let the silence that followed his words hang in the air, let Anakin choke for a little on the noose of his own making before speaking. “So how many times did you practice that in the mirror before coming to find me?”

There was a stunned silence that held for a brief moment before a relieved chuckle sounded, Anakin letting out a sigh as he looked back over to you. “More than I am willing to admit”

You let a small smile linger on your lips but gave him no more than that. Your gaze sat fixed on the ground in front of you, your posture remained rigid from where you sat, as you prepared yourself for what you were going to say next.

“What you said hurt me…really hurt me” You paused briefly, giving yourself a chance to collect your nerves “what you said spoke to every fear and every insecurity I have about my own performance. Every fear and insecurity that you used to dispel. So to hear that very person voice them as if it were fact” you could feel yourself start to spiral, feel the words coming out faster and faster as you continued to talk and you forced yourself to stop, “It hurt Ani”

Anakin could feel his chest caving in, could feel the shame and guilt wash over him as he listened to you talk, listen to how the words he had so carelessly thrown out had affected you. “I know” He sighed heavily, putting his face in his hands “I know and I’m sorry but Y/N, you have to know that it isn’t true”

“Then why would you say it?” At this you whirled around to face him, your voice coming out harsher than it had this whole conversation.

But at this Anakin had to hide his own gaze, had to break eye contact with you. He couldn’t look into your eyes as he admitted it “Because I was angry…because I wanted to hurt you like you had hurt me”

“hurt you?” You basically growled out, and you could feel the anger again start to build within you “I know I didn’t listen to you but come on Anakin, doesn’t that feel a little dramatic”

“It’s not just that” He defended “It’s-“ and he hesitated.

And you were tired of the anger, tired of the excuses, tired of having this same conversation over again.

“Look” You cut him off, standing to your feet “I’m on teacher duty for the unsanctioned mission to get Ace, I’ve got to go”

“Oh, okay” Anakin was quick to stand to his feet as well “Can I walk you there?”

“No” The word came out quick, before you could even think, much harsher than intended.

So you took a deep breath and fully turned to him, “Look I’m just- I’m tired of this Ani. I’m tired of being mad at you, I’m tired of having the same conversation over and over again, I’m just tired”

“I know” Anakin was quick to come back before you could turn away from him, hesitantly walking towards you “I know, I screwed up and I keep screwing up so let me make it up to you. I will make it up to you.”

You looked back at him unbelievingly, but he just nodded back with a small smile.

“So I’ll see you after class yeah?”

And despite everything you had to smile back at him, even if it was just in the corners of your lips.

“Okay”

-

“Alright does everyone have a practice stick?” You called out, watching as fifteen different wooden sticks were raised into the air in response. Fifteen wooden sticks and one familiar hand “You’ve still got a few years before you get to try it with a lightsaber Tommy” the hand was slowly lowered in response.

“Alright everyone spread out” you commanded with a chuckle “we’re going to practice stances before we spar and I don’t want you hitting anyone yet”

A collective groan sounded from the class before you and you rolled your eyes dramatically “I know I know but you all have to have these down before you can move on. Okay?”

You watched as obediently the class spread out, each kid dropping into a fighting stance just as they had practiced a hundred times before, ready to go through the steps, when a new presence in the door interrupted.

The kids erupted into a series of excited whispers and you followed their gazes to a sheepish Anakin Skywalker standing in the doorway.

“Jedi Skywalker what are you doing here?” You asked him with drawn brows.

“I’m your dummy” he answered quickly prompting the class to erupt in giggles.

“I-uh” You hesitated, looking back at the class confusedly though the younglings were all huddled together in a mass in the center once again, eyes bouncing between you and Anakin.

“Your practice dummy” Anakin clarified with a goofy smile “I heard we were doing lightsaber moves”

The kids all shouted excitedly; they were all a sucker for the cool older Skywalker. You on the other hand just raised an eyebrow at Anakin, silently asking him if he was sure.

Anakin just nodded eagerly in response, making a show to stand rigidly in front of you “its way better to practice on something other than air”

At this you turned back to the class with a mischievous smile “well okay then”

You took a few steps backwards from Anakin and lifted your own practice stick. “Move one we go for the leg” and you showed them a simple sweep towards Anakin’s shins, and though you pulled the hit quite a bit you had to admit the small whack you gave him in the side of his calf gave you a lot of pleasure.

“Then the torso” You followed with a small spin before hitting him softly in the side, Anakin giving a dramatic groan for the classes effect that had them laughing.

“Alright” you cast Anakin a wicked grin “who wants to go next?”

Fifteen hands shot up into the air.

-

You found Anakin afterwards in the same spot you had left him before class, strewn out on his back in the grass, eyes closed as he faced the sun.

Wordlessly you tossed him the ice pack you had brought him and though he had no reason to know you were there he caught it effortlessly.

He opened his eyes to inspect what you had thrown him before laughing, siting up with a soft groan “thanks”

You sat down next to him with a small smile, watching him apply the ice pack to his shins knowing the younglings went more for the body part they could more easily reach.

“You know I don’t think that is a lesson they will soon forget”

“Yeah me neither” Anakin responded with a soft chuckle, eliciting one from you in response.

“So was that making it up to me?”

“Oh no” he responded quickly with a wink “that was just phase one”

You had to laugh at that, enjoying how much easier it all seemed now, enjoying the lightness in your chest you hadn’t felt in days.

“I’m sorry I’ve been snapping at you recently”

“No I deserved it” Anakin replied with a shake of his head “what I said was horrible and I want to truly earn your forgiveness, and if that means you snapping at me for being an idiot or getting beat up by a bunch of 8 year olds then so be it”

You played with grass nervously in your hands as you smiled at his words. Appreciating the feeling of being free to feel however you felt without guilt. And though a part of you was ashamed to admit it you knew what you had to ask next.

“Do you really not think I’m a bad Jedi?”

His hand was on your shoulder almost instinctually and you could feel him hesitate seconds after he had done it, so you reached up and put your hand on top of his before he could pull back.

So instead he doubled down, squeezing your shoulder before pulling softly to get you to face him, forcing your gaze to his “I have never once thought that”

And you took a moment to really look back at him, staring into his eyes checking for any hint of hesitation, of deception, and found none.

As you knew you would.

Because this was Anakin, and for better or worse he was always there for you, maybe sometimes you just needed to be reminded of that.

“Yeah” You all but whispered, breaking eye contact and turning back away from him “yeah I know”

Anakin dropped his hand from you shoulder, letting you turn away from him, prepping himself for what was to come next. “I said it because I was angry, because I knew it would hurt you, hurt you as much as-“

“as much as I hurt you” you finished for him with a shake of your head, whirling back around to face him “I don’t get it. This was my choice, about my commander, about my life”

“And you’re my-“ He cut you off then froze. You sent him a puzzled look as you watched his chest rise and fall with quickened breaths, his eyes seemingly searching yours for something as he choked briefly on his next words “you’re my friend”

You drew your eyebrows together looking back at him “I don’t-”

“Your actions don’t occur in a vacuum Y/N” he sighed, eyes going down to his hands as he nervously played with a piece of grass “you know, having to hang up on you knowing that you didn’t listen to a word I said, knowing that I was half a galaxy away and couldn’t help you, couldn’t be there for you, knowing that I may never see you again. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do”

“Ani I-“

He cut you off again, still never looking up “Then to land know you weren’t on Coruscant it was like a pit growing in my stomach waiting on the bad news I could practically feel coming. Not because I doubted you in any way but because I couldn’t bring my mind from the worst case scenario”

You stayed silent, watching Anakin as he spoke, listening to him describe feelings you had never even considered in your decision to leave.

“Then your ship landed and every clone had exited the ship and for a brief moment you still weren’t there and I-“ he paused with a deep breath, dragging his eyes up to meet yours and you saw he wore a sad and defeated look, a look you did not see often on Anakin’s face “I can’t take that feeling again”

And though every part of you in that moment wanted to reach out to him, give him any sort of comfort, you knew this wasn’t over, not yet. “I don’t regret going after Ace”

“And I don’t want you to” Anakin was quick to respond “It’s just…sometimes it’s like you’re too eager to throw down your own life for the sake of others, as if you don’t value your own. I just wish you held your own life to the same esteem that you hold others’”

“That’s what a jedi is supposed to do right?” You answered softly, your voice remarkably small “sacrifice for the greater good”

“I refuse to believe any future that doesn’t include you can be any good”

A silence hung in the air between you for a moment, and for the first time in days it wasn’t an uncomfortable one, and you welcomed it gladly.

Wordlessly you scootched closer to Anakin and laid your head softly down on his shoulder and for a brief moment you felt him tense up before melting into the contact, and arm snaking around you to pull you in tighter.

“I’m sorry” you said softly into the breeze “I’m sorry for making you worry like that, I really didn’t mean to”

You could feel the deep chuckle in Anakin’s chest “No, I’m sorry. Regardless I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that”

“Or doubted my abilities for even a moment?” You prompted with a smirk sending another chuckle through Anakin.

“Or doubted your abilities for even a moment” he agreed with a soft smile “thinking back on it maybe I should’ve been worried for the separatists”

“Oh no they deserved it, nobody messes with what’s mine”

“With what’s yours huh?” You could hear the grin in his voice as he spoke “does that include me?”

“Oh absolutely” you answered quickly in mock seriousness “Obi-wan’s gonna have to watch himself he’s this close to getting drop kicked”

At this Anakin threw his head back in laughed, sending the both of you onto your backs, basking in the sunlight “I’m going to tell him you said that”

“nooo he’d beat me up”

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

The Hope in the Fault Lines | Part 4

The final part....THIS HAS BEEN SO FUN. It's been a labor of love for sure, so I hope you read it and love it and reblog it and all the good things. I don’t have enough requests to have a tag list or anything so I’m relying on faith and prayers to get this in front of the ppl who liked the previous parts, so PLEASE REBLOG THIS 🥺 I’ll love you forever fr. Here are links to part 1, part 2, and part 3 if you haven't read them already! Warnings: references to child abuse (mentions of a father giving a daughter a black eye and references to a belt being used), reference to a past child custody battle, sexism, forced contact by abusive parents, drinking, grief, ptsd, some angst but just for a little, vanilla sex, oral (f receiving), I tried to leave a lot to the imagination because this was my first time writing any kind of smut, but still minors don't read or interact with it, police investigation. lmk if there's anything else! Word count: 13k (I AM SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY.)

Eleven months later 

Time was funny.

Together, you, Sara, and Mingyu had watched the summer fade into a hazy autumn, where the leaves faded into gold and red and orange and then fell, leaving bare branches clawing at the sky with skinny fingers. The winter had been a long one — Christmas was nearly unbearable without Jeri and Jisung to keep you company. But spring prevailed, as it always did, and now you watched as the latest of the April blossoms popped through the surface of the earth. 

It’s been almost a whole year since the accident. At the outset, your grief had been like a massive wall. It was hard to see around it, and pushing against it was useless. Now, the grief was still there, but had transformed into something more akin to a stray dog that followed you around. It was always present, but you could still move with it, and it wasn’t always unwelcome. The pain of loss had been tempered by the stretch of time, the therapy sessions faithfully attended every Tuesday morning, and the love that had grown between you and Sara. 

At a year and a half, she toddled around clumsily still, but could run and jump and talk. She was extremely independent and energetic, and sometimes when she was displeased the look on her face was so reminiscent of Jeri that it made you pause. However, where before that would’ve made you cry, today it fills you with comfort. You also, surprisingly, saw yourself in her — she was adventurous and tenacious, and didn’t like to be told she couldn’t do something. But she was also sweet, cooing over even the beetles in the grass or the spiders in the corner. The force of your love for her was both surprising and strong, because when she’d first come into your life, you had felt uncertain you’d ever get the hang of being a parent. Now, you could hardly imagine life without her. She made each day full of an infinite meaning — everything you did now was for her.

And then, there was Mingyu. The relationship between you was sweet and easy and didn’t demand anything more from you than you could handle. You had learned early on how kind Mingyu was and how easy it was to talk to him, but you had come to know him even better over the time since your illness, and you had become endeared by his pouty expression when you teased him, the clumsiness you suspected was a result of becoming very big very fast and still not knowing his own strength, and the comforting timbre of his voice, as well as so much more. Mingyu made you feel like you never had to do anything by yourself, with a talent for drawing the vulnerability out of you when you were keeping yourself from being helped. And even though he was positive and upbeat most of the time, he never expected that from you. His grace in handling your down days was enough to convince you that in any other circumstance, this man would have been your perfect match, inside and out.

But the circumstances are what they are, and so you can’t let yourself give in to what you want. It has been a long time since Mingyu has held you — since the nightmare, in fact. Which, you remind yourself forcefully, is a good thing. It was professional of you to keep that physical distance. Because, Heaven help you, you were struggling to keep any emotional distance between you. 

When Mingyu had come back to work after he’d stayed the night at your place that one fateful night, a pattern had begun. When you’d come home, Mingyu asked you about your day. You’d give him the low-down: “Emily dropped the pencil sharpener and thought I’d fire her…am I that scary?”, “we got a story with Brie Larsen,” “one of our writers is getting married in a few weeks and invited me”, and so on. Then you’d ask for his updates: “Sara ate a solid banana today,” “Bora and Morrie came over for a play date”, “I lost Sara for fifteen minutes today and found her in the massive drum of flour”. This usually kicked off an hours-long conversation full of teasing, laughter, and the occasional philosophical discussion that only ended when one of you mentioned Mingyu should go home and get some rest. The past eleven months of this behavior had only made you more and more drawn to Mingyu; it was how you learned he learned to cook from helping his mother in the kitchen, and that he also had a little sister whom he loved dearly, and about the friends from college he still saw frequently, all of whom he seemed to only have positive feelings for. You had started to wonder if there was a person he didn’t like. And all of this added up to you being absolutely smitten with him.

But you also keenly felt the guilt of having a crush on your nanny. After all, it felt like such a midlife-crisis move to pull. You tried to comfort yourself in the truth that Mingyu was usually the instigator whenever the both of you rocketed over those carefully drawn lines in the proverbial sand, but you knew it was also partially your responsibility, because you never talked to him about maintaining a more professional distance. The fact was, you didn’t want any more distance at all between you and Mingyu, but you understood how complicated it might be if someone who essentially made sure he could pay his bills confessed romantic feelings for him. Not that you’d ever take advantage of him, but it also felt unfair to put him in a situation where he had to trust you on that.

So you stayed as you were — for eleven months that had proven to put you through every emotion on the spectrum. You laughed at Mingyu, you competed against Mingyu, you wondered about Mingyu, you worried about Mingyu. 

But most of all, you yearned for Mingyu.

You try not to let it show as you watch Sara play with her dolls in the living room, supplemented by the dollhouse Mingyu spent a whole day building for her. “Tomorrow’s the big day!” he says. “Are you excited?”

“I am,” you hedge, half-listening as Sara clumsily tucks a doll into its bed and says goodnight. “A little nervous, too.”

“Why are you nervous?” he asks. “You’ve practiced a lot. I almost have your speech memorized by now.”

You laugh. “It’s normal to be nervous, even when you’re prepared.”

He watches you carefully, noting how after a few moments of silence your eyes slip out of focus, miles away. After eleven months, Mingyu has learned that when you get like this, you are reliving a vivid memory inside your mind. The more this happens, the worse your dreams are later. So, after catching Sara before she whacks her head on the coffee table, he puts his hand on your knee so your mind connects to your body again. “Where were you this time?” he asks, releasing a squirming Sara to the floor, his gaze between you and her.

“My sister pep talking me before my valedictorian speech,” you say in a tiny voice.

“I didn’t know you were valedictorian!” Mingyu exclaims. “You were a huge nerd, weren’t you?”

“I still am,” you say, pretending to be scandalized. “Why do you think my magazine won an award for publishing? It certainly wasn’t because academic validation isn’t important to me.”

He laughs. “Your magazine won an award for publishing because it’s awesome. But I appreciate that you’re still trying to achieve academically even though you’re almost three years post-MBA.”

“I know when I’m being made fun of,” you sniff. “And I won’t have this from you, Mr. ‘I Flunked Out of Chemistry But They Still Let Me Play Basketball’ Kim Mingyu.”

Mingyu shoots you a reluctant grin. “I never should’ve told you that, first of all,” he says. “Secondly, despite all that, I think you would’ve liked me in high school.”

“I probably would’ve,” you admit. “You, however, would never have even looked at me in high school,” you say. “I had glasses, braces, the whole nine yards.”

He stretches, laughing. “I was into nerds, actually. Still am, in fact.” He smiles to himself, on cue with your heart turning all the way over in your chest.

You’re in dangerous territory, so you steer away. “Have you been practicing your ponytails?” you say seriously.

“Who do you think I am? Of course I have.”

“And you’re still not gonna show me what her hair looks like until the day of?”

“Of course not. It’s bad luck.”

You scoff. “I’m almost positive nobody thinks that.”

“I’m pretty sure I think that,” he counters.

“And I don’t even get to see her dress?” you ask.

“Not unless I get to see yours.”

You grin — this had been a constant “argument” since you’d come home with the dress bag, and you had denied his request to look at it. “What if I hate her dress?”

Mingyu shakes his head. “It’s impossible. She’s the cutest little girl in the world. So even if the dress sucks, she’s gonna look darling in it.”

“You make a good point,” you admit. “The dress doesn’t suck though, right?”

“You have so little faith in my taste,” Mingyu says, frowning. Then he lights up again and abruptly changes the subject. “Also, get this — Wonwoo says he’s gonna come and he’ll bring a girl.”

“Oh?” you say, lifting Sara off the ground as she reaches for one of the spark plugs in the wall. “Is it the same girl he brought home a couple weeks ago?” You’d become friends with Mingyu’s bespectacled, tech-savvy roommate due to occasional contact over the past almost-year, and the thought of him with a girl is sweet.

“Yeah,” Mingyu says. “But here’s the thing. He insisted — emphatically — that nothing was going on between them. They were just friends.”

“How long ago?”

“Like two weeks.”

“Maybe for one of them that’s true,” you suggest. “I mean, maybe he doesn’t like her like that.”

“No, he definitely does.”

“Okay, well, maybe she doesn’t like him like that.”

“Have you seen him?”

You laugh. “Have you seen yourself? I mean, if she hangs out at your place pretty often there’s really no reason she couldn’t like you too.”

Mingyu blushes, an uncharacteristically bashful move on his part, and you realize how much you’ve just given away. So you, blushing too, move over to Sara, beginning to play with her hands and let her grab at your necklace. “I should probably go,” Mingyu says. “Gotta be here early tomorrow to make sure you don’t sleep through your alarm again.”

“I only did that one time,” you protest. “And I don’t think I’ll sleep at all tonight.”

He makes a sympathetic noise. “Well, at least try, will you? It’s a big day for you, and you should be able to enjoy it.”

You smile up at him. “You’re right. Thank you, Mingyu. Say bye bye to Mingyu, Sara.”

“Bye, Googoo!!” Sara squeals — her endearing nickname for Mingyu. 

She bounds over to him, and he sweeps her into his arms for a swift hug before setting her down gently. “Bye, Sara!”

***

“Wow,” Mingyu says, his eyes wide and mouth open.

You tug at the tight, silvery-blue fabric of the floor-length gown you wear, blushing. “Thanks.”

“You’re always pretty,” Mingyu begins, finally recovering from the shock of seeing you like this enough to speak.

“Oh, stop it,” you protest, hiding your face in your hands.

“But this is … wow,” he finishes.

Your face could not be warmer. “Please desist before I’m so embarrassed that I have to change.” You peek from behind your fingers at Mingyu, who is looking positively devastating in a suit and is holding Sara in her fluffy pink dress. He was right about her looking cute in anything, but the dress suits your sweet, sassy, rambunctious little girl. And, true to his word, he has tugged her hair into two adorable pigtails fitted with feathery pink bows to match the dress. “You did an amazing job with Sara.”

Mingyu finally tears his eyes away from you to look proudly at Sara’s outfit. “Never doubt me again,” he jokes.

“I never will,” you vow. 

“Well, I think we need to leave,” Mingyu says. “I wonder what everyone will think about me arriving with the two prettiest girls at the party.”

You roll your eyes as you grab your things. “You’ll fit right in,” you tell him. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks,” he says, wrestling a grumpy Sara into her car seat. “Shall we?”

The party is a fancy affair. Big names in publishing mill around with your employees, some turning to greet you and offer words of congratulations when you walk in. Mingyu is impressed with how gracious and genuine you are with everyone, even the people you’re just being introduced to, his heart swelling with pride whenever you include him and Sara as a part of your introduction. 

Sara is amazed at the surroundings, looking around the beautifully furnished hotel meeting room with its twinkling lights in an overstimulated stupor. Plenty of the female employees are talking and whispering at the sight of her in Mingyu’s arms, a few even venturing to approach him and play with Sara’s hands or feet. “So, are you her boyfriend?” A blonde in a stunning red dress asks, leaning in with hooded eyes.

“No, I’m just her nanny,” Mingyu says with a laugh. “Um, excuse me.” 

You have to bite back a smile as Mingyu meets eyes with you nervously. “Meredith from accounting is zeroed in on you, I see,” you tease him. 

“She’s very friendly,” Mingyu agrees. “I think I saw Wonwoo come in, though.”

You look toward the door. There he is — tall, slender, with his signature glasses and a shy but very happy smile, hand-in-hand with a pretty girl in a pink dress. “They look cozy,” you observe. “Say hi to him for me, will you? I need to get ready to speak to everyone.”

Mingyu gives you a prolonged look that makes you more nervous than even the impending speech before he answers, “sure thing, boss. Break a leg. You’ll be great.”

It feels surreal — all of these people are mostly people who you see every day, mingling with publishing giants and friends, and everything is different. After what feels like no time at all, you take the low stage to begin your speech.

You take a deep breath, looking in the crowd for two specific people, and it isn’t until you’ve met eyes with Mingyu, who is softly smiling at you, and aimed a wave at Sara, that you begin. “This award is something I’ve been working toward since we started the magazine. I naively thought that receiving this award would finally help me to feel like I belonged in this industry, or that all the time I’d spend slaving for this business was actually worth it.

“The past year, however, has been the absolute hardest of my life. As many of you know, my sister -- the person who encouraged me to start this business, and the person without whom many of you, including me, would probably not have jobs -- was killed in a hit-and-run accident a year ago Thursday. And when you go through something like that, well...your perspective on life definitely changes. I have always been a believer in the power of story, but because of the life-altering experiences I’ve had over the course of this brutal year, I gained new insight into the stories that we should be telling with the voices we have in the time that we have them. I’m convinced that the team’s vision aligning so well with this change in priorities is why I’m on this stage accepting this award. So I have some people to thank for this.”

You’re practiced enough that your voice only shakes a little as you begin this part. “Firstly, my editor, Cory, who not only held us together while I was completely incapacitated, but also understood perfectly how to make this thing into the kind of thing that wins awards like this. If this was a ship, Cory would be at the helm, and I’m so glad that we have someone who is a perfect navigator. Cory knows the metaphorical sea and stars like an albatross, and he deserves to be the one speaking to you today, but we drew lots and I got the short stick.” The crowd laughs, and in the audience, Cory raises his glass to you, his arm snaked around the waist of his new girlfriend Lele.

You smile at his gesture and continue. “Secondly, to my assistant, Emily. She was hired only one single month before the accident, and she has become indispensable to me. One thing you should know about her is that her desire to do everything she can for anyone who needs it is not just one of her biggest professional strengths, it is also one of her best personal ones. Her competence and kindness will take her far -- here or wherever she goes.” When you spot Emily, her eyes are streaming with tears, and she gives you a little apologetic shrug as she wipes her eyes.

“Thirdly, I cannot thank the writing team, the creative team, the social media team, and the editing staff enough for supporting me through my bereavement and continuing to do such excellent work. I am grateful to have hired the right people, so that I can be confident that this important work we do will not be stopped if I am stopped.”

Now, the final message -- the part you hadn’t shown Mingyu yet. Partially because you wanted to surprise him, and partially because you were terrified of what he would know about you because of it, and you wanted to prolong the moment. You steady yourself and press on. “Finally, there have been a number of people in my personal life without whom I couldn’t be here today. Friends who pulled me out of the mud, almost literally, neighbors who looked out for my lawn, the kindest friend who watches my beautiful niece while I come to work --” and at this point, you intentionally avoid Mingyu’s gaze, “and Sara herself, who gives me a reason to wake up in the morning and who carries Jeri with her in her eyes. You have all been my hope in the fault lines, and without you, I would be so lost. Thank you for being my solid ground when everything around me was shaking.

“And of course, to my dear sister, my best friend, Jeri. From wherever you are, know that this award means infinitely more because of what I learned from you. I wish I could’ve learned it with you beside me, but I’m hoping every single day that when it’s my time, I’m even half of the person you are. Thank you.”

The audience applauds, and someone hands you a small glass statue as the physical evidence of your award, and pictures are snapped, and then it’s all over. You’re back in the crowd, and you’re drained and a bit embarrassed and empty, and the only person you want to talk to is Mingyu. You want to run to him and throw yourself into his arms and let him carry you away from the stage and the people who are flocking to you to hug you and offer condolences and shake your hand and congratulate you. But you can’t, so you let them approach until Emily (bless her) extracts you from the crowd.

“Your parents came,” she whispers to you, and you feel your jaw clench. 

“Where are they?” you ask through your gritted teeth. 

“By the food. I’ve tried to hold them off, but they want to meet Sara.”

“Where is she?”

“Mingyu’s changing her diaper.”

You grab Cory’s arm as he passes. “My parents are here. Please go in the bathroom and tell Mingyu not to leave until you come back to get him.” With an alarmed look, he obeys, and you stalk toward the two elderly people staring haughtily around at the crowd at the food table.

Your mother sees you first. As she meets your eyes you remember her wearing that same look while your father had “disciplined” you — with a belt. It’s a shrewd look, a calculating one. The last night you’d lived with them, before you’d taken Jeri and gotten out of that place, she had told him she didn’t think the message was sinking in enough. She suggested more stripes might remind you of “a woman’s place.”

As hard as she is to look at, he is infinitely worse. Your father has grown hunched in the ten years since you’ve seen him, his face becoming even more gaunt and severe, almost cartoonish in its caricatured lines. You stand up straighter and realize that you’re not afraid of him anymore. “What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice quiet so as not to attract attention and cause a scene. 

“Is it a crime to want to see my daughter and granddaughter?” your father croaks.

“I don’t remember inviting you,” you say shortly. “I want to know how you found out about this.”

“I read about it in the paper,” he says.

“Well, thank you for coming,” you say. “But I think I made it clear that I don’t want contact with you after the trial.”

“The judge only ruled that Sara would live with you. They didn’t mention that we could never see her,” your mother claims.

“No, they didn’t say that. But I did,” you remind her, your voice surprisingly gentle despite your anger.

There is a sudden warmth from a hand at your shoulder. “Are you okay?” Mingyu asks quietly.

You turn to face him, giving him a tight smile. “Yeah,” you say, a bit shaken but still determined. “Where’s Sara?”

“Wonwoo is watching her,” he replies. “Do you need help with them?”

You had told him about your parents and the vaguest details of their abuse around month four. He knew you’d left home at seventeen with Jeri in tow, determined to let her be safer than you had been. He knew that there had been a nasty custody battle necessitating your admission of everything they’d done to you so that Sara would never be subjected to the childhood you had. He didn’t know that you’d had to teach yourself how to do makeup in seventh grade to hide the black eye your father had given you, because your mother believed makeup to be deceitful and of the devil. He didn’t know all the times you’d stepped in front of Jeri to prevent your father from hurting her. He didn’t know the fear you’d felt when they took you to court to try and take your niece away from you — all on the basis that a child without her father, raised by only a woman, could never be complete.

He didn’t know everything, but still he was there at your side. Big and strong and never angry except for right now, his dark eyes flashing and his mouth set in a straight line. You’d wondered how your soft, silly, sweet Mingyu had managed to survive for years as a federal agent, but now you knew. Mingyu could be intimidating if he wanted to be – he simply chose not to be most of the time.

You sigh, relieved. “I think I would like help with them, actually.”

This is all Mingyu needs to spring into action. He moves for your father, taking him by the arm in what you’re sure is a vice grip, as you link an arm around your mother’s arm. “I need the both of you to go,” you tell her. “And if I see you again, I’ll file a restraining order. Don’t think I won’t. I’d prefer not to do it, so just leave us alone. We’re happy.” You release her in the hotel lobby, and she and your father scurry away. 

As you walk back to the party with Mingyu, you ask, “did he say anything to you?”

Mingyu shrugs. “Nothing worth repeating.” The two of you hunt down Sara, and you give her a big hug before letting her finally wander around on her own two feet, which she’s been begging Wonwoo to do. It does your heart good to watch her be herself without any fear of retribution.

You’re surprised at how normal you feel after returning to the group. Your hands still shake, and you do keep a closer eye on Sara than normal, but you don’t dwell on it. It didn’t burn you like you expected to see them again. Perhaps, you reason, although the pain of seeing your parents again is very different from your grief, and there is nearly ten years of distance between that pain and your current life, you have actually become stronger. The thought makes you warm from the inside out. The rest of the event goes by in a blur -- all the way up until you overhear Mingyu talking to Wonwoo. “Come out with us tonight,” Wonwoo plies.

“I don’t know,” Mingyu says, sounding reluctant.

“You should,” you find yourself saying, grinning as they both jump at your words. “Sorry for eavesdropping. Why wouldn’t you go?”

Mingyu snorts. “I’ll go if you go.”

You grin regretfully at Wonwoo. “Sorry,” you say. “I have the duties of motherhood to attend to.”

Bora is standing nearby and interjects. “Actually, I think it’d be great if you went. I can take Sara tonight.”

You shoot her a look. “I wasn’t even invited. That was a joke.”

“No, you’re definitely invited,” Wonwoo says. “Please come. Seungcheol is going to be there, and he just got rejected, so he needs someone more responsible than me to look after him. Who better than a literal mother?”

You roll your eyes. “I didn’t birth her, Wonwoo.”

“You’re still her mom,” says Bora. “I’m taking her home with me. Go out, have fun! It’ll be good for you. The last time you went out, you ended up finding Mingyu. So maybe tonight something great will happen.”

You can hear the suggestive edge in her voice. It has you glaring daggers at her as she reaches for Sara. “I’ll leave you to it,” she says, and scurries away.

***

“I’m not good at drinking,” you confess over the music.

“Then don’t drink too much,” Wonwoo says. 

“Is everything just that simple for you?” you ask him, amused. 

He grins. “Actually, yes.” He looks over to where the girl he brought and Mingyu are chatting happily about some inane thing, and frowns. “Sometimes even I complicate things, though.”

“I think she really likes you.” Wonwoo turns to look at you, eyes wide, and you chuckle. “I think we’re alike,” you explain. “Neither of us are very forward usually, or very good at expressing ourselves.”

Wonwoo nods with a sheepish grin. “That’s accurate.”

“So…do you like her?” you ask him bluntly.

Wonwoo clears his throat and downs a shot before replying. “I’ve been in love with her for a long time.”

“And you still haven’t said anything?” you ask sympathetically.

“Well, I mean, we’ve kissed. And we’ve held hands. And I kind of confessed.”

You eye him skeptically. “And would you say she’s more like you and I, personality-wise, or more like Mingyu?”

“Definitely Mingyu,” he replies. 

“Do you think Mingyu would pick up on a half-confession?”

Wonwoo thinks to himself. “He’d probably understand what you’re saying, but I think he’d be too worried to do anything about it unless you were explicit. He’s too polite and cautious to cross a line like that.”

You try not to think about what he’s saying in the context of you and Mingyu, but it’s hard. “So, do you know what you need to do?” you ask him, trying to focus on the task at hand.

“Own up to my feelings, probably.” Wonwoo laughs at himself.

“You’ve already kissed,” you point out. “And she’s stuck around. If she hated that you kissed her, it might be one thing, but it seems to me like she’s pretty into being with you. You don’t have to be poetic, just tell her how she makes you feel and let her respond how she wants.”

He nods, putting the shot glass back on the bar and standing up. “Thanks,” he says. “You might consider taking your own advice, too.” And with that, he walks across the room to the girl and leans in to whisper something to her. The two of them leave together, and Mingyu turns to look at you, giving you a quizzical look. 

“What did you say to him?” he asks, coming to sit in Wonwoo’s vacated seat.

“I told him to go for it,” you say, your head still buzzing with Wonwoo’s last comment to you. You sip sparingly at your piña colada and sigh. “What are we even doing here?” you ask Mingyu with an uncharacteristic giggle, probably brought on by the alcohol in your system. “I’ve never been a person who goes to bars, and since becoming a parent, I am even less of one.”

Mingyu laughs. “Well, I was having a great time talking with Wonwoo’s girl, until someone decided to be an inspiration. As per usual.”

“Where are Seungcheol and Vernon?” you say, ignoring his compliment but for a small grin.

“I think they’re in an intense game of pool. Vernon’s doing a better job distracting Cheol than I thought he would,” Mingyu says. “Although they’re both super drunk. We should go check on them.”

Mingyu takes your hand and guides you through the crowded bar, to a back room with a pool table, a ping pong table, and a couple of old arcade games. Vernon and Seungcheol have abandoned the pool table and are standing by the ancient-looking jukebox. As you watch, Seungcheol whacks the jukebox with his fist, and then groans in pain. Mingyu wordlessly jogs over to them and grabs Seungcheol’s hand to inspect it.

“Wanted it to play that one song,” Seungcheol slurs at Mingyu as you approach. “The one that reminds me of her.”

Mingyu looks at him in a mixture of amusement and worry. “Which one?”

“She’s Got a Way,” Vernon says, stumbling over. “Billy Joel is the best.”

“I think you should sit down,” Mingyu says to both of them as they lean heavily on him. You grab Vernon by the arm and help him over to the nearest collection of chairs, just as a pretty girl in a black dress strides up to Mingyu helping Seungcheol. 

“Hi, handsome,” she says. 

“Pia?” Mingyu says, shocked. “Oh, wow. Um, hi! It’s been awhile.” He rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“Sure has, soldier.” She doesn’t spare you or either of the other two men a single glance -- her focus is solely on Mingyu. “Where have you been?”

“I was living in Italy for a minute. You know, doing the whole nannying thing still.” He clears his throat. “But I’ve been back awhile.”

“Huh,” Pia says. “Can’t believe you haven’t lost your mind around all those kids yet. Let me buy you a drink. You can tell me all about it.”

Mingyu shoots you a sideways glance. You want to drag him away from her -- with your teeth, if necessary -- but you say nothing, hoping your face isn’t betraying the open hostility in your heart. “I don’t know,” he says, hesitating. “I’m supposed to drive later.”

“Then I’ll buy you a virgin daiquiri. Nothing hokey, I promise,” she says smoothly, taking Mingyu’s arm. “I’ll have you back here before you know it.” And with that, she waltzes him away as he looks at you, wide-eyed, over his shoulder.

You aren’t really mad at him. You could tell that if it were up to him, he’d have stayed with the three of you -- if only because he was worried about Vernon and Seungcheol being too much for you. And yet, it still rankled to see him walking away with another woman.

Another very pretty woman.

Maybe it’s this that leads you to order another drink when the waiter comes around. And another. Two drinks was enough alcohol to get you shit-faced. Three has you singing along to She’s Got a Way with the other two when it finally plays, even though you never sing.

By the time Mingyu arrives back to your group, he is shocked to see you with your arms slung around the other two, your cheeks pink and your eyes bright, belting another song along with them while Seungcheol weeps unabashedly into your shoulder.

“I think it’s time to leave,” he says, amused, propping Seungcheol up. “Stay right there, baby. I’ll be back.”

You blink. It feels like time is moving in slow motion as Mingyu turns to leave the bar. “Did he just call me baby?” you ask Vernon stupidly.

“I think so,” Vernon says, nodding. “It’d be weird if he called me that.” 

You frown. “Why does he do stuff like that?”

Vernon shakes his head. “I don’t know. But what I do know is that the room is spinning, which means I drank too much, so I’m gonna just lay down for a second.”

You watch Vernon put his forehead to the table and give a drunken scoff. Mingyu arrives shortly afterward, lifting you princess-style out of your chair as though you weigh nothing and telling Vernon he’ll be back. He lays you in the passenger seat of your car, grinning down at you. “I see why you don’t drink often,” he teases. “You really are a lightweight.”

Seungcheol groans from the backseat. “Kiss her,” he commands, too loud, causing passerby to look over in shock.

To Mingyu’s surprise, your eyes light up. You still have a hand gripping his soft tee from when the world tilted alarmingly as he hoisted you off the chair, and your eyes are out of focus and you keep blinking at him to try and see him, and you’re uncomfortably aware that your hair is plastered to your forehead with sweat. 

Adorable. He can’t help but think it. The alcohol has done its job admirably — your cheeks are flushed, and your usually-guarded gaze is open and almost dangerous in your blatant desire for him. It takes everything in him to restrain himself from listening to Seungcheol and kissing you in front of all these people. 

But you’re so drunk, and he cares too much about you to do it like this, so he gently removes your fist from his shirt and runs back into the bar to get Vernon, hearing Seungcheol yell “Coward!” at him as he retreats. In no time he packs Vernon into the back of the car and drives off, monitoring you in the passenger side. 

Seungcheol gets out at Vernon’s house, and together they stagger inside. Mingyu watches them in amusement until he hears you sniffling. Alarmed, he looks down to see you crying quietly into your hands.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, befuddled. 

“I’m drunk,” you say in a choked, muffled voice. “People just cry when they’re drunk sometimes.”

He shrugs, then pats your shoulder. “I guess you’re right.” But he continues to watch as your tears continue to fall. Finally he pulls up to your house, and you claw at your seatbelt, trying to pull yourself loose. He chuckles and pops the button easily, and you fling the door open and promptly fall out of the car.

In a panic, Mingyu runs around the side of the car to see you weeping on your own driveway. When he moves to help you, you weakly try to push him away. “What’s going on, honey?” he says, suddenly realizing you may not have told him the truth earlier about the reason for your tears. 

“I’m mad at you,” you admit, wiping your eyes. “And I cry when I’m mad.”

He purses his lips. “Well, can I at least get you inside? Then we can talk about it.”

You hesitate, then nod. Wordlessly he scoops you into his arms, and despite everything you’re feeling, you tuck yourself into the crook of his neck. He’s so warm, and you breathe in his scent, feeling the pain of the fall and your own feelings ease a little. 

“So,” he says after he’s propped you up on your couch. “What’s this about, huh?”

You look up at him with red eyes. “I’m not actually mad at you.” You take a deep breath in. “I’m mad at me.”

The realization had hit you when you’d reached Vernon’s apartment. You had broken your own heart, beyond what you thought was possible after losing your sister, because every version of your future that you had even the slightest desire to live in had Mingyu in it. And not as your nanny — as your partner. The sudden impossibility of any of those futures becoming reality has rushed to you, because Mingyu needs a job, and you need a nanny, and to change anything about your relationship would cost him his livelihood — or cost the both of you the relationship you already have.

The only thing more impossible than explaining this was staying quiet, however.

So when he asks why, you tell him. “I ruined everything, Mingyu. I … I put us both in the worst possible situation.”

“How?” His eyes are zeroed in on your face, alight in the dim room. 

You can almost taste your own heartbeat as you reply. “I…fell in love with you.”

Mingyu’s jaw drops. 

“I know, it’s stupid. And you…you have better options than me, plus…we’re impossible. You and me, it would never work anyway. But I had to say it before I catch fire from the inside out.”

When you finally look at Mingyu, his shock has turned into a pained expression. “Impossible?” he repeats quietly.

You nod sleepily as the tears overtake you again. “Like trying to fit a round peg in a square hole,” you confirm, sniffling.

“Why is it impossible?” he asks. “Explain that.” For the first time since you’ve known Mingyu, he sounds angry with you. 

And this makes you angry, too.

“Because this is not the life you deserve,” you say, your voice too loud for the living room. “Me, my grief, my baggage, a kid — you deserve your own family. One that isn’t so … messy.” Your voice cracks near the end of your rant, but you choke your tears down like you had in front of your parents and their rage all those years ago. 

“What if you’re enough for me?” he challenges, eyes flashing.

“I’m not going to let you throw the whole life you could have with someone else away for someone who can’t give you what you want!” you yell. “I can’t love you like you deserve, Mingyu!”

Mingyu’s face crumples from anger to shattering grief. He stands up, grabs his jacket, and heads for the door. 

You want to yell at him to come back, but feel too guilty and tired and stressed and awful to say a word. Before he opens the door, he half turns over his shoulder, not meeting your eyes. “I know you, and I know how you love. And it’s more than enough. You are what I want.” His tone is so careful and measured that you know he wants to yell back at you. He couldn’t be more serious, or more plain about what he’s saying. He finally looks into your eyes as he opens the door.

“If you ever stop being afraid of that, you know where to find me,” he says quietly.

And without another glance, he steps into the night, letting the door shut with an awful sense of finality.

***

“Get up,” says Bora sternly, ripping the sheets off you. 

You groan and bury your face in your pillows. “No,” you say.

“Sara has been asking for you,” she insists. 

You glare at her, but push yourself up and follow her downstairs. Sara is playing happily on the floor with Morrie. When she catches sight of you, she yells her toddler version of your name. Your heart partially pieces itself back together, and you respond to her reaching arms by pulling her close. “Hey, baby. Did you have a fun sleepover?”

“Yeah!” Sara yells excitedly. “We had soooooooooo much fun!!”

“We played with my princess toys,” Morrie informs you. 

“Oh did you?” you say, trying to mimic their excitement. 

“Yeah!! Mommy said you went out to have fun with a cute boy,” Morrie says. “Did you have fun?”

You glance over at Bora before responding. “I may have had a little too much fun.”

Bora hisses, but you shake your head at her, letting her know with your eyes that you’ll talk later. She hangs around for the morning, and when Morrie and Sara go down for their naps, she corners you.

“Tell me why Mingyu didn’t show up this morning,” she demands.

You sigh. “Because I am the dumbest, stupidest idiot known to all mankind.” And you tell her everything.

She listens intently. “And then he texted this morning and told me he needed some time,” you finish, swallowing hard around the lump in your throat.

“So what are you gonna do about it?” she asks you. You note the strain in her tone and realize she’s mad at you too.

“I don’t know,” you snap, her anger and your own pain making you feel trapped and defensive. 

“That man is in love with you,” she says, exasperated. “I mean, it was really obvious that he feels the same way about you that you feel about him. And you’re just going to stubbornly suggest that he’s too good for you?”

“He literally is, though,” you say, desperate to make her understand. “He’s the perfect man. He could be with anyone. I have a kid and a company, and he deserves someone’s full attention and full heart, and that will never be me.”

Bora’s shaking her head. “No, listen to me. You’ve always been like this. You think love is this finite thing and once you give it to one thing you don’t have enough to give to something else. I thought Sara would change that about you. Do you forget about Sara when you’re at work?” 

You think to yourself. No, in fact. You thought about her constantly. You even did your job in the hope that one day she would know she could do whatever she set her mind to. “And did you stop running your business just because you became Sara’s guardian?” Bora asks you, watching you as you think. “Of course you didn’t. Because love isn’t finite, you dummy.”

You stare at her, unconvinced. She sighs. “Sweetheart, I see the way you look at him. I know you know you have feelings for him, but when you think about an entire lifetime without Mingyu, when you think about him moving on with someone else, how does that feel?”

“Unbearable,” you whisper. You’ve already thought about it -- all last night, after you sobered up, you thought about what would happen to you if that was the last time you ever saw Mingyu. You knew you’d keep going, for Sara, like always. But you also knew you’d be a shell of who you were when you were with him, and you didn’t like to think how long it would take for you to fill yourself back up.

Which brings you to a greater worry. “What if I just…got attached? Because he was something for me to hold onto during all this?” you ask her.

“So what if you did? That’s as real a reason to be attached to someone as I can think of.”

“I don’t want to be trauma-bonded, Bora.”

She rolls her eyes. “Have you ever heard him say anything mean? About anyone?”

“No?” Because he hadn’t. Not even your parents. He was unfailingly kind.

“And has he ever made you feel inferior, for any reason?”

“Of course not,” you say. In fact, even when he teased, he was never disrespectful.

“And are the two of you able to talk about things together without antagonizing each other?”

“Yes,” you tell her, realizing all at once that your friendship with Mingyu is one of the healthiest you have.

Bora nods. “You need to go see him.” She grabs your hand and starts tugging you up the stairs.

“But I just got Sara back, and he says he needs time!” you protest, shocked.

“He needs time from the you that didn’t know you didn’t want to live without him,” she says forcefully, throwing one of your duffel bags onto your bed and tossing a random assortment of clothing into it.

“Why are we packing?” you ask her in alarm.

“You aren’t coming home tonight,” she says matter-of-factly.

“I’m not?”

“For the smartest person I know, you’re an absolute idiot,” she says. “Grab pajamas, sweetie.”

You know better than to argue with Bora when she gets into tornado mode. So you pull out your favorite sweatpants and a hoodie. Bora looks at your selections with a critical eye. “Comfort over style?” she asks, moving to your dresser. She opens the top drawer and extracts the pretty pink lingerie an ex boyfriend got you for Christmas three years ago. 

“What is that for?” you ask as she grabs a black bra and panty set and shoves it into the bag as well. You feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the beating of your heart suddenly rattling in your brain.

She doesn’t respond, just takes you out to your car and hands you the keys she grabbed -- still on the counter where Mingyu had left them the night before. “I’m prohibiting you from coming home tonight. I’ll take care of Sara. Don’t worry about anything, just go.”

It’s not until you’re on the road that it hits you fully what you’re about to do. You’ve never done anything like this before -- never cared enough to take the risk that you’re about to take. You try not to imagine him slamming the door in your face and drive faster, wanting to get to the part where you’re standing in front of him saying what you need to say. 

Finally, you arrive. You take a deep breath before dashing from the car to knock on Mingyu’s door. Your knocks are so persistent and loud that he answers right away, looking shocked to see you of all people on his porch with a duffel bag.

The first words out of his mouth aren’t what you expect. “Are you fleeing the country?”

“Huh?” you ask. 

“Your duffel bag. And you look like you just robbed a bank,” he says with an eyebrow raised.

“Oh. Um, no. I...can I come in? I really need to talk to you.” You can hear how thick your voice sounds, and you try to clear your throat, but breathing is hard. Because there he is -- wet hair from a recent shower, white tank top with massive arms fully visible, and eyes that only just barely betray the hurt of the night before. The hurt you caused.

He steps aside to let you in, and you scurry past him and lay your bag down before you turn to face him. “Is Wonwoo here?” you ask first. 

“Nah, he stayed with his girl last night.” Mingyu’s eyes are steady on you, urging you to explain yourself, and you’re more nervous than ever. You rub your slick palms on your sweatpants and will yourself to find the words to continue.

“I’m so scared,” you finally whisper to him. 

His face is stony, unreadable. “Of what?” he asks.

“Everything,” you tell him. “All of this. I’m scared of you most of all.”

He softens a little. “Why?” he asks, taking a step toward you.

You step forward too -- close enough to touch him. And for the first time in your life, you make the move, reaching forward and taking his big hand in yours. “Because you, Kim Mingyu, could ruin me. I love you in a way that’s never supposed to end, and that terrifies me. I don’t ever want to lose you. And I could. I might have already.”

He’s very still, watching your face, looking for any signs of a lie. It’s such a relief to be touching him, and you’re so high on the feeling of his warm hand in yours, that you sigh as you bring his knuckles to your lips, breathing a kiss over each one.

“You mean it,” he says quietly, watching you adore him.

“I do,” you say. “I really, really do. I love you, Kim Mingyu.” 

Those are the words that seem to hit him like a comet breaking through the atmosphere. He tugs you forward and into his arms and buries his face in your neck, squeezing you hard enough that you feel your ribs crack.  

“I love you too,” he says, and you hear the hint of tears in his voice. “I wish I could find a way to tell you how I feel right now,” Mingyu says into your hair. “I meant what I said. You’re everything I ever wanted. Sara, too.”

And you know there’s still things that you’ll need to work out, but when you’re in Mingyu’s arms, it all seems to matter a lot less. The relief is instantaneous, his touch soothing the tightness in your chest, and you finally let yourself open up fully, melting into him and squeezing him back. Mingyu lets go of you only briefly and only partially to pull you over to the sofa, wrapping his arms around your middle from behind and pulling you to his chest. 

“What made you decide to come?” he asks you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You give a small laugh. “Bora,” you say. “It was actually barely my choice at all. She basically threw me out of my own house.”

You can feel the vibration of his own chuckle where your head rests against his chest. “Thank goodness for Bora.”

“Mmm,” you say in agreement, relaxing into his embrace. Mingyu’s arms tighten around you, and he leans down to kiss your shoulder through your several layers of sweatshirt. “So, how long have you liked me?” you ask him shyly.

He sighs. “It was almost at first sight for me,” he admits, blushing as your jaw drops. “I’m serious! You looked so cute that first morning. So frazzled, too.”

“Imagine my shock,” you explain, “when I hire a nanny and someone who looks like you shows up.” You trace a light hand up and down the arms wrapped around you, watching as they erupt into goosebumps. 

“What do you mean? Did I look irresponsible?” he teases.

“No, you’re just the hottest man alive,” you say, grinning at him over your shoulder. 

He looks both shy and pleased with himself. “I am?” he asks, his smile growing.

You turn back around and sink into him again. “My love, I’m going to need you to invest in a mirror. You clearly don’t know what you look like.”

Mingyu gives a soft laugh. Slowly and deliberately, he kisses down the side of your face from your temple down your cheekbone, bringing a hand up to turn your head to face him. “Would you like a kiss from the hottest man alive?” he asks very seriously, but he can’t help the corners of his mouth from turning upward just a bit.

You nod, privately and internally screaming to yourself. It’s been a very long time -- what if you’re bad at it? 

But Mingyu is so careful. He just barely tilts your chin up and lets your lips meet his, soft and warm and tender. You let your lips part slightly, and lean in just slightly more, adding a bit of pressure. His hand on your face is steady and strong, and you can taste coconut oil on his lips from his chapstick. Kissing Mingyu is heaven, as thrilling as a roller coaster but as safe as a night at home in Sara’s rocking chair. Your mind is full of him — everything else seems to evaporate as though Mingyu is the only real thing in the world, and you cling to him, trembling, as though he might disappear too. You have to remind yourself to take it slow, although your heart clattering against your ribs is begging you for more from his lips, but can’t help a soft hum of pleasure from escaping you as he breaks the kiss and comes back for another, slipping his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck.

He smiles against your lips at the sound. “Enjoying yourself?” he asks, pulling away a bit.

And although you’re trembling with a surplus of emotions, you manage an eye roll. “I don’t have to answer that,” you say, breathing too heavily.

Those darling crow’s feet appear at the corners of his eyes as he notices the heat rising in your face, even brushing a thumb along the pink that has appeared on the apple of your cheek. “I would do things all the time to make that happen,” he admits, dropping a feather light kiss on your cheek. “You looked so cute, and it also made me feel like maybe you might love me back one day.”

“For your information, I liked you almost this entire time, too,” you tell him.

“When did it shift?” he asks. “Between liking me and loving me, I mean.”

You consider. “I think it became clearer to me when Sara started calling you dad — you remember? It was around her first birthday.”

“I remember!” he says. “I was worried you’d be mad.”

You smile. “I wasn’t mad at all. It occurred to me then that I couldn’t see myself finding anyone else to love Sara the same way, or that it would just all feel wrong and weird if it wasn’t you. I thought about it plenty of times beforehand, though. I think the first time I felt something real was when I got sick.”

“Two weeks in?” Mingyu asks, surprised.

“Yeah, about that long,” you confirm, and his eyes go wide.

“We’ve really just been driving each other crazy and not saying anything for the past however many months?” He laughs his high-pitched giggle. “We’re idiots!”

“Well, we figured it out eventually,” you say, spinning around to face him. “Now, I have a question.”

“Ask away,” he says, his eyes soft and adoring as he gazes at you.

“Why did you fall for me? I’m a wreck.”

He laughs again, and you swat at his arm. “I’m being serious. You couldn’t have come into my life in worse circumstances, and you’ve seen me at every extreme. Why do you love me? Why not someone...I don’t know, younger? Less riddled with grief? Someone who isn’t a package deal?”

He thinks for a minute. “Well, you’re not a decrepit old woman, as much as you might think you are. I’m actually six months older than you,” he informs you.

“You are? How do you know?” 

“Your birthday is October 16. Mine is April 6 of the same year.”

“How do you know that?” you repeat, shocked.

“I stalked you on social media,” he replies, blushing himself.

You decide to let this go. “But you still haven’t explained why you love me,” you protest.

He looks at you, grinning at your eagerness with stars in his eyes, brushing your hair out of your face to see you better. “The first thing I loved about you was how much love you had for your niece,” he begins. “You didn’t resent her at all even though she’d sort of wrecked your whole life plan. That said something about you. I could tell you had a good heart.” He pauses. “The second thing I loved about you was your ass.”

You gape at him. He bursts into laughter, and you shove his shoulder. “I’m kidding,” he says. “Although,” he continues, reaching around to lift you onto his lap by said ass, “it is pretty incredible.” 

You have to rest your hands on his chest to keep yourself upright, but you avoid meeting his eyes, even though you’re straddling him. You’re feeling like someone zapped you with a bolt of lightning as a tingle spreads from your inside out. “Hey,” he says softly. “Look at me, baby.”

You force yourself to look into his eyes, which are warm and smiling at you over a fine dusting of freckles across his nose. He shifts his weight a bit so you’re resting more comfortably across his hips, and your breathing grows heavier. “Is this okay?” he asks, a bit amused at how much the simple change in position seems to be affecting you.

Trying to look unbothered, you nod. “Please go on,” you say. 

“What was I saying?” he asks, his hand dancing down your spine and making you shiver, still grinning up at you.

“Something about my ass,” you tell him, and he laughs. 

“Right,” he says. “But seeing how you treated Sara was the first thing. Then I appreciated how hard you worked. And then I loved your humor and how you teased me. And then I admired how you opened up to me. And then —“

“Alright, enough,” you interrupt, embarrassed.

“The point is,” he continues with a broad smile, “it all came down to how much love you had inside you. You loved everything and everyone so much, in a way that was so unique to anyone I’d ever met. It was just you.” 

You laugh at this – the very reason he fell for you was the thing you were worried about not being able to give him. 

He sighs contentedly at the sound. “After a while the possibility of being with anyone else just felt … gross. You can ask Wonwoo — we had a few particularly miserable nights of drinking about it.”

You ruffle his hair. “You talked about me to your friends?”

“Almost constantly for almost as long as I’ve known you,” he confirms. “They’re so sick of me.”

You tsk softly, wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his shoulder. “They deserve for us to take them to dinner,” you say, lightly scratching up and down his back. You can’t help but sigh in relief — Mingyu’s touch feels like stepping inside from the cold. You can feel yourself relaxing against him, your heartbeat slowing.

After several minutes of holding each other like this, Mingyu extricates himself. “One second, baby,” he says, pecking you on the forehead. 

“Where are you going?” you ask, wincing at the whine in your voice. 

“I just need to text my housemate,” he calls over his shoulder as he disappears into one of the bedrooms. “I’m gonna tell him not to come home.”

You suddenly become painfully aware of the pink lingerie buried in your duffel bag. 

If it’s been awhile since you’ve kissed anyone, it’s been an age since you’ve had sex. And on top of that, all the sex you’ve had has been at worst embarrassing and at best okay. To say you’re nervous is an understatement — more nervous than you were the first time you ever undressed in front of a man, and you’re still fully clothed.

So you just wait for him to come back, smiling at him as he re-enters the room, flops onto the couch, and lays his head in your lap. You almost automatically run your fingers through the slightly longer hair on top of his head, letting your fingernails lightly brush against his scalp. He nestles into you and sighs. “So, what do you want to do tonight?”

You can’t help the choked laugh that escapes you. “Well…” you begin, as you blush and Mingyu looks up at you in alarm. 

“Oh,” he realizes, sitting up. “That was such a leading question. I didn’t mean it like that.”

You put a gentle hand to his cheek. “I know you didn’t,” you say. “But…”

At your hesitation, he shakes his head. “We don’t have to do anything tonight. I just told Wonwoo to stay out because I want us to have uninterrupted time together before we need to go take care of Sara.”

The anxiety leaves you almost instantly. “Thanks,” you say in relief. “Um…are you hungry? You’ve cooked for me so often. It might be fun to do a little role reversal tonight.”

“I’m starving,” he admits, “but what if I take you out to a restaurant?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Looking like this?” you ask, gesturing to yourself.

“We could change?” he suggests. 

“How’s this for compromise,” you say, feeling like he just doesn’t want you to do anything for him tonight. “We order takeout. I know this great pizza place.”

His face lights up. “Pizza sounds amazing.”

45 minutes later, you’re both tucked into Mingyu’s comforter on the sofa, eating pizza with your legs tangled together. “Let’s pick a movie,” Mingyu says with his mouth partially full.

You nod, handing him the remote. The two of you scroll through options before settling on Legally Blonde. When you bring up that you think Mingyu is only watching the movie for you, he side-eyes you comically. “This is one of my favorite movies!” he insists, and you let him have it.

But there’s starting to be an issue. The adrenaline of the impulsive decision to come to him and confess has worn off, and in its place is a new, unfamiliar, and powerful feeling. An unbearable ache you barely recognize, coming from body parts that haven’t been touched in years. And you definitely aren’t surprised that you’re attracted to Mingyu, but you are surprised at how turned on you are by him in his tank top, eating pizza straight out of the box. You’re practically salivating as you watch him watch the movie.

It doesn’t take long for him to notice. “Um, baby,” he says. “Everything okay?”

He’s got a little piece of cheese at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes are big and slightly concerned. Before you realize what you’re saying, you blurt out, “I wanna do it!”

“Do what?” he asks, bewildered.

“Do you,” you clarify. You grin sheepishly at him.

He chuckles a little, watching you carefully. “Are you sure?” he says once he can see you’re serious.

“Well, unless you don’t want to,” you backtrack, realizing that in your painful need for him you’d forgotten his feelings.

He raises an eyebrow. “No, I most definitely want to,” he says, scooting closer to you. He lightly brushes his fingers over your cheekbones, his touch sending a jolt of desire through your body. “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to. We can take it slow.”

“Mingyu,” you say, closing the distance between the two of you and taking his face in your hands. “We’ve been taking it slow for four months. I’m officially finished going slow with you.” You puff out a breath, uttering a quiet but desperate “please” that fades into the air like smoke, and before it has, Mingyu has pulled you into his arms and stood up off the couch. He kisses you deeply, catching your bottom lip between his teeth in a gentle bite that has you gasping for air. He stumbles blindly to the bathroom with your legs locked around his waist, sitting you down on the counter to continue kissing you, only pulling back to pull your sweatshirt up and over your head to reveal the bare skin and bra underneath.

And then, at a dizzying pace, he’s kissing down your cheek, down your neck, across your shoulder, feathering kisses over every freckle there until he’s brushing your bra strap to the side while one hand at your back slides up to unhook it. 

You find yourself wishing you had a camera present for the way Mingyu’s face looks when he sees your bare chest for the first time. You half-expect him to bury his face in your breasts, so you tug him closer by the waistband of his sweats and press yourself closer to him, his fingers drawing lines of fire up and down the bare skin of your back as you hook your legs around him once more.

You’re tugging on his tank top, now, discarding the useless material so you can finally let his warmth completely envelope you skin-to-skin. He lifts you up off the counter and sets you down gently, taking a step back and gesturing to your shorts. “Need those off, baby,” he says, running a hand through his hair before smoothly untying the lace at the front of his own sweats and slipping them off.

But now it’s your turn to stare. You’d never really been given the chance to appreciate a naked body in such a present way, but you weren’t about to waste the opportunity when that body was Mingyu’s. You let your eyes roam over every perfect inch of him, only allowing yourself to look back at his eyes when he says your name. “You okay, love?” he says softly, taking a hesitant step closer. 

You laugh softly. “That is not nearly a strong enough word.” You finally reach down and remove your own shorts, and Mingyu sucks in a breath from between his teeth. “Damn,” he exclaims, looking you up and down briefly before grabbing your hand and pulling you into the bedroom you can see through the other bathroom door. 

He climbs into bed, under the covers, and pats the space next to him. You crawl in beside him as he pulls on a condom and then puts his hand to your cheek. “You ready?” he asks.

You’re breathless, you’re sweating, and you need him biblically. So you whisper “yes,” and Mingyu’s pulling you in for a deep, slow, spine-tingling kiss, his eyes fluttering shut, shifting his weight so that he’s hovering over you.

But then he does something you don’t expect, trailing kisses from your chin down your neck and chest. When he stops to drag his tongue over your nipples, you squirm a little, getting more and more heated by the minute. After a few minutes spent worshiping your breasts, he continues kissing down your body, pausing when he reaches your waist. “This okay?” he asks. 

“Yes,” you say, about two octaves higher than your normal voice, and he grins before his next question.

“Can I go lower, sweetie?”

This is new. No one has ever offered to eat you out before, and you’re suddenly insecure.

Mingyu can see it on your face. “It’s just so that you can feel good,” he reassures. “If you don’t want it, I won’t do it.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say quickly. “It’s just new. But I trust you.”

“New?” he questions with raised eyebrows.

“My first time,” you confirm.

He scoffs. “Then I guess I have to make up for lost time,” he says, pulling your legs over his shoulders and going to work.

And you can’t help the sharp intake of air, nor the moans that escape you, because this feeling is one of the best you’ve ever felt in your life. Mingyu eats like his life depends on it, and your back arches in pleasure as he responds to your sounds, learning what makes you feel best. Your hand finds the back of his head, and you find yourself wishing he had more hair that you could grab as you tremble with his efforts.

It doesn’t take long before the pleasure overtakes you, washing over you in a warm wave and making you feel all floaty and euphoric, your whole body seizing and twitching feverishly as Mingyu works you down from your high. When he finally pulls back, his mouth wet and grinning, you have to remind yourself how to breathe. “How was it?” he asks. 

You can only shake your head and stare at him, dumbfounded. He laughs, then kneels in front of you on the bed so you can see how hard he’s gotten. “Can I?” he asks you, and in response you sit up and kiss him before pulling him down by his neck on top of you, guiding him inside of you.

You whimper a bit at the stretch, but Mingyu’s left you wet enough that it slides right in, and it feels amazing. “You okay, baby?” he checks again, and you chuckle.

“Yeah, just kiss me, Gyu,” you say, almost drunkenly, and the nickname on your dazed lips is almost enough to bring him to his own climax. But Mingyu is a good listener, so while he thrusts into you, he kisses you, over and over and over again, pausing every now and then to kiss your neck so that he can hear you moan into his ear.

“Good girl,” he says after a particularly loud one. “Talk to me. I wanna hear it.”

“How does it feel for you?” you ask him breathlessly.

“Like heaven, baby,” he grunts. “You’re so good. So, so good.”

You come another two times with him inside you, the last bringing on his orgasm. He collapses on top of you with a moan right in your ear that nearly undoes you yet again – so you can know how good you really are – and the weight of him is once again what brings you back down to earth. Your brain is hopelessly mushy, and your legs are shaking, and you have never been so satisfied.

After a minute, Mingyu pulls out and rolls off of you, chuckling. “Wow,” he says simply.

“Wow,” you agree, blinking rapidly to try and clear your head. 

He props himself up on his side and looks at you, his eyes devouring your body like a man starved. With a shaking hand, he traces the outline of your figure, from the curve of your shoulders to your waist to the widest point of your hips. “Can’t believe how lucky I am,” he says, moony-eyed and smitten. “God, you’re amazing.”

“Was it really that good for you?” you ask him, a little shy.

“Easily the best I’ve ever had,” he says. He sits up, pulling his condom off, and heads into the bathroom, returning in minutes with a towel and some wipes. And then he cleans you, kissing your thighs as he gently wipes you off, and your heart skips a beat as you watch him. Once again, nobody has ever done this sort of thing for you, leaving you feeling odd after every sexual encounter – almost used. 

“Me too,” you say softly, knowing how you must be looking at him. “Do you want to shower?” you ask him when he catches you staring yet again. 

“Yeah,” he says with a smile.

The rest of the evening is spent in comfortable, peaceful companionship. You tease Mingyu over his 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner, and he responds by making out with you in the shower, which leads to both of you almost falling on the slick wet tiles. “Can’t help it,” he says with a laugh when you scold him, gripping the top edge of the shower and holding you around the waist to keep you upright. “I’m addicted to you.”

After the shower Mingyu hands you one of his softest big white t-shirts to wear, snapping several photos of you on his phone when you come out wearing it. “I miss you sometimes,” he explains, and you chuckle. “And I wanna remember tonight. I’m not exaggerating – it’s been the best one of my life.”

Finally, the two of you decide to actually finish Legally Blonde. You fall asleep before it’s over, but he stays up watching the way your eyelashes flutter in sleep, feeling that the sight of you curled up against his chest is the only sight he needs for the rest of his life.

And that’s how you end up spending the entire first night over at Mingyu’s sleeping on the couch in his arms.

***

“It’s Saturday,” you mumble into Mingyu’s neck.

“Mmm,” he agrees sleepily.

“So we can sleep in,” you sigh.

His arms constrict around your waist. “Sara,” he murmurs.

The word makes you open your eyes. The first thing you register is how warm it is – Mingyu’s big body is radiating heat like a furnace, intensified by how snugly he’s holding you against him. So you gently ease off his side and sit up, brushing a kiss over his cheekbone before heading to the bathroom. 

You’re a wreck, your hair a knotty mess, in nothing but Mingyu’s tee. But your eyes — there’s something vibrant in them you haven’t seen in a while. There’s still a sizable amount of grief, a weight you doubt will ever fully be lifted, but you look happier.

You pull out one of the sweaters and a pair of jeans that Bora had packed for you and change, rolling your eyes at the lingerie still sitting in your bag. You’re just finishing up braiding your hair when Mingyu sits up. “Hey, sexy,” he calls across the room into the bathroom, his morning voice low and raspy.

“Hey,” you reply, smiling with the ease only he brings out of you. “How’d you sleep?”

“Really well,” he says, standing up and stretching. Then he comes into the bathroom with you, wrapping his thick arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to the base of the back of your neck. “I love you.”

You lean into his touch and let the joy sweep over you. “Good,” you say firmly. “I love you too, Mingyu.”

“I like the braids,” he says, looking at you both in the mirror, slouching to rest his head on your shoulder. “They’re really cute.”

“Thanks.”

“Maybe I can learn to do them on Sara,” Mingyu says, letting go of you and stepping into his own room and grabbing new clothes. 

You shamelessly watch him as he strips out of his pajamas. “Maybe,” you murmur as he turns, shirtless, and catches you staring.

He grins. “You’re watching me change? Creep,” he teases.

So you make your slow way up to him, stopping just in front of him and sliding a hand from his abs up his chest. “Can’t help it,” you say lightly, watching in satisfaction as his cinnamon skin becomes a mess of goosebumps under your fingers. “You’re irresistible.”

He gives a grumpy sigh. “You better stop, or Sara’s gonna have to wait a couple more days before she sees either of us,” he says, and you are endeared to see that he’s blushing. Mingyu knew the effect you had on him, but that doesn’t make it any easier for him to rebuff you when you’re standing there with the morning light streaming in, lighting up your eyes, dragging your warm fingertips across his chest slowly and deliberately like you just want to savor him. 

His words make you frown, but he gives a light chuckle and kisses your forehead. “Don’t worry,” he reassures you. “We’ll have plenty of time for just us. I’ll make sure of it.” He pulls on his shirt and his sweatpants, then grabs your hand. “Now let’s go see our little girl.”

Your face hurts from smiling so wide, and at this statement, your heart explodes.

***

Aside from all the I-told-you-so’s, the transition from a working relationship to a dating relationship with Mingyu was simple, easy, and absolutely painless. 

He still came over every day. But now Sara watched as you kissed him goodbye in the morning on your way to work. She didn’t seem confused at all by the change, nor did she notice that more and more often Mingyu stayed the night at your house. In her mind, Uncle Googoo was always welcome. It was as natural as breathing.

Maybe it was because you were still doing all of the same things you always did – you’d just added a few. Mingyu had always fit so seamlessly into your life. The two of you were happy, Sara was content, your friends were thrilled – Bora and Wonwoo especially, although Chan also took partial credit – and everything seemed perfect.

And then something shifted, just a tad. It was about a month after you became official. Mingyu spent a bit of time every night searching things up on his laptop. Occasionally, he spent a few minutes outside on the phone, never giving a direct answer when you asked who he’d been talking to.

He never acted off – he was still as affectionate (and insatiable for your body) as ever, so you weren’t nervous he was seeing someone else. Your first concern was that he was shopping for wedding rings. As smitten as you were with him, you worried that was a bit soon for two people who’d only been dating a month (although, admittedly, you’d already filled up a Pinterest board with ideas for the eventual wedding you hoped for). But then, after about two weeks, one of the phone calls comes while Mingyu is making dinner and you’re upstairs in Sara’s room trying to locate her hairbrush, and he can’t suppress a whoop of excitement.

“I need you,” he calls, and you respond by jogging down the stairs with concerned eyes.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“Nothing, I just have some news.” He carefully removes the pan from the stove and comes over to you, pulling you into his arms.

“What is it?” you ask, your hand coming up to touch his cheek.

“They caught him,” he says simply.

“Who, baby?” you ask, confused.

“The guy who hit your sister’s car,” he explains.

Your jaw drops. “What?”

“I’ve been working on it,” he admits. “I have some friends on the force, and a couple of informants leftover from my days as an agent. Someone knew someone who knew the car, and they knew the person who used to drive the car, and it turns out that the parking lot where it was abandoned had security cameras. He’s right there on camera, literally fifteen minutes after the accident. They arrested him two hours ago.”

You are speechless. Mingyu lifts you into his arms, and you bury your face in his neck. “Oh, thank you,” you say through tears when you can finally speak. “So that’s what you’ve been up to.”

“What did you think I was doing?” he asks.

“I literally thought you were looking at wedding rings.”

He laughs. “No,” he says. “Not yet.”

You hear the promise in his voice and know that the future is going to be better than you ever imagined – just like the present is.

[ada7201]

Hii! It's the anon that requested for the Layla reader. How are you doing? Hope you feel good! Can I ask for a part 2 of the Layla reader? You pictured her spot on! I want it to be with the other players like shidou or rin and maybe Kaiser and ness (only if you want ofc!) Not forcing any of this so do it at your own pace but it would really make my day if you would! :)

hi! i’d love to do this for you, im sorry i didn’t add all the characters you wanted before and i’m glad i was able to write the character good. im doing good, and thank you!

also, i had no idea how to include kaiser and ness into this but still wanted to write for them, i’ve decided to split this into 2 parts. so i’ll write part 3 a little later (≧∀≦)

༄ part 1 ༄ part 2 ༄ part 3 on the way

bllk boys x sleepy reader, like layla!

Shidou and Rin edition

𖣘 part 1 𖣘 part 2 𖣘 part 3 on the way!

note: end is a bit rushed. i wanted to finish this quickly, and had like no ideas. characters might be ooc. next part might come out in a day depending on how many ideas I get. also, im going somewhere tomorrow so i might not have that much time to write. ( ´△｀) but, i promise im working hard on finishing everyone’s requests!

i love seeing you guys ask for stuff, so don’t be afraid to request things, please（╹◡╹）♡

“where’s y/n?!”

“sleeping.”

“again?”

Rin sighed, yes, you were sleeping again. he shot a glare to the player, before looking back at the screen. he had to watch this match.

you were fast asleep in the cafeteria, after a long night of drawing on a notebook that was supposed to be for becoming a better striker.

it’s not your fault that you got bored, right?

“who’s that girl?” Shidou would hum to himself, taking long strides over to where your body was folded onto the table.

that looked pretty uncomfortable.

so, being the kind man he is, Shidou decided to pick you up roughly and throw you over his shoulder!

your eyes had prominent eye bags, and you seemed sick. it would be the right thing to do!

you gasped at being woken up, and quite literally manhandled onto someone’s shoulder.

“what do you think you’re doing?!” you’d screen to the unknown man, thrashing around.

well, you’re quite lively now, aren’t you?

“you’re sick.” he grins, patting your leg “soothingly” as if he wasn’t basically abducting you.

when he finally let you go, you were quick to get back your team’s room.

“hello y/n.” Rin would say, sharp eyes still glued to the screen like some sort of phone addict.

he had gotten used to you appearing in the room at sudden times.

today was one of the typical break days you had at blue lock, where you all are granted a sweet day of freedom.

not many stayed at blue lock, with the majority of the players choosing to get outside and breathe some fresh air, experiencing the outside world.

although, you don’t usually get picked up by some random tall man in the middle of your nap.

moving on, you sat beside Rin to peer down at his screen, looking for something to distract you.

the day went by pretty fast, unfortunately - and night soon fell.

Rin had decided to go to bed, saying he needed to rest because there was a match coming up.

he was a bit skeptical with letting you stay awake, but he decided on simply allowing you to.

he wasn’t in the middle to argue with you, anyways.

for the rest of the night, you played around with the screen, somehow managing to change the channel and catch up on your favorite show.

that was, until Ego hacked back in and glared at you.

you couldn’t tell what his motive was, as he simply eyes you either his slim fingers laced together.

you stared back, raising a questioning eyebrow at his creepy gaze.

“what are you doing.” he asked, voice low.

“nothing.” you respond, hoping he’d buy your lie.

“go to fucking sleep, y/n.” was all he said, before the screen shut off.

aw, you were just getting to the good part of your show, what a shame.

however, you did as he said, deciding sleeping would be a better option than loosing your soccer career.

you cuddled yourself back into the sheets, eyes shutting soon after.

the morning came soon after, with you being awoken by the sound of … someone yelling, and a monotone voice?

“come on, let me see her!” Shidou would plead, eyes begging as he stood in the doorway.

Rin simply shook his head, folding his arms as he stood in the way on the blonde male.

“what’s up?” you’d mumble, voice hoarse and scratchy from your sudden wake.

“aw, helloooo!” Shidou would coo, a toothy grin on his face as he pushed past Rin to hug you.

“you still look as sick as ever!” he giggled.

“excuse me?!”

Rin sighed. “what time did you sleep, y/n?”

“um… 3, maybe?” you hum curiously, ignoring the way Shidou squished and pet your body as if you were a stuffed toy.

a sick stuffed toy?

“3?” Rin asks, eyes narrowing menacingly.

you gulp.

“blonde hair, run!” you squeal, and Shidou quickly obeys.

he rushed out of the door, hugging you right as Rin chased after the two of you.

[thewillowtree3]

Korrasami Secret Santa 2023!! ;DD!!

Hi, Korrasami fam!! We're back!! ;D!!

We're doing Korrasami Secret Santa for 2023!! (Sike, I did not copy this part from Korrasami Secret Secret 2022, but the rest I will LOOL). 6 years and kicking, babey, let's go ;DD!!

The rules are the same:

Korrasami creators will be able to gift one another with Secret Santa gifts. Whether it be fics, art, videos, animations…the fun’s all there! (It doesn’t have to be holiday-themed! It can be whatever you want :)

The Process:

This Secret Santa exchange will be done through drawnames.com, which is a Secret Santa Name Generator. You’ll need your email for this, and you can message me it directly on Tumblr (I’ll gather everyone’s names up, and put them into the generator when it’s time to draw names.)

The due date to sign up is 11:59 PM Nov 30, 2023 PDT (I’d like everyone to have ample time to do their Secret Santa gifts). :)

Most likely, you’ll need to make an account on drawnames.com (you don’t need to, but it’s recommended.  When you get to writing your Wish List on there, under ‘Hobbies and Interests’, make two different lists: One for ‘Fic Requests’, the other for ‘Art Requests’. If a writer draws your name, you’ll have a suggestion for what you want them to write. If an artist draws your name, they’ll have an idea of what to create! (Also, originally, this project only had fanfic and fanart- but if anyone can contribute any other talents, that’d be swell!)

Example: Fic Request- I want Korra and Asami cuddling at home with a fireplace!

Art Request: I want Korrasami going otter-penguin sledding!

The fic and art requests can be the same, or they can be different. Please limit it to one, or if you can’t choose, then two options. You can also note things that you don’t want (i.e. No smut or NSFW work!). You can be as specific as you wish.

Also, everyone else! We recognize that there may be people in the fandom who don’t create content, but still want to contribute! @lamftw​ came up with these great ideas four years ago, if you’d still like to participate in the Secret Santa. You can:

Create Korrasami memes! The more memes, the better :)

Share your favorite Korrasami headcanons! We’d love to hear them.

Share your favorite artwork/fanfic!

Share your favorite moment from LoK or share how much Korrasami means to you.

Create Korrasami memes, write a sweet holiday message/ note of appreciation :)

Also, we can all show some love to our favorite creators, to Bryke, Janet Varney, and Seychelle Gabriel (the voice of Korra and Asami, respectively). :)

When everyone has signed up, I’ll put all the names into the Secret Santa Name Generator. You should get an email, asking you to join the Secret Santa exchange. Just click ‘Join Group’, and you’re good! Once everyone has joined, the names will then be drawn, and you’ll get your chosen individual (you’ll get an email for this too). Please remember to check your email on Dec 1; we cannot draw names unless everyone has joined the Secret Santa group!

The reveal will be on Dec 19, 2023 (the 9th Korrasami Anniversary ;DD). Post your work on Tumblr, and tag the person you got, so they’ll know what lovely work they got! Also, please tag ‘Korrasami Secret Santa’ so we can save these posts for the future :).

Please note that if you sign up, you HAVE to commit to making something. This is open to all creators, of any skill level, but please please make something if you sign up. You don’t wanna leave anyone hanging!

Last note- remember to message me on Tumblr and give me your email. That’s the way to sign up! :)

Let's freaking go, y'all! LET'S MAKE THIS A GOOD ONE!! ;DDDD!!

Spread this to all your creator friends! LET'S GO FAM!! ;DD!!

6 YEARS IN A ROW!! LEGGO!! ;DDDD!!

Note- 11/27: Hey y’all, I’ve been shadowbanned recently LOL. Idk when Tumblr will unban me and give me my account back so ;__;. Because I’ve been shadowbanned, I cannot see any messages about the Korrasami Secret Santa :((. If I don’t get my account back before Nov 30th, I’ll just have to postpone the event and make a new date for it/prolong the posting date. I’ll keep y’all updated ;__;.

Note-11/28: Y’all, I just found out- Y’ALL CAN SEND IN ASKS!! I can still see them!! ;DDDD!! So if you still wanna join, please send me an ask with your email. I’ll still be prolonging the join/posting date if I don’t get my account back before Nov 30th, but this is a solution in the meantime!! :33

[regretisstoredintheme]

Hi! I randomly came across your lovely place and wanted to request a random story that came to mind. Could you do how the rise turtles would react to a yokai bunny reader with sensitive ears and tail. Maybe they accidentally touch the ears or tail. (heck, if you decide to do this you can choose whether its pain sensitive or not.) So yeah. . . . . . . . . . . .I'm bored tbh. I just mainly want fluff and comfort. I have just been having a hard time. So with that for now. . . Arrivederci!

Bumbadebedebedebedum! Ba— OOHHHHHH????

What’s this?? 

*snatches paper*

A Request????

“yourlocalsarcasticsoftshell asked: Hi! I randomly came across your lovely place and wanted to request a random story that came to mind. Could you do how the rise turtles would react to a yokai bunny reader with sensitive ears and tail. Maybe they accidentally touch the ears or tail. (heck, if you decide to do this you can choose whether its pain sensitive or not.) So yeah. . . . . . . . . . .  .I'm bored tbh. I just mainly want fluff and comfort. I have just been having a hard time. So with that for now. . . Arrivederci!”

A/N: this only reminds me of usagi lmao (/j), or is it Yuiichi? Idk his name honestly 😭 either way! I decided to base it more on anxiousness, the same way I don’t like people standing behind me. Like a nono square 😌 I hope you’re having a better time now, hun, and I hope my blog helps in some way :( my DMs are always open and I’ll do what I can.

—Literally Anything Else.— 

Warnings(?): hurt/comfort, (less hurt more comfort) anxiousness, stating boundaries in a panic. 

—

Mikey

Backs off immediately.

You two had been drawing together, leaning into each other’s side as music played.

He was drawing you. 

how could he not? Watching your intent face as you tried to sketch a bird was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. Your ears flicked slightly when you made a mistake, nose scrunching as you erased the lines. 

His smile was consistent, looking from his sketchbook to your face. He tried not to turn his head so you wouldn’t get suspicious. He wanted to surprise you! 

After he had indulged in drawing your face, he realized he had no idea how to go about your ears. He knew the shape of rabbit ears, he just didn’t know the physics! How would he bring it to life, he wondered.

That was when a curious hand reached out, brushing against the soft surface in an attempt to understand it.

You jumped back, holding the part of your ear protectively as you stated at him with an absolutely incredulous expression. “What in pizza supreme do you think you’re doing!?” You analyzed his face for any form of malice, brows furrowed with anxiety. 

Mikey looked at how nervous you were, and felt Dr. Feelings come through a little as he thought through his next words. “I’m sorry, Y/n.” He spoke gently, a small smile gracing his lips as he gave you space, “I should have asked. I won’t do it again.” 

You were surprised at how calm he was— how quickly he accepted it as fact and just went back to drawing. He wasn’t offended? Even after you were snappy? 

Your nose twitched curiously, looking over at his sketchbook and coming face to face with yourself. 

he was.. drawing you! You!!

There was an excruciating amount of detail, as if he wanted to memorize every crease of your face— every muscle that moved and every mark that he thought was beautiful. 

You all but melted as you realized what he was trying to do, to — understand how you worked, He wanted to know more about you.

You leaned back into his side, sliding in a compliment about his art as he snuggled into your face, avoiding your ears with care. 

Raph 

Apologizes profusely.

You two were laying in what he called his “cuddle pile”, which was basically just all of his teddy bears and pillows in a huge mess of fluff. 

He had an arm lazily wrapped around your torso, head pressed into your shoulder as he churred gently. 

You chuckled as he snuggled in deeper, turning to give him a gentle kiss to whatever part of his face you could reach. You were simply sitting on your phone, scrolling mindlessly and showing him things you thought he would like. 

He was more than entertained with your presence, not to mention his drowsiness. He was at ease, which probably explained why his thoughts curiously wandered to those fluffy ears of yours. 

They just twitched ever so slightly when you laughed, it was adorable, and you had a little freckle on the inner side that he was dying to mention. 

the curiosity was innocent, but oh so tempting, and before he knew it- His finger barely grazed the soft fur. At the simple touch, you were already jumping out of your skin, accidentally kicking him in the process. You held the spot he touched and rubbed it aggressively, trying to get rid of the feeling. You were so overstimulated you couldn’t even say anything, it was such a light touch!! God that was uncomfortable!!!

Raph was completely taken aback, first of all, what happened? and second, you were able to actually kick him away!? He’s big boy!! 

“What’s wrong?” He asked quickly, then looked to where you tended to your droopy ear.

It clicked, and he let you regroup, trying to be as small as possible before he began rambling in apologies. 

“Raph didn’t mean to— he- I- don’t know what I was thinking—“ 

He hops between third and first person when he’s nervous, and he knows hes messed up. He begins explaining in a rush how he never wanted to scare you, and how he would never do it again. 

After wringing your hands out from the excess stimulation, You gently place your hand on his — a reminder that you weren’t made of glass. 

He seemed to pause, searching your eyes for any fear or anger. When he saw none, he let out a breath of relief. He cradled you in his arms, promising he would always listen when you were uncomfortable.

Even though you had no doubts.

Leo

Surprised it bugs you that much. 

On the couch, you both were talking over a movie you had seen a thousand times. 

It wasn’t anything different from your normal routine. He was making you laugh, you were rolling your eyes— he would say a character’s lines in a funny voice and you would respond by finishing the quote.

You two were always a very touchy-feely couple, (it’s a shock he hadn’t figured out about your ears sooner) so it was no surprise when you ended up in his lap, both of you laughing like there was no tomorrow. 

He went to lay his head on your shoulder, and by complete accident, brushed the side of your ear. A light touch, one he didn’t even think about, but you did.

You flinched away, giving an unhappy whine/grumble as you rubbed the feeling out of your fur. 

Leon’s brow bone raised, one of those looks he always does when he’s about to tease you. “You’re not— ticklish, are you?” 

“Please not this time.” You muttered, anxiously fidgeting where your fur and skin met. 

The blue-clad turtle paused, waiting for you to go on. He kept both curiosity and his wits about him, a little worried to be honest.

“You can tease me all you want on anything else—“ you said quickly, squeezing your eyes shut, “this just.. makes me anxious.”

Leo thought for a moment, analyzing your sincere form. He didn’t like when you were upset, it made him upset, the way your face melded into a frown felt so wrong to him. 

Sure, he didn’t understand why you didn’t like your ears being touched, but all that mattered was that you didn’t like it!! And he had to turn this around. 

Out of the darkness, he suddenly got an idea— an idea that would bring your smile back. His eyes lit up for a moment, before returning to their confident gaze. 

“Anything…?” He smirked, pulling you back into his lap— this time facing him. 

You quickly realized your mistake, attempting to protest before being reduced to a fit of flustered giggles as he snuggled into the fur of your neck, attacking you with love despite your cries for mercy.

Donnie

Understands completely.

You two had been dating for approximately one week, (Donnie confirmed) and he knew he’d fallen head over heels. 

Because of this, he had to make sure you were comfortable so there were no surprise arguments between the two of you. Comparatively— even though he states it awkwardly, He’s way better at communicating than most of his brothers (cough Leo and Raph COUGH)

So, when he sits you down in front of him, staring intensely at you with an aura of absolute seriousness— you thought he was mad at you!!! 

“Alright, um—“ he coughed, mentally scolding himself for the unconfident start. 

“You and I— our relationship,” 

he’s stalling

you’re panicking.

“I want to discuss— a means of um— boundaries.” He holds back a sigh of relief at finally getting the words out. You looked so invested In what he was saying that he could swear he was gonna topple over. 

You, however, gladly let go of the breath you were holding. “Oh— thank god..” you smiled, “I thought you were breaking up with me.” 

“What??” He gives an incredulous look, “Why ever would I do that!?” He’s acting level headed, but inside he’s screaming. 

In any case.

You shyly described that the only thing you could think of off the top of your head was how sensitive your ears and tail were. “It makes me anxious when people touch them.” You muttered, fiddling with the ends of said ears. 

Donnie simply nodded, “it’s the same with me and my shell.” He states, gesturing to the technology usually on his back 24/7. He didn’t make a big deal of it, simply wrote “no touchie ears/tail” up on the whiteboard under “concrete boundaries” 

He paused, stepping back for a moment, “Wait— sorry, did you want me to ask or just not touch them at all?” He quirked a brow, and you shook your head, feeling a lot more confident in stating your feelings. 

You had hardly ever felt more validated. 

—

A/N: I FEEL BAD ITS SO SIMPLE SHDBJSHDJDHD but alas!! It was fun to write, and part of me is hoping that’s all that matters ^v^ in any case, Arrivederci!! I hope to see you again, Sarcas!! (Can I nickname you that is that okay—) 

__ 

[fayes-fics]

It Had To Be You: Chapter 2 - Pour myself a cup of ambition

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairings: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (also features Thomas Dorset x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x Tessa), Modern AU

Chapter Summary: Set 5 years after Chapter 1 (linked above). As your job takes you abroad for the very first time, you bump into the last person you expect on another shared journey full of revelations.

artwork credit: @colettebronte

Warnings: none really… some sexual language, swear words, bickering, and flirting.

Word Count: 2.2k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Chapter 2 of my multi-chapter modern rom-com, heavily inspired by When Harry Met Sally. Sorry that it's taken a while to get this next part written. I hope you all enjoy! <3

7 years ago (5 Years Later)

You stand just before the security gates at St Pancras International, engaging in a rare PDA moment. But you justify to yourself that this is the first time you have had to go away on business since you started your new relationship three months ago, and this one seems like great potential. Dr Tom Dorset. Friendly, sweet, handsome and, so far at least, well-adjusted and emotionally mature. Your friends agree he’s quite the catch. And he is pretty fantastic in all sorts of other ways too. You certainly have no complaints in the bedroom.

Just as he whispers how much he will miss you and kisses that spot on your neck that makes you a little weak, your moment is interrupted.

“Tom? Tom Dorset? Is that you?”

There in front of you is the man you thought you would never see again. Looking a few years older and dressed better, but there’s no doubt who it is. You’d never forget those eyes.

“Ben? Ben Bridgerton?!” Tom seems delighted, and it occurs to you that they must be old friends as Tom takes his arms from around you and shakes his hand warmly. Just fucking great.

“I thought it was you! I haven't seen you for years! Was the last time when I came to Ant’s at Trinity?! What have you been up to?”

“Medical school mostly,” Tom offers demurely, then turns to you. “Oh, sorry, Ben, this is y/n y/l/n, y/n this is Ben Bridgerton; I was his brother’s roommate at Trinity College, Oxford.”

Ben’s eyes cut to you, and you see a confused look pass over his face; like you are familiar, but he can’t place why. 

“Well, I must get this train, but it was great to see you! Email me!” Ben smiles warmly, and with one last brow knit in your direction, he takes off. 

“Thank fuck he didn’t remember me,” you exhale loudly when he is out of earshot.

“Ben?” Tom looks confused.

“Yes, We drove from St Andrews to London together five years ago, and it was the worst road trip I think I've ever had,” you bemoan. “He was dating a friend of mine, and I agreed to split the drive. Urgh, it was terrible. He’s so obnoxious.”

Tom looks over your shoulder. “Well, looks like he just got on your train, honey, so umm, good luck with that,” he chuckles, bemused as you roll your eyes.

“Just fucking great,” you sigh sarcastically and plant your head on Tom’s shoulder as he draws you into his safe, warm embrace again. 

“I love you; I will miss you,” he says softly, cupping your jaw lovingly as he gently kisses your lips.

It's only the second time he has said it, and your heart flutters as you break into a huge smile. “I love you too. I will be back before you know it,” you promise, pulling him in for a passionate kiss you hope he will remember.

As you part, he exhales raggedly. “God, now I’ll miss you even more.”

“Mmm, that’s the point,” you whisper coquettishly and run a hand down his back, inside his coat, unseen by people around you. “Text me, sexy stuff,” you request quietly, then gently bite his bottom lip.

He groans, “Good god, woman, get on that train before I drag you somewhere or buy a ticket to join you.”

___

You are still giggling and feeling so fizzy and light, like champagne is in your blood, as you skip onboard the train to Paris. Taking your seat in First Class that you’ve been assigned by work feels like such a luxury; excited to cover your first story abroad.

Your phone pings just as the train slips out of the station. Love you. Safe travels. Txx

You can’t help your little titter of happiness, and just as you go to type a reply, someone leans over from the seat diagonally behind you, across the aisle.

“I swear I recognise that giggle. The University of St Andrews?” 

It’s Ben. Of course, it is. Thanks for that fate.

“Yes,” you sigh, not turning around, annoyed he doesn't remember more detail. How could he possibly forget calling you beautiful? Your traitorous brain yells in your skull.

“Did we date?” he questions.

You can't help but almost snort at that. “Hell no!” You twist around. “You were dating my friend Gen. We drove to London together after term ended.”

“Oh, I remember now!” he smiles, “you wouldn't give me a Malteser.”

“You propositioned me!” you blurt out as you watch him pull an apple out of his bag.

“No, I didn't,” he laughs, “I just said you were beautiful,” and he takes a bite out of the fruit. “You still are, if it's any consolation,” he offers, around a mouthful.

“None whatsoever,” you fib, feeling your cheeks heat at the compliment. “And you still talk while you eat, like an animal,” you roll your eyes, barely believing how riled up you are from exchanging less than five sentences.

“Would you two like to sit together?” the man opposite you at the table offers.

“No, that's really not….” you begin.

“Yes, thanks!” Ben interrupts, and you scowl at him as he stands immediately, throwing his bag down next to you before swinging over as the man moves aside.

“So you were going to be a journalist?” he winks after he settles into the seat opposite you.

Up close now, he is still just as handsome as he was. Maybe more so, jaw more defined and smattered with stubble. The utter arsehole.

“I am a journalist. My internship at the Guardian turned into a job. I'm going to Paris to cover the climate summit,” you state proudly, squaring your shoulders a little. “You?”

“Visiting my fiancee,” he grins, and something twinges in your gut. Maybe getting tacos for lunch wasn’t a good idea.

“You are getting married? You?” you laugh in total disbelief.

And you are suddenly back in your old studio flat, hearing more about his player reputation. A few months after the drive to London, Gen came to crash on your sofa and commiserate her reentry to single life. She didn't seem that upset about the dalliance ending, to be fair, mostly about how much she’d miss the ‘fucking mind-blowing fucking’ as she had so indelicately put it. You can see the words floating like a speech bubble above her face in your mind “Y/n, I can live without the dick attitude, but damn, I don’t know that I wanna live without that dick, you know?” Then threw herself face-first into a cushion. You cut off her margaritas at that point. How much that had to do with not wanting to think about him and his member, you decided not to dwell on.

“Yes,” he cuts into your reverie. “Her name is Tessa. She's an artist too. She's Parisian.”

“Tres chic.”

“How long have you been with Dorset? Wait, don’t tell me. Let me guess,” he smirks.

You fold your arms and raise an eyebrow. “This ought to be good,” you mutter as much to yourself as to him.

“Hmm, three months?” 

Dammit. How did the bastard get it spot on?

“Why?” you try to bluff, but the victorious crooked grin that unfurls over his face shows he knows he's right without you having to say it.

“Goodbye before a trip. Classic three-month behaviour,” he opines, taking another huge bite of his apple.

“Glad to see your eating habits have at least got healthier,” you state dryly, trying to change tack.

“Tessa likes to eat healthily,” he explains with an almost dreamy expression. Part of you is already impressed by this woman you have never met who has turned the human rubbish bin into a more impressive version of a man. “Has he told you he loves you?” he queries, spittling just a speck of apple onto the table.

“Why is that ANY of your business?” you frown.

“Because if he hasn't, he's a fool,” he shrugs casually as if those words aren't some of the sweetest you’ve heard.

“Luckily, he’s no fool,” you respond, confirming without actually confirming.

He nods. “Good. Dorset is a good one. Don't ‘y/n’ him away,” he jests, using air quotes.

“What the fuck does that mean?” you spit, suddenly whiplash angry when just a few moments ago you were impressed with his sweetest.

“You can't smoke in my car. Eating that will kill you,” he adopts a high-pitched voice and waggles his head as he mocks you.

“Fuck you,” you grumble.

“I would have, happily, but you said no,” he winks, and you want to punch him.

“I thought you just denied propositioning me!” 

He just shrugs and laughs loudly. You can tell everyone around you is most amused by your back and forth, so instead, you shoot him a glare and then change tack, staring out of the window as the countryside of Kent zips by. So irritated you forget to text Tom back for another five minutes.

___

“Do you know anyone in Paris?” he asks, pulling out an AirPod as you close your laptop sometime later. 

The train is somewhere under the Channel, and the darkness of the tunnel outside the window makes the train feel a touch more intimate, claustrophobic even.

“No,” you admit.

“How about Tessa and I take you out for dinner?” he proposes.

“Isn't tonight your first night together in a while?” you frown.

“Yeah… and?” he seems to be either not catching your train of thought or being intentionally obtuse, goading you into a trap to state the obvious.

“I would have thought you'd be otherwise occupied,” you arch an eyebrow pointedly.

“Oh…” he suddenly catches your drift and, rather adorably, a spot of pink dust his lovely cheekbones. OK, maybe not the latter.

“Certainly not wanting a third wheel, like me hanging around,” you point out meekly with a knowing smile.

“If that is your way of offering a threesome, I’m down,” he flirts, his voice suddenly velvet smooth, so much so the hairs on the back of your neck prickle up.

“God’s sake,” you mutter, feigning more indignation than you actually have.

“You're the one who told me about your lesbian experiences at uni!” he argues defensively.

“I was just trying to prove a point!” 

“Got to be honest, don't remember a damn thing except the visual that almost had me drive into a bus shelter,” he admits with a chuckle.

“And take out that delivery cyclist,” you remind, joining in.

There is a moment where your eyes meet in a joint nostalgia of amusement, and something feels softer between you.

“Listen, Tess’s brother is a chef at a great little bistro; we will almost certainly end up there anyway, as we usually always do. I'm sure she would be delighted for you to join us,” the sincerity of his offer touches you.

“Thanks, but I have to do some research ahead of tomorrow. I’ll probably just order room service and crash out,” you admit, knowing that is a lame response.

“Fair enough. Well, let's at least exchange numbers this time. Stay in touch? If you are at a loose end at any point, let me know, and we’ll happily give you a tour or just grab a drink?”

“Okay”, you capitulate and hand over your phone for him to punch in his number.

“Wonderful” he smiles genuinely, and his hazy eyes dance. “Are we finally becoming friends?” he teases gently as he seems to fiddle a little longer than needed to put in a few digits.

“I guess so,” you respond with a laugh.

He hands back your phone, and weirdly it's screen locked.

“Good, And as my very first act as your friend, may I make a comment you are not allowed to take offence to?” he questions, with an odd tone.

Your dander is suddenly way up. “Whatttt?” you elongate the word rife with suspicion.

He leans over the train table suddenly, and you startle as his lips are warm against the shell of your ear, your heart-rate spiking. “You have a fucking fantastic pair of tits,” he murmurs.

You splutter, shame, outrage and desire flooding your system in almost equal measure. Incapable of forming words, you sharply pull back into your seat and shoot him your most sour glare.

“Maybe don't hand your phone over when it’s open to the message thread with your boyfriend,” he chuckles.

You feel mortified, recalling the photo you'd texted Tom last night as a going-away present, and you are almost blinded as the train suddenly swoops out of the tunnel and sunlight floods into the compartment.

In fact, you are grateful that he gets a call just at that moment. It seems to last ages, and he wanders away, probably to find the buffet car, knowing him. By the time you see him making his way back through the carriage, the train is pulling into Gare Du Nord. You are on your feet and walking to the next carriage to alight. Not certain you can live down your embarrassment. 

There are a few moments as you wander around Paris over the next two days when your fingers itch to dial his number… but you never do, something always stopping you. Bizarrely, you think it might be the idea of meeting his fiancee, and you have no idea what that means, so avoidance seems like the best tactic.

After all, he’s probably moving to Paris soon, so really, what's the point?

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz

[slicznymartwy]

and all at once i knew

part i (request)

read it all on ao3

billy lenz x gn!reader - billy watches you kill. he could have hurt you but he doesn't because he loves you. warning: includes minor character death(s), brief suicide/self harm mention, obsessive behavior

Billy’s a stray. He’s a kicked dog. He’s going to bite and hump anything that moves. He’s been abandoned at the park, or maybe he just ran away and forgot how to get home. But you own him now. He caught your scent, and he loves you. He’s your good doggy and he’s so terrible he should be put down for what he’s done. 

He’s so loyal to you. You’re so nice to him. You rub his scalp and give him food and water. You don’t beat him. You only make him feel so so so good. He loves you so much. He could bite you. He has, but you forgive him. He loves you. He doesn’t mean it when he draws blood. He’s so lonely and cold, and you let him sleep at the foot of your bed.

You plan in the dark. Sometimes, you face each other; other times, you hold him from behind, arms wrapped around his waist. You hold hands and let your legs touch under the covers. You fix his hair when it gets messy, and he brushes an eyelash off your cheek with the pad of his thumb. 

“We’ll do it one by one, while they’re asleep,” you tell him one night, tracing the line of his nose. His eyes are closed, relishing in your touch. 

“Tie them up so they can’t fight. Stupid sluts,” he whispers a week later. He entwines your fingers together, staring at them. You think he likes seeing how close he can get to you. He watches how your body wraps around his with reverence and worship.

“We could set the house on fire. They’ll never know it was us,” you giggle, laying on top of him. His hands are on your hips, and his touch is so warm that it makes you want to take your sweater off. 

“I’ll cut off their heads if they talk to you again. I’ll saw them off and kick them like footballs,” he says darkly, drying your tears with his palm. He’s so angry you think he might kill them right then. 

When Susan left, no one thought to ask you where she went. They knew how she treated you. They all watched her mock you, and they laughed along like it didn’t make them complicit. They cried and wrung their hands while the police questioned them, and you tell Billy about it at night.

“Tonight,” he hisses, holding you down on the bed. He pins your wrists down against the mattress and he sits on top of you. Sometimes, you realize what he is. Rabid, feral, untamed. He can be mollified with fresh food and pets along his back, but he’s wild, even when he manages to speak clearly. “I’m going to kill them tonight. They’re all going to die.”

“Wait, please. One more day,” you say, trying not to look afraid. “Just hold me. Please.”

He does, but you wonder if you let him go too far. You gave him too much lead, and now you won’t get him to heel again.

Like Billy entering your bedroom in the dead of night, some changes happen so quietly you don’t realize what’s happened until it’s too late. You wake up one ordinary day, and your sisters are nice.

Maybe you’re just easier to be around, with how happy Billy makes you. Maybe they felt guilty and wanted to make amends. Maybe Susan had your sisters under an evil spell that made them act like complete cunts to you and, by killing her, you freed your housemates from her mind control. 

They laugh with you, they invite you to eat lunch with them. They still get teary eyed when they think about your missing sister, but they don’t say anything when you don’t cry. They know, and they’re sorry, and it feels good to hold that over them. 

“Billy,” you murmur at night. He moans low and quiet at the back of his throat, and the sound vibrates against your chest. You brush you hand through his hair gently. “I don’t think we should hurt them anymore.”

Billy doesn’t respond. He’s so still, you wonder if he’s asleep. 

“They’re not so mean anymore. It’s better now,” you explain. “I think they’re sorry.”

Still, Billy doesn’t respond. You pick your head up to look at him, but he’s already staring at you. His eyes are hauntingly empty of emotion. You try to smile, as placating as you can. 

“I’m sorry, Billy,” you whisper.

He turns his face towards your chest, pressing his nose against your bare sternum. He groans, but it sounds like a growl. 

“So stupid,” he mutters, sounding far away. “Stupid Bambi. Stupid slut.”

“That’s not nice,” you whisper quietly. You can feel his lips against the swell of your breast, and he kisses you like a lover. 

“Stupid. Can’t see what Billy sees. Stupid disgusting lying whores,” he says against your chest.

“I’m not stupid,” you defend yourself meekly. “Stop being mean.”

“Billy can help. Billy will help his Bambi,” he promises.

“I don’t want your help anymore, Billy,” you say, pushing at him. He doesn’t budge.

“Need Billy. Bambi needs Billy,” he mutters. You wonder if he’s even listening to you, if he’s ever listened at all.

“No, I don’t,” you say, trying instead to stand up. Billy effortlessly keeps you down. “Stop it.”

“Stop it,” he says, matching your tone. “Stop it, Billy.”

You sob out of frustration, trying to squirm out of his hold. He doesn’t let you go.

“I hate you,” you say, looking into his dark eyes. “I wish I didn’t know you.”

Billy freezes at your words. The room falls quiet. He stares at you like you’re food. 

“Something’s wrong with you,” you say, voice shaking. 

“I love you,” he finally manages to whisper.

“Leave me alone. I don’t need you,” you say, turning your face from him. You can still feel his eyes on you, they burn through you like the sun through a magnifying glass.

When you don’t say anything else, Billy stands. He stares at you from the side of the bed, and you pull your sheets up to hide your bare chest. It feels strange, hiding from someone that you’ve already shown everything. 

Billy leaves without shutting your door.

The next night, you lock it. You can hear him on the other side, twisting the knob. He rattles the door, wanting it open. Your pillow is so wet you have to turn it over to go to sleep. Your bed is so cold without him.

In the morning, the house is quiet. No one’s in the kitchen. There’s no line for the bathroom. No sounds are coming from any bedroom. There’s nobody in the house. You find some eventually, a pile of five girls in the bathtub. The tile is wet with their dark blood, so are their pajamas. You scream when you see them. Clare is on top, staring at you accusingly.

Sobbing, you fall onto your ass and kick your legs to get away. You feel like a kid again, throwing a tantrum when faced with consequences. You did this, you tell yourself, you asked for this. 

When he appears by your side, you hug him without a second thought. He cradles you in his arms on the bathroom floor and he lets you weep.

“I love you,” he whispers against the crown of your head. “I love you. I love you.”

You sob. You keep your eyes screwed shut. You can’t look at them, laying like logs for a fire. You fist your hand in Billy’s sweater, remembering what it was like to hold the knife for Susan. 

“Billy won’t leave Bambi,” he promises. It feels like a death sentence and a wedding. You’re the only two living souls in the house, and maybe the entire world. You love him because of it, but you wish you didn't.

“I need to clean before it stains,” you say, sniffling as you pull away from his chest. There’s so much blood. You wonder if there’s more in their beds, but you don’t want to know. Maybe it’ll be easier to burn it all to the ground with you and him still inside.

You find the bucket and gloves under the sink and turn on the faucet. Through the mirror, you see Billy rise and walk towards the tub. The water burns your hand and fogs the glass until you can’t see him anymore.

© slicznymartwy 2023, please do not repost or copy.

a/n: reblogs and replies are really appreciated

[hey-kae]

Red Payback

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Female Reader

Request: If it’s not too much to ask could I perhaps put another thought into your head to maybe make a part three if you felt inspired/had the time? 👉👈 where this time the reader puts on the suit and wears some lingerie underneath to surprise Charles, maybe after a race win or just at home like how Charles surprised her? If not, thank you for continuing to put out such great content :)

Warnings: oral sex (male receiving), fingering, begging, unprotected sex, orgasm denial.

Sidenote: Literally had to isolate myself from everything race related after the race so i wouldn’t get upset bcs of that shitshow and i could continue writing this. Anw, fuck ferrari strategists but congrats to Carlos! (If you spot any mistakes, ignore them cause i will probably correct them later. Rn I just need sleep🥲)

Part 1: 20 minutes to spare

Part 2: A Gift From the Ferrari Gods

A few days later, the race suit was cleaned and neatly folded on the chair in you and Charles’ bedroom.

It was late afternoon, Charles had just come home from a meeting he had attended and the two of you were relaxing in bed, your head against his chest and his arms wrapped around you as he scrolled through his phone. You had been doing the same thing just a minute ago but you had gotten bored and tossed your phone away.

Your eyes were scanning the room for something interesting or anything to do until your eyes glued to the race suit, the bright red standing out between the soft colors that seemed to reign in the bedroom.

Your cheeks blushed as you started having flashbacks from the other day. In all honesty, your body was still recovering from that morning, the hickeys on your neck still drawing your attention every time you looked in the mirror.

“Is it even comfortable?” You asked out of nowhere.

Charles obviously didn’t understand what you were talking about.

“What is, mon amour?” He put his phone away and looked at you with curiosity.

You pointed towards the suit with a shy expression.

“I’ll tell you what, I’m gonna go drink some water in the kitchen and while I’m gone, try it yourself and see.” He brushed his hand through your hair, “But don’t take it off before i come back.”

You nodded and rolled off him, a slightly inappropriate thought already popping into your head.

As soon as Charles walked out of the bedroom, you leaped towards your underwear drawer, quickly grabbing the set you had bought a while ago and the suit and heading for for the master bathroom.

At a record speed, you stripped off everything you had on and changed into the new set of lingerie.

A bit over a week ago, you were shopping for some clothes when you stumbled upon a bra and thong set that just happened to be in an awfully specific shade of red.

It was something you previously couldn’t ever imagine wearing in front of anyone but somehow, with Charles you were totally comfortable with the idea. You were even excited to see his reaction.

You checked out the way you looked in the mirror, making sure everything looked okay before quickly pulling on the suit. Sure, it didn’t exactly fit properly, but the 16 on your thigh still made your heart flutter as you stepped out of the bathroom, stopping in front of the mirror in the bedroom to get a better view of yourself.

“I think i get it now.” You looked in the direction of the voice and found Charles leaning against the doorframe with a cup of water in his hands.

“What?” You smiled, turning to face him.

“You look so fucking hot right now.” He complimented while leaving the cup on a nearby dresser and making his way to you, his hands immediately reaching for your body.

“I love seeing you in my suit, ma belle.” His fingers hooked under your chin, tilting your head just enough so he had better access to your lips since he was already craving a taste of them.

His lips met yours in a lust-filled kiss, his tongue almost immediately battling yours, making it clearer where he was planning to take this.

His hands were all over your body, trailing down your back until he squeezed your ass as the kiss intensified, eliciting low groans from the both of you.

“Fuck, i need you.” Charles whined into your mouth before he picked you up and sat down on the bed with you straddling him, his lips never leaving yours.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, grazing the skin there as you slowly trailed your hands down to his chest and abs, down to the hem of his shirt, sliding them under the material and feeling his hot skin against your palms before breaking the kiss and pulling the shirt over his head.

“You want me, baby?” You coed into his ear, the idea of teasing him until he can’t bear it no more popping into your head.

“So bad.” He nodded, his words dripping in desperation as you felt him getting harder.

The faded hickey on his neck grabbed your attention, making you want to revive it. Your lips latched onto the spot, alternating between sucking and biting until you saw a mark there. You kissed the freshly formed love bite and pecked his lips, digging your fingers through his hair while grinding your hips against his clothed erection.

“Fuck, ne fais pas ça.” Don’t do this. Charles whined, the friction making him tilt back his head.

“Why? You seem to enjoy it.” You teased, littering open-mouthed kisses all over his exposed skin while making sure you continue moving against him. The movement was torture for you as well, making you unfathomably wet and leaving you struggling and trying so hard to hold back your own moans, letting Charles’ pleading whimpers be the only sound in the room. It sure wasn’t helpful that you loved that sound so much.

“S’il te plais, chérie.” Please, darling. His hands flew up and forcefully grabbed your waist, stopping your movements just as his eyes closed.

Your hands then grabbed his, moving them away from your body so you could move off his lap to stand in front of him.

“You know, it’s kinda hot in here.” You mischievously smiled and started to unzip the suit down to your waist, exposing the slightly see-through material of your skimpy bra.

“Oh fuck, what are you wearing?” Charles gaped, pulling you closer by the back of your thighs.

His hands slipped under the suit’s thick material, caressing the skin of your hips and moving slowly to slide up your back, up to your shoulders until he slipped your arms out of the sleeves, letting the suit fall to your hips. His eyes momentarily glued to your chest before they drifted back up to your face, his lips agape in awe.

“Toi… Tu vas me tuer.” You… You’re gonna kill me.

You dropped down to your knees in front of him, holding back a reply until your fingers hooked onto the waistband of his black sweatpants.

“I think that’d be a nice way to go.” You winked at him, a sly smile on your lips as you started to pull his pants and boxers off.

“Fuck.” He groaned while he helped you rid him of his clothes, revealing his already hard cock, eager for attention.

Smirking up at Charles, you leaned closer and planted a small kiss on his tip just as his eyes locked gaze with yours.

“Fucking hell.” He exhaled. You smiled up at him with innocence and brought your hand to his hard length, feathering your finger along his vein, watching Charles’ jaw clench because of your teasing. You finally wrapped your fingers around him, moving you hand up and down, earning yourself a moan as your thumb swiped at the pre-cum on his tip before bringing your finger up to your mouth to lick it, mirroring his actions from last time since you seemed to have the upper hand this time. To put it in simple words, you wanted to get your payback for the amount of begging you had to do that morning.

“Babe, please.” He pleaded, gulping as his hand gripped your shoulder in frustration.

“Un peu de patience, cheri.” A little bit of patience, darling. You smirked as you repeated his words from last time.

Charles’ expression showed that he suddenly understood what you had in mind.

“Oh, non. Tu n’vas pas- “ You’re not gonna- You interrupted his objection, the words seamlessly getting replaced by a throaty moan, his head tilting back as you took as much of him as possible into your mouth until you could feel him in your throat. You then hollowed your cheeks around him, squeezing his length as you slowly let him slide back out of your mouth, making sure your tongue traced every inch of his skin until his dick was completely out of your mouth.

When you looked up and saw him staring at you. You maintained eye contact and pushed your tongue out to lick the entirety of his length up to the tip.

“I love your cock.” You said to him, your statement making him groan.

“Fuck, don’t say shit like that.”

“May i ask why?” You rested your hands on his thighs, slowly drawing teasing patterns on there as you waited for a reply.

“Because, it makes me want to fuck you until you’re begging me to stop.” He looked down at you in a way that almost made you go feral.

You felt yourself clench and get wetter as you took his words in. However, you still made sure to make your apparent reaction minimal, barely giving him a small “Hmm” that implied the suggestion was up for consideration before you took him back into your mouth, finally giving him what he wants.

You bobbed your head up and down, using your tongue to lick all the right places as his cock moved in and out of your mouth until there was spit dripping down your chin and Charles was a moaning mess. You took him as deep into your throat as you could, making your eyes tear up as you stopped yourself from gagging, even when he bucked his hips, pushing himself even deeper into your mouth.

You knew Charles and his cues too well, so it was pretty obvious when he was close to his orgasm. However, his hands suddenly tangling into your hair as his moans turned into whimpers of pleasure were more than enough for you to knew he was getting closer to his release. You moved your head back up until his dick fell out of your mouth. He immediately looked down at your smirking face, clearly taken back from the loss of contact.

“In your own words: beg for it, babe.” You taunted, moving your index finger to draw a line down his abs as he gaped at you in disbelief.

“T’es serieuse?” You’re serious? His asked, still sounding out of breath.

You smiled and nodded as you moved your hands down, giving his tip a couple of light taps with your finger, making his whole body jolt.

“Fuck, c’mon. I made you cum twice before asking you to beg.”

You shrugged then got closer again, giving him small, teasing licks.

“Y/n, i need to cum so bad.” He groaned.

“You know what to do.” You wrapped your hand around his dick, trying to get him to crack.

“Shit, please y/n.”

“Getting closer.”

“Babe, please. God, i need to cum in your mouth so bad. You’re killing me.”

“C’mon. Je sais bien que tu peux faire bien mieu que ça, chéri.” I know that you can do much better than that. You tried to recall all his tricks and use them against him.

“Fucking hell, i need you mouth wrapped around me again so fucking much. I just want to cum in your mouth. S’il te plais, je ne peux plus attendre. J’ai trop besoin de ça. S’il te plais, chérie.” Please, i can’t wait anymore. I really need that. Please, darling. The words spilled out of his mouth in utter desperation.

“There we go.” You smiled up at him and took his cock back into your mouth, resuming your motion from before just as you heard Charles let out the loudest moan you’ve heard from him.

This time, you continued sucking him until you felt him release him cum down your throat, his hand fisting your hair as he let go while whimpers uncontrollably spilled past his lips.

You pulled away from him and swallowed then wiped your mouth. While Charles was recovering, you got up, your knees aching from how long you were kneeling.

“Tu vas regretter cela, ma belle.” You’re gonna regret that, beautiful. Charles’ voice, still unsteady, taunted you.

“J’ai hâte de le regretter, chérie.” I can’t wait to regret it, darling. You smirked, fully aware of what you got yourself into.

“On verra.” We’ll see. Charles matched your expression as he got up and stood in front of you, forcefully pulling you to him so your chest was flush against his.

“Take it off.” He breathed into your ear, his hand tugging in the suit hanging onto your hips. His tone sent shivers down your spine.

Yeah, you had pissed him off pretty badly.

You quickly nodded and took a step back to slide the suit completely off your body until you were left in only your bra and thong set.

“You’re wearing red for me, babe?” He turned you around and pulled you into him, bringing your back to press against his chest, “That’s so fucking sexy, you know?” He kissed your neck as he moved his hand down your stomach down to cup your throbbing pussy. You subconsciously threw your head back, feeling it dig into his shoulder.

“Look at you, so desperate for my touch.” He chuckled, lips still on your skin, the vibrations from his voice running down your body, igniting goosebumps all over and making your knees buckle.

You felt his hand slip into the front of your underwear, his fingers immediately finding your clit, his experienced touch setting your body on fire.

“Charles, fuck.”

“You’re moaning my name now?” He asked in amusement, “Attends juste cinq minutes et tu vas le crier, ma belle.” Just wait five minutes and you’re gonna be screaming it, beautiful.

No matter how much his words sounded like a threat, they still turned your whole body into jelly, leaving you feeling weak in Charles’ arms.

“On the bed, on your stomach.” He ordered.

Now, this was unusual for you and Charles since he always told you he loved seeing your face when he’s fucking you. The only times he took you from behind was when he was angry or trying to let out some frustration. You shivered at the thought as you took your position on the bed, watching as Charles retrieved his cup of water from earlier, downing the rest the drink.

“Begging made you thirsty?” You teased.

“You’re making it worse for yourself, babe.” Charles smiled with pure mischief as he stalked back towards you.

You felt the bed dip behind you as Charles climbed on it, his hands immediately gripping onto your legs and spreading them apart.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard while you’re wearing that red lingerie of yours so by the end of this, you’ll never see the color red in the same way ever again.” He explained like it was nothing while his hand was massaging your ass before he moved it lower and pushed the minimal material of your underwear to the side, fully exposing your soaked pussy to him.

“Fuck.” Charles breathed, running his finger between your fold, the slight friction making you pull your body forward. However, he was quick to pin you in your current position.

“Sucking my cock gets you this wet, babe?” He cockily asked, expecting no answer from you other than the small whimper he received.

“If you really love my dick that much, then have it all.” That was the last thing you heard from him before you felt him push into you, stretching you as you both groaned in pleasure. He moved so slowly, making you feel every inch of him while he watched his length disappear inside of you.

“Shit, Charles.” You moaned, feeling him bottom out inside of you, your walls squeezing his cock as hard as you could, clearly desperate to feel him so deep inside you.

He stilled for a mere second, taking a deep breath and grabbing your hips with bruising force, steadying your body before he began pounding into you, his pace increasing by the second, making the bed rock harder.

“Je l’adore quand tu es si désespéré, si impatiente. I can literally feel you squeezing me, ma belle.” I love it when you are you desperate, so impatient. He heard you moan in response, that sound being the only thing you had managed as you felt him stroke your deepest parts.

“Je crois bien que ton corps est fait pour moi,” I’m pretty sure your body was made for me, “because, fuck… you feel so fucking perfect around me.” He said, fully aware of the effect his praises had on you.

It doubled the amount of pleasure you were already feeling, helping your orgasm build up faster.

Taking you by surprise, Charles pulled your body up so your back was against his chest, his cock still deep inside of you. He pulled down the cups of your bra, revealing your hardened nipples. His hands instantly found your tits, his fingers playing with them as he continued thrusting into you.

“Fuck- Charles- Feels so good.” The moan that left your mouth as you attempted to adjust to the new angle and his soft assault in your nipples was so loud, it even shocked you for a second,

“Oh, it does?” It was a weird reply but you had no time to question since one of his hands migrated from your boobs down to your clit and started toying perfectly with the nub of nerves, nearly sending you into sensory overload.

“Charles.” You practically screeched.

You felt your orgasm nearing at an impressive speed, making your eyes shut and your mouth open while your hands helplessly clutched at nothing.

“I know you’re close.” Charles taunted, his tone lighting red sirens in your mind because it was obvious he was planning something.

Just as you were about to cum, he pulled out and let go off you, letting you fall back onto the bed, whimpering and squirming from his cruel move.

“What the fuck, Charles?” You complained, turning onto your back to face him, finding him smiling proudly.

“Tu n’aurais pas dû me faire supplier, cherie.” You shouldn’t have made me beg, darling. He smirked, pushing your legs back apart so he could fit between them.

“You wanna cum?” He asked and stroked your pussy.

“Please, Charles.” You squirmed, arching your body off the bed as he Charles continued the torturous movements of his fingers, his touch feeling so surreal against your already sensitive area. His thumb pressed against your clit, keeping still for a few seconds that had you anticipating his next move only for him to suddenly start moving it significantly fast just seconds later.

“Fuck, fuck…” you repeated, feeling him simultaneously push two fingers into you, making your whole body shudder.

He barely had to do anything more than that for you to feel an orgasm build up.

“Tu vas me dire quand tu es proche, d’accord?” You’re gonna tell me when you’re close, okay? Charles disguised the order as a question. You looked at him with dread, suddenly not wanting to tell him. Refusing to tell him, however, would’ve been useless: he knew your body too well.

So, seconds later, when you felt yourself right on the edge, you started to tell Charles but he had already pulled away, catching onto the state of your body without you even having to tell him anything about it.

A string of curse words left your mouth as desperation and rage filled your body.

“Charles, please. I’ll never do it again. I won’t ever make you beg again.” You said, knowing it was a lie.

“Completely sure of that, ma belle?”

You nodded.

“Alright then.”

Charles pulled your legs onto his shoulders and completely slammed into your tight pussy, groaning as he felt your warmth around his painfully hard dick. His eyes glued onto your exposed tits, you nipples so hard like they were begging for his attention.

“Fucking love your tits.” He breathed, reaching for them and pinching one of your nipple just hard enough that he felt you tighten around him.

He kept moving fast and rough, his skin slapping against yours with every thrust of his, filling the room with erotic sounds and whimpers and moans.

“Fuck, y/n.” He groaned, increasing his speed, fucking you so hard that you could already feel yourself getting sore.

It didn’t take much for your orgasm to start forming since your body was practically begging for it and Charles, having had to hold back his own release from your first position was right up there with you.

“Look at me when you cum.” Charles asked you in a pleading tone, his voice weak from the pleasure.

Seconds later, you felt tingling all over your body as your nails dug into your boyfriend’s bicep. You looked up at him, his eyes locking with yours as your orgasm crashed over you, leaving you whimpering Charles’ name over and over again.

Your orgasm triggered his and soon enough, he collapsed on top of you, his cum filling you up as he let go, releasing into you with a throaty moan.

He pulled out with a final whimper and allowed your legs to fall back onto the mattress before he relaxed his body on top of yours, your legs ending up on either sides of him.

After taking your time to recover, you looked down at him, his head resting on your chest, his eyes closed peacefully, his cheeks flushed pink and his hair stuck to his forehead. Your hand instinctively brushed back his brown locks and you leaned your head down to kiss his forehead, making his smile at the contact. He looked perfect in this state.

“You are too evil to be this beautiful, you know?” You joked, your fingers still brushing through his hair.

“Don’t make me beg and you’ll stay on my good side, mon amour.” He chuckled.

“I don’t know, this side of you gives me the best orgasms.”

“I’d fuck you nice and slow right now just to show you that every side of me can get you off just as good but I’m hungry and i want to cook us dinner myself since I’m home.” He kissed your collarbone.

“Oh dear God, help us.” You dramatically replied because it was a proven fact that Charles in the kitchen was a perfect and easy recipe for disaster.

“Hey!! Ma cuisine n'est pas si mauvaise!” My cooking’s not that bad. He got up defensively.

“Sure, babe. Whatever helps you sleep at night. I’ll come help you anyway.” You laughed, imitating his actions and getting up, planning to head to the bathroom to clean yourself up.

That was proven impossible when the second your feet met the ground, your legs got shaky, clearly still affected by Charles’ rough movements.

“Fuck, are you okay?” He immediately stood up and wrapped you in his arms to steady you. You immediately told him not to worry.

“Je suis vraiment désolé, mon amour. Est-ce que c’est douloureux?” I’m so sorry, my love. Is it painful? He kept asking and you assured him you were fine every time.

After that, he took such good care of you. He got a damp towel and cleaned you up before he grabbed one of his oversized shirts and dressed you in it, pulling the bedsheets on top of your body and telling you with a strict voice that you should stay in bed. Then, he disappeared into the kitchen and came back a while later with a tray of food that he had prepared. For once, he had actually made something that tasted edible.

At some point, it became funny how insistent he was that you don’t get out of bed, especially since a few hours later, your legs felt normal again but he still wouldn’t let you get up. Sure, your pussy still felt sore as fuck but it wasn’t affecting your movements. He still refused to let you move, not even to help him clean the kitchen after he cooked.

Instead, he put everything away himself then slipped into bed beside you, wrapping you in his arms all night long as the two of you talked in hushed voices until sleep overtook you both and you fell asleep wrapped up in each other arms.