#but if this is it. thank you for having been a part of it

[chuluoyi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒 !

- gojo satoru x reader // zen'in naoya x reader

in the wake of your scandalous divorce, you fall into the arms of emperor gojo satoru. for a while, you believe you have found love… until it becomes clear that your new husband is scheming behind your back! love, marriage, divorce… are you doomed to go through this path the second time?

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, marriage of convenience, explicit smut, pregnancy

note: loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress. this is the second part of remarried empress au trilogy! wc. 9.2k ! thank you so much for your love in the first part🩵 but as of now, TAGLIST IS CLOSED so i'd appreciate it if the comment section won't be flooded with asks for tags :')

credit header goes to @/kakashismain_ in twitter!

prev. all hail the empress | next. long live the empire (soon!)

general masterlist | series masterlist

Heavens, help me... I love her too damn much!

For Gojo Satoru, love was once an abstract concept. At first, he thought it was admiration, or a sense of obsession—

But on the day he watched you become Zen’in Naoya’s bride, Satoru realized it was much deeper than that. It felt like the sharpest sword had pierced straight into him and lodged itself there.

And then, years later— as if hearing his prayers, you became his. Since then, his life was perfect, because he wasn't lying when he said that you were everything he wanted in life.

Yet in a twist of fate, that same sinking, horrific feeling washed over him... as he watched the pagoda he built for you engulfed in flames.

You were there. Satoru felt himself staggering as he took in the mortifying sight. You and his unborn child are inside!

He didn't waste a breath as he dashed towards where you were, crushing everything in his path in the process, but just as he was about to enter the scorching temple—

“Satoru, no!” Suguru grabbed him, restraining him with his own body. “Get back!”

“No!” he screamed at him frantically. “She is there! Suguru, let go—!”

And then the worst happened, as the pagoda completely crumbled into a heap of rubble. Satoru's breath was knocked out of him as he faced the reality that he couldn't save you in time. And he felt like losing his consciousness as he wheezed, and thrashed in Suguru's hold.

It was all too much for him to comprehend as he struggled against the devastation before him.

How... did this happen? You were happy. You were about to welcome a child into your lives! The two of you really were...

SEVERAL WEEKS PRIOR

Your husband is trying to use you to wage a war... against your homeland.

You secluded yourself in your study, trying to make sense what you just overheard.

In a broader perspective, Satoru's actions could be constituted as national defense. If he perceived the Eastern Empire as a threat, then countermeasures were indeed necessary. But if not...

Regardless, it was not the very idea that blew you, but how he planned to use you to sway sentiment in your former country, to weaken them.

Is that what he's been aiming all this time? You felt like a hypocrite to question this since you too were using him. But these days, you were certainly not using him—you were falling in love with him.

It was strange, because you were supposed to be furious if that was his intent from the start. Yet what you felt right now was profound sadness, possibly even denial and heartbreak. You kept thinking how there must be another explanation—

“Sweetheart, hello~!”

You were startled when the door to your study was suddenly flung open, and the man from your thoughts strode in with a broad grin, completely oblivious to your inner turmoil.

"Satoru." You fixed him with a genial smile, even as nausea churned within you. Straightening your skirts, you looked up at him.

"I've been told you haven't been well, and Shoko said you've seen the physician," Satoru frowned, his long fingers cradling your face as he half-sat on your desk. "How did it go? What did he say?"

"Oh..." you clammed up, feeling at loss. "He said..."

Your dashing husband tilted his head curiously, bright eyes softened, worried lines etched on his face were so clear... and despite your conflict, you didn't have the heart to deny him this news.

"I'm with child." This time, your smile was genuine as you pushed back your intrusive thoughts. "Satoru... I'm carrying our child."

For a full ten seconds, Satoru was stunned, staring at you with a blank expression, his lips slightly parted. "H-huh...? Child? A... baby?"

"Mm-hm. A living baby."

"O-oh..." Satoru blinked his eyes rapidly—looking at your face, then your abdomen—before his expression broke into absolute wonder, broadly grinning. "T-that's... oh— it's—!"

To say he was speechless didn't cut it as he stuttered, messed his hair, pinched his own cheek, becoming restless yet looking so incredibly giddy—

"My queen!" Satoru suddenly lifted you and spun you around midair. "My beautiful wife—!" before gently sitting you on the desk and burying his face in your skirts, hugging your waist tightly. "Good lord, I'm— I'm so—!"

It hadn't truly dawned on you until now that you were going to become a mother. Witnessing Satoru's unabashed reaction as he nestled his face into you… nearly brought tears to your eyes.

Right in this moment, you didn't entertain any other thoughts. You were deeply moved by your husband's overwhelming excitement for your baby. And the realization that, despite Naoya's accusations—

Satoru looked up at you the second you sniffled, and he immediately drew you closer, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Hey, no tears, yeah?" He rested a hand on your jaw, his eyes sparkling with utter adoration as he gazed at you. "This is wonderful. We're going to be parents. This child... a part of you and me—we're going to bring them into the world."

You tugged his collar close and brushed your lips against his. And he responded with equal fervor. You yearned for this closeness with him.

. . .

But still in the back of your head, that lingering, buried fear whispered—

Is the man who adores you this much... capable of hurting you to the same extent?

With your bare bodies pressed closely, and you under him, Satoru could sense the rapid beat of your heart. And in return, you felt the heat of his palms against your skin and the tremors in his breath.

Yet now, in your marital bed, it quickly became clear to him that you, who were usually so composed and collected, were nervous. Satoru couldn't suppress the smile spreading across his face even if he tried.

"This is far from our first time, Empress." His coy smirk taunted you as he littered kisses along your jawline and chest. "What are you so jittery about, hmm?"

"Ah..." you let out a soft sigh as he sucked your breast with his mouth. "N-nothing... you're mistaken."

"Hmm... not confessing? Right..." He then grabbed the generous mound of your other breast and fondled it, making you squirm and moan.

But in the midst of this eroticism, suddenly your mind was thrown back to—

“That’s why I have her here.”

"Satoru," you breathed out, catching his hands. He looked up to you in slight surprise, thinking that you wanted to stop.

But he was in for a plot twist when you first pushed him, then flipped him underneath you, straddling him and capturing his lush lips, yanking his hair in the process.

"Whoa— hey..." Satoru held your hips, visibly startled but clearly enjoying your sudden whim, snickering. "My queen—ohh— you're a sight to behold, on top of me."

He grabbed the flesh of your bottom, sinking his fingers into it and pulling you forward. You let yourself be moved until your thighs were next to his ears.

Suddenly, it was, at once, the most peculiar experience—the greatest confidence boost you had ever received, and the hottest thing he had ever seen.

"You're so damn wet already," your husband nipped your inner thigh playfully as he observed your folds, and you gasped. "Are you ready?"

In response, you slammed yourself onto his face because, right now, you were in a less than forgiving mood.

"You look good under me," you darkly retorted, but then you choked on your own breath when your husband started licking your folds messily with his tongue.

Satoru smirked at the sound of your breathless noises, responding by lapping even more fervently. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tightening their grip on his scalp as you began to grind yourself against his face.

"You a-are really n-nasty!" you moaned, voice breaking at the feeling his sinful tongue parting your opening. "Maybe y-you have lied to me… all th-is time."

Satoru furrowed his brows in slight confusion, and perhaps a bit of annoyance, as he pinched your clit in retaliation, causing you to draw in a sharp breath.

"You're— awful!" but contrary to your claims, your face contorted with pleasure as the tight coil in your belly spasmed. "How m-many women... h-have you beguiled like m-me?"

He almost laughed into your ass. Literally. If being called awful was the price for pleasuring the most beautiful woman in the lands, then Satoru would be happy to be that horrible person every day of his life.

But then, you suddenly shifted on top of him, no longer positioning your hips in his face, and he quickly caught your face, crashing his lips against yours so both of you wouldn’t part for even a second.

"Nobody else," he murmured, wet lips and tongue ravishing yours, so much lust glistening in his eyes. "I'm all yours— forever." Just as he whispered it amidst pants, he groaned when your hand sneakily went to his very hard length.

And firmly grasped it. He got swollen just by tasting you and hearing your noises earlier. He growled, and against his senses, he pushed you down to lodge it inside you, penetrating and splitting you apart in one go.

“Ah—! Satoru— it’s too…!” you babbled breathlessly, your nails digging into his shoulders, feeling his huge cock pulsing inside your tight walls.

“Your fault,” he rebuked, eyes narrowing into darker shades, rigorously moving his hips against yours as he sat up. It was impossible to hold it in any longer, he could feel it already.

He tensed up, adjusting his position, so close to losing it inside you, and when he heard your dirty mewls and felt you shudder—reverberating through his body too—Satoru gripped your waist tighter, groaning, holding you in place to release his load inside you with precision.

Your body gave in as well, releasing at the same moment his cum burst inside you. Your vision blurred as the nastiest of moans escaped you, yet you felt so safe as your husband caught you in his arms.

. . .

"Are you okay?" Satoru asked worriedly after you rolled off him in the aftermath of your bliss. "Do you feel sick?" Your unfocused eyes met his, and he looked panicked, pulling you closer. "Shit, did I go too far? I shouldn't have, especially with the baby still in the early stages..."

"I'm... okay," you croaked, trying to reassure him. "Just tired..."

Heaving a relieved sigh, Satoru pecked you in the lips.

"Am I... a mess?" you leaned on him with a blissful smile, feeling his cum still trickling out between your legs.

"Yeah... My beautiful mess, that is." Satoru chuckled, reveling in the state of your disarray. "Soon enough," his hands traced your skin before settling on your tummy, a fond smile curving his lips. "Our baby will grow here."

"Yes—" you replied, placing your palm over his. "Do you... want a boy or girl?"

A boy would be the much sought-after prince, and you fully expected him to favor it, until to your surprise, Satoru lightly hummed and pressed a kiss on your belly button.

"Does that matter? What's important is you deliver them safely and they're healthy," he chuckled. "A princess will be nice... she'll turn out to be as lovely as you."

"But the heir has to be a prince..."

"Nah. I can always amend the succession norms. I'm the emperor."

And you giggled next. Seeing how free you looked, Satoru thought you were the woman overturning his skies and stars, and you truly are—as now you are the mother of his own flesh and blood, his future empire.

There will be a nation-wide celebration for you. Satoru insisted it was a must, and he would invite dignitaries from neighboring empires and kingdoms as well.

Including the Eastern Empire.

. . .

“Your Majesty. I... bring a gift and an invitation from the Western Empire.”

Naoya clacked his heel on the carpet, casting a sharp, yet uninterested look at his aide.

“There will be a celebration for—” the poor man gulped uneasily, faltering as if he could foresee how his emperor would react. Naoya scowled.

“Spit it out.”

“The former empress’ pregnancy, Your Majesty!”

“What...?” At that moment, he snapped his head towards him. It felt like everything he had ever known came crashing down. “Y/N...?”

That can’t be possible. For many years both of you had failed. That was why he took that maid and divorced you. No, upon reflection, it was never truly his intention to divorce you—he had wanted you to raise that child if you couldn't bear one.

But then you completely ignored him and had an affair with Gojo Satoru. He was furious. He couldn't bear the disgrace of it all, so he went with the divorce, if only to assert some control. However, the joke was on him, as you ultimately fled with Gojo entirely.

But if you aren’t infertile... Then, what did that make him?

Numerous thoughts ran through his mind. Was it possible that it was his child instead of Gojo’s? How many months had it been anyway?

...or could it be that he is the one who is—!

“No...” he muttered, frantic, taking sharp breaths. “Absolute rubbish!”

The aide stared at him in fear, as Naoya appeared unhinged now. But soon, that fear gave away to pity, as the emperor trashed his desk and howled in frustration— but contrary to the expected fury, Naoya looked like he was mourning, evident by the way he flung everything but the very portrait from his coronation day.

Of him and you. Even after that disastrous divorce, he had never taken it down from the wall of his study. Now, Naoya was staring at it, a multitude emotions clouding his eyes.

This man, just as the aide had always thought, has thrown away the only good thing he has in his life.

“Are the invitations sent already?” Satoru asked with a blooming smile, rolling the yarn out of his cat’s reach as the poor kitty grappled to catch it. “And how are the preparations going?”

“Banquets are usually handled by the Empress, but you really go out of your way and do it instead,” Suguru shook his head, unamused by the added workload it brought him, especially considering his disinterest in festivities.

“They’re all sent, some of them responded—before you ask, Naoya hasn’t— and I’ve cascaded the preparation to Shoko, since I have no clue what to do about it.”

“Well, not that I care if he’s going to stay sour and wants his name tarnished in the daily papers as a bitter ex-husband…” Satoru shrugged, petting Sugu-chan as the cat purred contentedly. “He is tactless, he very well might be.”

“You really want to spite him, don’t you…” Suguru sighed. “You even sent him a note. It was unnecessary.”

“He was the one hurling curses at me and my empress first. I’m just returning the favor.”

The note in question was of lines after lines of flowery nonsense about gratitude and whatnot. Satoru imagined Naoya's vein would burst after reading his card.

“I’m happy for you, Satoru.” As exasperated as Suguru was, his smile was genuine when he said it. “A royal baby, huh...”

"Suguru." The emperor's voice suddenly dropped an octave, surprising him. "What about the placement of the totem I told you the other day?"

The abrupt shift in conversation made Suguru visibly uncomfortable, and again, they were back to this topic.

"You're seriously going to do this?" the duke asked, almost in disbelief. "Satoru, you're going to become a father. You have everything already. This will lead to war one way or another, and—what if the Empress finds out? How do you think it'll make her feel?"

However, Satoru's gaze was cold as he dismissed most of Suguru's tirade. There was a chill in his expression that made his longtime friend inwardly questioned who the man before him was.

"I'm asking you. Have you done it or not, Suguru?"

"You're going to put a curse on a whole village, Satoru."

"I told Zen'in Naoya the moment I got Y/N, that it would mark the beginning of his downfall. I'm making good on that promise."

Suguru pressed his eyes shut to calm his fury. Morally, what Satoru did was wrong, but politically, this was the art of war. Suguru purely opposed to this out of consideration for you.

Few understood Satoru's actions as well as Suguru did. He might understand, others like you and Shoko wouldn't.

"Just remember, when the Empress catches wind of this, she's going to resent you," Suguru warned. "No matter what your reasoning might be."

Satoru's upper lip curled upwards, his eyes bereft of light, narrowing with indifference.

"Unless you never tell her, that is of no relevance."

Love... has he ever loved you all this time?

Naoya had never been confronted with that question or pondered it, simply because he never considered love existed within the context of something as grand as monarchy.

You were chosen because you were well-bred and well-versed in the arts of nobility. You were indeed the epitome of an ideal empress, a fact evident throughout your tenure.

But...

"Naoya!" you yelled at him and caught his hand. "You're a fool! Why did you keep doing that!?"

It was a long-buried memory, when you were still in your teens, around the time you were just made the crown princess. His hands, bruised and bloodied, and you tended to them.

"I'm not weak, you know," he sullenly barked. "I have to train to be stronger."

"You definitely have to train, yes... but you have to take breaks!" you retorted angrily.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" he snapped back. "It's not like your hands that are injured."

And that moment, you were suddenly almost in tears. Naoya never understood why.

"Don't cry." But his instincts told him to make you not cry. "Don't cry. I'm fine, see?"

. . .

Zen'in Naoya jerked awake from his slumber, realizing he had forgotten what his dream was, that it was still the late afternoon, and he was still in his study.

All he felt was that nostalgic feeling, and it intensified when he glanced up... only to see his coronation portrait on the wall.

It was almost as if you were still here. You were incredibly stunning, he had to admit that. Why hadn’t he realized until just recently?

The way your crimson dress flowed out, and that thin, serene smile on your face... you were a picture-perfect empress, and that was not an exaggeration. No one could measure up to you—

"Your Majesty~!"

Especially not Hanabi.

"Your Majesty, the princess has started holding her head up!" Hanabi, now no longer dressed in rags but rather in one of your dresses, excitedly remarking, "Soon, she will start to—"

Naoya's gaze fell on her dress. He recognized it instantly. That specific deep, vibrant shade of red with serpent-like waistband. It was one of his gifts to you for your birthday. "Why are you wearing that?"

"Huh?" she seems perplexed. "Oh this... I thought it looks pretty..."

But to her surprise, he suddenly flared with fury. "That isn't yours, you dullard," he spat out.

Her expression sank in heartbreak as he continued with his venomous speech. "Know your place." His words cut like a blade. "And I keep telling you, a princess is of no use to the throne!"

Hanabi fought to hold back the tears, because not only had he insulted her, worse still, he showed no interest in their daughter. "She is still of your blood, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice trembling.

"I told you, I only want a heir." His sneer caused her eyes to widen in shock. "Other than that, I won't care."

"Your Majesty, please—" Hanabi was desperate for him to acknowledge their daughter, when she caught sight of your ethereal face on the wall.

He still hasn't taken it down. It made her eyes twitch, and her own anger to rise.

"The former empress..." she stared at your picture resentfully. "You still have her here. We never even have our portraits painted..."

Naoya's icy gaze leveled at her without a hint of sympathy, despite the woman standing before him being the mother of his child.

"Why do you look at me like that?" Hanabi asked, tears spilling from her eyes. "You used to care for me when you thought I would bear you a son. Even if it's a daughter, she deserves love too, doesn't she?"

In the last five years, she had come to know that the emperor wasn't always this manic person. He used to be gentler, or at least not as vindictive.

And she never truly wanted you to be cast away like that. She looked up to you, admired you from up close, and meant it when she said she would carry your legacy as best as she could.

"Are you dumb?" Naoya barked. "I told you to know your place!"

...yet why? Why are people in this palace so harsh to her?

“I wish you luck on that, Hanabi. Beware, the emperor is fickle…”

Your unkind eyes, Naoya's disdainful stares even after she gave birth to his child... She didn't even care about becoming the empress anymore. She just wanted a happy life!

"If it was the former empress' child... even if it was a princess..." Hanabi turned to him with determination even amidst her pitiful tears. "You wouldn't cast her aside just like you do now with my daughter, would you, Your Majesty?"

Naoya's gaze, devoid of emotion and filled with blatant disinterest more than anything, shot through her, hurting her more than if it was filled with fury instead.

The lack of warmth in his stare made her feel like being looked through rather than being seen. As if she is that insignificant.

"Leave," he ordered coldly next, turning his back on her.

And there is her answer.

Hanabi had been your maid for five long years. She knew who you were, what you stood for, and your whole demeanor. Yet, despite her best efforts, she could never emulate you in the same way, could she?

. . .

"My lady... don't you know that the former empress is with child?"

Once again, Hanabi felt the sting of ice when her lady-in-waiting delivered the news.

"Empress... Y/N?" she whispered. "How...?"

You were stripped of your titles here, and yet you still remained a queen somewhere else. Hanabi might have won Naoya's favor, but now she was losing it while you had another emperor's affection.

Not much had changed about you. You still occupied the highest seat a woman could possibly attain. Whereas she...

"But she is barren!" she turned to her confidant then, almost in disbelief.

"Evidently not. Emperor Gojo has proven that."

How nice. A part of Hanabi wanted to congratulate you because she knew of your sufferings—how much you longed to hold a baby from your womb in your arms.

How unfair... But another part of her couldn't help but despise you. Because even in your absence, she still had to live in your shadow. Because you, who had lost everything, regained it all so easily.

"And my lady... Emperor Gojo is going to throw a banquet for this occasion next month. You are expected to attend it."

"Sweetheart, you asleep?"

One night, several weeks later, just as you were about to drift off to sleep, you felt the sheets shift as Satoru slipped into bed beside you.

Though you didn't turn to face him, you felt his warm hands wrap around your waist from behind.

"Satoru... you're back," you murmured sleepily.

"Mm-hmm," he whispered, pulling you closer to his chest and burying his face in your hair, taking in your scent. "Shoko told me you've been in your bedchamber since breakfast. Are you okay?"

"I get queasy if I walk too much, so I've been lying down all day... But don't worry, the physician said it's normal in early stages of pregnancy."

His grip on you tightened, as he caressed your belly. "Hmm, naughty baby. I'm sorry I wasn't here..."

"Where were you?"

For days now, he had been away, and you hadn't really questioned him. You had your guesses though—

"I was overseeing the construction of a new pagoda," he said softly, kissing your neck. "For you, actually."

That was so unexpected that it made you open your eyes fully. "What— for me?" Building pagoda was definitely not a small affair. Usually it was for religious purposes.

"It's a gift to the heavens for blessing me with you and our baby. It's expected to be completed before your celebration banquet."

The tower would be the testament of his love for you and your unborn child. Despite yourself, your heart swelled with overwhelming warmth.

"You're so silly... why do you spend the tax funds for that?" you brushed off the faint heat in your face, not daring to look at him still.

"Whatever I wouldn't do for you?" he cheekily retorted, chuckling.

You had never felt this cherished before, and this time you were certain—you were more than ready to fall in love with this man.

But he... is planning to use you, isn't he?

"Satoru." You shuffled to turn and face him, causing him to crack his lidded eyes open. You gazed at him, placing both of your hands on his face, caressing his face softly.

You're so kind to me. I appreciate you for that. You wanted to tell him various things, but the darkness in your heart ever since overhearing his exchange with Suguru made it hard for you to do so.

"Mm? What is it?" he drawled with a small smile, leaning into your touch.

“You... love me, don't you?”

His bright eyes found yours then, sharp and steady. An impossibly fond smile graced his lips, as if finding what you said the most natural thing there was.

“Throughout heaven and earth,” he proclaimed, his voice steady to match his eyes. “Yes, my queen.”

...then you would trust him, if only just for this moment. The genuine sincerity in his eyes, the raw authenticity in his words... it all felt too real.

And so, even when you were well-aware of the bitter possibility of truth, you leaned in and kissed him, giving yourself to his touch as his hand slipped inside you.

And soon, came the day of the lavish banquet solely held to celebrate your pregnancy.

You were seated on your throne, dressed in a stunning aquamarine gown. The skirt of the dress was full and flowing, spilling onto the floor in a waterfall of shimmering fabric. Upon your head perched your crown of diamonds, glinting beneath the light, and your ceremonial veil to make you look as queenly as you could possibly be.

Everyone would agree that you were a sight to behold, and that you were worthy of every praise possible.

"Many congratulations to you, Your Majesty."

"This is a splendid news! A royal baby!"

"To think that the emperor has settled down... sniff, how long have we been waiting for this...? We almost gave up."

You almost giggled at the way Archbishop Yaga wiped his tears with a handkerchief as he presented you with his gift.

Despite your initial reservations, you enjoyed the festivities more than you expected. You had opposed the idea at first, finding it quite unnecessary, but Satoru had pouted for three long days until you eventually relented to appease him.

Speaking of him, he was equally dressed to impress, looking every bit as an emperor he was in an exquisite aquamarine military uniform and robes. Despite engaging in conversation with Earl Nanami, he kept a watchful eye on you, stealing glances in your direction to ensure you were well.

You nodded at him, and he threw you a wink. You smiled.

Everything was truly going well... until the herald announced:

"Prince Megumi and Royal Consort Hanabi from Eastern Empire!"

There was suddenly a hush over the crowd as the two made their entrance. You stilled, looking at the figure responsible for your checkered life—

Hanabi was starkly different since the last you saw her at the courthouse during your divorce. Her dress was now a vibrant shade of burgundy red, reminiscent of a gown you once wore. Gone was her air of humility, replaced by a display of extravagance befitting a noblewoman.

She is no longer your maid, but Naoya's consort. There was no trace of the woman who once served you. You were actually impressed, as she could actually shape herself into the image of a royal consort.

"Empress." However, your attention quickly shifted to Naoya's nephew, and once also your ward, Megumi, as he bowed before you respectfully. "Congratulations."

A fond smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you regarded the young prince who had once been a very shy individual. It reminded you of the days spent with him just to get him out of his shell.

"Thank you, Megumi."

"Diamonds suit you far better than golds do. I wish only for the best for you, Your Majesty."

It warmed your heart, really. Using that reference to your gold crown from your time in the Eastern Empire, you could see how much Megumi truly understood your position and bore no resentment towards you.

Could the same be said for Naoya though?

Right after you received his gift—an ornate box that seemed oddly familiar to you—Hanabi suddenly blurted out:

"So, fate has smiled upon you. Congratulations Empress Y/N." She kept that soft, meaningful smile on her face as she offered her felicitations.

Ever since her arrival was announced, something about her demeanor had bothered you. There was a subtle emptiness that seemed to linger in her gaze.

"Thank you," you responded, and that was when you noticed it. There was never any celebration for the birth of her daughter and Naoya, only a passing announcement.

And so, you added. "Congratulations on the birth of the princess too."

You could have sworn her expression fell for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure and bowed her head to you.

For a while, you lost sight of her in the crowd, feeling quite comfortable in your dais. Soon after, Satoru returned to your side, and the herald announced:

"Attention! His Majesty the Emperor's gift for Her Majesty the Empress!"

You looked at Satoru questioningly, and he gave you a dashing smirk before turning to the crowd.

"Thank you, all of you, for joining us to celebrate this joyous occasion." The way he carried himself and the sheer confidence he exuded was mesmerizing, you couldn't deny how it made you swoon. "I've been infamous for many things, and I'm sure the tales have spread far and wide. So please, allow me one more gesture with you as the witnesses."

The crowd giggled at his words, and you finally spotted Hanabi among them, quietly assessing the scene.

Your husband turned to you, a soft smile on his face.

"This is for you my empress— my lovely queen. Words can't describe how elated I am to know that now you bear our child." He took your hand and pressed a kiss on it. "And it's only fitting that I praise you along with the skies and the stars."

A footman arrived and presented a pearly box. Satoru opened it, revealing a necklace inside. The centerpiece was a large, flawless diamond surrounded by smaller, perfectly cut stones of the same kind. No matter how you saw it, it was truly a work of art, meant to captivate and dazzle anyone who laid eyes on it.

You let out a gasp. "This..."

Satoru grinned, picking up the jewelry and preparing to place it on you. "Nothing much. Just a little trinket for you."

"This is not just a 'little trinket'!"

Your banter elicited another round of snickers from the audience as Satoru fastened the necklace around your neck. The moment he did, the crowd erupted into applause.

"Actually, my real gift is the new pagoda in the royal gardens, built in honor of the Empress," Satoru stated effortlessly, grinning unabashedly. "Feel free to stop by later, everyone."

To the ton, for him to gift you with something so sacred was the height of extravagance. Some of them wondered how you had managed to turn the elusive emperor into someone so devoted to you.

And a few... might be harboring ill will against you for it.

. . .

Later that night, you were sorting through the gifts you had received throughout the day.

"I don't understand, why would you give an expecting woman this?" Shoko picked apart a manuscript that was the gift from Archbishop Yaga. "Who would read this?"

"I wouldn't, but I'm sure Duke Geto would," you replied, and soon the two of you were giggling together.

From jewelry to ornaments, you were pleased with all the gifts presented by the guests from day one. While most were given out of formality, it was heartwarming to imagine your baby seeing all these someday.

Your attention soon turned to the box Megumi handed you earlier—Naoya's gift.

You were intrigued, because what could your spiteful ex-husband could possibly give you? And you immediately reached over to open the lid to find...

"What's that?" Shoko asked as your eyes widened in slight surprise.

Inside the box was an intricate gold and ruby necklace. One you knew well. The very one you wore during your coronation as the Empress of the Eastern Empire.

Years ago, Naoya himself had chosen this piece for you, and now he was gifting it to you, again?

“From now on, it’s going to be me and you, Empress.”

Reliving years of your marriage with him wasn't easy. You two were childhood sweethearts, and had been happy in the beginning. You couldn't pinpoint when things began to fall apart, but suddenly Naoya turned into such a person you didn't recognize altogether.

Seeing this relic made you nostalgic, and before you realized it, you touched it, trying to get a better look—

"Ah—!"

Suddenly, a sharp, unexpected pain shot through your abdomen. You instantly dropped the jewelry, letting it crash to the ground, and clutched your lower belly.

"Empress! What happened?!" Shoko rushed to your side in an instant, holding you up, and you whimpered.

"It hurts—!" Your breath hitched, as a seemingly invisible knife gutted you from inside. The intensity of the pain was overwhelming, leaving you gasping for breath. "Shoko, please—"

And before you could even scream or think, the pain blindsided you and your vision titled, before blacking out completely.

First came the warmth, then a reassuring squeeze on your hand. As your consciousness returned, you felt groggy, with your surroundings sharpening into focus.

The first thing that became your main focus the moment your eyes fluttered open was Satoru's face, a mixture of fright and relief etched across his features.

"You're awake..." He breathlessly muttered, sitting on your bedside, interlacing his fingers with yours. "How do you feel?"

"Sa...toru..." your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, and as soon as he heard you speak, he exhaled sharply, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"Heavens, I—" he let out a long sigh, his breath hot against your neck. "I'm so glad... you are..."

"What h-happened to me...?" you were feeling feverish and a dull throb was pounding at the back of your head, before the shock of it all dawned on you. "B-baby...! Our—!"

"Baby is okay too, don't worry," Satoru assured, pulling away from you to gently touch your cheek and squeeze your hand. "Both of you are fine for now..."

The horror that you might lose your baby shook you to the very core. Your vision blurred with the threatening onset of tears.

"Wh-at happened to me, Satoru...?" you asked again as he wiped your first falling tears, your heartbeat sounding so loud in your ears. "I-I was just..."

His expression took on a sudden shift, as if a dark cloud had passed over his face.

"You came into contact with a cursed object," he stated, his eyes hard as he locked onto yours. "You were cursed, Y/N."

"What...?" You were rendered speechless, feeling your body starting to shake. Cursed object? Your past coronation necklace?

Naoya was trying to curse you?

"It's okay, I'm here now, yeah?" Satoru's voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, grounding you in the present. "Look at me. Hey, look at me." he repeated, his deep blue eyes locking onto yours with intensity.

“I’m here. I’m here with you. Nothing—absolutely nothing—will touch you so long as I’m here.”

But in that moment, your mind was so overwhelmed with fear for yourself and your unborn baby that you couldn't fully grasp the magnitude of the mess unfolding before you, and you just cried in his arms.

Feeling your feeble fingers fisting his robes and your inconsolable tears staining his collar, Satoru gritted his teeth.

“This won't happen again,” he whispered into your hair, feeling his rage simmering as he felt the tremors of your sobs against his chest. “I swear, I won't let anything like this happen again.”

To Satoru, that was more than enough to justify all his subsequent actions. Putting a curse on his empress essentially amounted to an act of beginning a war.

And it also meant he no longer had to operate behind the scenes.

“Keep them in Clock Tower. No contact. Only food and water at designated times.”

Satoru's icy gaze on the captain of royal guard compelled him to hastily comply with the order, before his eyes landing on the map of the entire continent.

In response to the incident that befell you, he issued orders for open hostility along the eastern and western borders. Soon after, he would formally declare his intention to go to war.

So close. He was so close to achieving his end goal.

. . .

"Satoru!"

Several days later, Suguru burst into his study, visibly outraged. He clenched his fists, looking as if he was about to throttle him altogether.

"You—" he heaved a harsh breath. "You have gone too far!"

"What are you talking about, Suguru?"

"Is cursing the entire winery village not enough for you?" This was the first time Suguru had been this furious with him. "Did you really have to massacre the neighboring district as well?!"

"They have placed a curse on my empress." It was so easy for him to say it. "Anyone who dares to harm her shall die."

"You can direct it at Zen'in Naoya! Not the innocent civilians!"

Satoru remained silent, neither shaken nor enraged, and he had finally had enough.

“Are you even sure it’s because the empress is cursed?" Suguru challenged. In his view, this farce had been going on too long.

“No, Satoru. You are just using her. For so long, you have wanted to bring bloodshed to Western Empire. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”

You were informed, days later.

“His Majesty has placed the prince and royal consort of the Western Empire under strict watch in Clock Tower.”

Clock Tower was essentially the prison where they kept war criminals. Learning that Satoru had confined both Megumi and Hanabi there left you aghast.

After some days of bedrest and getting better, you realized that the entire situation still didn't make sense to you. As hateful as Naoya was, harming you would do him more harm than good. Eastern and Western Empires stood evenly matched in military power, and hence, a conflict between them would bring devastation to both sides.

And moreover, you knew for sure was that Megumi was definitely not the one responsible for this. He was just a boy!

You had to let him out somehow. You had to talk to Satoru about this.

Or at least that was what you thought when you came close to his study.

“Are you even sure it's because the empress is cursed? No, Satoru. You are just using her. For so long, you have wanted to bring bloodshed to Western Empire. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”

You stopped on your tracks—stunned into place, to be exact.

“And you’ve struck gold when she did because her influence will provide you with greater advantage.” Suguru scoffed then, lightly shaking his head with a sneer. “Love? How laughable. All these years, you are planning your warpath, how could you claim you love her when you're trying to ravage her homeland without even considering the impact it would have on her?”

It felt like whiplash. Geto Suguru's voice had your feet rooted to the spot, causing all your doubts to resurface and sizzle in an instant. The very question you had tried to avoid, it was suddenly shoved in your face.

What... will Satoru say? Your heart thumped so loud in your ears it made you almost stagger. He couldn't possibly. He simply couldn't. All his actions... they reflected his affection for you and you believed it because you felt it yourself too.

But Satoru's next response was—

“Even when she is derided as the devil, I will bring an end to the Zen’in line in this lifetime.”

And a part of your heart withers then.

The tips of your fingers trembled, finally taking in everything that you had tried to ignore for the past few weeks. It all caught up to you in one overwhelming rush.

Suddenly, it felt as if something inside your chest was torn out and held up for you to see.

"I'm telling you, that day will come sooner than you think, Satoru." Suguru's voice broke through, his frustration palpable. His words snapped you out of your reverie, and you took a step back, retreating to the safety of your study.

The first time you felt utter hollowness wrecking you was when you had suspected that Naoya might have taken Hanabi to his bed. The feelings overwhelming you now were eerily similar to how you felt back then.

Only in this case…

You had used him first, and if he used you in return... you couldn't fault him.

But isn't it still a bitter truth, even when a mutual transaction is very well within his rights, to know that what you believe as love may apparently not really be the case?

Love... of course, he loves you.

Of that, he was certain.

But at the same time… he had his ambitions.

Destroying the Eastern Empire. Was it so wrong that he wanted it? Didn't you want this as well? After all, Naoya had spurned you for a lowly servant and made your life hell, didn’t he?

Satoru strolled through the halls and made his way to your study, where the sight of you, so pretty and regal in your seat, greeted him.

His beautiful, graceful wife and empress of his nation. For so long, he had desired you, and now here you were, perched within his walls. His heart couldn't be more full— his life is complete already.

"Sweetheart, hey... how are you feeling today?" an adoring grin was visible on his face as he approached you. "Does the baby give you trouble today?"

You didn't answer though, and didn't look at him either. It was quite strange, Satoru thought.

"What's wrong? Is there something—" And when you finally turned to him, the look in your eyes was so eerily cold it almost gave him a chill.

"Release Megumi from your dungeon," you told him with a strained tone. "And return him to his home empire."

The smile on Satoru's face vanished that instant.

"I can't do that."

You rose from your seat, facing him. "He is just a child."

Satoru regarded you with a stern look. “That child you speak about is a prince of the Eastern Empire. He has committed a great crime against you.”

“Naoya didn’t do it.” Your steely gaze was unflinching. “He might be senseless, but he isn’t insane enough to deliberately go into a war he might possibly lose.”

Satoru's eyes darkened at your words, as you stood before him with determination. The way you were so adamant somehow took him aback. “How... could you defend him? He has wronged you!”

It was one question you had expected, and you had the answer ready.

“Even if he has, I could never wish doom upon my own homeland, Satoru. I’ve lived most of my life there, I did a great deal of things there— even if you harbor some sort of misguided contempt or just bloodthirsty enough to lay ruin to Eastern Empire, I refuse to be the puppet for your schemes!”

There it was. You had said it. Everything would crumble once again just like your previous marriage.

Satoru was staring at you in slight disbelief, his eyes gleamed with something that you couldn't really pinpoint. Anger? Disappointment?

“Your life was in danger, as was our unborn child’s. Don’t you care about that—!” he actually had to stop to catch his breath. “Don’t you care that our child nearly didn't make it?”

“And? You must have thought it was the perfect grounds for declaring a war?” but you didn’t relent and questioned him with a scoff. “And afterwards, you would try to use me to gain defectors from Eastern Empire, is that it?”

You saw the flash of surprise in your now-husband's eyes right when you recited his words, but you weren't about to hold back any longer now.

“Now you’re using my safety to justify your actions,” you hissed, feeling like suddenly you understood what all of this was. “You’re quite cunning, Satoru. I’ve heard everything—you will do anything to bring an end to the Zen'in lineage! You won’t even consider the repercussions of my reputation being tarnished across the lands!”

“Is that even important now?” Satoru gritted his teeth to suppress his irritation. “You have been cursed. Do you honestly think I would let them get away with cursing my empress? How could I, who seek to protect you, be more vicious than whoever in Eastern Empire who cursed you with that necklace?”

“You’re doing this for your personal gratification!” you exclaimed. “It is never about me. You’re just a warmonger!”

The moment those words left your lips, Satoru stilled. His gaze on you faltered, and you could’ve sworn hurt flashed in his face.

“Just how low… is your opinion of me?” he asked, his tone dropping, eyes devoid of emotion. “You jump into conclusions only after overhearing something in a passing and yet you know for sure Naoya wouldn’t harm you—” he clenched his jaw.

“You… really loved him, don’t you?” he asked with a sardonic smile. “I know it already. You won’t ever be able to do the same for me. You can’t even trust me.”

You were rendered speechless. Despite your doubts of him, hearing this still felt like a slap in your face.

Won’t be able to do the same for him? No. That’s not true. You were—

Satoru let out a defeated laugh and ran his hand through his hair, leaving you uncertain whether he was amused or heartbroken by your lack of response.

“It’s funny, how I have loved you for so long... but apparently the woman I believed to have even a semblance of affection for me doesn’t even exist.”

It felt like that one part of you that was capable of feeling love had been stabbed once again.

To say this out loud hurt you deeply, unbeknownst to him. You didn’t mean this at all, still it was what came out of you—

“In the end, we’re just using each other. That’s all we are to each other.”

Satoru bitterly snorted, finding your accusation so unfair to him.

“How cruel is it that I’m the only one who has to prove this love to you? What about you? You’re terribly, horribly selfish!”

You stayed silent, looking away, caught between the scorching knives that seemed to twist your heart and conflicting emotions in it, uncertain of what to believe anymore. And you didn't really know what heartbreak was like before—

“It has been really exhausting, and I don’t want to bother anymore.”

When his gaze next met yours, dark and piercing, you realized he was no longer the same man who once promised you love and devotion.

“You're free to believe whatever truth you wish. But remember, even if you are my wife and the empress of this nation, should you commit any transgressions… I won’t hesitate to accuse you of treason, Empress.”

You have committed treason.

Satoru had conducted investigation of the sorts just to prove his point. And yet days later, no direct evidence pointing towards Megumi or Hanabi were found in that cursed necklace.

Punishment for treason is imminent death. You were well-aware of that more than anyone, but your consciousness wouldn't allow it if Megumi had to be hanged due to Satoru's antagonism.

"Your Majesty, your kindness knows no bounds," Megumi said, dropping to one knee before you and lowering his head in the throne room. Satoru had chosen not to grace any of you with his presence, leaving you alone to bid farewell to both Megumi and Hanabi.

Since then, you hadn't spoken with him, nor had he visited your chambers. It was as if he considered you nonexistent at all.

And it is really only a matter of time before he finds out.

But at the very least, you were right. It was never Megumi. That boy was fond of you, he could never. So, you shifted your gaze on the woman next to him.

"Royal Consort Hanabi. A word."

It was the cue for everyone else to exit the throne room. Now, you were faced with this woman once again, and yet one thing remained the same— you were still towering over her.

"Why did you do it?" Your calm gaze betrayed a quiet anger that was unmistakably clear. All because of this woman. It was beyond you, how despite having left your past life behind, she had somehow managed to taint your new one as well.

Hanabi looked away, a hint of shame coloring her features. "Your Majesty knows, so why do you spare me?" she asked quietly.

"How preposterous of you to think that I have spared you," you scoffed. "All this time, have you learned nothing at all from standing by Naoya's side?"

She flinched, visibly making herself smaller at your unforgiving tone, still, she dared herself to meet your eyes.

"Can I ask... why you never consider it as Emperor Naoya's doing?" she seemed more confused more than anything, even as her lips wobbled. "The two of you... you don't really hate each other, so why...?"

You didn't want to dwell on why Naoya had chosen that specific piece of jewelry to return to you. If anything, you'd consider it his final parting gift and be done with it.

But the naivety of this woman was astounding. Someone like her wouldn't last long in your seat. You let out a sigh, torn between feeling sorry for her or not.

"You have much to learn about court affairs, Hanabi. And do not think this is an act of mercy. Sending you back to Naoya is a punishment in itself—you know that by now."

Hanabi trembled where she stood, her breaths were shallow, and her hands shook slightly as she struggled to maintain composure in your presence.

Realizing it was futile to continue the conversation, you decided to conclude it.

"Know that I will never forgive you for what you have done to me." Your sharp eyes squared on her, the cold ire in your tone making her shudder.

In all the years Hanabi had known you, you had never appeared more fearsome than you did now, adorned in silks of deep blue hues, with that crown of diamonds gleaming in your head.

Then, as if sealing her fate, you delivered these parting words:

"You've always coveted what I have, and sooner or later, that will be your downfall."

The palace felt suffocating for you. After sending Hanabi away, you took a walk in the gardens, followed closely by your ladies-in-waiting.

Good heavens, what have you done? You definitely didn't regret saving Megumi, but no matter how, you had committed a great crime against your own empire. A sentence would loom over your head!

And what about your baby? Would Satoru execute you while you still had his child inside you?

The very thought made your vision tilt, and you had to lean on the wall for support. Your ladies-in-waiting were immediately clamoring against each other.

"Leave," you commanded, trying to catch your breath while doing so. "I'll… take some time to rest here."

It took you a moment to realize you had reached the pagoda that Satoru had commissioned for you. This was your first time visiting it. The structure was magnificent, towering in height and adorned with exquisite decorations, leaving you in awe.

"It's a gift to the heavens for blessing me with you and our baby."

You wanted to cry. His voice, soft and smooth, conveyed those words so easily to you. He really loved you, didn't he? What made you so unsure about that undeniable fact?

And now you had broken his heart.

Your hand reached for your belly. Though hidden by your dress, you could distinctly feel that it had become firmer these days, holding the product of your love with Satoru.

"I'm sorry, baby..." you whispered, heartbroken. "I didn't mean to drag you into this too..."

You felt nauseous, your breaths come in short pants, and you felt a headache coming. It didn't really register to you that you had crashed into the candle table, before you collected yourself and ventured deeper inside.

You just wanted a sense of peace and quiet. You would think more later, and right now, the darkness inside felt like a comforting lull for you to rest.

. . .

Or at least that was what you had intended, until you looked back and saw the swirling inferno creeping through the halls.

It didn't take long for Satoru to figure out you had really orchestrated Megumi's release.

More than his wounded pride, it was the searing pain of realizing that you truly believed he was only using you for his own benefit. It felt like an insult to everything he had done for you.

Why couldn't you see that? Just how hard is it for you to understand?

And now that it had come to this... what did you expect from him? Should he really make good on his word and punish you? It tore his heart to even consider it.

However, what was worse was… did you think he was really capable of that too?

Amidst his heartache, suddenly he heard loud commotion from outside his study, yells and cries of help— and it roused him from his thoughts that he came out of his study, only to come right into a familiar face.

"Anyone! Anyone at all!" one of your maids was running, sobbing and hysterical. "Her Majesty! Please help Her Majesty!"

"What is all of this ruckus?" Satoru demanded, catching the maid by the hand, as she stuttered in tears.

And then, everything came crashing down with the next words.

"The Empress— is trapped inside the burning tower!"

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[sunrizef1]

Speechless

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Soulmate!Sargeant!Reader

Warnings: None, one curse word, not edited yay

Authors Note: Lmao the poll didn’t ask for this one but it was almost done so… here you go 😭

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Everyone’s born with a certain number of words. What happens when Charles runs out during a race and only his soulmate can get them back.

Everyone was born with a certain number of words. Usually, you got enough words to last you well into your adulthood, although the more talkative children ran out some time in high school. When you ran out of words, your voice completely disappeared, as well as your soulmates. You couldn’t say anything no matter how hard you tried. The only way to get your words back was to find your soulmate. When you do finally meet them, as soon as you touch, you both have an infinite amount of words.

The only problem with this system was the fact that there wasn’t some kind of constant counter in your vision that you could see at all times. No, instead, there was a small tattoo somewhere on your body that ticked down as you spoke. People often forgot to check and see how many words they have left, running out and taking both their own and their soulmates voices away. The wonderfully mean part about the tattoos, though, was that they moved into a perfectly visible spot when they ran out, moving to match where your soulmate had theirs.

Charles’ tattoo was behind his ear. He often got caught up and forgot to check, considering he had to have someone else help him see it. With the week he’d been having with Ferrari, he hadn’t even thought about it in days. At the start of the week, he would’ve sworn he had thousands of words left.

He really might’ve, but with the amount of meetings and interviews he’d suffered through in the lead up to Sunday, his words dwindled quickly.

Not that he knew, his hair was just long enough to cover the tattoo for anyone passing by and he was too busy to even consider it.

Charles was starting from pole. A miracle considering how shit the car had been performing. He slid the helmet on as he entered the car, effectively covering his tattoo.

He was then out on the track, lining up and slamming his foot down on the accelerator as the lights flicked green.

It was smooth enough for a while, though Max was on his tail from the very beginning, Charles having to ask for constant updates about the Red Bull.

“Ten laps left” his engineers voice crackles over the radio as Charles passes the starting line, his car roaring down the straight.

“Thank you,” Charles replies, glancing in his mirror to see Max about a second behind him still.

“How do the tires feel?” His engineer asks. Charles opens his mouth to reply but no words come out, “Charles?”

Charles try’s to speak again but all he gets is silence, his words dying in his throat. His engineer, though, assumes there’s issues with the radio, informing Fred Vassuer with a grave face.

Charles tries his best to continue the race without being able to speak. His engineer continues to talk to him, continuing to not get a response. Everytime his engineer asks him to reply, Charles gets more and more frustrated, the lack of communication pissing him off to no end.

Somewhere in the last few laps of the race, Max passes him, taking advantage of the frazzled Ferrari. Groans echo throughout the garage, the near perfect race now being ruined in the dying moments.

As Charles finishes his final lap, pulling his car into the second place spot, he can’t wipe the frown off his face. Even as he steps out of the car to the cheers of Ferrari fans above him, he practically throws the steering wheel down, knowing more than anyone that he should’ve won that race.

He slides his helmet off, wincing as Max pats him on the back. Charles sets the helmet down, not eager to talk to his disappointed team. He moves his sleeves up frantically, searching for the tattoo that would explain his lack of words. If it was still behind his ear, he’d know that his soulmate was the one to run out of words and he’d have a lot of choice words for them when he found them.

But lo and behold, the bright red zero sits on his wrist, practically mocking him. He’d used all his words and he hadn’t even thought to check before he started the race. He rolls his eyes, finally moving over to his team who all looked at him with questioning looks. He holds up his wrist, showing off the Ferrari red zero.

His team shares looks between them, groans ringing throughout the group. Charles nods, not looking forward to the next race that was only two weeks away.

You, on the other hand, were absolutely pissed. You had been in the middle of a presentation in front of your entire college class when your voice suddenly stopped short. Your word counter was on your wrist. It had always been perfectly visible and you had even been staring straight at it when it suddenly changed from 21,897 to an annoying little zero. You had rolled your eyes, quickly holding up your wrist toward your professor who beckoned you toward him. He grabbed ahold of your wrist, examining the tattoo for a few seconds. Luckily, this teacher liked you, quickly waving you off to go sit back down with a mutter of emailing you after class.

As you laid in bed later that night, fingers moving rapidly over your phone screen as you FaceTimed your brother, you were still fuming. He had FaceTimed you after you’d informed him of your dilemma, his smug face trying his hardest not to laugh. Everytime he spoke, you’d text back quickly as a response.

They took away my captaincy you sent him, watching as his eyebrows furrow. He’d known how hard you’d worked to get a spot on the University’s soccer team, even becoming a captain as a junior.

“What, why?” Your brother replies. In another world, he was attending the school right along with you, attending parties and being the Florida frat boy you’d assume he was when you looked at him.

I can’t talk to anyone, can’t do my job you reply, nails tapping loudly against the screen, they said it was “temporary” 🙄

You watch as Logan reads the texts, eyes squinting slightly. You weren’t entirely sure where he was. Although, from the looks of it, you assumed he was in the paddock somewhere, considering the fireproofs hugging his skin.

“Why were you in class on a Sunday?” Logan asks suddenly and you roll your eyes at that being the only question he had.

I’m not usually

We came in today to do presentations

Logan hums, having no idea if that was common or not, as he’d never even been close to going to college. He’d been to your campus a few times whenever he was back in Florida but that was usually to go to your games or a frat party.

“You know what would make you feel better?” Logan asks, noticing the frown on your face. You glance up toward his grinning face to see what he had to say, “You know we’re in Miami the weekend after next, right? You should come.”

You immediately start to type into your phone but Logan speaks up instead, “If I never check my texts you never said no.”

You roll your eyes, texting more aggressively. Logan laughs at the sound but is quick to rebuke the claims you’re no doubt sending into his messages, “It’s not that far of a drive, come on! You’ll have fun and I’ll get to see you again, it’s been a while. I miss you.”

You pause at his last point, erasing the refusal you’d been typing. You take a second before sending a short message. He was right though, it had been a while. Your family lived in Fort Lauderdale and it was a pretty long drive to the University of Florida.

The drives five hours

“Oh shit, is it?” He asks, eyes wide. You can see the disappointment on his face, sensing your incoming refusal, “I didn’t know it was that far. You don’t have to-”

You’re picking me up

Logan cheers as he reads your final message and you roll your eyes, not fighting the grin that makes its way onto your face. It’d be nice to see your brother again. With the relinquishing as your duties as captain, you’d have a lot more free time on the weekends. You were also pretty sure you’d be asked to sit out of a couple games due to your inability to speak so you really had all the time in the world. Why not spend it with your older brother.

You bask in your brothers glee, noticing the happiness emanating from him as he animatedly plans your Miami Grand Prix weekend.

Ferrari, on the other hand, was having a terrible time.

They had been searching overtime for a solution to their “Charles can’t speak” problem. For the time being, they had Ollie stepping in for the upcoming Miami Grand Prix, as Charles couldn’t continue to race in his… “condition”.

Ollie had raced the entirety of the previous weekend and Charles wasn’t sure how much more he could take of being on the sidelines before he just fucked back off to Monaco.

The team wasn’t entirely sure how to find someone’s soulmate but they sure were trying. Charles had already been introduced to at least 100 different women since his words had disappeared. He was getting more and more annoyed by the day.

The worst part was that he wasn’t sure he’d ever find his soulmate. There was always the possibility that he’d never get to meet her and never get his words back. His stomach turned at the thought, knowing that he’d never get to race again if that happened. Everything he’d worked for and spent his life dreaming about would be stripped away because of a girl he didn’t know.

He knew it wasn’t her fault, wherever she was. He should’ve been paying more attention to his number as it ticked closer and closer to zero. The tattoo had moved, he knew he was the one to run out. What he hadn’t even considered was that he’d taken some poor girls voice away. He’d been so wrapped up in his own job that he hadn’t thought about the fact that some random girl just couldn’t speak anymore and it wasn’t even because of something she did.

Despite his inability to speak, he was still expected to be in the paddock, as he was basically the face of the team. So there he was, sitting grumpily in his chair with his sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. Media day had been hell. He’d still gotten interviewed, his sign language coming off a bit angrier than usual.

Due to how many people never meet their soulmates before they run out of words, sign language was taught in most schools. You’d think it’d be harder to tell someone was angry through sign language but Charles was managing to convey that just fine.

After two weeks of not speaking, Charles’ attitude was at an all-time low. The bright red zero sat on his wrist, practically mocking him. The sprint race had just ended, Ollie managing p7. Charles was, of course, proud of him but he was also filled with jealousy that Ollie got to be the one in his seat when it was all he wanted to do.

Ollie, as well, was starting to reach the end of the rope, not having expected to be cast into a full-time seat so suddenly.

As Ollie pulled back into the garage, Charles darted from his seat, not able to watch the pure elation on the younger man’s face. His feet carried him through to the paddock, workers from different teams mingling and discussing the race.

Charles wandered aimlessly, everywhere he looked a reminder of the life he might be losing.

Logan had finished p6 and you were thrilled. Not a much better way to start a home race (at least for a Williams). You found yourself trying to cheer, although no sound came out.

Lily had gone off to congratulate Alex, who’d finished just one place above Logan in fifth. When Logan had introduced you to Lily, you’d quickly noticed the green infinity sign on her hand, signaling that she’d met her soulmate. You couldn’t help the jealousy that spread through you as you watch her hug Alex.

After Lilys departure, you were left alone to wait for Logan to come back into the garage. You’d seen several celebrities mingling around the paddock, averting your eyes whenever anyone looked in your direction.

You’d usually be all up for meeting people, especially someone you looked up to but with your lack of words, meeting anyone would probably be a disaster and you don’t think you’d ever get over it if you embarrassed yourself in front of any of these people.

You don’t have to wait long as Logan comes back into the garage pretty quickly. He’s quick to exit his car, cheering and celebrating with his team. A small smile breaks onto your face as you watch him, happy to see him happier than he’d ever been with the team before.

He’s zipping down his race suit as he walks over to meet you, hair messy as he pulls his helmet off as well.

You mouth a quick “good job” to him and he wraps his arms around you, infecting you with his gross sweat.

You try to lean back but he hugs you tighter, swaying slightly with a laugh. When he does eventually pull away, you make a face at him, attempting to wipe his sweat off your arms. He laughs, ruffling your hair and walking toward the exit.

“Come on, im gonna go shower before quali later and we can go get lunch,” he says, nodding toward the paddock behind him. You nod, moving closer to follow him out.

As you and Logan walk along, he points out the different hospitalities and employees, identifying everyone he knew. At one point, Lewis Hamilton sprints past, a dog hot on his heels.

“Roscoe,” Logan says, eyes still locked on Lewis’ retreating figure.

You quirk your head with a questioning look. Logan’s quick to clarify, “The dog. His names Roscoe.”

At that, you smile, glancing over your shoulder at the dog again. You look back as Logan starts to explain something in front of you again, hand moving out to point at the Aston Martin hospitality.

As you both start to get close to Williams, Logan’s eyes lock on someone a bit away. He lights up, smirking as he turns to you, “That’s Charles Leclerc, Ferrari driver. He can’t speak either, you know?”

You nod blankly, having no idea what Logan was yapping about. Logan looks back to Charles with a grin, “Maybe I should introduce you two, you’d already have something in common.”

You’re shaking your head, not wanting to experience the awkward situation of not being able to talk to someone who can’t talk either, your idiot brother having to be the bridge between you two. It didn’t help that Charles was incredibly attractive. But Logan doesn’t listen to your protests, grabbing your arm to drag you toward the driver, his hand already moving to cup his mouth as he shouts, “Charles!”

Charles had managed to wander all the way over to the Williams hospitality, his thoughts elsewhere as he dragged his feet over the pavement. He was just considering leaving the paddock when he hears someone shouting his name, causing him to look their way.

He’s met with Logan, still in his race suit, dragging a girl behind him. Charles recognized you as Logan’s sister, he’d seen you around the paddock a few times but he’d never actually met you, not often being involved with anything Williams related.

Logan stops short in front of Charles, pulling you to his side. Charles has to stop himself from wincing at the pure joy on the American man’s face, aware that he’d just gotten points in the sprint. Charles bitterly thinks he’d wished it’d been him instead.

“Charles! This is my sister, y/n,” Logan explains, glee practically melting off of him, “She’s visiting from college for the weekend and I’m dragging her along to meet people.”

Charles nods, trying to force a smile onto his face. He briefly wonders if Logan knew he had no words and decided to introduce them anyway.

But when you don’t speak either, Charles glances down at your wrist, spotting the zero on it. He grimaces, knowing that not much could come from this interaction if neither of you could speak.

He nods respectfully in your direction, being met with a soft smile in response. If it had been any other weekend, Charles would’ve been able to appreciate how pretty you looked but he was instead plagued with thoughts about his soulmate instead.

Charles signals to Logan that he was going to go back to Ferrari and Logan nods, turning to step away as someone shouts his name. Charles steps forward to get past you just as you turn to see who was yelling for your brother, causing you to collide with Charles, his phone falling out of his hand.

You swing back around at the noise, leaning down to collect Charles’ phone for him. You’re quick to hand his phone back to him, his hand brushing yours as you pass it off. In your flustered state you don’t even think as you mumble a rushed apology to him.

“Sorry!”

“Thanks.”

You both pause, eyes locked onto each others for a second. You glance down at your wrist, catching the green infinity sign sat on your wrist. Charles looks down as well, his other hand reaching to wipe gently at the skin, as if the symbol would wash away and reveal it was a trick.

You’re the first to open your mouth again, tentative speech pouring out of your mouth, “Hi?”

You seem almost relieved to hear the word, taking a sharp breath as you hear it. Charles has to withhold the grin on his face as he speaks as well.

“Hi.”

When you hear him speak, you grin widely, laughing loudly out of pure joy. Charles laughs as well, the realization that he’d just met his soulmate crashing through him.

“I think I’m your soulmate,” you manage through your laugh, smiling warmly at the Ferrari driver, a light blush on your cheeks.

“I think you are,” Charles replies, eyes softening as he looks at you. You stand in front of him for a few moments, seeming to be debating something in your head. He’s about to ask you about it when you step forward, arms wrapping around his neck to bring him into a hug. Charles pauses before he melts into the hug, never-felt-before joy pulsing through him.

You pull away, still smiling as you pull your phone out of your pocket. You open your contacts, opening a new one and titling it “Charles ❤️” before you turn your phone to him.

He takes it gently, typing in his number and sending himself a text before he hands the phone back to you. You stand and smile at each other for a few moments before Charles opens his mouth to speak.

“Do you wanna get dinner?” he asks, a hand coming up to scratch nervously at the back of his neck, “After qualifying?”

You light up, excitement filling your face, “I’d love to, Charles.”

That’s when Logan decides to come back, unceremoniously swinging an arm over your shoulder, “I’m back! You ready to go? I’m starving.”

Logan’s already turned you around by the time he finished his sentence, steering you both toward his room. You glance over your shoulder to smile at Charles, waving goodbye slightly. Charles grins back, nodding in response.

“Where do you wanna go for lunch?” Logan continues to speak loudly, his voice echoing as you walk away.

Charles watches as you shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know.”

Logan’s head snaps toward you, eyebrows furrowed, “You’re speaking!”

You smirk, nodding your head at your brother.

Logan ponders this for a second with a smile before something comes to his head and his grin drops, “Wait you met your soulmate?! Who did you meet in that minute I was gone?! Y/N?”

You shake your head, crossing your arms as you walk away, Logan still frozen to his spot, “Y/N?! Wait!”

You stop in order for him to catch up, punching his shoulder lightly as he walks up, “You’re such an idiot.”

Logan gasps dramatically at your words, finally walking out of Charles’ earshot. Charles gazes after you as you walk away, a warm smile gracing his features. He pulls open his phone to see the text he sent from yours, quickly tapping to save your contact.

“Y/N ❤️”

——————————————————

@casperlikej @evie-119

[saturngas]

hiding his wedding ring

[🪐] you hide your husband´s wedding ring just for fun. (heyy guysss, thank you so much for the support on my last posts!! im so glad you guys like them. and im working on the second part of the tinder fake profile like someone suggested :])

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

genre: sfw

warnings: established relationship; lots of fluff; I wanted this to be a crack fic but I ended up breaking down gojo's character; first 900 words of me rambling about gojo's role in the jujutsu world; end is very soft; you comforting satoru without using words; reader wears a bra;

word count: 2k

..

dark shades were still painting the city as the sun wasn't ready to rise and warm the breezy winter morning. you stirred in your sleep until you woke up. heavy arms belonging to your lovely husband were enveloping your smaller form. you breathed at the natural aroma of satoru next to you, vanilla from his body wash and subtle sandalwood from his expensive shampoo.

the stinging feeling of a full bladder started bothering you, giving up the chances to go back to sleep. you moved softly as to not wake up the tall lanky man behind you. satoru always had a bad time whenever you would leave the bed, whining like a child because you "took off all the happiness from his life." he was an expert to make you sigh and then giggle at his dramatics.

satoru could feel you moving though. his muscular forearms encapsulated you in a tight grip and his legs encircled yours. his over-180-pound weight did nothing to help you, however your chances of ruining the bedsheets with fresh pee were only increasing.

"satoru, come on~" you whined under your breath, inaudible to the knocked out man. after many shuffling and unnecessary force—because this could have been avoided if satoru wasn't as clingy—, your body was free. as you rose up to your feet, a cold breeze caressed your exposed skin.

after you finished your business in the bathroom, you sat on your shared bed with your husband again. you observed satoru closely. his pretty face was scrunched in a slight frown—probably from feeling your empty space—, his long white eyelashes were barely touching his high cheekbones and his soft and rosy lips were partially parted, letting out quiet snores.

he truly was a masterpiece. and to believe this beautiful man and strong sorcerer was your partner for life. this man who simply loves everyone and is kind at heart, his extravagant and loud personality playing a major role on other people's opinion on him.

but I love you just as you are, satoru... you thought with a light tug at your heart. satoru was a very sweet man, worrying and caring the most about you and his precious students, wanting to change the corrupted society you two work in. he deserved all the love from the world. from this world who would only see him as the strongest sorcerer but not as the human being satoru gojo was.

almost nobody would follow his travesties, share an agreement with him, or even laugh at his jokes. you could count the people who would do all that using just one hand: suguru, yuta, yuji, and well, you. there's a reason satoru proposed to you. of course he found you breathtakingly beautiful—his jaw would drop to the floor dramatically whenever you would wear a new attire he would bought you—, and your personality just complemented his, but you would also crack a smile or a laugh whenever he made a witty comment, you would partner up with his pranks, and you would be there too whenever he would get called out from his unprofessional behavior.

it was 4:25am and maybe you were thinking too much. you smiled sweetly once you caught a glimpse of the shiny band adorning his ring finger, his hand on his rising chest. a sudden wave of excitement rushed through your entire body. you felt funny. and maybe, just maybe, you wanted to make this morning a bit different, only to not make your lives monotone.

your hand reached out to his. the moment your skin touched his, your husband stirred—almost spasmed—in this sleep. of course he would have such a reaction to something so simply, he was just extra. you figured you'd have to be in your original position for him to not notice.

as you adjusted yourself back on the bed, next to him, satoru's long limbs recognized yours and got into a tangled mess with yours. his toned arms hugging you tightly, his palms caressing your back and lower back. you were chest to chest with him, well, almost, as the white haired man was almost on top of you.

"mmm, baby..." you heard him muttered while he adjusted his body to keep pressing onto you. rosy lips of his stroking your forehead, where you could feel his small breaths. his arm losing his grip a bit as his body relaxed again. you took this as an opportunity to grasp his large hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. satoru's throat did a nose, one mocking that of a moan.

was he getting hard from holding hands? you thought, but you didn't actually want to test your hypothesis right now. giggling silently as you remembered satoru did get hard from holding hands and being too close with you when he was a teen.

the cold ring brushed against your finger. you moved very slowly your hand as you drew it away gently, taking his ring with you. when the expensive little object was finally in your hold, his hand fell heavy on your waist. satoru unconsciously wasted no time to hug your waist. he did it so softly and gently and slowly that it sent a bunch of shivers down your spine, your body getting even closer to his.

once you had the ring, you actually didn't know where to hide it. under your pillow? you know that's the first place he's looking at. in a drawer? he'll find it eventually. inside a box? you couldn't even move your neck, how were you supposed to walk all the way to find a box to hide the ring?

so you put it in your bra.

you just had to make sure satoru wasn't feeling like it first thing in the morning.

"baby, baby, sweet cheeks," a pair of big hands were grabbing gently your shoulders as you were being lightly shaken. "baby, please wake up, this is an emergency!" satoru concerned voice got you restless, making you aware of your surroundings.

"satoru what's going on..." your voice lingered with slumber.

"baby, please don't be mad at me," his big blue eyes looked at you with panic and distress. he gave a chaste kiss on each or your cheeks, then his bottom lip jutted out forming a big pout. "but I lost my ring. I mean, I didn't lost it, well I did, but I just can't find it. you know I always sleep with it, so it probably slipped off my finger during the night but that's weird 'cause that has never happened, not even when we have sex and we—"

satoru kept talking, explaining with exasperation his situation so you wouldn't get mad. oh poor boy. for him, that ring represents the materialized love you two have for each other; the day you both said your I do's in the aisle takes form on a pair of circular bands; a piece of jewelry that shouts that you are his and that he is yours, being a loud announcement for any foreigner who dares to come to claim any of you.

"babyyy," he whined out your name. you weren't paying attention to him! "im so sorry I lost it, but please help me find it." he begged. as soon as he finished his sentence, he flipped off the bed, hading to the hallway probably to start searching in the entire house.

you sighed a bit. perhaps this wasn't a good idea. you certainly didn't think satoru would notice that quickly. he probably woke up and immediately noticed the empty space on his long finger and went frantic. now he woke you up at 7am on your day off.

I need to start thinking thoroughly these pranks...

"y/n!!" you heard your husband yell your name from down the hallway. "come help me!" he sounded agitated.

you got off the bed and threw one of the tall man's hoodie over your head. it was chilly. as you walked down the hallway, you visualized your husband throwing away each cushion from your couch to the floor, looking for the lost ring. one throw pillow went flying towards you, almost hitting you. his blue eyes were shining. you were certain he was using all six eyes to find it. how come he hadn't looked in your chest?

"satoru, my angel boy," you laughed softly at his state. "sugar boy, baby boy, sweet pie," you used all pet names left in your inventory to catch his attention.

big baby blue eyes met yours in an instant. you body relaxing once he saw you were serene. "hey boy, it is fine, don't worry." you said as softly as possible as you approached him. your right hand going right into his white locks, caressing his scalp. you could feel satoru's breath decelerate, his left hand placing itself on top of yours, engulfing it.

"but my ring..." his voice was quiet.

"don't worry, for real," you let out a hearty laugh, one that made satoru's cheeks burn with love. "I mean you can always buy another one." you teased him.

"yeah I guess I can." soft eyes stared lovingly at you. "Im sorry I lost it. please don't think I want to divorce you."

the chuckle you let out made your face red from the increased blood pressure. "I know, sugar boy."

your sugar boy took your left hand and kissed the expensive ring adorning your finger. his soft lips and apologetic eyes looking directly at you made you want to end this silly prank.

"im so sorry baby," a kiss.

"toru, please stop apologizing, baby."

"i deserve death," another kiss.

"stop."

"i deserve to be placed in prison for losing such important representation of love," two more kisses.

"toru."

"this is the reason why global warming is still a thing."

"okay." you rolled your eyes so hard you were certain your superior oblique muscles were going to cramp. the left hand that satoru was previously kissing went flying to lift the hoodie you wore, your right hand going under your blouse, searching for the ring.

"god baby, I love you lots, did me going insane turned you on?"

your frowned mouth moved up slightly, a smile threatening to play against you.

"no, you dummy." your fingers finally reached for the finger, taking it out of your bra. satoru's eyes widened so much you were sure they hurt a little due to the room light he turned on to look for such object.

"sweet cheeks..." he whined softly under his breath. grabbing the ring from your grasp. "it's so warm, thank you, baby girls." his free hand caressed your underboob. you giggled at his comments.

"im sorry, angel boy. thought it would be funny to prank you." you went back to caress his undercut, feeling him almost purr. "you always play dumb shit with me, guess it was my turn." you winked at him and your husband blowed you a kiss.

"oh girl... you're so naughty, I have so much fun with you." his lips found yours in a second, forcing them into a deep kiss. it was weird satoru would express out loud his emotions. even after years of being together, it was still hard for him to word his feelings, adding to the reason he was very physical with the people he loved—he didn't know how to display his love using words, only touches.

'i have so much fun with you,' you knew the deeper meaning behind those words. he felt alone even with other people. his students, only yuji seemed to enjoy going along with him, adding to whatever entertainment satoru was putting up with.

that was the reason the tall sorcerer loved you so much. you would keep him occupied all the time, it being with your mere presence, when you were all lovey dovey with him, when you would get mad, it being your giggles at his lame jokes, you pulling up pranks at him.

satoru loved you just like he loved his students and coworkers, but of course you were so much more special to him because you could keep up with him. him and the awful personality satoru claimed he had, him and his risky and demanding job, him and his inability to open up. because you could still read him as a book.

that was the reason he went rabid the second he saw his wedding ring was missing, he was afraid his love would vanish too. maybe it was too cheesy, but when it came to you, he recognizes he doesn't think straight.

[chunksworld]

Take My Breath

NewJeans Danielle x Male Reader | (Tags: Smut)

A/N: part 3 of this nwjns series I'm still not quite so sure what to call; thank you to kaede for beta reading as always.

Part 1: Double Fantasy

Part 2: Role Model

————————

“Hnnghhh. F-Fucking me so good—harder!”

Everything about this situation is risky, dangerous, and foolish. But it’s hard to think about anything else when you’re pounding Danielle like she’s nothing but your fucktoy—and you can only be thankful that no one else is here to listen to her wanton moans that threaten to rip out of her throat. And that’s mostly because you two are in the backseat of your car, some early 2000s model that was definitely not built to withstand such intense pressure. It’s only fortunate that you were sitting in the back of the lecture hall when she sent you a pic of her in her lingerie from the night before because it made for an easy exit towards your car and it would have been extremely embarrassing to have to cover your boner with your backpack. It’s also fortunate that your car is tinted because the sight of her face down, ass up with her jacket barely clinging onto her tight body is absolutely not school appropriate. “Keep fucking me like that—shit—I’m gonna cum soon!”

When Hanni gave her your number, you didn’t think that she would be messaging you to hook-up every other day. She didn’t seem like that type of girl, in fact you’d think that she’s the type to only have sex after marriage but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Also, you didn’t think that Danielle would be more insatiable than her two friends. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing or where you are, she can just hit you with a text and you’ll be there to satisfy her carnal needs. The girls call it a “dick appointment” but you’re sure it’s more of an on-call situation with the way you are always there for her—only sexually of course. It’s already getting difficult trying to keep your brain (and dick) intact with the way Minji and Hanni both seem to wanna share and fuck you at the same time. You’re sure it’s only a matter of time before a threesome is in the cards—not that you are complaining because just the thought is enough to keep you horny for days on end. 

And adding Danielle to that mix would further complicate an already mind-boggling situation, as much as you lust for her body as the other two. One, there’s only so much cum in your balls to go around. And second, falling in love with multiple girls at once is not something you’re keen on doing. It was rather something that forced you to commit to the situation at hand (but shouldn’t you have rejected Hanni’s offer in the first place?) It’s too much to wrap your head around at this very moment, especially when Danielle was just that distant friend in your circle. Did you find her pretty? Absolutely. But these past few weeks of hooking up with her led you to discover that she’s much more than that. You’ve only known her as that bright, cheerful girl with a heavenly voice for quite some time now yet here you are making her sing a completely different song.

Wrap your arms around her tiny waist and pull her upright, her back pressed against your chest to thrust yourself deeper into her. Blonde locks block your vision but her scent is enough to encourage your fucking. Her reaction is immediate, louder moans coming out of her mouth that you are sure can be faintly heard from the outside—on top of that, the sound of skin slapping against skin reverberates throughout this tiny space. Plus, how are you going to get rid of the smell of sex later? You don’t care though, not when your face is buried in the crook of her neck and your hands creep up to massage her tiny but beautiful tits. “You’ve been planning this all morning weren’t you?” Lips find that sweet spot on her neck and you begin to nip and suck—you can never, will never get enough of her. “Wearing my favorite cologne because you want me to fuck you till you can’t walk while the rest of our friends are out for their lunch break?” 

Danielle can only nod, her tongue sticking out and her eyes closed. Absolutely nothing matters to her at this point—only the fact that your cock is rearranging her guts and that she’s going to have to explain why she’s limping after excusing herself out of meeting with the rest of the girls. Right. Nothing matters. Take a quick glance at your watch. 10 minutes. Unfortunately, the thirty minutes flew by and you can only ignore their messages for so long before they start looking for you. It was a great lunch you’ll explain, one that consisted of a mixture of Australian and Korean cuisine. “I’m so close, please.” Her voice is hoarse and her makeup is already ruined beyond repair but that just makes her even more gorgeous in your eyes. “Shit, if I knew you were gonna be this good—umph! I would’ve snatched you up for myself.” 

You don’t respond verbally but you’re damn near pistoning your cock inside her in response to the compliment that definitely doesn’t rile you up. “I’m cumming, oh fuck!” She almost falls forward and you wrap your arms tighter around her waist. Danielle is definitely a screamer and you are wondering whether she still has any voice left after such a powerful orgasm. It’s hot, the way it becomes a full body experience with how she’s shuddering and shaking against your figure. The way your name comes out of that pretty mouth in between curse words and broken sentences. She has completely drenched not just your thighs but the polyester fabric of your backseat. But just how messy the cleanup is going to be doesn’t enter your mind at all when you can feel your own orgasm getting closer. You pull out for a brief moment as her slick drips down her thighs and you re-enter after giving your cock a pump. You resume thrusting at the frantic pace you did before and you know that you are only a few thrusts away 

“Gonna cum, Dani.” Through gritted teeth you manage to warn her, the incredibly tight and warm feeling inside her pussy only urging you on towards her completion. Since she’s already made a mess of your car then you might as well add to it. Your thrusts are more erratic, losing their rhythm the more you indulge yourself in her body. Two handfuls of her ass is what you grab onto as her body falls back down, moans muffled by your cum-stained seats. Nothing feels as good as her at this very moment; and if you could just ditch the rest of your classes and fuck her for the rest of the day, you absolutely would. You’d rather have her bouncing and screaming on your cock than listen to your professor babble some nonsense anyways. “Wanna pump you full until it’s leaking down your thighs.” You can feel it, you are going to explode and give her the biggest creampie she’s ever received from you. But her right hand grips on your biceps, almost failing to do so with how much sweat covers your bodies.

“Not this time…” Danielle mutters just in time and you’re almost ashamed by the way you groaned in protest. You have to make a decision in seconds and you make the one you’ve been wanting to since you’ve started hooking up with her. You pull out and make her lay on her back, straddling her face and pumping your slick-covered cock. A guttural groan of her name leaves your lips as shot after shot of thick cum lands on her most prominent features: her nose, cheekbones, and those tempting lips of hers. She looks pretty, so fucking pretty that not even the most expensive makeup she wears can rival the way her face looks glazed and dripping with your cum. As expected, this might have been your biggest orgasm with her so far. But it’s hard not to be completely drained when she lured you into such a precarious situation that has you risking it all once again.  Last week it was inside the maintenance room and now, your car. Maybe you have a thing for potentially getting caught fucking your girlfriend’s friends after all.

You check your watch again and you’ve only got three minutes to dress and clean-up, which you both are experts at doing so by this point. Embarrassed, Danielle offers to help pay for the clean-up of your car but you turn her down. You don’t mind going bankrupt if it means having her cum on your cock every week. After a quick retouching of her makeup you two are off to continue the rest of your day like nothing happened. But it’s clearly obvious with the way Danielle limps off when she exits your vehicle, heading in the opposite direction of you. And it’s not like you don’t smell like her either: the combination of her shampoo, conditioner, and whatever body wash she uses lingering on you. Whatever. As long as you sit as far away from your friends, especially the two girls, as far as possible you’ll be safe. You arrive in the lecture hall in the nick of time and despite making very little noise, you’ve already got two pairs of eyes staring at you from the other side. And they’re not just staring, they are smirking at you—as if to tell you that your cover has already been blown. 

That’s why it was pointless to lie to Minji and Hanni because they could already sense it from a mile away. “So, where did you guys do it? We tried looking at all the places you two have had sex before.” You tried to make a quick getaway as soon as the lecture ended but it was all in vain when Minji grabbed you by your shoulders. Even more so when Hanni is on the other side hugging your arm. It was a mistake, it was all a mistake. Maybe you should have just gone back to your place and took a shower, it’s not like you wanted to attend that stupid math class anyways. Instead you have your girlfriend and oh, your other girlfriend interrogating you. Who in their right mind would agree to such an arrangement? “Oh! They might’ve done it inside one of those empty classrooms down the hall. Am I right? I’m just wondering how no one heard you guys though considering Dani can get pretty loud.” Seriously, do these girls tell each other everything? “Dani likes being fucked raw too so they must’ve made a big mess.” The casualness at which they talk about their sex life (which unfortunately happens to include you) is truly astounding and you feel even hotter than when you were fucking Danielle earlier inside that cramped car earlier.

“Why the hell would I tell you both where we fucked? So you can join in?” Maybe it’s a question you shouldn’t have asked because they both nod their heads eagerly. “You are both unbelievable, I thought you were gonna let me and her do our thing separately? Wasn’t that part of our agreement?” Danielle hates sharing you even if you weren’t lovers, it was an agreement reluctantly agreed to by Minji and Hanni considering they can’t keep their hands off of you. They contemplated and then contemplated again, ultimately deciding that the blonde Aussie can have a slice of the pie rather than it being just a one time thing. They were all friends after all, and not even their overwhelming lust for you won’t get in the way of that. Sharing is indeed caring when it comes to you, and who are you to complain about this whole situation? “Anything else? I really need to go back home and take a shower.” That was thankfully enough to shut them up; a miracle considering they love arguing with you mostly because you tend to spend more time with one compared to the other. 

“Nope! We’re good. See you tomorrow, baby.” Hanni leans in to kiss you first, standing on the very tips of her toes to connect her lips with yours. Then Minji, who pulls you in for a brief makeout session, she really hates being one-upped you see. If there’s a single trait of hers that you love, it’s that she is extremely competitive—that’s how your rivalry with her started in the first place. What began as arguing over who is the better and smarter student landed the two of you in a mess that might just be too much even for two big brains to handle, but again who are you to complain? Instinctively, you grab her by the waist and the moan that emits from her mouth almost wants you to fuck her then and there. “You still have to help me study tomorrow. I hope you’re ready.” Yeah, and you hope your cock is too. A wink from both of them and you’re finally given the opportunity to head home and perhaps contemplate just what the fuck you got yourself into while you make your way there. Your roommate greets you from the couch when the door opens, briefly raising his hand to wave at you before looking back at the show he’s watching.

“Hey man, we’re drinking out tonight. Wanna come?”

“Nah, I’m good.” You didn’t think Danielle would drain you to the point of physical exhaustion but she did, something that her older friends can’t do. You’re not exactly the fittest but it is as if you ran a marathon with how tired you are. “Just tired today, have fun though. Try not to get shitfaced.” You joke but he absolutely will, all of you do—to the point that you find yourself crashing at a random friend’s place instead of your own and that is exactly what’s going to happen tonight. A night out with the boys is usually something you never miss out on but not tonight, a good sleep is what you need especially if Minji is going to exhaust you again tomorrow. You bid farewell to him instead and head back into your room, crashing immediately on your bed to sleep. Well that was the plan at least but you find yourself waking up a few hours later to your phone ringing. You groan in frustration at having your beauty sleep interrupted but the stupid phone won’t stop ringing. It would stop for a few seconds then start ringing again. Groggy, you blindly grab your phone from your nightstand. It’s already extremely dark outside and the lights of your phone screen almost blinds you. You squint your eyes a couple of times to clear up your surroundings and you damn near jump out of the bed when you see the name on top: Danielle. 

That was sobering enough to fully wake you up and for some reason, your heart is pounding even at just the sight of her name. She rarely calls you, what’s the matter? Check the time. 2 AM. What could this woman want from you now? Feigning reluctance, you swipe to answer her call. “Dani, what the fuck do you want?” On the other end, you could hear squelching noises in the background along with the eerily familiar moans of the girl in question. “Daddy, please.” There is absolutely no way she’s doing what you think she’s doing. But the long pause and the sound of her moans that are music to your ears are all you hear. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Fifteen seconds. More squelching noises in the background and it’s undeniable what sinful actions that girl is doing in her room. “I’ve been fucking myself with this dildo for the past 10 minutes now but it’s not as big as you…..” You can hear her bed squeaking, and you can only imagine her gripping on the bed sheets and squirming around as that phallic object fucks her and you wish it was you that was fucking her instead. But it’s too late, and your roommate could come back home anytime. What if he didn’t crash at someone else’s place for the night? You’ve always let your dick do the thinking but it’s time to show some maturity, even though you’re only a year older than her. As much as your cock is about to burst through your shorts, there has to be a line drawn—though it’s difficult when it comes to her.

“Danielle, there is absolutely no fucking way you’re calling me at 2 in the morning for some di–”

A loud moan interrupts you, followed by breathless pants. “…I’ll even let you cum in me this time. I’m s-sorry I couldn’t let you—hnghh— do it earlier.” That’s what eventually lured you in because twenty minutes later. Danielle is sitting on your lap in your apartment sticking her tongue as far down your throat as possible. Your shirt is discarded already the moment you basically carried her towards your room and threw her in your bed.  It is also wonderfully considerate of her to not wear a bra because you are immediately greeted by her perky tits the moment you removed her hoodie. A hand of yours fondles her breasts while a hand of hers pulls you even closer to her as if there were any inches of space left between you two. It is messy, teeth clashing and tongues swirling. It is not sufficient to say that Danielle is a good kisser because she is a great one. Every makeout session leaves you breathless and wanting. You absolutely don’t have the time to question it now but you always seem to savor these moments more with her than anyone else—this blonde woman just has an effect on you that keeps you coming back for more.

“You know, you look good with my lipstick all over your face.” A proud smile on Danielle’s face and you can only imagine all of the lipstick stains peppering your visage. She rests her forehead on yours and you swear you could see your own reflection on her eyes. They’re captivating, jaw-dropping and you wouldn’t mind staring at them for a few minutes if she wasn’t pulling you in again. “I wonder what they’ll look like on the rest of your body.” Her lips immediately test out that hypothesis, trailing down to the expanse of your broad shoulders and chest and kissing every single inch of your upper body. Whatever she is doing to distract you is effective because her hands have left your face and are instead trailing down towards your shorts. Both of you groan as your clothed length grinds with her warm underside, clearly she’s just as excited to have your cock out as much as you. You don’t want to make her wait so she gets off of you to pull your shorts and boxers at the same time; you whimper at the sensitivity of your length as it is exposed to the cold air of your room. 

“So hard for me already….” You chase Danielle’s lips again but she purposefully moves away, her eyes focusing instead on your cock like a predator looking at its prey. More kisses, this time towards your neck and collarbones. “You could’ve easily ignored me when it’s this late but you answered.” A hand wraps around your shaft and you whimper; the head is swollen and leaking and you wish she’d just stop teasing you. She removes her panties herself and you’re now both in an equal state of undress. “You even let me into your place, have the unnies been here before?” You shake your head, it’s not like the circumstances allowed. Danielle lives off-campus with her parents while the other two have to live in the dorms. That’s it. There’s absolutely no other reason why this blonde woman is the only one that you’ve invited over.  

It’s definitely not because she has this power over you that not even your girlfriends do. “You have a soft spot for me, huh?” You refuse to acknowledge such a fact, for the repercussions in doing so would mean you’d have to face two angry (but extremely gorgeous) women who were already reluctant to share you with another woman. “We’re not fucking unless you say something.” Her other hand cups your heavy balls, fondling them. Somehow they’re back to being full again despite blowing your load all over her face earlier. 

Sure, a one night stand is perfectly fine and even encouraged but what you two are doing have surpassed that— “Fucking hell, Danielle! Slow the fuck down…” But the opposite of your request is what she does, lips continuing to leave their imprints all over your upper body while her dainty fingers pump your cock at a much faster rate. She doesn’t say anything but instead gives you a look that tells you she will not stop unless she gets what she wants. It’s torturous yet feels so damn good at once, the way she can work you into the throes of an orgasm that threatens to make a mess all over her porcelain skin yet again with just her fingers alone drives you breathless and groaning her name shamelessly. A small part of you is willing to do just that because you don’t even remember if you ever came thanks to someone else’s hands but the thought of her voice sounding raspy and fucked while you are pumping cum inside her lithe body is enough to make you crack under pressure, especially when those deep blue eyes of hers stare at you with so much want and need. But how would Hanni and Minji react? Fuck it, you’ll deal with whatever consequences there will be tomorrow morning. How pathetic. 

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” It’s almost devilish the way she’s smiling so sweetly and innocently and yet her voice is laced with venom. Her soft hands slow down the pace of their pumping and you are about to lose it. “You’re the only person I’ve ever invited over.” A breathless admission that has your entire body heating up to a feverish temperature. Why was it so hard to admit that? “Now please, Dani. I want you.” At this point, Danielle can make you admit to crimes you never even committed. All you want is her and nothing but her. If it takes losing every ounce of self-control like you’ve already done with Minji then so be it. It was already gone the moment you decided to fuck around with three girls at once anyways. Danielle smirks and lets you take control once again now that she is getting what she wants from you. You get a taste of her lips again when she lays back on the bed—your bed, with you hovering on top of her and hands planted on either side of her head. Because of how much she craves the feeling of your skin on hers, you find yourself crashing on top of her ever so slightly and your cock briefly makes contact with her slit. “Hmmph!” The blonde woman below you whimpers at the sensitivity and you don’t wait any longer. With how wet she has been you find the task of penetrating her quite simple, your cock sinking into her pussy in one clean motion.

Her legs immediately circle around your waist and arms wrapping around your head as you start off slowly. Fucking Danielle is always a breathtaking experience; with her making so much noise which includes moaning your name for everyone to hear, you only need to drink it all in and enjoy every single second. There is also the way she would grab onto you tightly like she is afraid of losing your touch—you can only imagine how clingy she is as a girlfriend. Just like what she is doing now with her nails scratching your shoulders and back while she leaves dark red marks all over your neck. If she wants to mark her territory then so be it, you can only hope that the other girls will be understanding. You groan as you feel her teeth sinking down your neck like a vampire, you know it is accidental because not only is she immediately trying to soothe the pain with kisses but her limbs are now coiled much tighter around you. You must have discovered a certain spot deep within her and you want to keep hitting that spot. “Faster…fuck, fuck, fuck!” You do not waste any second to grant her request, pounding her with surgical precision and she is on the verge of crying in your arms. You are glad you don’t have to worry about the confined space of your car this time around nor do you have to worry about making a mess.

Unlike earlier there is no warning when Danielle cums this time around—only a vociferous moan that makes you thankful your roommate isn’t around.  It’s not surprising considering she was already close to getting herself off when she called you a while ago and it only took having a real cock inside for her to become completely undone. A few more deep thrusts is all you were able to accomplish before she clenches so tightly around your cock and her nails dig deeper into the skin of your back. The room feels exponentially hotter now despite the cold temperature inside the apartment, and you’re both sweating so much that a shower is definitely your next destination after this. Her breath intermixes with yours and you grab the side of her face to kiss her, causing her moans to redirect inside your mouth instead. It’s sloppy, it’s intense, and you find yourself drowning in her lips as you continue to fuck her through her climax. Despite having some insane features on her body, it’s her lips that draw you in the most and you just can’t stop kissing her. “So-so good! Don’t you ever fucking stop!” Not like you were planning to, especially when both of your thighs are so absolutely drenched in her cum now that squelches echo inside your room every time you bottom out inside her. 

Take a look at your bedside clock and you notice that it’s getting incredibly late, it is 3 AM already and you have yet to accomplish the one goal you’ve been salivating towards: to cum inside Danielle. You ignore just how drenched your bedsheets has become and you grab her legs and place them on your shoulders, then leaning forward as you transition to fucking her in mating press. You don’t miss the way her eyes light up when she immediately recognizes what you are about to do. “You better let me fucking cum inside you this time. You promised.” It almost comes off as pettiness the way those words left your mouth but the only reaction you get from her is a giggle and her eyes sparkling with the tears drying up. Knowing her, she probably thinks it’s cute and hot at the same time that you are getting riled up because of her—and rightfully so. You don’t waste time and continue your thrusting, making the bed creak with how hard you’re fucking her into it. You bury your face in the crook of her neck again to inhale the sweet scent of her perfume combined with her sweat. It’s the perfect place for you because her whimpers of your name go straight to your ears and the way she says it with her sultry voice just urges you on.

And tears start to well in the blonde’s eyes again because you are going much deeper in this position, going balls deep with every single motion of your hips. It doesn’t take too long for you to get close either considering you wanted to masturbate at the sound of her masturbating but it’s great that you saved it for this very moment. You can feel your cock throbbing much harder than before and you know you are not lasting for one second longer. “I’m gonna cum inside you.” It’s more of a formality at this point, and you feel her nod—probably because her voice is too hoarse and her mind is too focused on your cock to formulate an actual sentence but it will do either way. Five thrusts you count and you see white; you can’t help the carnal groans of her name  coming out of your mouth as you empty spurt after spurt of thick, hot cum deep into her womb. To make her tight little pussy overflow with so much cum that they coat your cock and drip down to your balls and your bedsheets. Your toes curl and your fingers grip the bedsheet to prevent yourself from collapsing on top of her amidst your euphoric climax. There is absolutely no denying it, Danielle is your best fuck amongst the three.

You pull out beside her on the bed; exhausted, satisfied, and fucked. Danielle is the same and you can see a fresh, wet spot in between her legs along with your cum signaling that she had her own climax as well. She looks tantalizing and even more so when she turns to stare at you before scooting over to place a kiss on your lips. The way her sweat mists across her skin, the way her blonde locks compliment her extremely well. and the way her breast heaves ever so slightly when she attempts to breathe normally again is an absolutely stunning sight. It’s a soft makeout session this time, with her playfully nibbling on your lower lip and swiping her tongue across yours. “So, I hope I’ve made it up to you.”  A brief pause then you resume kissing again. “Because I know l’ve probably drained you more than my unnies just today alone.” She probably has a point but you are not going to give her any upper hand by acknowledging it so you remain in silence by shutting yourself up with her lips. You can feel her smile on your lips and you think that this is how your night ends but Danielle sneakily brings her hand down to fondle your balls and it looks like she thinks otherwise. “But I’m sure you still have one last load for me.”

She stands up from your squirt and cum-stained bed. Her perfectly sculpted body glistening under the warm lights of your room and her inner thighs still dripping with your cum. “Shower?” Then she turns around in perfect timing, showing her perfectly shaped ass that has you considering fucking her from behind again. It doesn’t take long for blood to rush back to your lower regions and you find yourself rock-hard once more—which is perfect because you found yourself pinning her against the shower’s tiles mere minutes later and trying to fuck whatever remaining load there is left inside her. Mission accomplished in that regard and you two actually spent the rest of the time taking a shower. It was a quick, but satisfying one and after giving her a shirt of yours to wear for the night she immediately falls asleep into your arms after a long and tiring hookup session. And as you watch Danielle peacefully sleep, your conversation with her earlier is repeated in your brain about having a soft spot for her and maybe you do because there’s no other way to explain how she’s the only one that can make you feel certain things. You wouldn’t dare fuck the other girls in your place, maybe opting for a cheap motel instead but you didn’t do it for her. And that’s maybe because deep down, you do have a thing for her. The complications of such a realization has not dawned on you yet but you do know that Hanni and Minji will not take it well. 

Yeah, you are fucked.

[sorobochi-eng-archive]

Memory of No.----- has now been completed.

Below are the last four chapters of the comic.

Chapter 31-32 (⚠ Warning for gore)

Chapter 32.5

Chapter 33

Chapter 34 (ENDING)

Story and artwork by sorobochi English translation by rassicas and trisloshr Typesetting by merrodi SFX Redraws by roachgore

We received permission from sorobochi-san to translate this splatoon fan comic. Please look through this blog if you want to read the earlier chapters. Out of respect to the original author, please do not repost any part of this comic.

There's also really awesome ending art for chapter 34 that will be released later.

Thank you for reading.

This multi-year team project has finally come to a close. I wanted to get everything done by the anniversary that sorobochi wrote their last letter, so I'm really happy that everything came into place. (past the last chapter credit art)

Special thank you to the team: Rassicas, Trisloshr and Roachgore, who go above and beyond in the quality of their work. They've been extremely receptive to my demands and without them this translation could not have been possible. And of course a thank you to you, the readers, for your unending support.

Since we first decided to start translating this manga, there's so much I've learned and such cool people I've been able to meet because of it. It's been a wonderful, terrific ride.

We still intend on translating more Sorobochi stuff in the future - I'll be getting to older chapters to update its quality. There's a cool Agent 4 comic I'm intent on typesetting. So keep an eye out. And get your friends to read this comic now that it's finished.

Okay, bye now.

[onlymingyus]

give it to me

pairing;  jeon wonwoo x f!reader

genre; smut (minor dni), angst, toxic, fluff

summary; From the outside looking in your life is perfect. It's the perfect ones who are the most fucked up and have the most to lose, or so you thought.

dark/content warnings; murder, kidnapping, talk of abuse, talk of solicitation, illusion to sexual abuse, wonwoo is not a nice guy for a large part of this fic -- hitman!wonwoo, kidnapper!wonwoo, ransom negotiations, corrupt business world, seedy gang/mob underworld, crying (pain and mental pain), depression, fucked up family dynamics, yn has parents/parent death mentioned, police, dead bodies, blood, guns, lying, eating/drinking -- i am sure there is more, this fic can be a lot. please consider the warnings before you read. 

smut warnings; unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, oral (m receiving), begging, crying (pleasure), olfactophilia/mysophilia (panty sniffing), grinding, petnames

w/c; 22k and some change (980~ bonus on patreon only) 

a/n; thank you to my @junkissed for proofreading this for me! i know i am on a dark fic kick. thank you all for going along on this ride with me -- perhaps you might catch some easter eggs 🤫 -- i really hope you enjoy this one.

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

“Stop pouting.” 

You throw a contemptuous glare towards Wonwoo from the rearview mirror as he sits in the passenger's seat. He was a handsome man with strong features that made you both nervous and furious. He had been assigned to your personal security by your father in the past week after some changes and discoveries with your previous bodyguard had come to light. 

While you didn’t care who watched over you, it was important to your father, who was by his daughter’s side. You had no assumptions that it was because he loved you; no, it was more that you were the heiress of his multimillionaire dollar stock trading company and his only living child. 

“I don’t want to go.” 

Shaking his head, Wonwoo glances down at his phone to see a text message from your father, only to let out a sigh. He knew you didn’t want to go; you had been telling him that all day. You were a brat. You were every bit the part of Mr. Y/L/N’s daughter and he could tell that you lived a very charmed life. Rarely were you told no, and the times you were, you threw a fit. 

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t. Today isn’t about you, Y/N. It’s about your father, but you are well aware of that. We’ve talked about it enough times today. Stop pretending that you don’t like attention.” 

Rolling your eyes, you lean your head back as Wonwoo talks down to you. You hated him. He was worse than any other bodyguard that your father had put in his place. He was strict and he degraded you. Your last bodyguard was a sweet man who would let you sneak out and get laid, but Wonwoo was an asshole who triple locked your door. 

“Fuck you. You don’t know me. Stop acting like you do. God, I can’t wait for you to get fired.” 

Smirking, Wonwoo glances at you in the rear view mirror, letting his eyes move over your pretty features as the car comes to a stop outside of the venue. The flashes of cameras already make him feel anxious, but he has started to get used to it. They weren’t looking at him, they were looking at you. 

“That’s sweet, Princess. I don’t want you to like me. They want you to like them.” Wonwoo gestures his head towards the window, drawing your eyes to where people are falling over one another to try to catch a glimpse of you. “Your fans and daddy are waiting.” 

Reaching for your door, you pull on the handle, instantly feeling frustration take hold of you when it doesn’t budge. Glancing back at you, Wonwoo grins before opening his door and moving to yours. Opening it from the outside with ease, the man looks down at you with a smug expression.

You hear your name yelled by several people and lights flash in your eyes before Wonwoo steps in front of the photographers, allowing you to step out of the vehicle. At least he was good for something. Meeting his eyes, you narrow yours for a moment before putting on a pretty, fake smile, letting him know he could move and allow your picture to be taken. 

Wonwoo stays on your left, his eyes watchful as he moves them from you to the crowd and back. He was good at what he did. He could feel the weight of his gun on his side, but he knew he wouldn’t need it, not even if someone did try something. His hands were more than enough to take care of them, but his gaze was deterrent enough. There was something dangerous, almost feral, about Wonwoo’s eyes that told anyone and everyone not to fuck with him, including you. 

Hearing your name, your father sighs and looks towards the double doors. Appearances were everything for him and you looked like you were worth every single penny he had spent on you. While you left much to be desired on the business front, at least he could count on you to look stunning on the front page of a magazine along with his last name. You could make his company's stocks climb by 3% with a smile on a good day, and today was a great day or at least your father wanted it to be. 

“Mm, Y/N, darling.” 

You keep your fake smile on your face, letting your father’s lips brush the corner of your lips before he takes your arm into his. His grip is a little too tight for your comfort, but at events like this, it always is. You hated business dinners. You despised talking to the business partners and their “handsome” heirs. None of them were attractive, no matter how many times your father told you to tell them they were. 

“I want you to meet two of my oldest friends, Hyong Songmin and Hong Jinyoung.”

Clenching your jaw, you glance at your father, knowing where this is going, before he squeezes your forearm to the point of pain and your eyes move to the two older businessmen. 

“Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes watching you put on a face for the old men. He could tell you didn’t want to be there anymore than he did. Glancing at his watch, he sighs under his breath and purses his lips, listening to the conversations around him while keeping up the appearance of guarding you and your father. 

Reaching out to take your hand from your father, Hyong Songmin is just a bit faster than Hong Jinyoung. Your brow lifts out of curiosity at the two men and their obvious competitive nature before you laugh a bit awkwardly, feeling the older man’s lips brush against the back of your knuckles. 

“No, dear… the pleasure is mine. I wish my son Kihyun was here today, but at least I’m not the only one with a missing son.” 

Rolling his eyes, Jinyoung looks you over, almost appraising you, before he meets your father’s eyes and tilts his head like he’s considering a deal. 

“He’s not wrong. Joshua was, I quote, “just too busy with numbers” to attend today. I’m certain he would be ashamed to have missed the opportunity to meet you, Miss Y/L/N.” 

You had met Hyong Kihyun before and you had heard some rumblings about Joshua Hong, but you knew what this was really about. This was about your father, his company, and mergers. 

“What a shame... perhaps we can set up another time for my beautiful daughter to meet with either of your dashing sons in the near future. Dinner?” 

Gritting your teeth, you look in your father’s direction, meeting his eyes, only to feel his hand wrap back around your arm. 

“I’m so busy, Father. I’m sure that both of their sons are as well, no matter how large the dowry is.” 

Your father scoffs into a laugh upon hearing the two men laugh at your "joke.” Luckily for him, they had found it amusing, but he had not. Digging his fingers into your arm, your father’s eyes burn holes into your face before he looks towards Wonwoo, clearing his throat to get his attention. 

“My apologies, gentleman. My daughter has her mother’s tongue. Mr. Kim?” 

Lifting his brows, Wonwoo smirks at the name before he meets your father’s eyes, taking your arm when offered to him as your breath quickens. You watch as he leans closer to the bodyguard, whispering something into his ear, only for the man to meet your eyes and nod. 

“Now, where were we? Ah yes, planning dinners for our children. Mine needs a meal and a good night's rest today, but seeing as how your sons aren’t here…” 

You feel Wonwoo guide you towards the back of the banquet hall as your father turns his eyes away from you, distracting his guests. He was good at that, diverting attention from people and things he was ashamed of. That was the reason your mother wasn’t around anymore and no one ever asked why. That was why you were always leaving early if you spoke out of turn, like you did tonight. 

Tugging at Wonwoo’s grip, you feel his hand tighten around your wrist, but he never holds you to the degree that your father does. It never hurts, he always knows when to stop and that you will follow him anyway. 

“Leave it alone, Y/N. You didn’t want to be there anyway.” 

Learning against the wall, you sigh as Wonwoo looks out into the alleyway, waiting for the car to come into view. Glancing back at you, he lifts his brows, almost feeling sympathy for you, but what was there to feel sorry for? You weren’t the type of person that Wonwoo felt anything for. 

Pulling at your elbow, Wonwoo kicks the door to the noisy venue, leaning down to glance in the vehicle and nod at the driver. You hear him mutter a few words before you are ushered into the back, like always. You were used to this song and dance. Anytime you would embarrass your father, it didn’t matter who your bodyguard was, you were always sent back to your apartment and called later with a firm reminder of who you were and who you belonged to. 

So when the car turns in the opposite direction of your apartment, you furrow your brows and look towards the front seat, seeing the wide eyes of your driver. You didn’t know the man’s name; it had never seemed important until this moment. Today he looked scared and you weren’t sure why until he muttered something towards your bodyguard and his voice got louder, feeling the barrel of the gun against his side. 

“I don’t—okay!” 

Tears instantly threaten to well up in your eyes at the sight in front of you. Has your driver done something wrong? Was he a bad man? Has Wonwoo noticed something you hadn’t? Swallowing hard, you reach for your cellphone to do something, anything, when you hear Wonwoo’s tongue click in disapproval. 

“Give it to me. Now, Y/N. I won’t fucking ask again.” 

Meeting Wonwoo’s eyes, you see that dangerous look making your brows furrow. Seeing his outstretched hand, you whine and shake your head, realizing the situation was the opposite of what you had quickly deduced. Your driver had done nothing wrong. Wonwoo was doing this. You barely knew Wonwoo. He had been assigned to you for less than a week. 

“Wonwoo…” 

“Now!” 

The tears spill on your cheeks when Wonwoo yells at you. You put your cellphone into his hand and sit back in your seat before glancing towards both doors. Your mind goes back to when you arrived at the venue and how Wonwoo had to open your door from the outside. 

“Pull into this parking garage. Fuckin—why are you two making me repeat myself? Just do it!” 

You close your eyes, hearing your driver’s head hit the side of his door when Wonwoo forces the man’s head hard against it. The man lets out a painful sound, along with affirming words, as you feel the car take a sudden left and any light from outside is taken by the oppressive walls of the concrete parking garage. 

The moment the car is in park, you look around for a way to get out, but the sound of Wonwoo’s gun going off pulls your attention back towards him quickly. Meeting his eyes, your hands over your ears, you watch him speak, but you just shake your head until he grits his teeth and forces your hand from your head. 

“Fucking listen to me, Y/N. Be a good girl and I won’t have to hurt you.” 

Your eyes shift to the body of your driver slumped over the steering wheel and the panic rushes back through you, causing Wonwoo to jerk your arm once again. 

“You are worth more to everyone without a bullet in you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t. Do you understand me?” 

Pleading words fall from your lips just above a whisper as Wonwoo lets go of your wrist, leaning over the man in the driver’s seat. You hadn’t noticed the gloves that Wonwoo always had on until now. It took your brain being shocked into reality for things to sink in. Your door is locked from the outside. The gloves on Wonwoo’s hands. Was that his real name? Kim Wonwoo? 

Pushing the body with his knee, Wonwoo grunts and watches the body fall with a thud next to the car. It wasn’t ideal, but it would work. The parking garage was in a secluded part of town and it would take at least a few hours, if not a day for someone to stumble upon it. 

Looking into the rearview mirror, Wonwoo lifts his eyebrows at you as you tremble visibly. He knew you were scared. That was something you were feeling for once, and that made sense. All the times over the past week that he has seen you be unreasonably annoyed over simple shit made this even easier. 

“Let’s go for a drive, Princess.” 

Rubbing at the mascara drying on your fingers, you feel the car come to a stop. Wonwoo sighs, his brows furrowing as he looks around at the empty parking garage and finally back at you. You hadn’t spoken since he had started driving, but he wasn’t complaining. He could hear you crying, your pathetic little whimpering as he drove, but that had been the most of it. You had been resigned to what was happening. You had been “a good girl,” and Wonwoo could give you a bit of credit for that. 

“Home sweet home, Y/N.” 

Looking up, you furrow your brows at the sight around you. This parking garage had clearly not been used in years, probably closer to a decade. The building itself is probably in similar, if not worse, condition. There was nothing about this that you wanted to call home, but as Wonwoo opened his door and moved to yours, opening it, the gun pointed in your direction, and you knew you didn’t really have much of a say. 

“Wh–why are you doing this? Did my father not pay you enough?” 

Scoffing, Wonwoo sighs, leaning back against the door as he waits impatiently for you to gather the train of your tight dress and slide towards him. 

“I thought you were supposed to be smart. Isn’t that what all those degrees on your office wall are for?” 

Your stomach twists at Wonwoo’s words as your high heels unsteadily meet the uneven concrete of the garage. Reaching out with his free hand, Wonwoo tugs you upward and keeps your body against his, letting the barrel of his gun rest against your abdomen as he walks with you. 

“This is ridiculous, Wonwoo. You’re throwing your life away, and for what? A paycheck—” 

Scoffing at your words, Wonwoo cuts you off with a look as he kicks open a heavy door to the stairwell. Obviously, the elevator wouldn’t work in a building like this. You whine at the idea of the stairs in your heels, your eyes searching Wonwoo’s as he shakes his head and digs the gun into your side. 

“You’re the one who’s ridiculous. You look ridiculous and you are acting pathetic. Walk!” Raising his voice, Wonwoo feels your body jerk in his arms before you do as he says and move forward up the stairs. “This isn’t about some stupid ass security job. This is about your daddy, and him paying for you. I was hired to take you, Princess.” 

You feel your knees buckle. Wonwoo’s fingers dig into your arm, lifting you back up as he rolls his eyes at your reaction. He figures you are playing the role of the grief stricken daughter, but in reality, you are fighting the urge between laughing and crying. Your father? Paying for you? Who was stupid enough to think that he would? 

Using his shoulder, Wonwoo pushes open the door to one of the many rooms before letting you stumble inside in front of him. You look around, your brows furrowing in confusion and you feel some disgust at the sight in front of you. You weren’t sure what you had expected. The rest of the building hadn’t given you the impression that any of the apartments would be in good condition, so seeing it firsthand shouldn’t be surprising. 

“Welcome home.” 

You give Wonwoo a look of contempt, making him laugh as he gestures towards a dusty couch with his gun. You didn’t want to sit on the couch. The first thought in your head was that the dress you were wearing cost thousands of dollars and that cleaning it would cost hundreds, but the look in Wonwoo’s eyes made you take a step in its direction. 

“He won’t pay you any money for me. If—listen, Wonwoo... if you let me go, I can pay you the money myself.” 

Sighing, Wonwoo lifts his free hand to his brows, rubbing hard as he watches you. He could see you hesitating to sit down. The way you were brushing at the couch with your fingers only to rub them together as if you were in pain. When you finally sit down, you look stiff and struggle to not let any of your skin touch the dusty material under you. 

“Doubt this is about what you can offer, sweetheart. Get comfortable, you are going to be here for a while. So stop acting like you are going to get the plague from some dust.” 

Wrinkling your nose to the smell of rot, you force your eyes open. You hope that everything that has happened has been a bad dream. Instead, you open them to find things were worse than you remembered. Whining, you push against the leather couch, searching for a way out, only to find Wonwoo leaning against the door, his eyes on you. 

“How was your nap?”

It was interesting to see you like this, out of your element. Wonwoo had grown accustomed to seeing you prim and proper. Your outfits are always in perfect condition—not a hair out of place. Now you are starting to show signs of wear. You had grime on your cheek from falling asleep on the couch, which you hated so much. At least he had been nice enough to let you sleep somewhere soft. 

Rubbing at your cheek, you turn your eyes away from Wonwoo as you shake your head. You were stiff and uncomfortable. You had only fallen asleep out of exhaustion, not because you wanted to or because you were comfortable. The last thing you wanted to do was fall asleep around him. 

“I want to go home.” 

Nodding, Wonwoo runs his fingers along his palm. He knew what you wanted. You had told him many times before finally passing out for a few hours. He had slept off and on, but he was used to living like this. He was a light sleeper and with one movement from you, Wonwoo knew he would be on his feet, ready to put you back where you belonged. 

“And you know the answer to that. So stop fucking telling me. Tell me something different.” 

Biting at your lips, you blink back your tears, glancing over at Wonwoo again. He was so cruel. You try to imagine a world before today when you actually found him attractive and enjoyed pushing his buttons. The idea of it was terrifying now. You had no idea who you had been teasing. You had enjoyed pushing your bodyguards to their limits until you met Wonwoo. 

“You are such an asshole.” 

Wonwoo smirks, his thumbnail tracing the longest line in his palm as he looks over your face, even from a distance. Even with all that grime on your face, you were still beautiful. It was a pity that you were such a bratty bitch. 

“Thanks, I try. You’ve made it easy with your stunning personality.” 

Scoffing, you rub your arms, the chill in the air causing chill bumps to spread along your skin. Wonwoo watches you shiver, his brows furrowing, before he rolls his eyes and moves to his feet with a loud sigh. You watch as he moves to a duffle bag you hadn’t noticed before. Rummaging through it, he tosses a protein bar on your lap, followed by a bottle of water. 

“Eat, we are gonna be here awhile.” 

Your stomach growls at the idea of food. It had been hours since you had eaten anything substantial. Anytime before you would attend an event, you had a habit of skipping a meal in an attempt to make your dress fit better. Now you were mentally cursing yourself for the tradition. 

“I’m fine.” 

Shrugging, Wonwoo takes out his own bottle of water, tossing the cap down on the floor before tipping the bottle back on his lips. His eyes never leave your face as he swallows the water in large gulps until, finally, the last of the water is gone. 

“Suit yourself. I’m not going to force you to eat or drink, Y/N. But trust me, starving yourself won’t make you a martyr. No one cares that much.” 

Wonwoo’s words bite at your self esteem. You look down, your stomach turning as tears run down your cheeks. You knew he was right. Your father probably hadn’t realized you were gone yet, not if the person who had wanted you kidnapped hadn’t sent him a ransom note. Even if they had, your father would keep it quiet until he couldn’t. 

The dinner had ended a few hours ago and your father had already started nursing his headache in typical fashion, a glass of brandy in his hand from the moment he stepped into his house. You had disappointed him. He wished that just once you could attend a business function with him, put a smile on your face, and keep your mouth shut. 

Luckily for him, both men he had hoped would be interested in his proposition had left him with some hope for the future. You hadn’t completely fucked up everything he had been working for. Out of the two men, your father hoped that Hong Jinyoung’s son would be the one who took the bait. While both of the companies were worth something, Hong Investments was like a beacon, and your father was swimming towards the dollar signs. 

Settling into his chair, your father furrows his brows at his phone and the lack of messages from you. You knew he was upset with you. He had sent you away with the new bodyguard, what was his name again, Kim? Sighing, the older man presses down on your name and puts his phone to his cheek, leaning back to take a sip of his alcohol and listening to the phone ring until your voicemail picks up. 

Cursing under his breath, your father tries your number again with the same result before scowling at your picture on his phone. You were ignoring him? You were a prideful brat, but you weren’t a complete idiot. You knew that he would cut off your credit cards if you made him mad enough; no, something else was going on. 

Just as he was about to press down on your name for the third time, an unknown number appeared on his phone. Furrowing his brows, your father starts to wonder if perhaps something happened to your phone—this was you calling from a new number. That didn’t make sense. Sighing into his words, he answers the phone with annoyance and confusion evident in his tone. 

“Hello?”

The man on the other side of the phone smirked at hearing how annoyed your father seemed. He had never met Mr. Y/L/N, but he had heard stories and he knew the man’s pockets were deep. 

“Mr. Y/L/N, good evening.” 

Scoffing, thinking that it’s a solicitor or even a collector of some kind, your father starts to press the end button before he hears the man speak again. 

“Missing something—or someone, I should say?” 

There were many things that your father didn’t enjoy and being pulled along and fucked with was one of them. Sitting up, he narrows his eyes, glancing down into his glass of brandy before taking a sip and letting out a breath between his teeth before answering the man. 

“Like what? Who is this?” 

A grin stretches on the other man’s face as he leans back in his chair, glancing down at the picture of you on his desk. Using the tip of a pen, he pushes the picture around aimlessly before letting out an unamused laugh at the old man’s questions. 

“Don’t play senile. I know you are wondering where Y/N is. As for my name, just call me Mr. Park.” 

There were plenty of Mr. Park’s in Seoul. Rolling his eyes, your father clenches his hand around the brandy glass before sitting it down hard on the table in front of him. 

“Fine, Mr. Park, where is my daughter?” 

Now they were getting somewhere. This is how money is made. Park Bonhwa grins at your picture once again, pulling it back towards him. You were beautiful and even in the candid picture he had of you, he could tell that you were expensive. You were worth every penny he had been offered to set up this job. 

“With a friend... where she will stay, until we can come to an agreement.” 

At those words, a smile pulls at your father’s lips. The idea of you being kidnapped is ridiculous; you had a bodyguard—handpicked by him—with you at all times. Shaking his head, he laughs, causing Park Bonhwa’s grin to slip and his jaw to tighten. 

“You think this is some kind of fuckin’ joke, old man? I’ll have him cut off her fingers one by one and put them on your door. Don’t you ever laugh at me again.” 

It was a joke and your father wasn’t intimidated. He would prefer to have you back in one piece, but how much this Mr. Park wanted for you was going to determine that. This wasn’t the first time that your father had been threatened and he wouldn’t turn over and show his belly to just anyone. 

“Apologies; please continue with your script. How much are you wanting for my daughter?” 

Furrowing his brows, Bonhwa finds himself a bit flustered and confused by your father’s tone and his choice of words. Was he not concerned about your safety or the condition you might be returned in? Shaking his head, he pushes forward with his task as he licks his lips and pushes your photo away. 

“10 billion won, and I can promise she will be returned to you safe—” 

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” 

After being cut off by your father, Bonhwa grits his teeth and sits up in his chair. He hadn’t played the middle man for many kidnappings, but they had never been unsuccessful. Yours shouldn’t be either. The plan seemed flawless; you were going to die either way. 

“Excuse me?” 

Standing up, your father shakes his head and looks at the phone as if the man is standing in front of him and he could shake some sense into him. He was looking at the phone as if he could teach the man how to do business better, as if the man wasn’t telling him he wanted money for his daughter’s life. 

“She’s not worth that amount of money. Where did you pull that number from? Your ass?” 

Picking at the granola bar, you could feel Wonwoo’s eyes on you when his cellphone had gone off in his pocket. Yours had gone off a few times earlier, but he had just glanced at it and finally turned it off before putting it back in his pocket. You figured it was your father and by the look on Wonwoo’s face, he wasn’t in the mood for your phone or his. 

“What?” 

Watching him, you furrow your brows as Wonwoo lifts his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Maybe it was his boss? Did he have one? He had said he was hired to take you, so there was someone in charge of this. If so, why did Wonwoo look so annoyed by the man? 

“Negotiations? So what the fuck—no? What? No, I fuckin—you know what?” 

The conversation didn’t seem to be going well. If it were about your father, you could only imagine how poorly it could be. You had tried to warn Wonwoo and you had tried to make this easier on yourself and him, and yet here you sat on a filthy couch in the middle of nowhere. 

Park Bonhwa’s voice was like tin foil on a grater to Wonwoo. The man was an idiot, but he had lined Wonwoo’s pockets for this job. However, this job was starting to look like more of a pain in the ass than it had to be. 

“Don’t you tell me anything, Jeon! You’re my help. I hired you. He’s gonna agree; he just needs the motivation. Take a picture of the little bitch after you rough her up.” 

Shaking his head, Wonwoo glances over at you, watching you glance down quickly. You were afraid of him or at least afraid of the situation. He didn’t want to rough you up; he didn’t hit women. Sure, he had taken you and threatened you, but he had never hit you. He had never hit a woman in his life. Killed them? That was left up for debate, if they deserved it. 

“Yeah, whatever…” 

Hanging up, Wonwoo drops his hand to his side as he tilts his head. You already looked like shit. Maybe he could figure out another way to do this. 

“Y/N, get up. Come over here.” 

You swallow hard and shake your head. You weren’t sure what he had been told to do and you didn’t want to make any of it easy for him. Has your father really said no? Was he going to kill you now? Make you walk to him so he could put a bullet in your head? Deviantly, you grab at the couch under you, letting the granola bar slip off your lap and into the floor as Wonwoo watches his frustration rise. 

“Get the fuck up! I am giving you the chance to do this yourself. Don’t make me fucking move you myself.” 

When you still don’t move, sitting firmly on the couch, Wonwoo lets out a frustrated groan that almost sounds like a growl from his throat. Your eyes meet his and he sees the fear mixed with anger in them when his hand wraps around your bicep so that he can lift you from the couch by force. The pain reminds you of your father’s grip on you, and you feel tears collecting on your eyes, but you will them back, not wanting to give Wonwoo the satisfaction of seeing them if this is the last thing he sees of you. 

“Walk! Goddammit, why are you so fucking stubborn? I wouldn’t have to be so damn mean to you if you’d cooperate with me. You realize that? Here! No, I said here!” 

A whimper slips from your lips as you stumble in your heels, feeling your ankle roll when Wonwoo pushes you against the wall. You feel the peeling paint against your skin and you smell the mold radiating off the drywall as you squirm in his grasp until finally Wonwoo’s anger gets the best of him. A hand slams into the wall next to your head, mere centimeters from your face, making you stop moving. 

You stare at Wonwoo’s hand, letting your eyes move to his wrist and forearm, where his muscles are tense from the amount of pressure he used. You squeeze your eyes shut, imagining how bad it would have hurt if he had chosen to hit you instead of the wall. 

Wonwoo swallows hard, feeling you go pliant in his grasp. While he was used to his life, it didn’t make moments like this enjoyable. You had been a bitch to him and others around you, but it didn’t make scaring you to this point seem fun. Taking a breath, Wonwoo watches the tears run down your cheeks as he pushes away his compassion and rubs his hand against the dirty wall before grabbing your face and hearing you sob, begging him to stop. 

“Shut up and listen to me.” 

Tilting his head, Wonwoo narrows his eyes, almost eyeing your face like a canvas as he uses the dirt on his fingers as paint while he talks. 

“You’re fucked, Y/N. Daddy isn’t willing to hand over the money like they thought he would, so they want... wanted me to fuck you up.” 

Moving his hand back to the wall, Wonwoo uses your tears on his fingers to collect more of the dirt, moving his hand back to you and wrapping his hand around your throat. You tense, your hand moving to grab his forearm, nails digging into his skin, causing Wonwoo to hiss before he tightens his grasp around your throat only for a moment and loosens it. 

“I’m doing this to make it look like I beat you. I don’t beat women.” Meeting your eyes, Wonwoo watches confusion walk over your face before he clarifies. “Doesn’t mean I won’t kill you. One bullet to the back of your head and you are done, Princess.” 

He was a complicated and confusing man. You could appreciate that he wasn’t going to actually beat you like he was told to, but he was still scaring you. He was still reminding you that he could and would kill you easily. Reaching up, you start to wipe your tears but Wonwoo grabs your wrist and shakes his head before tilting it. 

“Let them run through the dirt... Makes you look more pathetic, plus... there’s something red in the dirt and your tears make it look like you are bleeding.” 

Wonwoo looks through the pictures he sent to Bonhwa. They were too convincing, but he owed that to how terrified you were while he had taken them. Glancing over to where you lay on the couch, Wonwoo sighs, seeing the dirt still covering your face. 

It had been over 16 hours since he had taken you, and you were still in that dress. It was filthy and ripped. Your shoes were now off because your ankle had started to swell after you had rolled it. Now Wonwoo couldn’t help the way his eyes scanned the floor of the dilapidated apartment, seeing rusty nails, glass, and pieces of metal that could all end up in your feet. 

He shouldn’t care. After the pictures had been sent to Bonhwa, he received another call. Your father still wasn’t sending money and it didn’t matter anyway; Bonhwa’s contract wanted a bullet in your skull. Apparently, it wasn’t enough to bankrupt your father. The man wanted to make sure every point of income, including children, was cut off from him. 

Sliding his duffle bag closer to him, Wonwoo digs through his supplies, counting up his rations and looks over what else he had the forethought to pack. He was used to disappearing for months, even years at a time, so this wasn’t a big deal for him. It was having you here and the gnawing bit of compassion biting at the back of his head that was causing him issues. 

Taking out a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a pair of tennis shoes, Wonwoo sighs and narrows his eyes at you. He didn’t care about you. You were a dead woman walking, so why should it matter that the sight of you in that stupid fucking evening dress was making him feel sick? You had been beautiful in it before the dinner. He could admit that to himself. You were a beautiful woman. The dress had probably been custom made for you and right now it represented where you had pretended to come from. All the filth covering it represented what was really underneath all the glitz and glamor. 

Moving to drop the clothes next to you, Wonwoo watches you slowly wake up. You didn’t have much energy. You weren’t eating or drinking enough, so your body was choosing exhaustion instead. Pointing at the clothes, Wonwoo lifts his brows and waits for you to give them some recognition, but instead you sit up and wrap your arms around you, chill bumps spreading over your skin. 

“There’s no running water here... but at least you can change into something cleaner. We can get that shit off of your face.” 

Your brows furrow deeply at Wonwoo’s words. You wanted to fight him, but you just nodded and started to put your feet down when he reached out to stop you. 

“I’ll turn my back; you slip on the shoes first and then the clothes. There’s nowhere you can go, understand?” 

You were too tired to run. Looking down at the floor, you see why he had stopped you, the glass crunching under his feet as he moved a few steps away from you. Turning his back, Wonwoo glances over his shoulder to watch you put on his shoes before he looks back towards the wall when you start to unzip your dress under your arm. 

“Why are you doing this? He’s not gonna pay, Wonwoo. I’m tired…” 

It had only been 16 hours and you were already giving up. Wonwoo shouldn’t be annoyed that you were giving up; that should be a good thing in theory, but instead it was frustrating. Rolling his eyes, Wonwoo peeks over his shoulder to see you dropping your dress into the floor, your body covered in matching lace as you reach for his t-shirt. 

“Suck it up. What would you rather happen? I just killed you now.” 

Pulling the shirt over your head, you scoff, finding it amusing how his words don’t really scare you this time. They almost seem like a joke. Meeting Wonwoo’s eyes briefly, you watch him look away quickly, clearing his throat. You know you should be upset that he was looking at you in a vulnerable state, but instead you slip one foot out of the borrowed shoes and start pulling on the sweatpants. 

“Why not? Seems like a waste of everyone's time.” 

Taken aback by your answer, Wonwoo hears you sigh, the couch settling as you sit down behind him. Turning around to face you, he looks at you in his clothes before his eyes move to the dirt he had painted on your face and throat. You watch as Wonwoo takes a bottle of water from his bag along with a towel, pouring some on to it as he kneels in front of you. 

“Think so low of yourself all of a sudden, Princess? What happened to all that confidence you had yesterday?” 

Wonwoo lifts his hand with the towel to wipe at your skin but at first you wince in fear. Meeting his eyes, he gives you a look of reassurance before trying again and this time you lean slightly into his touch. It takes some pressure for Wonwoo to get the dirt off of your skin; his eyes follow his hand even as he pours more water on to new sections of the towel. 

“I’m just a good liar.” 

That Wonwoo could tell wasn’t a lie. He knew you were a liar. He had caught you in plenty of lies in the short time he had known you, so perhaps he wouldn’t call you a good liar, but a liar nonetheless. Wonwoo’s brows knit together in thought as he lifts his free hand up to hold your chin as he rubs as gently as possible at your neck to clean his handprint from it, feeling you swallow under his touch. 

“So you gonna be truthful with me now that you are so ready to die? Or are you ready and willing to die because you hate your life so much?” 

It was none of Wonwoo’s business to answer either of those questions, but you didn’t mind that he had asked them. The only issue was that they brought tears to your eyes. Wonwoo moves your face from side to side, his eyes searching for dirt to clear from your face, before he meets your eyes and sees more tears threatening to spill over the rims. 

“You know I hate my life. You saw it firsthand.” 

Tossing the towel to the side, Wonwoo stands and puts the lid back on the water bottle before dropping it back into his bag. You watch as he leans to swipe your destroyed dress from the floor, balling it up in his hands like trash as he thinks. 

“I did, and from the outside looking in, darlin’, your life looks cushy. But that’s all smoke and mirrors, isn’t it?” Wonwoo doesn’t watch you nod, even as you do. “Won’t lie, your daddy acts like he’s running an escort service, but you’re the only one working.” 

Wonwoo’s words cause your face to heat up. You are angry with him, with his words, and with the truth. You know he’s not wrong and you’ve heard the rumors before. If it isn’t a marriage he is trying to set up for you with a rich son or a business partner, at least he can get a date for you, and you are reminded to make them happy. Happy is such a broad term, but you knew what it meant. You hate your father for it and any of the men who wanted the dates. 

Dropping your dress in the corner of the room, deeming that the new trash pile, Wonwoo moves back over to you to kneel in front of you. He meets your eyes, then reaches out to slide the leg of your new sweatpants up so he can look at your ankle. When you wince, his fingers prodding at the swollen muscle, he nods and sighs. 

“It’s not broken; you’ll live.” 

Wonwoo runs his thumb along his palm as he watches you sleep. This has become his new pastime over the past couple of days. It hadn’t been his plan, but between disappointingly annoying phone calls from Bonhwa and watching time tick away, Wonwoo watched your spirit dwindle with it. 

In reality, he knew he shouldn’t care. In fact, it should be a good thing. You were less combative. You ran your mouth less. You complained about things less, and yet Wonwoo was starting to miss that fiery woman who made his blood boil. This fragile thing laying in a ball on the couch was a shadow of you, and he had done that. Maybe not on his own, but he was the hands, if not the head. 

Leaning his head back against the door, Wonwoo picks up his cellphone, looking at another text message from Bonhwa. Each time his phone rang today, he had let it go to voicemail. He wasn’t some errand boy. Park Bonhwa had already paid him for this job; sure, there was still something left to do, but he couldn’t keep asking him for more shit without adding zeros to the end of what he had given him. Especially the shit he was asking for. 

Park: I’m tired of your bullshit

Park: As if I’m not already dealing with enough from the bitch’s daddy 

Park: Hyong wants more pictures 

2 missed calls from Park 

Park: You son of a bitch 

Park: answer the fucking phone! 

Answering the phone Wonwoo hisses out his words, keeping his voice low so as not to wake you. 

“What the fuck do you want? I sent pictures—” 

“Shut your fucking mouth. Price came down and the motherfucker is still refusing to pay up like Hyong wants him too. Send more.” 

Wonwoo didn’t know who Hyong was; he figured it was the man who had hired Bonhwa, but truthfully, he didn’t care. The less he knew, the better. Biting at his cheek, Wonwoo rolls his eyes and shakes his head. 

“I’m not touching her again. Bad enough, the fucker wants her dead anyway.” 

Slamming his fist down on his desk, Bonhwa grits his teeth and scoffs into his phone. 

“Worthless. I thought you were a professional. The best? Did I waste my fuckin’ money?” Giving Wonwoo only a moment to start to speak, Bonhwa cuts him off before he gets out the first syllable. “Do I need to send some boys to find you and the girl? Have them finish the job?”

The idea of that made Wonwoo sick to his stomach. He knew enough about Park Bonhwa and his men to know he’d rather kill you himself than let them near you. They wouldn’t just kill you. They would assault you, torture you, film it like Bonhwa wanted, and then kill you. 

“Fuck off. I'll take care of it.” 

Hanging up the phone, Wonwoo tosses the phone into his bag with a louder groan than he meant to cause you to stir from your sleep. Furrowing your brows, you glance towards the man with a bit of concern in your eyes. The past day, he had changed his attitude towards you in some ways. He wasn’t nice, per se, but he wasn’t unnecessarily cruel either.

Meeting your eyes, Wonwoo sighs, lifting his hand to brush it through his hair. He needed a shower and so did you. It would do some good to move locations. It wasn’t his plan. He knew he could tie you to one of the exposed pipes and go do what he needed to do, but for some reason he found himself not wanting to do that. 

“Wanna go for some fresh air, princess?” 

Sitting up slowly, you consider Wonwoo’s question before nodding. You had heard some of his conversations with his boss, this Park man, and none of them had you convinced that this was going your way. 

Wonwoo gets to his feet, leaning to pick up his duffle bag as you slide from the couch. His eyes follow you carefully, watching how you weakly move towards him. That pang of pity hits him and Wonwoo tries to force it back down, only for it to rise up in his throat like bile. Shaking his head, Wonwoo wraps his arm around your waist, letting you lean against him as you try to keep some weight off your swollen ankle as the two of you walk back down the stairs. 

“Can I ask a question?” 

Your voice surprises Wonwoo as he opens the back door of the car for you. Meeting your gaze, he tilts his head and nods once, waiting for you to continue. 

“Are you going to kill me?” 

Your question makes the bile bubble in Wonwoo’s throat once again. Looking away, Wonwoo has to clear his throat, forcing the sick feeling down before he once again meets your eyes. There is fear in your eyes, but also a deep sadness that Wonwoo has started to notice as your confident facade starts to crack. Wonwoo knew he could lie to you but what good would that do to anyone? 

“I’m supposed to. That’s the job.” 

Tears sit on the rims of your eyes as you nod while sitting down on the backseat of the car. You try to think of the right words or a reason to beg for your life, but you can’t think of a single reason. Wonwoo furrows his brows as he watches you nod and pull your legs into the car. His eyes trace the tears as they run down your cheeks before he closes the door and curses under his breath. No other mark had made him feel like this. Why did you feel different? 

Looking around the house, you wrap your arms around you, waiting for the punchline of Wonwoo’s joke. He had taken you from the most disgusting, dilapidated apartment building you had ever seen to a modest sized house just outside of the city. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was clean and had modern comforts. 

Wonwoo locks the door, shielding the keypad with his large upper body, as you hear the sound of a code being keyed into the security system. Turning back to face you as you stand in the foyer, clearly confused, he sighs, dropping his duffle bag with a dull thud before crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. 

“Let me make something clear to you, Y/N. This doesn’t change anything. I’m just tired of sleeping on the fuckin’ ground.” 

You couldn’t tell if he was lying. That was something you hadn’t mastered yet. Wonwoo was so closed off and you were too tired to pry. Swallowing hard, you look down as he keeps staring at you, his eyes almost studying you as they move along your frame, continuing his explanation. 

“You try to open a door to the outside; I’ll know and you’ll regret it. Don’t fuck with me, understand?” 

Nodding, you pick at a loose string on the sweatpants you were currently borrowing. They were ill fitting, but still warmer and better than the dress that you had been wearing. You wanted to tell Wonwoo you were grateful for the clothes and for him moving you here, but you find yourself almost afraid to tell him anything. You were afraid that if you showed any sign of comfort, he might take it away because Park told him too. 

“Good girl. Come on.” 

Grabbing your wrist, Wonwoo guides you down the hall, turning on a light that makes you squint. You had grown accustomed to the low light of the camping lamps in the apartment. The lights in the house were almost too much at first. Glancing up, you blink a few times before you realize Wonwoo has led you to a bathroom. You feel tears once again coat your eyes, but you will them back as you watch him turn on the shower and mutter to himself before sighing and looking you over. 

“Here’s the deal, alright?” Swallowing hard, Wonwoo looks like he’s in pain at the words he is trying to force out of his mouth as he leans against the bathroom counter before he meets your eyes once again. “I don’t want to hurt you. What I told you is true, but they want more pictures.” 

A small sob escapes from your lips and Wonwoo feels his stomach tighten, the bile once again churning. Perhaps once he had enjoyed putting a little fear into you, but now it was chipping away at something inside of him. 

Taking a step back from Wonwoo, you feel the wall behind you as you close your eyes, tears slipping down your cheeks. You had no idea what sort of pictures they could want now. The last ones had broken you and Wonwoo hadn’t done more than scare you. He had taken them in a way to mimic pain, but still, they had caused you enough pain. 

“I don’t want to, Wonwoo.” 

Running his hand over his mouth, Wonwoo nods. He wants to tell you that he doesn’t want to either, but he also doesn’t want the alternative if he doesn’t deliver them. 

“If I don’t send them to him, Park will have his goons track you and I down. They are worse than me. Their pictures won’t be fake…” 

“Yours aren’t fake! I’m—” Lifting your hands, you rub at your cheeks, smearing dirt from your hands onto your face in the process of wiping your tears. “I’m so scared. Just kill me. Please? I don’t wanna do this anymore.” 

Taking the step across the bathroom towards you, Wonwoo listens to your breath get caught in your throat. He watches your body tense up as you prepare yourself for him to scare you; instead, he takes your wrist loosely in his hand. With his other hand, he carefully rubs at your cheek, trying to clean a smear of dirt from your skin. 

“Why the fuck are you just giving up now? Because your daddy is an asshole? You already knew that.” 

Leaning your head back against the wall, you meet Wonwoo’s eyes briefly before his eyes move along your face. You were still scared, but there was something about him and about his words that made your shoulders rise. You felt less small if, even for just a moment, you wanted to explain yourself, but maybe that was why he had chosen those words. 

“Why not? I told you the moment we stepped into that apartment that he wouldn’t give up any money. He’d rather see me dead.” 

Groaning in annoyance, Wonwoo slides his hand from your face to rest his fist next to your head on the wall. You feel how close he is to you; his body caging you in. It feels oppressive for a moment until he shakes his head and meets your eyes and the look in his eyes makes the way he’s standing and how close he is feel like a shield. 

“I don’t care what he wants and neither should you. I don’t know why you are so fucking sure—” 

“Life insurance, Wonwoo.” 

Your words cut him off; Wonwoo’s brows knit together tightly. The look on his face is almost one of pain, as much as it is confusion, until the words seem to sink into reality. Nodding, Wonwoo scoffs and leans his head back, a laugh slipping from between his lips before he looks back down at you and shakes his head. 

“How much?” 

Wonwoo can see how you have relaxed in front of him. The steam filling the room is comforting and tempting, but he keeps his eyes on you, waiting for your answer. 

“100 billion.” 

That explained everything. You were worth so much more to him dead than you were alive. Park’s associate clearly hadn’t done his homework. Wonwoo feels his blood boiling at the idea of a father putting that much worth on his child, hoping she would die before he would so he would benefit. There had been a lot of shitty things he had done in his life, but in that moment, he decided that killing you wouldn’t be one of them. 

“No.” 

Confused by Wonwoo’s response, you tilt your head and repeat it back to him as a question. To you, it was simple. It was exactly what was happening. You were explaining it perfectly, there was no reason for Wonwoo not to understand. Starting to speak again, you stop when Wonwoo shakes his head. You feel his fingers trail up your forearm as he lets out a sigh before they once again encircle your wrist. 

“He doesn’t get what he wants.” Gesturing his head towards the shower, Wonwoo takes a step back from you, gently pulling you from the wall. “Take a shower; we can talk about the pictures later. Fuck all of them.” 

Opening your mouth, you close it once again when Wonwoo mutters something under his breath before leaving you in the room alone. You were confused and surprised by his reaction. You had expected him to talk you into taking whatever pictures Park wanted. You had been mentally preparing yourself for some humiliating experience, but instead you were now alone in a warm bathroom. 

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you frown at the sight. You can see the dirt smeared on your skin and how disheveled your hair has gotten from a lack of care. Giving one last glance at the door, almost certain Wonwoo will come back in, you let out a slow, calming breath before stripping yourself of your borrowed clothes and making your way to the much welcomed shower. 

Leaning against the wall outside of the bathroom, Wonwoo listens to the sound of the water hitting the shower floor. He can imagine it running along your body, though he tries to push that thought from his mind quickly, afraid of where it might lead. Instead, he reminds himself how good a shower must feel after a couple days of being with him and how he has treated you. Sighing to himself, Wonwoo imagines the water pooling at your feet after it washes away the dirt, hoping it will wash away some of your stress, just like he hopes it will wash away his own. 

Taking his cellphone from his jeans, Wonwoo scowls at a text from Bonhwa before replying and shoving it back into his pocket. He had no respect for the man. Not that he had before learned from you, but now he had no reason to keep any loyalty towards him. 

Park: Chop chop, Jeon. I want my pictures. 

Wonwoo: When I’m ready.

Picking up his duffle bag, Wonwoo climbs the flight of stairs to the second floor, turning on the light for the bedroom. He had many safe houses. They were in various locations around Korea and other countries. None were in his real name and each one was kept stocked by people he could trust. This one was no different. 

Opening the dresser, Wonwoo furrows his brows at the clothing choice. There was plenty for him, but he was limited in his choices for you. It wasn’t his every day that he kept a mark with him and clothed them. Tossing a few things onto the bed, Wonwoo turns his attention to the closet, tilting his head at a few items near the back. Things he had forgotten had been left behind by those he would never name. He found himself pleased with his own hoarding tendencies as he pulled a simple summer dress and sweater from the closet, hoping they would fit you. 

With a towel wrapped around your body, you look through the drawers in the bathroom for things you might be able to use. A face wash and moisturizer catch your eye and you find yourself wondering if they belong to Wonwoo or if he had friends, perhaps a girlfriend you weren’t aware of. Shaking your head, you quickly use the products and relish in the feeling of brushing your teeth before you hear the sound of Wonwoo’s voice on the other side of the door. 

“Y/N? I—are you decent? Well, decent enough for me to come in?” 

You think back to Wonwoo peeking over his shoulder at you changing at the apartment as you glance towards the door. Your cheeks start to heat up as you hold your towel tighter and pull the door open, letting Wonwoo inside if he wants. 

Wonwoo takes a deep breath as his eyes move over your legs and up to your face. You watch as he seems to forget what he is doing for a brief moment before lifting his hands to show you the clothes he has collected for you. Furrowing your brows, you can’t help but smile even slightly at the sight of the dress over Wonwoo’s arm. It’s a simple soft green knee mid-thigh length dress that you know you would have never worn before all of this, but now the dress looks like comfort and kindness. 

“I don’t know if they will fit you, but they are all I could find. I could get you some of my things if you’d prefer—” 

“These are great, Wonwoo, if that’s okay?” 

Reaching out for the dress and sweater, you accidentally brush your hand over Wonwoo’s before pulling your hand back on instinct. You find yourself nervous, perhaps even a bit afraid of what his response might be. Looking down, your brows furrowed, you hear Wonwoo say your name softly, drawing your attention back up to him. 

“It’s okay. Get dressed and we can…” You watch Wonwoo scoff into a laugh at how ridiculous he feels at his own words as he says them. “Talk about your situation.” 

Not really understanding what Wonwoo means, you just nod and take the clothes from him, stepping back so he can shut the bathroom door once again. Your fingers carefully brush over the fabric in your hands and you feel goosebumps spread over your skin at how soft the sweater feels. Had Wonwoo noticed how cold you had been at the apartment? Was this a kind gesture to keep you warmer here? Should you not think about it like that? 

Glancing up at the ceiling as you hear water running, you tilt your head, realizing that Wonwoo was probably using another bathroom to take his own shower. He was trusting you not to run. Granted, he had given you a warning not to run. He had set an alarm and told you what would happen, but there was still a level of trust in taking a shower knowing you were done. 

With the sweater over your new dress, you look at the front door. There were three deadbolts, a chain, and a keypad that you had heard Wonwoo type something into earlier. It would take you a few minutes to get them all undone and the alarm would go off, but then you could run. You were exhausted, you were hungry, and now you were confused. 

Running your fingers over the soft sleeves of your sweater, you look behind you up the stairs, where you can still hear running water. Was this a test? Your mind goes back to what Wonwoo said before he left you alone but more so about what he said before your shower. 

“He doesn’t get what he wants.” 

Moving away from the door, you look around the living room. Your eyes fall to the soft couch, a sigh slipping from your lips as you sit down on it, feeling the cloth against the back of your legs. It was so much nicer than the dirty leather of the one in the apartment. You weren’t sure how this house worked if Wonwoo lived here often, but it was clean and almost felt like home. 

Running his fingers through his wet hair, Wonwoo looks around the bedroom, listening for any signs of you. He hadn’t gotten any alerts that the doors had been opened, but if you had, he wouldn’t have really blamed you. Sure, he had warned you not to do it, but that had been before everything he had learned about your father and now if you walked out that door, he might just let you go. The only thing stopping him was the fear that Bonhwa’s men would find you before he did. 

Jogging down the steps, Wonwoo tugs his shirt down his torso, only to meet your eyes as he rounds the doorway into the living room. You were lying on the couch and it reminded him so much of the apartment. The main difference here is that you looked comfortable and somehow even more beautiful. You almost took his breath away in the new dress, the sweater’s sleeves held at your palms by your fingers. 

“Hey…” 

Meeting Wonwoo’s eyes, you sit up quickly. That fear that he might be upset at your comfort suddenly hits you until he sighs. Gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder, Wonwoo closes his eyes in thought before finally speaking. 

“I’ll make something warm to eat. I can’t promise it’ll be good or not expired. But it’ll be food. Then we can talk.” 

Smiling to yourself, you lift your hand to your lips to hide your smile as you watch Wonwoo move across the hall into the kitchen. There had been a shift in him over the past couple of days but more so today. This Wonwoo was still intense; he frightened you at times, but he was also warm and comforting in a strange way. 

Turning to lay on your stomach, you rest your chin on your arm, watching Wonwoo open cabinets. From where you are, you can hear him muttering something to himself and see him occasionally reach up to scratch at his brow before he finally seems to figure out what to do next. 

After a few minutes of struggling, he finally manages to find a pot for water and some ramen. Looking over his shoulder back into the living room, Wonwoo has to hide his smirk, finding you watching him from the couch. The way you are lying is cute—your ankles crossed, knees bent so your feet can be up in the air. It reminds him of girls in dramas watching television or writing in their diaries, not that he’s watched a drama or movie in years. 

With ramen on the table in front of you, still in the pot, Wonwoo offers you a set of chopsticks as he sits near you on the floor. Shifting to sit next to him, you lean over the table to look down at the food with appreciation before giving the same look to Wonwoo. 

“Thank you… I–I honestly didn’t expect you to give me anything.” 

Taking a deep breath, Wonwoo nods, gesturing for you to take the first bite. He watches you savor some of the noodles as his brows furrow, feeling his phone vibrate in his sweatpants pocket. He knew he should check it, but that would require caring what Park Bonhwa had to say, and right now he didn’t. Right now, the only thing that he cared about was getting something in your stomach and having a conversation that didn’t end with you being terrified of him. 

“That’s fair. I haven’t—look, this isn’t the most ideal situation we are in.” 

Scoffing, you stop yourself immediately, lowering your head apologetically at your gut reaction. You couldn’t help but find the irony in Wonwoo’s words. You knew it wasn’t an ideal situation but if it wasn’t ideal for him, he should try being you. You were the one who was going to be dead soon. 

“You’re allowed to react, princess.” 

That name. At first, it had made you angry, but you figured that was probably Wonwoo's desired reaction to it. Now the name makes your cheeks burn with something else. It made you feel shy and while it still made you feel smaller than Wonwoo, you didn’t hate that feeling. His larger than life stature over you, standing between you and Park somehow seemed like a good thing right now. 

“Just don’t wanna piss you off. I’m good at that, if you remember...” 

Smirking, Wonwoo tilts his head before leaning to eat some of the noodles and licking the broth from his lips. He did remember, but the you that had seemed dead set on frustrating him to no end a few days ago now seemed like she was miles away. You were someone different and he wanted to find the woman who was in the middle. 

“Trust me, I do.” 

Watching you, Wonwoo can’t help the way he has to take a breath as you blow at the ramen with a small smile on your face at his words. If this were any other situation, one might mistake it for a date, but he knew the reason you were here just as much as you did. 

“Do you even want to go home?” 

The question makes you stop what you are doing mid bite. Furrowing your brows, you glance over at Wonwoo, finding his eyes on you. Your stomach tightens at how intense his gaze is, the weight behind it and his question. It was a loaded question with many different possible answers, but only one that you could think of. 

“No.” 

Looking down at his hands, Wonwoo nods, letting that reality sink in. He had a few options laid out in front of him of how this week could end. He could follow through with what he had been paid to do. He could kill you, put your body on your father’s doorstep, and call it a job well done. He could let you go, never thinking of you again, but Wonwoo finds himself struggling to picture himself doing that and you surviving. Then there was the third option... 

“I have a friend—mmm, no, let’s call him an acquaintance; we aren’t friends. This acquaintance has been in touch about you.” 

The words all make sense but yet you shake your head, not understanding what any of them mean. You didn’t know Wonwoo’s acquaintances or his friends and you weren’t sure what they would want with you, unless... 

“He wants to kill me?” 

Meeting your eyes almost in shock by your assumption, Wonwoo shakes his head and sighs. The sigh is loud and exasperated because clearly he’s not going quickly enough and explaining well enough. 

“No, Jesus, Y/N… No, he’s—he’s a detective. I could either hand you over to him or—or I could have him help me let you disappear.” 

Looking around the room, you repeat some of what Wonwoo had said back to yourself as if trying to understand it before meeting his eyes. He had changed his mind. He wasn’t going to kill you. You hadn’t been wrong in the shift you had seen in him; you just didn’t understand why. 

“Why? I mean… not that I’m not grateful and that I don’t want it—”

“Which one?” 

Cutting you off with his question, Wonwoo slides his arm along the couch cushion behind your back as you look at him, lost for words. He expected a quick decision and you weren’t sure you were capable. Shaking your head, you lay down your chopsticks and lean back against the couch, a bit surprised to feel Wonwoo’s hand against your arm. Looking down at his fingers, you furrow your brows, watching them flex once before he braves the water and rests them against your bicep. 

“I need to know because there isn’t a lot of time for this to work. I’m not trying to scare you by saying that, but honestly, you should still be scared. I’m not saying anything about me; I’m not going to hurt you… but Bonhwa…” 

Meeting Wonwoo’s eyes once again, you have a new, intrigued look on your face at learning a name. You hadn’t heard the name Bonhwa before; was that Park’s first name? 

“He would? Park Bonhwa?” 

Realizing what he had said, Wonwoo looks down with a sigh. Nodding, he lifts his free hand to rub at his brows before looking up at you once again. 

“Yes, he’s a piece of shit, Y/N. Some bigger piece of shit hired him to do this. Somebody who doesn’t like your father.” 

Now you are starting to learn things and understand them. You didn’t know anyone named Park Bonhwa, but your father had plenty of enemies and plenty of people pretending to be friends who would want his downfall. 

“So if I disappear, how does that work?” 

Pursing his lips, Wonwoo shifts closer to you and makes an unsure sound. 

“I’ll have to work it out with Cheo—with my acquaintance. If it’s what you want, I’ll figure it out.” 

Looking over Wonwoo’s face, you find yourself nodding, convinced by his words but still something hangs in the air. There was something that made you pause and look at him with uncertainty. 

“Why are you doing this for me? You hate me.” 

Looking at his hand as he picks at the sweater resting over your arm, Wonwoo sighs at your question. It was a fair one. He hadn’t given you any other reason to think otherwise. He had pretty much told you more than once that he didn’t like you, that he hated you, but you had returned the favor. Looking at you now, Wonwoo was almost too shy to look back up at your eyes.

"Uh—yeah, well, shit changes, doesn’t it? When you aren’t trying to actively hate someone for the job and they aren’t being a bitch for fun?”

Letting out a scoff, you meet Wonwoo’s eyes, almost defiantly realizing how close he is. You can see his brows knit together as his eyes waver from your eyes to your lips and back. Neither of you are idiots or immune to the tension blanketing the two of you as your eyes follow a similar path on his face. 

“It wasn’t for fun... all the time. Most of the time it was—” 

“A shield?”

Nodding, you find your brows pulling together this time at Wonwoo’s words, as he seems to know you better than to anticipate. He had been paying attention to you and listening to what you had been saying over the past few days. Inhaling softly, you feel Wonwoo’s fingers press against your arm as he mutters a curse under his breath, leaning his head in closer to yours. You can almost see the internal battle written on Wonwoo’s face as he struggles with the desire to act on his wants and instincts compared to what he knows he should do. 

“Are you still afraid of me?” 

Shaking your head, you pause to lick your lips and Wonwoo smiles, knowing you aren’t telling him the full truth. Maybe you weren’t as afraid of him as you once were, but there is still fear left. Giving into desire, Wonwoo leans in the last few inches, letting his lips barely brush against yours as he speaks, letting you decide to meet his kiss or pull away. 

“Promised I wouldn’t hurt you. I won’t let anyone else either.”

A small whine escapes from your lips at Wonwoo’s confession and the feeling of his breath on your lips. You have a split second to consider your options before you give in to your desires and meet his kiss gently. You have little to no reason to trust Wonwoo and yet now everything in your being is telling you that you can, as his lips mesh with yours. 

Flexing your fingers, you dig them into the mattress under you, enjoying the feeling of it under you. There was something freeing about this fucked up situation you found yourself in. There were still some who expected something out of you, but you had the most unexpected shield. 

Opening your eyes, you look at Wonwoo’s face as he sleeps beside you. After the simple kiss, he insisted you finish eating and ushered you upstairs to bed. You could remember the same man who had forced you up steps a few days earlier, but he seemed a million miles away now. 

The man sleeping beside you now, his brows knit together as he dreamed, wasn’t that person. Perhaps he was on the surface, but underneath that mask, you were learning he was a warm, complicated person. He wasn’t the asshole you had called him so many times and you weren’t the bitch you pretended to be. There was an art to lying as much as you two had to one another. 

Shifting slightly, you take a breath, only to hold it when Wonwoo’s eyes flutter open. He was apparently a light sleeper. You had wondered if he was; he always seemed to be awake at the apartment so seeing him asleep was a rare, fleeting treat. Looking over your face, Wonwoo’s lips pull up slightly in a smile before he turns to lay on his back with a sigh. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

Shaking his head, Wonwoo rubs his eyes with his middle finger and thumb as he yawns. You smile watching him enjoy how domestic the moment feels, wishing it would never end. You find yourself letting your eyes move over Wonwoo a bit more brazenly while he’s distracted. How attractive he was had never escaped you; it had just been overshadowed by how much he had frightened you, but now, as he rubbed at his tired eyes, you found him even more handsome. 

“I don’t really sleep.” 

Pursing your lips, you pull your legs up towards your stomach under the blanket, your thumbnail resting against your lips as you try to hide your smile. Wonwoo lifts his brows at your reaction to him, his eyes doing something similar to yours, but he takes a bit more time before taking a breath and licking his lips. 

“What? You don’t believe me?” 

Resting your head on your bicep, you shake it slightly, move your hand from your lips. 

“It’s not that. You just confuse me. I’m not sure you are human.” 

Smiling, Wonwoo lifts his brow and lets his eyes once again move over your pretty face. If he let himself, he could imagine this being a very normal situation. Just two people lying in bed, getting closer to one another. It was almost terrifying to him that he wanted that, but looking at you as you nuzzled your cheek to the soft sweater you were now lovingly wearing, Wonwoo yearned for it. 

“I am… I just tend to run off caffeine and power naps.” 

Your laugh is welcomed music to Wonwoo’s ears. He had heard it before, when you were living your life before all of this. It hadn’t sounded like this, though. It was almost robotic then and annoying. It had gotten on his nerves; everything about you before had, and it had made hurting you easier. He couldn’t imagine hurting the girl in front of him now. Now he was fighting the urge to run his fingers over your face and over your hair. He was trying to convince himself not to kiss you again. 

“That can’t be healthy. Someone needs to take care of you, Kim Wonwoo.” 

Hearing the fake name that he had given you and your father, Wonwoo’s smile fades. You watch Wonwoo’s eyes move away from yours, his mouth opening and closing as if he’s trying to think of what to say. You are about to ask him what’s wrong when the sound of his phone ringing draws his attention away from you and towards the nightstand. 

Narrowing his eyes at the name on the screen, Wonwoo sits up, swiping it almost angrily from the top of the nightstand before answering the phone. Your eyes follow him as he slides from the bed and runs his fingers through his hair, his voice suddenly deeper and rougher. 

“What the fuck do you want now?” 

Scowling at Wonwoo’s attitude, Park Bonhwa slams the door to his Cadillac, giving a lingering look to his driver. They all knew he was in a bad mood, he had been since he had taken on this contract and it was giving them all a headache. Jeon Wonwoo was a serious pain in the ass.

“You know what I fucking wanted, motherfucker! Now I just want her corpse. I’ll send someone else to get it if you are too much of a pussy to—” 

“You won’t do anything!” 

Being cut off by Wonwoo, Bonhwa smacks his hand against the metal door in front of him. The professional that had come so highly recommended was starting to look more like a petulant child than a hitman. 

“Who the hell do you think you are to tell me what I can and can’t do, Jeon?” 

Swallowing hard, Wonwoo glances back at you, realizing you could hear more of his conversation than he would like. He could see the tears on your cheeks and he needed to fix this. Pulling open the bedroom door, Wonwoo slams it behind him, leaving you alone and unable to hear anything more than his muffled angry voice and the occasional word, but it was enough. You understood what “Park” wanted. Wonwoo had offered to help you disappear, but maybe that was too difficult. 

Hissing out his words like venom, Wonwoo glares at the window in front of him as if Bonhwa is in front of him. At this point, he wished the man was. He would let him take your place and make this all a lot simpler. 

“I’ll take care of it! Wire the goddamn money, you piece of shit. If your timeline can speed up, my price can go up.” 

Wonwoo can hear Bonhwa’s argument starting but he is quick to cut him off before he starts by ending the call. There was a lot to explain to you and a lot to apologize for. Granted, he didn’t really owe you or anyone an apology for living his life and making a living in the best way he knew how. It wasn’t his fault he had fallen—no, he wasn’t going to admit that even to himself. 

Scrolling through his contacts, Wonwoo hits another name, placing the phone back against his ear and letting it ring. His head was starting to hurt. He hadn’t slept enough; like he had told you, he rarely did, but now it was starting to weigh on him. 

“What? Turning yourself in?” 

Wonwoo scoffs at Choi Seungcheol’s words as he slides down the wall outside of the bedroom. There had only been one man who had even come close to catching him and it had been Detective Choi Seungcheol. The only reason he hadn’t was because of a deal struck between a desperate man and an even more desperate, not always by the book, detective. It had worked in Wonwoo’s favor then and he hoped it would now. 

“Never. Need to ask for that favor.” 

Rolling his eyes, Seungcheol glances around his office before leaning to close the door with a deafening click. He owed Wonwoo more than one favor, but luckily for him so far none of them had bit him in the ass. He hoped this one wouldn’t either. 

“And you need to get that girl home, Wonwoo. How long are you gonna keep her away from her family?” 

"Forever, hopefully, with your help.” 

That hadn’t been the answer that Seungcheol had been expecting. He hadn’t heard about your kidnapping through your father until another reliable source brought it to his attention. It was only when he and another officer approached your father did he even admit to you being taken. Seungcheol knew there was something strange about this case. It didn’t matter if fathers were told not to tell the police about their children being kidnapped, they would. That was just a father’s instinct to protect a child. Your father was different. He seemed like he had already accepted your death. 

“I—and why the fuck would I—”

“Because I’m going to help you get a promotion, Cheol.” 

Wonwoo knew that would get Seungcheol’s attention and it did. Now the detective was listening, his lips pursed as he looked at his computer in front of him, deep in thought, before finally letting out a breath. 

“How so?”

Of course, he would want to know what he would get out of it first. That detail didn’t make Wonwoo feel the best about this, but he would go about it however he needed to in order to help you now. Glancing towards the closed door, hoping that you weren’t upset with him for walking out, Wonwoo chewed at his cheek and knocked his head back against the wall. 

“Her dad, I think I can get—no, I know I can get enough to blow a whistle on his company. It’d be one hell of a bust for you, Detective Choi.”

Leaning forward to rest his elbow on his desk, Seungcheol scoffed at Wonwoo’s attempt at flattery. It was working. He knew that Y/L/N Financial Incorporation was shady, but he couldn’t touch it. There were too many lawyers and hoops to jump through in the corporate world that gave Seungcheol ulcers, but if it were laid in his lap… Well, that was a different story. Bringing down a corrupt trading company that many had lost their money to could do just what Wonwoo had said. He could have almost any position in the department that he wanted, or he could run for office. 

“And what do you need from me?” 

A breath of relief washes over Wonwoo at Seungcheol’s question. He knew the man had other connections and between the two of them and pulling a few other strings, they could solve this. 

“She doesn’t want to go home, Cheol, and they all want her dead. So, we give them what they want. She gets a fresh start and a new name.” 

This wasn’t something easily done, but Seungcheol knew that Wonwoo knew that. He knew what he was asking of him and now Seungcheol wasn’t sure if the prize was worth the work. Making a sound of concern, Seungcheol sits back in his chair, glancing towards his door, when Wonwoo speaks up once again. 

“Have you met her father?” 

Furrowing his brows, Seungcheol remembers talking to the man in his office. The older man had refused to come to the station, and even meeting in his own plush personal office seemed like an inconvenience. Talking about your kidnapping and possible impending death seemed like an inconvenience for him. Seungcheol remembered leaving frustrated and confused. He wasn’t a father yet but he hoped that he would be a better one than yours. 

“Mm, a real son of a bitch.” 

“He’s got a hell of a life insurance policy for Y/N. He doesn’t want her back, Cheol. Imagine how that might make her feel. She knew the moment I took her that she wasn’t going to make it, and I wasn’t even the one who told her.” 

Guilt hits Seungcheol in the stomach. He wants to argue with Wonwoo, turn on the cop and get angry with him for taking you, but from the sound of your situation, maybe it was a good thing he had taken you out of it. He wasn’t an idiot; he had already been told the stories of the business parties and the deals your father tried to make involving you. Seungcheol shakes his head and scoffs, making a face as if he’d eaten something sour.

“Fine, I’ll help you—I’ll help Y/N. Get your information together to make it worth my time. You know what you’re askin’ for, Wonwoo. Your information isn’t good enough and I lose my job? I’ll kill you.” 

Wonwoo grins at Seungcheol’s threat, though he knows it's a good one. He knew that Choi Seungcheol would be one of the only people who would probably be able to hunt him down and would kill him given the chance, but it wouldn’t happen. 

“The information will be better than good.” 

Picking at your nails, you lean your head back against the headboard, listening to Wonwoo’s muffled voice just outside of the bedroom. The first conversation had been heated and full of hatred, but this second one seemed to be going his way. 

Your tears had dried on your cheeks, but the churning feeling hadn’t quite settled in your stomach by the time Wonwoo opens the door. He could almost feel how your attitude had shifted from before as he leaned against the doorframe. That smile that he had been enjoying was nowhere to be found, and he knew that laugh was going to be hard won. 

“Y/N…” 

You weren’t necessarily afraid of Wonwoo anymore. You weren’t even afraid or surprised by the situation; at this point, you were coming to terms with reality. Meeting his eyes, you feel the tears once again well up in your eyes as he frowns and shakes his head. 

“It’s fine, Wonwoo.” 

Moving on to the bed, Wonwoo reaches for your hand, trying to come up with the right words to explain things when you continue. 

“I know you didn’t want me to overhear it, but it really is okay. I know my father doesn’t give a shit about me. He didn’t care about my mother, so why would I be different?” Using your free hand to rub at your nose, you glance down at your hand in Wonwoo’s. “If I could just ask a favor or two?” 

Your words were breaking Wonwoo’s heart, but as you spoke, they felt necessary. Each word builds on one another, like an explanation of you, until you finally ask something of him. Humming softly to let you continue, Wonwoo swallows hard, reaching out with his free hand to push at your tears on your cheek with his thumb. 

“I don’t want to be in pain and could you make my death mean something? Make it a lesson for him? He’s going to get even richer from it, but that doesn’t mean—-”

Having heard enough, the implication of you asking him to make your death not painful, Wonwoo slides his hand along your cheek to cup your face. 

“Stop, Y/N… just—shh, please, princess?” 

Closing your eyes when Wonwoo stops you mid sentence, you lean into his touch, feeling his forehead rest against yours. You meant every word. You hated the idea of being overwhelmed with pain or fear at the moment of your death, just as much as you hated your father using your death for his own gain. You felt like those were valid wishes from a dead woman, but maybe they were too hard for the one who had to fulfill them. 

“I can’t listen to you talk like that. Fuck—” 

Wonwoo was a cold man on most days. He didn’t have many emotions and none that would be shared with most people, but today he felt tears collecting on the rims of his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried or the last time his chest felt so heavy as he had someone in his hands. The feeling of your skin against his palm was better than anything he could imagine, and he knew he would do anything for you and do anything to keep you close to him in that moment. 

“I’m not going to kill you. I told you that. They don’t get to win. Baby… I—I mean, fuck, I told you that already.” 

Hearing “baby” slip off Wonwoo’s lips makes fresh tears slip down your cheeks. It was almost cruel the cards that the world was dealing you. In your mind, there was no way you’d be able to keep this man in front of you, so why were you once again being tortured by wanting him and his love? You were starting to understand him, or so you thought, and he wasn’t the type to keep people around or love them. 

Shaking your head, you try to lean back, wanting to make this separation easier on you and Wonwoo, but your fingers hold you to him. A sound of pain escapes Wonwoo’s lips as he slides along your arm and he shakes his head in return. 

“I’ll make you disappear; remember, I said I knew someone, and I’ll—” The words seem difficult and unplanned as Wonwoo leans back, his fingers once again trying to get rid of your tears as you meet his eyes. He looks desperate, almost like a different person—a man not willing to lose what’s in front of him. “I’ll disappear with you.” 

Wrapping your hands around Wonwoo’s wrists, you give him a confused look. There were so many questions on your mind because so many things about what he just said didn’t make sense to you. You didn’t understand how his friend could just make you disappear and go with you. 

“Why?” Now the same confusion was written on Wonwoo’s face as you asked the one word question, prompting you to speak again. “Why would you disappear with me, Wonwoo?” 

Swallowing hard, Wonwoo strokes his thumb along your cheek. That was a valid question. You had every right to ask that, and he should answer it. Furrowing his brows, Wonwoo licks his lips and glances down at yours before cursing under his breath. He knew the answer, it was just the most difficult thing he had ever admitted to another person in his life.

“I—shit, Y/N… it’s cause…” 

You watch Wonwoo struggle with his words, feeling his fingers move over your skin as his brows furrow, almost in pain at how hard he’s trying to manifest his sentence. What was so hard to say to you? Sighing, you start to pull away again when Wonwoo’s lips meet yours and you only whimper into the kiss. 

Wonwoo hopes the kiss will be enough to explain what he’s trying to say, but even as he deepens it and his tongue swipes along the seam of your lips, he knows it’s not. He can feel your hand grabbing at his bicep and the words bubble up in his throat, escaping on to your lips like a breath. 

“I love you.” 

Your eyes close tighter at Wonwoo’s words, the confession hitting you in the chest like a brick. You scratch at his arm under your fingers and let out a soft sob into the kiss, feeling him nod, almost understanding you without words. The tension in the room is thick and warm. It felt like a blanket in the middle of the summer, making you both feel like you were overheating. 

Laying you back on the bed, Wonwoo hovers over you, looking over your face, when he finally pulls back from the kiss. Your tears still flow freely from the corners of your eyes, causing him to swipe at them and shake his head, wishing he could will them away with a single word. 

“I do; I’m sorry—” 

Wrapping your hand into the front of Wonwoo’s t-shirt, pull him down hard to meet your lips, speaking against them as he starts to apologize for loving you. You silence him with your kiss, letting him settle between your thighs as you pull your knee up towards his hip. Wonwoo groans softly into your mouth, his brows finally relaxing, feeling you invite him closer to you. 

With your free hand, you run your fingers through Wonwoo's hair, arching your back as his fingers gather your dress at your hip. After nipping at your lips, he tilts back to look down at you, searching your eyes before staring at his hand as he exposes more of your skin. The air crackles with electric anticipation as desire intensifies between you and Wonwoo. Every touch and every glance fuels the growing fire within, leaving you both yearning for more, unable to resist the magnetic pull between your bodies. On an exhale, you let out a soft whine, walking your fingers along Wonwoo's jaw, your words coming out breathy and soft.

“Don’t apologize for saying that to me, Wonwoo.” 

Closing his eyes, Wonwoo turns his attention back towards you, leaning to press his lips against your wrist. He knew he had a lot to explain to you. There was a lot you didn’t understand, a lot of half truths he had told you. He didn’t wait anymore, not when he rested between your warm thighs and felt your fingers tighten on his shirt, keeping him close to you like you never wanted to lose him. He was afraid once you knew the full truth about him, you wouldn’t want him this close to you again. 

“Want you so fucking bad, princess.” 

Wonwoo’s words are quiet, his lips moving to press against your jaw as he lays his body against yours. You whine, finally letting go of his shirt in place of wrapping your arm around his waist so you can pull his shirt up his back. All that tension in the room feels like a fire burning around you when you hear him say those words out loud. 

Nodding, you lift your hips towards Wonwoo, feeling him smile against your skin before he furrows his brows and whines into a groan. Fingers slide under your dress, along your inner thigh, until finally Wonwoo finds what he was searching for. He can feel your warmth through your damp lace and it’s driving him crazy. 

Glancing up at you, Wonwoo watches your lips fall open as he uses his middle finger to press the lace between your folds. It doesn’t take more than a second for him to put pressure on your already throbbing clit, and you are wanting and needing more. 

“Please… please, more…” 

Wonwoo feels his cock twitch in at your breathy moans. Each new word on your lips—better than anything he had ever experienced. There was no other high that he could think of that could compare to the way his brain soared at such simple words slipping from between your pretty lips. He could feel himself becoming addicted to you with each breathy moan that he earned. 

He wanted to give you everything you wanted and more; it would be easy. He could move his fingers ever so slightly and have his fingers inside of you, but looking at your face, Wonwoo paused. Swallowing hard, Wonwoo puts his head down, kissing your collarbone in the process as you feel his fingers slide to your thigh. 

“Wha—Wonwoo?”

Reaching for his hand, trying to get him to go back to what he had been doing, you feel Wonwoo’s hand wrap around your wrist. Instead of letting you guide his hand, he lifts yours to his mouth, kissing your fingers as he meets yours eyes, giving you an apologetic look. 

“I do want you, baby... but I need to explain some things to you first. I need you to understand who you are letting touch you, so that if you don’t want—” 

Sliding up in the bed under Wonwoo, you cup his face, pressing your lips to his to silence him before he starts rambling. You weren’t stupid; you knew there were lies and obviously plenty weighing on his mind, but that didn’t stop you from wanting him. Meeting his eyes, you wait for him to speak, finally seeing some of the tension once again release from his face. 

“Earlier, uh, you called me Kim Wonwoo.” 

Nodding, you trace Wonwoo’s cheek as he settles on the bed in front of you. His hands slide over your legs, letting you adjust so that you are more comfortable. When you drape your leg over his, Wonwoo glances down at your exposed knee, tracing a small scar, trying to distract himself as he speaks. 

“That’s not my name. I mean, sort of. It’s Jeon Wonwoo.” 

Afraid to meet your eyes, Wonwoo draws shapes on your leg as he continues to explain his life to you. This is the only job he’s ever really known. He doesn’t explain how he got into it, but he’s hurt a lot of people and though he doesn’t say it, you understand he’s killed several people. 

“Did they deserve it?” 

The question makes Wonwoo’s throat feel like it’s closing up. That was the most difficult question he had ever been asked. This was why he didn’t have emotions or show them. You were bringing out his emotions and making his heart feel things that he hadn’t felt in decades. Watching Wonwoo lean his head back, you feel sorrow for the man in front of you. You want to fix his life, but then you remember how fucked up your own life is as he laughs sadly and shakes his head before shrugging. 

“I don’t know, babe. No, not all of them. I didn’t ask them about their morals.”

Shushing Wonwoo, you tilt his head back down to look at you as you lean to brush your lips over his again, feeling him melt under your touch and kiss. It should matter more to you about Wonwoo’s past and possibly his future, but you find that you are more concerned about how he feels about you. 

“Did I deserve it?” 

Grabbing your wrists, Wonwoo sits back, staring at you, before letting go of one hand to brush his fingers over your cheek. It was a painful question, but a fair one. You had every right to ask it and he needed to answer it no matter how much it hurt him to do it. 

“I thought you did at first. Made it easier to take you, to scare you.” Taking a breath, Wonwoo traces the shape of your ear with his fingers meeting your eyes. “But now I know you didn’t deserve any of this. I’m sorry, Y/N. If you wanna walk out that door, I’ll let you leave.” 

Wonwoo’s hand starts to drop from your face as he finishes what he needs to say. He looks defeated and certain you are going to not only kick him out of bed, but worse, you might actually want to leave. The moment his fingers drop from your jaw, you shake your head and move forward, hearing a soft, surprised gasp escape from Wonwoo’s lips when you put his back on the bed. Straddling his hips, you nudge your nose against his and tease him by brushing your lips like a whispered word along his, making him lean up to chase you before you speak. 

“I thought you said you’d disappear with me, Jeon Wonwoo?” 

His real name on your lips almost floors Wonwoo. His head resting back on the bed, Wonwoo nods, reaching up to once again cup your face with his hand as he mutters his promises. 

“I will, yes. I promise... as soon as we can.” 

Crashing your lips into his, you hear Wonwoo groan deeply at the feeling. The kiss is different, it’s almost sealing the promise and you both seem to realize that. Fingers once again slide under your dress so that Wonwoo can trace the curve of your ass as you sit down over his half hard cock trapped in his sweatpants. 

You were so warm even with his pants and your thin panties, and it was causing Wonwoo’s mind to malfunction. It had been a long time since he had let himself really enjoy sex and a woman’s body for more than just a carnal need. If this had been anyone else, it would be over in minutes without much more than a word said from either person. Everything about you had Wonwoo’s brain screaming to take his time and teach you he could be better. 

“Fuck… baby.” Groaning into something that sounds more like a whimper, Wonwoo rocks his hips up to meet yours, feeling you roll your hips over him. “Lay down, let me take care of you.” 

Smiling, you sit up, running your fingers over Wonwoo’s chest, feeling him take deep breaths under your touch. In the past, you would have agreed to something like that without question. You would be the first to admit that you were lazy in bed with other people, a bit of a pillow princess, but with Wonwoo, you wanted to be something different. He made you want to show him more, give him more. Show him he is worth more. He was worth the risk. 

Shaking your head, you slide down the length of his body, feeling Wonwoo’s eyes on you as he tells you to let him take over once again. He is silenced when your hot breath fans over the front of his sweatpants and his cock jerks almost violently in reaction. 

Pressing his head back against the bed, Wonwoo just nods, lifting his hips as your fingers press into the top of his sweatpants, working them down his thighs. Your eyes focus on his face, the way he bites at his bottom lip when his cock is exposed to the air and you for the first time. Finally looking down, you tilt your head and swallow hard, loud enough for Wonwoo to hear your reaction when your eyes move over his cock from base to tip. 

“You okay? Princess… I said, let me—” 

“Shhh, you are just so big, Wonwoo. It’s a compliment. Take off your shirt for me.” 

Your words go straight to Wonwoo’s head and make his face burn, the flush evident running from his neck to his cheeks as he lets out a slow breath. Dropping his pants into the floor, you keep your eyes on him, enjoying the view as he does as you ask, tugging his t-shirt over his head and tossing it across the room. 

Laying back reluctantly, he sits back up on his elbows as his cock leaks pre-cum against his abdomen, his eyes moving over you while you shift closer, running your hand along his thigh. 

“Baby—c’mon… Let me see you at least.” 

Smirking slightly, you work the sweater over your head as Wonwoo watches carefully. 

“I think you are being impatient.” 

Quietly laughing, Wonwoo reaches out to run his thumb along your knee, his eyes following your fingers as you work your dress up your body. 

“Maybe… but you are so fucking beautiful and you won’t let me touch you first. I was close before... you were begging me.” 

Humming in agreement with Wonwoo, you hand him your dress, watching him smile as he drops it on the floor with his clothes. His eyes stay focused on you as you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra, feeling it give way. 

“Maybe I want you to beg me instead.” 

Lifting his brow, Wonwoo takes a deep breath as your bra falls from your body. He knew you were perfect. There had been no doubt about that from the moment he first saw you as your bodyguard, but seeing you like this and feeling this way about you was a privilege. 

“I don’t beg for things, princess.” 

Tilting your head, you sit back on your ass between Wonwoo’s legs. With one leg on either side of his, you lift your hips, working your panties down. You hear his breath hitch as you lift one leg and then the other, slipping them off and letting them hang on your fingers before you offer them to him with a question in your eyes. 

“You don’t?” 

Reaching out to take your panties from you, Wonwoo scoffs when you pull them back just as his fingers graze them. He knows he could simply move and take them from you, but he knows what you want and you were making his mouth water. Licking his lips, Wonwoo tightens his jaw and meets your eyes, putting out his hand. 

“But I will for you. Please, baby? Don’t tease me.” 

Teasing Wonwoo was fun and it was powerful, but giving him something that he needed was just as rewarding. Smirking, you put your panties in Wonwoo’s hand, moving back to your knees as you watch him bring them to his nose, taking a deep breath of you. Only once he’s had his fill does he drop them next to the bed with the rest of the clothes and lick his lips, swallowing hard at the sight of you. 

"Sure, I can’t take care of you first?” 

Shaking your head, you listen to Wonwoo groan your name when your fingers wrap around his cock. He is heavy in your hand and you find yourself wanting that weight on your tongue. You want him to moan your name like that as you swallow as much of his cock as you can… so instead of answering him, you act on your desires. 

Falling back on the bed, Wonwoo curses loudly as your warm mouth wraps around him. Letting your mouth meet your hand, you moan around Wonwoo, sucking on his head as you pull back, only to sink back down over him without warning. It had been far too long since Wonwoo had been with someone even close to as determined as you in bed and that was becoming too evident as he struggled to keep himself from cumming too soon. 

“Bab—shit! Y/N… slow—ah, don’t wanna…” 

Pulling back from Wonwoo’s cock with a small popping sound, you feel his hips jerk under your hand as you continue to stroke him. Everything you had wanted from him was becoming a reality. You were dripping onto the bed under you from the sounds coming out of Wonwoo’s mouth and the taste of him on your tongue. 

Clinging to the bedding under him, Wonwoo groans loudly as you press your tongue against his slit. Not wanting to cum into your mouth, he reaches to grab at your hair, whining your name and pushing his ass against the bed, trying to get away from your mouth. 

“Wanna—please? Feels too good. Let me have you.” 

Meeting Wonwoo’s eyes again, you lick your lips, tasking the pre-cum smeared on them, listening to another groan slip from between his lips at the sight. You were going to be the death of him before he got his cock in you at this rate. 

Sitting back, you laugh when Wonwoo wastes no time turning over on the bed so he can get back between your thighs. With no lace between him and your pussy this time, he shakes his head and lets out a slow breath, lowering himself down to press kisses to your thighs before running his tongue through your wet folds. 

Wonwoo groans, his fingers gripping you tighter and pulling you closer to his mouth as he tastes you for the first time. Every worry disappears, along with every thought in his mind, as he focuses on you and nothing else. Wrapping his arm around your leg, Wonwoo adjusts himself on the bed, listening to your soft whimpering moans, driving him to make you feel even better. 

You could already feel yourself tightening around nothing as Wonwoo sucked around your clit, his fingers pushing your folds apart, giving him access to the sensitive bundle of nerves. You wanted and needed more. The desire to be full of him overwhelms your brain just as much as your impending orgasm. 

“Plea—Wonwoo…  your fingers. I need something inside of me.” 

You clearly had no idea how sexy your words were because, as soon as you spoke them, Wonwoo was trying not to thrust his hips into the mattress to find relief. Clawing at Wonwoo’s arm, you whimper his name doing your best to get what you want at your pace. Nodding, he groans, leaning back just enough to watch as he works a finger into you, feeling your tight walls suck him in. You weren’t even close to being able to handle his cock if he had to work for one finger. 

“Baby… relax.” 

Scoffing, you roll your hips down over Wonwoo’s finger as he nips at your folds, sending waves of pleasure through you. How did he expect you to relax with what was going on between your legs? Shooting him a contemptuous look, you watch as Wonwoo grins up at you before looking back at his fingers as he gently adds a second. 

“You’ve given me that look before, princess. Right before you told me you hoped I lost my job as your bodyguard.” 

Thrusting his fingers deep into you, Wonwoo watches you arch your back, a loud moan dripping off your lips like honey. There had been times before all of this, when he had been playing the part of your bodyguard when he had brief moments of weakness, picturing turning you over a surface and fucking some respect into you. If the man he was then could see him now. He imagined that man would not only be shocked at how much he had changed in such a short time, but he would probably be jealous. Who wouldn’t be jealous to see your cum dripping down his palm towards his wrist as he continued to fuck you with his fingers? 

“Yes, baby… Fuck—another one. Just like that. Cum all over my fingers; take another one.” 

A third finger slips into you and you practically scream in pleasure at how full you feel. The first orgasm had made your thighs start to shake, but the second one had come on so quickly after the first that you were crying. Tears drip from your cheeks as you push your hips down over Wonwoo’s fingers until you can’t take it anymore, the overstimulation making you close your legs around his hand. 

Giving you one more deep thrust of his fingers, Wonwoo presses his lips to your shin as he slowly and carefully slides his fingers from your warm, throbbing pussy. You were panting out your moans like a cat in heat and it was better than anything Wonwoo had ever seen or heard in his life. There was nothing staged that could measure up to you—no porn or even work of art that matched you. 

Running his hands along your knees, Wonwoo meets your eyes as he works your legs apart, feeling them shake under his touch. He knew you were still sensitive, but his cock was aching for you. Resting between your legs, Wonwoo furrows his brows, feeling your wet folds against his shaft as he rocks his hips towards you. One more questioning look, asking for permission, and getting a frantic nod from you is all it takes for him to ease himself into you. 

The feeling of Wonwoo inside of you is so much more than his fingers and it takes your breath away. Pressing your face against his neck, you gasp, feeling the stretch when he finally stops moving, his hips flush with yours. Closing his eyes, Wonwoo has to take a steady breath, feeling you clench around him, threatening to make him cum on the spot. 

“Baby, breathe… Is it too much?” 

Shaking your head, you cling to Wonwoo, afraid he will pull out and you’ll be empty again. You whine his name, leaning your head back onto the pillows, meeting his eyes. Searching your eyes for pain, Wonwoo lifts one of his hands to brush his thumb over your cheek as he waits patiently for you to adjust to him, though it takes every ounce of patience he has. 

“Okay, just tell—tell me when I can move.” 

Nodding quickly, you scratch at Wonwoo’s sides, hearing him hiss at the feeling. You were ready for him to move, but words were hard to form. You were finding it hard to think of anything other than him and the feeling of his cock buried so deep inside of you. Lifting your hips, you moan his name and Wonwoo groans, leaning to rest his forehead against yours. Warm breath fans across your lips as he nods and whispers, “Okay,” before moving slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you or himself too quickly. 

Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, more tears roll from your eyes to your temples at how good it feels to have Wonwoo inside of you. The way his cock stretches you so perfectly and how his head brushes over your spot each time pulls out enough to push right back into your warm walls. 

“Please, please, Wonwoo, baby... faster.” 

Your pleas come out as sobbing moans, causing Wonwoo to give you a concerned look, but as soon as he sees the fucked out look on your face, he can’t help but give you what you want. His thrusts become more urgent and harder. With each one, Wonwoo feels you get that much tighter around his cock until finally the coil inside you snaps. He had thought you were wet before but feeling your cum on his cock was an experience that Wonwoo knew he would never forget and it was enough to send him barreling over the edge after you. 

Resting his head against your neck, Wonwoo curses under his breath, feeling his cum seep out of you, mixing with yours. He was usually much more careful than this, but he had gotten lost in the moment. Shaking his head, Wonwoo carefully slides out of you and meets your eyes full of guilt, only to find you still full of bliss. 

“I didn’t even ask, baby. I’m sorry—” 

Sliding your hand along Wonwoo’s jaw to his neck, you shake your head and close your eyes. You knew what had happened and what could come of it, but that wasn’t something that you could concern yourself with today. Right now, you are just happy to be alive and in bed with Wonwoo. It was the first time in possibly your entire life that you were this happy and you wouldn’t let him spoil it with guilt. 

“Don’t... just tell me that you love me again.” 

Unable to stop his lips from pulling up in a smile, Wonwoo shakes his head at your reaction to the situation. Moving to lay beside you, knowing neither of you could stay like this for long without taking a shower, he pulls you into his arms and presses his lips against your neck. You smile, wrapping your arms around his. 

“I love you, Y/N.”  

“I love you too, Wonwoo.” 

This was the longest you had seen Wonwoo sleep. Even as you ran your fingers delicately along the bridge of his nose, he barely flinched. A smile pulls at your lips at the sight and at how warm and safe you feel lying next to him as the sun rises. 

During the time that you had been awake, Wonwoo’s phone had gone off twice. You had a good feeling that the missed calls were from Park Bonhwa, but you couldn’t bear the thought of waking Wonwoo or checking his phone. There was a beautiful silence surrounding you both and not even that man could ruin it, as long as you didn’t let him. 

Tracing the dip of Wonwoo’s cupid’s bow, you watch as his lips twitch into a soft smile and his eyes slowly open. It was selfish of you to touch Wonwoo so much when he was sleeping so soundly, but seeing his eyes on you and feeling the comfort of them made it worth it. 

Pulling you into his arms, Wonwoo grunts softly at the feeling of your cold fingers sliding along his ribs. He could get used to this—waking up and seeing you first thing. He wanted to get used to it, but there were things that had to happen first. 

“Mm, morning, baby. “ 

Lips press against the top of your head and you find yourself nuzzling against Wonwoo’s chest, not wanting to face anything in the real world. You like the way his deep voice sounds when you are so close to his body, the way it seems to vibrate in his chest. Resting your ear against his chest, you smile and bite at your bottom lip, hearing Wonwoo laugh. 

“Don’t wanna get up?” 

Shaking your head, you whine, and Wonwoo runs his long fingers along your back, stopping to draw small circles along your spine before tracing each notch on his way up to your neck. He understood the sentiment and wanted to give you what you wanted. He wanted to give you everything you wanted now. 

“We need to talk about what comes next. Cheol is going to work on what we need for you to disappear, but he needs payment.” 

There was always a catch to everything. That was something that you understood from a very young age. Everything came with a price. Your father never let you think that money grew on trees. Despite knowing you were incredibly wealthy and that you could potentially have anything you wanted, he made you earn his respect before he would give you any allowance or credit cards. Your father’s respect had cost the most out of anything you had ever paid for in your life. You will never forget the day you told your mother that you loved your father more than her and watched her face fall. 

“Mmkay, how much money does he need?” 

Wonwoo shakes his head at the mention of money. Of course your mind would go to money first; that was how your father had probably raised you. It wasn’t your fault that you were the way you were; Wonwoo understood that now. You were broken because you were carefully shattered piece by piece by your father over the course of your life. 

“Not money, baby. Information. Trust me, this will be good for everyone in the end.” Smirking, Wonwoo lifts his hand from your back to scratch at his eyebrow as he scoffs at his own words, correcting them. “Almost everyone.” 

Information was a currency you were familiar with; it just wasn’t something you commonly used. You have seen your father get rich off information plenty of times. Leaning your head back, you glance up at Wonwoo, furrowing your brows as he lifts his hand to brush his fingers over your cheek. 

“About my father?”

The next couple of hours you spend against Wonwoo go through what you know about your father’s company. You tell him more about the business dinners and dates that he has set up for you over the years and though Wonwoo listens carefully, he seethes. Every new piece of information he leaves about your father makes him hate the man even more. 

It’s when you get to your mother that you find it more difficult to talk with confidence. You find strength in Wonwoo’s touch, his hands gliding over your skin as his lips press to your forehead, taking in each word. Your sorrow at losing the one person who meant something to you, becomes Wonwoo’s sorrow when tears drip from your cheek onto his chest. 

“Baby… I know this is too much. I’m sorry, we can talk more about the business side—”

“It’s okay. It’s his fault.” Rubbing your nose hard, you pull your legs under you, letting Wonwoo tuck you into his side. “I don’t know how, but I just know it is. She didn’t just die.” 

There is no doubt in Wonwoo’s mind that you are right about your assumption. With as much life insurance that your father had placed on you, he could only imagine the amount he would put on a spouse. 

“He kept reminding me after her funeral that I loved him more. He kept giving me gifts and all this money…” 

Leaning his head back against the headboard, Wonwoo tries to picture you mourning and your brute of a father wooing you out of it with possessions. The cold woman who had treated her staff like trash was just a reflection of him. 

“He’ll pay for that, Y/N. I promise.” 

You nod along with Wonwoo’s words, though you don’t understand how he plans on making that happen. In your eyes, your father was bulletproof. He was a cliff face that you kept hitting as the waves pushed you around like you were nothing. 

Tracing the shape of your bottom lip as you rest against his shoulder, Wonwoo furrows his brows, feeling concern wash over him. You had talked until you couldn’t anymore. Exhaustion had taken over you and not even having him next to you or food in your stomach was enough to keep your eyes open any longer. You looked calm like this—breathing softly against his bare skin—even as you squeezed your eyes shut a bit tighter in your sleep. 

Wonwoo carefully slides his arm from under you, letting your cheek rest against his palm as he adjusts the pillow under your head. Now you look comfortable. He hated the idea of not having you in his arms, but there was much left to do. Giving you one more glance as he swipes his phone from the nightstand, Wonwoo opens the bedroom door and closes it before making his way downstairs. 

Seungcheol was trying not to get antsy about his current situation, but the minutes were ticking by and it didn’t seem like you or Wonwoo were in a rush. So when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, the detective lets out a sigh of relief, leaning against his car. 

“I won’t lie, I had a few moments today when I thought you might be fucking me over.” 

Smirking at Seungcheol’s words, Wonwoo uses his index finger to pull the blinds ever so slightly from the window so he can check the street out of habit. 

“Just when we were starting to like one another?” 

Getting behind the wheel of the Audi, Seungcheol scoffs and presses the button to start his car. The sooner he could be away from the station, the better, especially if this conversation was going to go where he imagined it to. Hearing the sound of the engine as Seungcheol wastes no time in pulling out of the parking garage, Wonwoo shakes his head, dropping the blinds back in place and lowering himself into a nearby armchair. 

“I needed time to talk to Y/N. She’s the one with the most information, and she had plenty. Like I said, Cheol… you’ll get a promotion out of this.” 

Seungcheol can’t stop himself from taking a deep breath in anticipation. If the information was as good as Wonwoo was alluding to, this could be the best decision he has ever made. 

“I’m listening.” 

“And I have terms.” 

Of course he did. The good feeling that Seungcheol had for a fleeting moment sank right back into his chest with Wonwoo’s words. Leaning his head back against the leather headrest, Seungcheol tightens his grip on the steering wheel and narrows his eyes as he speaks. 

“Again, I’m listening.” 

Tilting his head, Wonwoo bites at his cheek out of a mixture of nerves and frustration. He knew that Seungcheol would be happy with what he had to tell him, but he had to make sure that you were taken care of. On top of that, he hadn’t known that he wanted to leave with you; that was a possible kink in the plan as far as Seungcheol might be concerned. 

“New name, meaning all IDs.” Seungcheol groans in annoyance at Wonwoo’s request; it was what he had assumed, but as soon as he starts to speak, he is cut off and rendered speechless. “For both of us.” 

“I—” 

Picking at a loose string on the chair, Wonwoo listens to Seungcheol struggle to make heads or tails of what he had just asked of him before he continues. 

“Money; we both know she can’t keep her accounts. We will need a safe flight out of Korea.” 

With his head spinning at all Wonwoo was asking of him, Seungcheol pulls his car over, putting it in park, before letting out an unamused laugh. 

“I—well fuck… anything else? Would you like for me to make her the Queen of England while I’m at it?” The amusement fades from his voice as he smacks at his dashboard. “Why are you asking for impossible things? How in the hell am I going to get you out of Korea?” 

“Figure it out, Seungcheol! Or are you not interested in bringing down her piece of shit father?” 

Throwing up his hands, Seungcheol scoffs in disbelief, unsure what could be worth giving up, Jeon Wonwoo. 

“For what? Some shady trading? The insurance policy? Give me something better than that or I’m gonna bring both of your asses in.” 

“Embezzlement, laundering, and possible murder.” 

Every snide comment and scoff that Seungcheol has been giving Wonwoo stops when he hears those words. 

“If—can she prove it?” 

Looking down at his hands, Wonwoo digs his nail into his thumb, feeling frustrated with Seungcheol and the entire situation. You shouldn't have to prove anything. It was practically being laid out for him, but he understood that some horses had to be led to water. 

“Y/N said there is a lawyer, Son Hyunwoo. Pay him enough and he’ll spill everything.” 

Typing the name into his phone and keeping Wonwoo on speaker in his car, Seungcheol nods, looking over the practice that Son Hyunwoo belongs to and some of his more prevalent clients. To the general public, his client list looked like a billboard for great service and reliability, but to a good detective, it screamed corruption. 

“This is good. If he talks, I’ll get you what you need. I’ll be in touch.” 

Wonwoo runs his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath when the phone disconnects. He hoped for your sake, more than his own, that you were right. 

— Two Days Later —

Bonhwa glares at his phone, seeing Wonwoo’s name. The man had been avoiding him like it was his job and now, just as he was about to have the dogs on his heels, he decided it was a good time to call. Gritting his teeth, Bonhwa answers his phone while pushing the heel of his hand under his nose to clean the white powder from it with a loud sniff. 

“Wanna make this easier on everyone by bringing her to my office? I promise I won’t kill you; just break something.” 

Rolling his eyes, Wonwoo had already prepared for Park Bonhwa’s empty threats. He wasn’t afraid of him anymore than he was afraid of a dog without teeth. He knew that Bonhwa couldn’t find him, which means he couldn’t find you. With time, if the two of you stayed in Seoul, he might get a sniff on a trail, but that wasn’t happening. 

“I’ve been busy. Why are you so fuckin’ grumpy?” 

Watching Seungcheol load a suitcase into the trunk of the car as he talks to you, Wonwoo furrows his brows, hearing Bonhwa’s voice go up an octave. He knew he was pushing his buttons, but he had a reason. There was always a reason behind what Wonwoo did. 

“Why—why am I? You stupid son of a bitch! Half! I get half when I deliver proof of that bitch’s body to Hyong. Do you know how humiliating—” 

Hearing Wonwoo sigh, Bonhwa stops mid sentence to stare at the desk in front of him. He had half a mind to get in his car right now and search the entire city for Jeon Wonwoo. Feeling his phone vibrate in his hand, he furrows his brow and lets out a disgruntled sound, ready to continue telling Wonwoo off when Wonwoo speaks first. 

“Check your email. It’s done… makes no fucking sense to drive around with a body.” 

Your eyes follow Wonwoo as he paces talking to Bonhwa, you barely hear Seungcheol talking to you. Noticing you aren’t understanding what he’s telling you, the man steps in front of you, obscuring your view. 

“Can we finish our conversation now, Y/N? He’s fine. He’s taking care of what he needs to, so let’s go over the rest of this shit.” 

You weren’t sure how you felt about Choi Seungcheol. You could see why he had been the one who had gotten close to Wonwoo, he was tenacious and abrasive. Nodding, you watch as Seungcheol lifts his brows and leans to take a folder out of his car, showing it to you. 

“ID, passport, some cash... Wonwoo knows how to get more when it’s needed. This won’t be like the pampered life you had before, so—” 

“You don’t know anything about me, Seungcheol.” 

In the short time that he had known you, Seungcheol had heard you speak a handful of times. You had to let Wonwoo speak for you or at least let him carry the conversations. To say that he perhaps had a skewed view of you based on what he knew about your father and researching you, would be an understatement. 

“Maybe not, but I’m just saying... make it last. Keep your mouth shut.” 

Holding out your hand for the folder, you lock eyes with Seungcheol as he places it in yours. 

“I’m not stupid.” 

A smirk pulls at one side of the detective’s lips at your words. That he did know. There was no way Wonwoo would put this much effort into keeping you alive if you were. Letting go of the folder, Seungcheol takes a step back and glances back to Wonwoo as he grunts, bending the phone in his hand with some effort. The screen shatters first and then the metal gives way, effectively destroying the device before he tosses it towards the river, listening to the dull thud when it hits the surface. 

“That bullshit is done. He’s satisfied with what you came up with.” 

Scoffing, Seungcheol shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, feeling a bit offended at the insinuation that anyone wouldn’t be satisfied with his work. He had gone above and beyond for this. You had been lucky that the information you had provided for him had been the best he had received in a long time. It had served as motivation for what Seungcheol saw as a work of art. 

“Yeah? Well maybe you should have dealt with pulling a Jane Doe out of the morgue.” 

Wonwoo exhales an unamused laugh, sliding his hand around your waist. He knew that Seungcheol had worked hard and he appreciated it. He could almost taste freedom and it was a strange sensation. 

“No thanks. I’ll leave that to the professionals.” Leaning to kiss the side of your head, Wonwoo gives you a once over before glancing back at the car, seeing it packed. “Ready to go?” 

You had no idea where you and Wonwoo were going. He and Seungcheol told you that in case things went south, it was better for you to know less. While you understood that, it still made leaving your entire life behind even more terrifying. Still, as you meet Wonwoo’s eyes, seeing that reassuring look in them, you manage to nod. 

“Perfect, can’t wait to get you both out of my hair.” 

Wonwoo grins at Seungcheol’s words, knowing that while he was trying to crack a joke, there was a layer of truth to them, especially concerning himself. 

“Don’t worry, Cheol. We won’t darken your doorstep again.” 

Taking a step backwards, towards his own car, Seungcheol points at Wonwoo as he speaks. 

“I’ll fuckin’ hold you to it. Show your face around here again and I’ll throw your ass in a cell.” 

Shaking his head, Wonwoo turns his attention back to you, reaching to open the passenger's side door. He lets you sit down as he looks down at you, much like he did a week ago under much different circumstances. 

“Where are we going, Wonwoo?” 

You watch curiously as he tilts his head and purses his lips, trying to think of how to tell you the answer without actually answering it. 

“Did you pack a bikini?” 

READ THE BONUS ON PATREON

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[thebearer]

love me tomorrow |carmen berzatto x reader| part three

prompt: after time apart, you and carmen meet up for the first time since the fight.

or part three and the final part of the devastation fic (spoiler- the resolution haha). part one and part two can be found here :)

contains: angst. hurt with comfort (finally lol). mentions of mean!carmen, past fighting. past trauma, family trauma. carmen's been to therapy (yay). language. mom!reader x dad!carmen. fluff at the end, i had to make it a little funny and end on a light note bc it felt so heavy lol. word count- 4.7k+

“He’s here,” Sugar announced, the chime of a doorbell following nearly cinematically. 

Your shoulders tightened, stomach twisting with an ache of nerves you tried to swallow. You were so nervous- why were you so nervous? He’d fucked up, not you. He was here to grovel and beg for forgiveness, not you. Still, you felt your hairline prick with heat, hands clammy when you heard the door opening downstairs. 

“Okay,” You tried to steady your voice, exhaling slowly out of your nose. “I’m almost done.” 

Sugar nodded, not leaving, keeping her post behind you. “You know you don’t have to do this.” Sugar looked at you through the mirror, arms folded over her chest, watching you carefully for a sign- anything that would give her a red flag, make her call this off. 

“I know,” You swallowed your buzzing nerves, jittery in the pit of your belly. 

“I’ll tell him to go away. You give me the word, and I’ll kick him out.” Sugar stood, pushing off the door frame and walking towards you. “Seriously. One wrong word, wrong look, anything, he’s gone. Say the word.” 

You gave a small smile. “I think I’ll be alright, but thank you.” You muttered, looking down at your bare ring finger. You still found yourself reaching for your ring, heart spiking in a panic when you’d see it was gone, only to sink when you remembered why- why you left it. 

“I feel like it’s time.” You admitted, trying to convince yourself more than Natalie. You were still unsure, so jarred and hurt by the last time you’d spoken to Carmen. The things he’d said, how he’d hurt you. “I think we have to figure something out.”

“You don’t have to do anything.” Sugar gave you a pointed look. “Trust me, if this was me, Pete would never live that down- never. He’d be at my mercy for the rest of his life, if I even let him back into it.” 

You knew Natalie wasn’t joking, that she would do just as she said, but that was also easy for her to say; when Pete could not fathom ever thinking those things about her, let alone saying them to her. Sometimes you wished Carmen could be softer, a little more like Pete in that way. 

“He’s been going to therapy,” Richie’s voice played in your mind. “He’s, uh, he’s doin’ good. Tryna get better for you, for both of you. He loves you, you know that, sweetheart. He’s just… He’s fucked up, y’know? We all are a little, but he’s workin’ on it.” 

You hoped that was true. For your marriage, for your baby. Sugar and Pete had been taking Teddy to see Carmen. You couldn't bring yourself to see him yet, but depriving him of Teddy felt cruel and inhumane. 

Downstairs, you could hear her gurgling, Carmen’s soft tone greeting her in hushed excitement. It soothed you, even for just a moment, it felt familiar- felt like home. What you’d missed so badly, what you longed for to have again. 

“Uncle Carm, why haven’t you been staying here too?” MJ’s tiny squeak of a voice rang up the stairs, greeting you as you quietly crept down them. 

“MJ,” Pete muttered, shaking his head gently. “C’mon, bud, you know Uncle Carm’s been on a business trip.” 

“Right, yeah.” Carmen nodded, his hand patting Teddy’s back gently, soothing her and him. Just feeling the weight of her back on his chest, it put him at ease. She was bigger now, longer than he remembered, but he tried not to think about that, nose pressing into her soft tufts of hair. 

MJ saw you first, his face falling into a pout. “Aw, does that mean you’re going home?” He whined, looking at you then back at Carmen. “Are you takin’ Anchovy and Teddy?” 

Anchovy skittered towards you, running up the stairs at the mention of his name. He’d been a trooper with MJ and Maggie, both kids enamored with the cat who was less than impressed with them. 

Carmen stiffened at the sight of you, spine rigid, heart skipping and falling in his chest. There was a pause of awkward uncertainty, neither of you sure what to say. “If you’re good,” Sugar stepped in. “Maybe your aunt and uncle will let you play with them a little longer while they go out.” She looked at you, shrugging gently at the suggestion. 

You looked at Carmen, eyes meeting him in a brief, unsure gaze, before nodding. “Yeah, that would be- that would be great, MJ.” You gave a soft smile to the boy. 

Carmen stood, passing Teddy off to Sugar with a quiet muttering of thanks. He met you in the doorway, hand reaching for yours, but stopping himself, pulling back hesitantly. Instead, he held the door open, letting you pass by him first. 

The car smelled like a mix of cleaning supply, masked with car fresheners he’d stuck in the vents. He’d been smoking, more than usual, you were sure of it. He’d gotten down to one a day after Teddy was born, paranoid that he’d give her asthma or a rash or something worse. 

“Um,” Carmen hesitated, his voice shaking in a way that he hadn’t since your first date. “I was… I was thinkin’ we could go somewhere t-to talk?” Carmen’s gaze met yours, lips pressing together, swallowing around the lump in his throat. 

You nodded, your hands clasped in your lap, both of you too rigid, too uncomfortable. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” You looked down at your nails. “We could go get coffee? Go to the one by the restaurant.” 

Carmen’s heart burned with a dull ache. The coffee shop a block from The Bear had been a staple in your relationship. When you’d first moved in together, to the shitty downtown apartment to be closer to the restaurant, Carmen would go every Sunday. Sometimes he’d pick up, other times you’d come with him, sit in the corner seat side by side in a booth- like the couples you used to roll your eyes at, lovesick. 

Someone was already sitting in that booth when you got there, so you settled for a small two seater in the back, secluded and empty. Carmen brought you your coffee without asking, he knew the order by heart now, etched into his mind permanently. 

“Thank you,” You muttered, accepting the paper cup, your eyes not meeting his, but your hands brushing. You didn’t pull away this time. 

Carmen sat across from you, a dread filled silence falling thick between the two of you. His knee bouncing under the table. “I, uh, I wanna talk first if-if that’s good with you.” Carmen’s eyes lifted under his ball cap, pulled low on his head, curls peaking out. 

You nodded, twisting the paper cup around on the table, too nervous to drink it. Carmen took a breath, trying to calm his racing mind. “Take a deep breath before you start. It’s ok to take a second to get your words in order, Carmen. Collect your thoughts.” Dr. Mullins’ words rang through his head. 

“I wanna start by saying that I’m sorry.” Carmen looked at you when he said it, eyes rounding in a pathetically sweet way. “I-I’m sorry and I…I didn’t mean anything I said. I would never- It wasn’t you.” 

You looked down at the table, the familiar heat burning in your nose and throat, a threat of tears already. “Hey,” Carmen said firmly, leaning forward. “C’mon, look at me. Please?” You look at him hesitantly, jaw clenching, trying to keep yourself from crying. 

Carmen held your gaze, his lips pressing together in a tight line to keep his own emotions in. “It wasn’t you.” His gaze was intense but soft all at once, holding yours. “It… It was all me. All of it. I-I was overwhelmed, I was stressed, I fucked up, a-and-” Carmen’s voice cracked, breaking at the end, his hand running over his face to try and calm himself. 

You felt your own eyes well with tears, chin ducking closer into yourself, leaning towards him. You wanted to reach out, to grab his hand that rested on the table, squeeze it in comfort like you always did. Instead, you looked at him, waiting for him to continue. 

“And I shouldn’t have said any of that shit because-because none of it was true.” Carmen continued, his voice strained. 

“So why’d you say it then?” You surprised yourself with the firmness in your tone, edging on a snap. 

Carmen blinked, surprised but not entirely shocked. His knee bounced faster and faster under the table. He took a second, holding his breath before exhaling, trying to keep the growing tightness in his chest to a minimum. 

“I was stressed. I was tired. I-I was overwhelmed, and… and I was an asshole.” Carmen admitted, but you still didn’t seem convinced. You knew him better than anyone, better than Dr. Mullins, better than even Fak or Richie or Sugar. 

“I… I was hurting. I was hurting an-and I was so fuckin’ angry. I don’t-I don’t even know why I was so angry.” Carmen admitted, nodding slowly, eyes flickering from your gaze to his hands nervously. “I just… I think I wanted someone to hurt like I was hurting. I just, I don’t know, I wanted someone else to feel like I was, an-and I should have- it was fuckin’ stupid, an-and selfish, and…” 

Your eyes were glassy with tears you tried to hide, blinking a tear that fell down your cheek, wiping it quickly. Carmen’s chest ached, burned with hurt at the sight of you. 

“And I’ve never regretted anything more in my life.” He looked at you sincerely. “I-I-I never said anything more untrue and fuckin’ stupid in my life.” 

“You…” You took a breath, your voice shaking with emotions. “You really hurt my feelings, Carmen.” You admitted looking at him. He nodded, jaw flexing, neck blossoming with splotches of emotion. 

“I just don’t really understand how-how you didn’t mean to say those things. I mean, clearly you-you’ve thought that before.” Your voice lifted higher and higher, climbing with a cry that threatened to break. “I know you’re saying you didn’t mean those things, and I get that, but my problem is you’ve thought them before-” 

“-No, no, I swear-” 

“-You have, Carmen. Clearly you have. You wouldn’t- You didn’t just come up with that shit out of nowhere.” Your voice was beginning to climb, trying to level it out in the cafe, keeping your composure. You took a breath, pinching the bridge of your nose, pad of your thumb swiping the corner of your eye to catch a stray tear. “Just… Just don’t lie to me.” 

Carmen pressed his hands together, trying hard to remember his breathing while his mind was racing. Sugar was right, it was uncomfortable, worse than he could have imagined. 

“You’re right,” Carmen admitted with a nod. There was no point in lying, not to you, you always knew better, knew him better. “I-I did, but not-not like that. Not,” Carmen’s breath hitched, chest tight with a wave of anxiety. 

“You know wh-when I was at the restaurant, and I… I would be ready to rip my fuckin’ hair out. Everything was just goin’ to shit, o-or we’d realize there was a critic on the books, or I’d forgot to order some shit, I’d be going fuckin’ crazy, ya know?” Carmen rambled, words spilling out in tumbles of jumbled truth.

 “I’d go to my office for a second, just to-just to take a fuckin’ breath, and… and I’d check my phone and I’d see a text from you.” His heart swelled at the memory. You’d text him updates through the day, knowing he’d seen him when he could. Baby Teddy in her crib, Anchovy in the bassinet, her outfit for the day, nap time- all the moments he missed at work because you wanted him to see. You had considered him. Carmen missed it more than words could describe the past days, checking his phone out of habit, hoping to see a little OOTD with a smiley face and a wrinkly baby Teddy attached- instead, he saw nothing. 

“I’d just… I don’t know. I was sittin’ there, just fuckin’ stressed o-or angry, and then I’d see that and I-I’d feel,” Carmen paused. Gather your thoughts, gather your thoughts. 

“I felt… I just felt weird about it?” Carmen’s brows pinched together, looking at you for help, unsure. Your face fell, his heart lurching with fear. 

“No, no, no, no. Not-Not like that. I- fuck, that’s not what- I love the pictures. Love them. I-I- They’re the only things that get me through the day, it-it’s not that-” Carmen stuttered out, head dropping into his hands in defeat. Way to go, Berzatto. 

“Felt weird?” You repeated, calm, your way of soothing him. Keeping your voice even, steady without any tones he could read into and spiral. It was second nature at this point. “Weird how?” 

“It made me feel like… like I was, I was missin’ out.” Carmen admitted, eyes shining bright and a little wide like they always did when he’d finally admit something. Wide eyed, scared, almost, like he shouldn’t have told the truth. 

“I felt like, I’m at work, an-and you were at home with Teddy, and…and I felt like I was bein’ a shitty dad. Like I was there too much, an-and I’d miss out on her, and then I’d miss you, I’d just…” Carmen threw his hands out lightly, cheeks puffing with a slow, shaky exhale. 

“I was jealous, maybe? Ma-Maybe that’s the word, but I just… I didn’t want to be there, and I know,” He lifted his voice before you could begin to speak. “I know I’m th-the boss, and-and I get that. And it’s not- it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault you’re home- I’m glad you’re home, I am, because you’re doin’ so much. You are, an-and I know that, I know. You’re-You’re doin’ the most important job in the fuckin’ world, I mean, you’re keepin’ ou-our baby alive.” 

Carmen laughed humorlessly, a scoff that turned into a sniffle, shaking his head. You sat quietly, listening to his words, taking them in with a slow nod. Carmen looked at you, trying to read you, taking in your expressions. Your shoulders less tense, tired, face neutral but he saw the way your lips twitched, holding back a cry. 

“Just sometimes when-when I’d be in the shit, I’d just want to be home.” Carmen admitted. “I’d want to be home, but… but I knew I couldn’t be. I knew I had to-to take care of things, take care of you an-and Teddy, and I don’t- fuck, I don’t mean it like a bad thing. I like doing it, I mean obviously I fuckin’ do, it’s just- it-it’s a lot sometimes and I get-” 

“-Carm,” You cut off his ramblings, reaching across the table, your hand sliding over the top of his, squeezing it gently. 

Carmen thought his lungs might have given out, his heart too, looking down at your hand in awe. Bolts of electricity shot through his body, tingling at his skin that touched yours with excitement. He’d missed this, missed your touch, missed you. It felt surreal, sitting here, feeling you, seeing you. 

“I’m sorry.” Carmen whispered, turning his hand to hold yours. Hands clammy, fingernails bitten to the quick. His fingers intertwined in yours, holding your hand so tightly your fingers tingles. He held your hand like he was scared to let go, like if he did he might never get to hold your hand again. 

“I’m sorry. It-It wasn’t fair. It..It’s not fair.” Carmen squeezed your hand, shaking his head lightly. “You didn’t… I don’t know how to say how much you mean to me.” Carmen looked at you, eyes glassy, red rimmed with tears that gathered at his water line. 

“I, uh, I-I tried to- Well, Richie’s thera- my therapist told me to, uh, to try an-and write out what I wanted to say to you. Take time and reflect and give it to you, but I, uh, I was up all night because I kept starting over.” Carmen rambled on. 

“Everything I was tryna write it just… it didn’t feel like enough. It didn’t do you justice.” Carmen looked up at you, thumb brushing over your knuckle gently. “I felt like it just wasn’t enough. They’re aren’t any words to describe you. To…To describe what you mean to me, an-and how much I love you.” 

You swallowed back a sob, looking into his eyes. An intensity you hadn’t seen since he said his vows, maybe more now. “I-I love you so much, and… and I don’t deserve you. I don’t fucking deserve you.” Carmen choked out, a sob slipping out between his confessions. 

“I-I’m a fuckin’ loser, an-and a psycho, and I-I’m a shitty dad and husband…And I-I’m fucked up, and you-you chose to love me anyways. An-And to marry me, and have a kid with me- start a family with me. And what do I do? I fuck it up, and I don’t deserve you. I never have, an-and I never will.” Carmen rambled, tears sliding down his cheeks freely, leaning towards you, shoulders stuttering with a choking of tears.

“Don’t say that.” You sniffle, shaking your head. “Don’t say that-” 

“-No, it’s true, it’s fuckin’ true-” 

“-No, it isn’t. Carmen, don’t say that.” You reach your free hand out, cupping his cheek across the table, thumb swiping over his cheek, wiping away a stray tear. You held him, feeling the heat in his cheeks, he turned into your touch, breath slowing. 

“You’re not a loser. You’re not a psycho. You’re not a bad dad, or-or a bad husband either.” You leaned forwards, closing in the gap between the two of you, the edge of the table digging into your stomach. “You made a mistake-” 

“-No, that’s-that’s- it’s worse than that. It’s so much fuckin’ worse than that. Don’t-” 

“-You made a mistake.” You said, firmer this time, cradling his cheek in your hand. 

Carmen took a breath, squeezing your hand in his, sniffing deep to keep his tears in. “I don’t… I don’t want to be like my parents.” He whispered, eyes rounding in a scared way. “I-I don’t want to fuck up you o-or Teddy or… I just don’t wanna end up like them. I wanna be different.” 

“You’re not gonna end up like them.” You shook your head softly. 

“No, I-I was actin’ just like them.” Carmen muttered. “Yellin’ at you a-and actin’ like a complete fuckin’ lunatic. Just like them, an-and I don’t wanna live like that.” 

“You won’t.” You reassured him gently, whispering across the table. He shook his head in protest. “Carm, listen to me. You’re… You’re not like them, ok?” 

You could feel Carmen start to shake, a trembling through his system that was a tell-tale sign of a panic attack. Your eyes scanned over the restaurant, filling up with the mid-afternoon rush. “Come on,” You nodded towards the door, pushing your chair back, hand still in his. “Let’s get some air.” 

Carmen didn’t argue, he wouldn’t- couldn’t even if he wanted to. Your hand in his, squeezing his gently, pulling him towards the car. Carmen pulled the keys out with shaky hands, unlocking the door. He reached for the passenger door, but you pulled the back door open instead, surprising him when you slipped in the backseat, nodding at him to follow you. You squeezed into the middle, Teddy’s car seat pressed to your back, Carmen pressed into your side, shutting the door.

“You’re not like them.” You broke the silence, turning yourself towards him. “You’re not.” 

Carmen leaned his head back against the seat, tears leaking out of his eyes. “You-You don’t have to do this, say that.” He shook his head. “I don’t deserve it.” 

“Carmen, you’re not like your parents.” You reached for his hand again. “The fact that you’re scared to be like them, scared and trying to stop it, that shows me you’re not like them.” 

Carmen’s chest stuttered, a hissing of a cry leaving his lungs. “You made a mistake.” You swallowed, your own heart aching. “But… But that doesn’t mean you’re as a whole a bad person. It just means you made a mistake, and if you learn from it and become better, then it’s ok. It’s a lesson learned.” 

Carmen nodded, eyes squeezing shut, tight like he was trying to keep everything in. “I just…I really fucking miss you.” Carmen admitted through a wobbly voice, eyes still closed. “I-I really miss you, and… and I want you to come home.” 

You shook your head, tears sliding down your cheeks. “I miss you too.” You whispered, squeezing his hand. “I missed you so much.” 

Carmen turned, arms wrapping around your body, pulling you tightly into him. His nose pressed into the top of your head, breathing in detergent that didn’t smell like what you used at home, shampoo, too. You held onto him, fingers digging into his shoulders, pushing him further and further into you until it felt like your bodies were meshing together, fusing into one. 

Whispered apologies shared through teary, wet sniffles filled the space. Carmen’s nose rubbing against yours, hesitating before he kissed you. You pulled him into you, finally soothing the aching longing that had built in your chest, your lips catching his, the two of you staying unmoving, wanting to feel the other. Clinging to each other, hands grabbing, lips parting, Carmen pressing you against the car seat, hand cradled on the back of your head. 

“I-I understand if you still don’t wanna come home.” Carmen muttered, breath hot over your cheek, nose rubbing against your skin. “But I really fuckin’ miss you.” 

“I miss you too.” You muttered, lips buzzing against his neck, tears hot and trickling onto the collar of his t-shirt. “I-I want to come home.” 

“A-Are you sure?” Carmen’s eyes lit up with hope, though he tried to hide it, the way he always did; too scared to let him get too excited, too hopeful because he always feared it would end. 

“Yeah,” You whispered, nodding gently, balling the back of his shirt between your fingers. 

“Yeah?” Carmen repeated, lips pressing together to keep his cry in, a different one this time. One of relief. For the first time in days, he felt like he could breathe, like his lungs weren’t constricting and on the brink of collapse. His mind didn’t race and cloud with delirious confusion. No, here and now, holding you, Carmen had clarity. 

The both of you stayed in the back of the car, holding the other, chest to chest until your heartbeat became the same, steady rhythm, matching the others. 

Carmen held your hand on the drive back, pressing wet kisses to your knuckles, trying to wipe his eyes of any tears. “Can’t let Pete see me cryin’ again.” He muttered. “That was a new fuckin’ low.” You had giggled softly, enough to have his heart fluttering. He’d never admit it out loud, not now, anyways, that he was thankful for Pete. How he’d taken care of you, of Teddy, of Anchovy. He’d stuck up for you, even if it was against Carmen, and that meant the world to Carmen. 

Pulling into Sugar and Pete’s house, Carmen shoved the gear shift into park, his hand still in yours, both of you sitting in each other's company for a minute longer. Just a little bit longer the two of you, before you had to face the others. 

“Oh, uh, one more thing.” Carmen’s thumb ran over your knuckles before he let go of your hand for a moment, raising up in the seat to dig into the front pocket of his jeans. 

“I, uh, I brought your rings back.” Carmen’s voice dropped, a shake in his words that matched the shake in his hands, pinching your wedding band and ring in between his fingers. 

You swallowed at the sight, Carmen holding the ring between his fingers, it took you back to years before when he’d proposed. Nearly as nervous as he was now, just as shaky, but for a different reason. 

“You don’t have to put them on or anything. I don’t- I’m not tryna make you do that, it’s your choice, obviously. I just,” Carmen took a breath, looking at you. “I thought you might want them back.” 

You paused for a moment, looking at the rings, the sting of the last time you saw them still burning and aching in your chest, but this time, it wasn’t as crushing. It was more of a dull ache, a tiredness that came with it instead of devastation. 

Reaching out, your fingertips tickled his palms, gathering the two rings in your hand. You looked at them, turning them over in your hands. “Thank you,” You mumbled, looking up at Carmen. He swallowed, giving a nod, trying to mask the hurt that you hadn’t put them back on- you didn’t miss it. 

“Do-” Your voice caught in your throat. “Will you put them back on?” You blinked at him, wide eyed, asking so sweet, Carmen thought his heart might give out entirely. 

You held the rings out towards him. “Will you put them back on for me? Please?” 

Carmen didn’t deserve you. The notion rang loud over and over in his head again, throat burning, welling up with tears. He didn’t deserve you. You were too good, too fuckin’ good for him. 

His hands trembled, holding yours and slipping the rings back onto your ring finger, back to their rightful place. Carmen twisted them, a deep breath of a sob that was threatening to break filling the space. His fingers intertwined with yours, free hand cupping your jaw, pulling you into a kiss over the console. 

Sugar looked out the window, peeking through the blinds. “What’re they doin’ out there?” Pete whispered behind her, like the two of you might hear them. “Do they look happy? Sad? You don’t think it went bad, do you? I mean, Carmen can be-” 

“-Pete,” Sugar snapped with a soft huff. “Look for yourself.” She moved, biting back a small grin. 

Pete slid in her place, pushing the blinds apart, sneakily looking out the side of them. He could see the two of you in the car, Carmen’s hands on the back of your head, holding you while you leaned across the console in a deep, passionate kiss. 

“Well, lookie there.” Pete grinned, letting the blinds fall. “I guess there was a happy ending after all.” 

Sugar rolled her eyes, lips twitching in a small smile. “He still has a lot to make up for. I hope she didn’t let him off the hook too easily.” She grumbled, crossing her arms. “But I am glad they made up. I would kill Carmen if he fucked things up with my favorite sister-in-law.” 

Pete let out a small laugh, looking out the window again. “The kids are gonna miss Teddy and Anchovy when they go back. MJ’s gonna be devastated they’re taking them.” Pete muttered, Sugar nodded. 

Pete paused for a moment, looking behind him with a soft frown. “Y’know, this is gonna sound crazy, Nat, but I’ll be kinda glad when Anchovy is gone.” Pete admitted in a hushed tone, like Anchovy might hear him. 

Sugar snorted lightly. “Yeah. Except MJ and Maggie will be begging for a cat of their own. They’ve already started and I told them-” 

“-No, I mean,” Pete turned, watching the orange cat slink around at the top of the stairs, Anchovy glaring down at Pete before disappearing to the guest room. “I don’t think that cat likes me.”

[neil-gaiman]

Ahoy Neil. Your books and writing have always been such an integral part of my life even when I was younger and didn't know it was you doing the writing. I purchase items and spread recommendations to anyone who is interested but I would like to know is there a way I, as a fan, can properly thank you? If you ever came to Perth, WA I could show my gratitude in a properly substantial way but since the likelihood is not very large, is there another way? A charity I could donate to, a task you would like people to perform in your name? You have given so much to the world and specifically to me so name it and if it is within my power to grant it shall be done!

Anything that helps refugees, anything that helps libraries, anything that helps feed or look after hungry school kids (especially things like "toast clubs" or breakfast clubs that have food for kids arriving hungry to school).

[pathologicalreid]

a special occasion | S.R.

moving your daughter into a toddler bed brings about some interesting conversation

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: mom!reader, dad!spencer, the f word, talks about having another baby but not necessarily suggestive, extremely accurate emily prentiss characterization word count: 1.36k a/n: this is the spencer reid dilf agenda: father's day edition! this entire fic was born from a headcanon that spencer is stupid good at building ikea furniture. also, this is technically the family from cryptic, but you don't have to read that fic to know what's happening here. it's just easier than making/naming a new baby every time.

“Emily started trying to teach her to swear,” Spencer told you, pulling a bag of screws out of the cardboard box splayed on the floor in your toddler’s room.

While he started to check whether or not all of the pieces were there, your eyes followed your daughter as she ran around the room, pulling each toy out of her toy box and setting it on the other side of the room. “I think we should consider ourselves lucky that Em waited until she was two to start her campaign,” you responded, thanking your daughter as she handed you a baby doll.

The crib had already been taken apart and was ready to be stored in the basement, and the pieces that were organized on the floor would eventually create a toddler bed. Right now, the floor was just covered in wood and screws – tiny pieces that set your mom instincts on high alert. Looking at the pieces, Spencer raised his head, “Hey, Nellie, can you hand me that screwdriver?” He asked your toddler, pointing at the screwdriver on the floor for her to grab.

You tried to hide your smile as Eleanor picked up the wrench from the floor and proudly presented it to her father. He thanked her, and as she toddled back to her toy box, you slyly passed the screwdriver to your husband. “Welcome,” she said softly, “welcome, welcome, welcome,” she echoed.

After reading about how important it was to involve your toddler in setting up their big kid bed, you and Spencer set out to include Nellie in every step. She picked the bed frame, the sheets, and everything she could possibly need for the bed. “Did you tell Emily not to teach her swear words?”

“Of course I did, but I’m pretty sure she started up again when I left the room,” he informed you, using the screwdriver to attach two pieces of the base together.

Humming, you glanced over to Eleanor, “I’d have thought Derek would be the one to start it,” you muttered, watching as she ducked her entire head in the toy box, obviously looking for a particular toy.

Spencer continued working on putting the pieces together, faltering in his movements as Nell made her way back to where the two of you were sitting. She made her way around the bed parts and unceremoniously sat down next to her father, her pigtails – his handiwork – bouncing as she plopped to the ground. “Hi princess,” he greeted, taking a moment to hug her into his side before returning to his construction work.

Eleanor happily waved the wooden hammer she had retrieved from the toy box in the air, “Help daddy,” she offered giddily, kicking her feet as she watched him complete another step in the process.

“Here, can you hammer this right here?” He asked her, pointing to the part he had just fastened, having her hammer at the screw – she was none the wiser. “Good job,” he praised her before reaching over for the next piece.

Furrowing your brow, you watched him work as Nell hammered at the carpet in front of her, “You’re not even reading the instructions.”

He shrugged, “I looked at them before I started, but I don’t need them,” he said casually, adjusting his arm as Eleanor leaned into him.

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t tell me you can just visualize the way the pieces go together in your giant brain.”

“Okay,” he answered simply, a small smirk sprouting on his face, “I won’t tell you that.”

Groaning, you laid back on the carpet and stared up at the ceiling, “I have been building furniture for years and you’re telling me I could’ve just handed it off to you?” Every bookshelf you had put together while he was off on a case, you could’ve just saved it for him.

Nellie had started creating a song about her love of hammers, continuing to hammer at the floor. “Oh, hey, be careful,” Spencer said gently, “those screws are sharp,” he told her.

Your head snapped up to see her reaching out for the pile of screws on the floor, and Spencer was doing his best to redirect her to the bolts. “Sharp,” she echoed solemnly, leaning back and holding her hammer with both hands.

“Can you say hammer?” You asked, pointing to the apparatus in her hand.

Holding it up proudly, she gave you a toothy grin, “Hammer!” She fumbled over her “r” sound, but Spencer assured you that it was a skill that she had plenty of time to develop.

As Spencer finished putting the bed together, you continued asking Eleanor to name the bits and bobs around her bedroom. “You’re so smart, lovebug. You get your brains from your daddy,” you told her.

“But you’re pretty like your mama,” he instantly responded, not even looking up from what he was doing to talk you up to your daughter – as if the two of them didn’t have the same big, brown eyes.

You pulled yourself up to a sitting position, smiling as Nell stood up and walked over to you, “Mama,” she said, turning around and taking a seat in your lap. “Bed?” She asked, looking over at the spot where her crib used to reside.

Switching from the screwdriver to a hex key, Spencer smiled at the two of you, “Almost,” he answered.

Gently dropping a kiss on the top of her head, you smiled fondly down at your toddler, “Do you remember picking your new bed out?” You asked while you pointed at the frame your husband was nearly finished with and the pile of fresh sheets she had chosen.

Nodding slowly, Nellie watched Spencer place the mattress on the bed frame before inviting her to come try it out. He reached out his hand for her, and she took his index finger in her tiny hand before he helped her up on the bed, “What do you think Nellie?” He asked, straightening out her ladybug overalls from where they were getting twisted up.

“Big,” she answered, releasing her hold on his finger and laying down on the mattress. You checked the time on your phone to make sure she wasn’t missing a nap.

Spencer stood up, picking her up as he did so, he held her close, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “You started climbing out of your crib every night, so you got to upgrade to a big girl bed,” he explained to her. You shuffled over to grab the sheets and start making the bed. “Alright, did Aunt Emily teach you a new word last night?”

From the way she smiled at him, you knew the answer to the question and that she had been informed that Emily would get in trouble for teaching her the word, “Fuck!”

Clamping your hand over your mouth to stop from laughing, you heard your husband sigh behind you, “Did Aunt Emily tell you that you shouldn’t say that?”

“Speshul cay-shun,” she sounded out the answer as he let her down, she went back to the bed that you had just finished making. You helped her up on the bed and she proceeded to lay down on the comforter, patterned with multi-colored flowers.

While she explored her new bed, you stood next to your husband, “Shame we have no use for the crib anymore,” he murmured to you, snaking an arm around your waist.

Raising your eyebrows, you turned to look at him, “Oh, you are fishing right now, Spencer Reid.” You were half joking, half scolding as you beamed up at him.

Spencer placed both of his hands on either side of your waist, “I am merely stating a fact,” he said, feigning innocence.

“Pointedly, stating a fact,” you corrected him, “It’s definitely something to consider.”

“Fuck,” a small voice said from behind the both of you, causing your head to snap back to your daughter, who was now making snow angels on her new bed.

You cringed slightly, “Maybe we’ll revisit after we solve this issue.”

He looked fondly over at the toddler, “You have to admit, it is a special occasion.”

[cornsoupflavour]

Office Space Rivalry (aespa NSFW Smut)

⚠️18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI⚠️

Requested by: @shockbot54

Office!Giselle/Aeri Uchinaga x Office!Male Reader

Tags: 3.4k words, rivals to lovers, wholesome?, romance, creampie, build up, office siren

You sat at your desk. It was yet another day of being a regular office worker at SM Entertainment, surrounded by piles of paperwork. In a world filled with idols and popstars, you can't help but feel a little damp about it all. The hum of the AC droned throughout the silence of the office accompanied by distant keyboard clicking.

You sat at your desk. It was yet another day of being a regular office worker at SM Entertainment, surrounded by piles of paperwork. In a world filled with idols and popstars, you can't help but feel a little damp about it all. The hum of the AC droned throughout the silence of the office accompanied by distant keyboard clicking.

Your eyes occasionally caught glimpses of Giselle, a member of aespa who had taken up a job amidst her break from stardom. Her long, dark hair flowed over her shoulders as she tapped away at her keyboard, her expression sullen and distant. You couldn't help but feel a pull towards her but stopped yourself. Her presence here has squandered your opportunities to gain a promotion, or at the very least made it ten times harder.

Giselle's hiatus from the limelight was a recent and well–kept secret. The public knew little about her personal life, only that she'd be away for a bit and won't be joining the performances. But here at SM Entertainment, the company was aware of her need for a break. She was dressed in a black blazer overcoat and a long flowy white skirt. A silver necklace with a small 'A' charm dangled between her cleavage.

The office manager passed by your desk with an air of importance. "Y/N, you'll be working with Giselle on a special project. It's for a new idol's profile, which includes a short bio, her discography, and a photoshoot concept."

You nodded in acknowledgement as your boss walked over to Giselle's desk to let her in on the same news. As he walked back to his office, you could see the disgruntled visage of Giselle peaking right above your desk divider.

You let out a drawn out sigh as you reluctantly made your way to Giselle's desk. The two of you never saw eye to eye, and your distaste for her was palpable. Maybe it was your jealousy... Maybe it was just that you wanted her so bad and you couldn't admit it to yourself. Giselle, on the other hand, couldn't stand your uppity attitude, regarding you as just another brown–noser.

"Good morning, Giselle. Looks like we've been assigned to work on a project together." you said, your voice monotonous and devoid of emotion.

Giselle looked up, her eyes narrowing. "Fantastic," she replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

With that, the two of you began to begrudgingly work on the project together. Your dislike for each other radiated from your pores. As you two scrolled through the new idol's information and material. Giselle would intentionally misplace important folders, and you would occasionally interrupt her while she was voicing out an idea to steal said idea. This back and forth would increase in passive–aggressive animosity gradually for the course of the first few weeks of the project.

On the first checkpoint, the two of you presented a draft of the idol's profile. The manager looked pleased and thanked you for your hard work. "It's a great start, and I believe with a few more tweaks, we'll have a solid profile. Keep up the good work, you two."

You and Giselle both nodded, unable to muster a smile. As you parted ways back to your respective desks, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered between you. It was like, despite not clicking on a personal level, you and Giselle complement each other well on a business level. It had been a tiring, stressful and oddly entertaining few weeks, but you two had made some progress... with the project, of course.

As the weeks dragged on, the project began to slowly take shape. You found yourself unable to deny the professional synergy between the two of you. Giselle, as an idol with experience, gave insight into the music industry, allowing you to form a cohesive and realistic looking profile for the idol. This gave you two the edge and even sped up the progress by a substantial amount.

As you worked on the profile, you found Giselle's opinions invaluable, much to your chagrin. Every time you'd disagree, you couldn't help but reflect on it when you got home and realised how right she was. She knew exactly how to word things to make the new idol's story more relatable and engaging. It pained you to agree or even highlight her ideas and opinions but... her knowledge is what helped you two progress this far.

The discography was a slightly different beast. Giselle's experience in the studio helped guide the project in the right direction. You'd listen to the songs she recommended, incorporating them into the discography, and as a result, the new idol's work was steadily becoming more cohesive. Despite still being in aespa, Giselle opted for you to go through the discography of other groups and idols.

The photoshoot concept was where Giselle shined the most. With her fashion sense and styling, she could see the complete picture of how an idol's story should be told through visuals. Not wanting to let the rivalry go, you'd argue over the smallest details, like the color palette and the type of props. Much to your dismay however, you'd eventually settle on something that worked for both of you.

Tensions between the two of you had seemingly eased. You were unable to pick her apart anymore for you never had a reason to. It felt like you might be on the path of... becoming friends... You found yourself laughing at her sarcastic remarks and even cracking a joke or two. The project brought you closer in a way you didn't expect. You could feel yourself wanting to be closer, wanting to be around her, wanting... her? However, there was still a simmering animosity there, like a fuse waiting to be lit.

On the day of the final presentation, the two of you were decked out in your respective work attire. Giselle was in a short, black dress with long sleeves that hugged her waist and curves, paired with black, knee–high boots. You, on the other hand, were in a navy blue suit with a crisp, white shirt beneath. Once again, you felt your disdain towards her challenged as the way she dressed sent an odd feeling surging through your body. It's like you couldn't look away.

The two waited in a meeting room, sat on opposite sides of the long desk. The manager walked in, his expression impressed. "This is fantastic work, you two. You've done an excellent job in bringing this new idol's profile to life. It's a perfect reflection of who she is. I should put you on more projects together."

The moment the manager left, Giselle smirked. "You know, for a minute there, I almost thought we were a team." Her tone was slightly aggravating, and her words were a clear jab at you.

You clenched your jaw, the familiar dislike and disdain for her bubbling back up. "Y–Yeah, well, it was all an act on my end. You're lucky I needed this project to succeed." The words were spoken without a single glance in her direction. You felt an odd ache in your heart, it was almost as if you actually thought things were straightening out between the two of you.

Giselle's eyes narrowed, and she stood from the desk with a huff. "Whatever. I'm going to head out for lunch. I'm too hungry for this right now, Y/N." With that, she stormed off.

You shook your head, letting out a sigh as you stood from the desk as well. You made your way to the desk to lay your stuff down before heading out of the building to grab lunch, you noticed that it seemed to be raining heavily and brought your coat with you. That's when you spot a familiar curvy figure at the building's entrance, hiding just out of sight. You walked over to her as you stepped out of the sliding glass doors.

"I thought you were heading off to lunch, what happened?" you asked, your tone smug.

Giselle looked up at you, obviously not pleased to see you, "...are you blind or something? It's raining, and I haven't got an umbrella. I'm just gonna sit here and wait it out."

You playfully pouted as you too looked out at the pouring rain. You sighed and hung your head. "Get up." You gestured for her to stand up before taking your own coat off and handing it to her.

She hesitated before grabbing it reluctantly and scurrying off into the rain.

"HEY– THAT'S MY COAT–" you chased her as she ran.

You couldn't help but stand for a moment and laugh to yourself as this hiatus–ridden idol ran through the rain using your suit coat as cover. You shook your head before braving the downpour yourself, trying to catch up with, but she seemed to be quite fast. Her black dress hugged her curvy frame, and for a moment, you couldn't help but admire how well it fit her. Wet strands of her hair clung to her face as she turned back to face you teasingly, and you couldn't help but feel a swell of protectiveness.

You ran through the rain as she did the same. Eventually, you caught up to her, finding shelter under a building. "Jeez, for someone in high heels– you run fast..." Giselle glanced at you, a hint of a smirk forming. "Yeah? Well, I'm hungry, sorry if you can't keep up~" she tossed the wet coat into your arms, granting a look of slight discomfort from you.

You began to ring your coat out as she approached you once more, "When you're done, just come and find me. I guess I could let you eat with me." As quickly as she approached, she left, back towards the table. 

About half an hour passed, you sat adjacent to her, enjoying a delicious meal. "Thanks for the jacket... by the way." You raised your head from your meal, nodding with your mouth full. "Don't worry about it. Figured it was the least I could do since you kinda helped us get the project done as quick as we did."

"Sorry for throwing your jacket back at you..." she apologised with a hint of brattiness. It was as if she wasn't really sorry. "It's fine. You don't like me and I was kinda expecting you'd do that."

She sighed before turning to face you, "And what do you want in return?" She batted her eyes, her confidence and sex appeal on full display.

You cleared your throat, feeling the heat in your cheeks. "Uh... Just pay for lunch, and we're cool," you stuttered out, trying to play it cool.

"Fine," Giselle replied, her face returning back to looking void.

As you two continued eating, Giselle started to open up. She wasn't letting you in on her lore, but more of just, coming out of her shell and speaking to you. You found yourself laughing at her jokes, enjoying her quips and sarcasm. The more time you spent with her, the more you realized you were starting to fall for her. You couldn't deny the way her gaze made your stomach flutter, or how her touch sent shivers down your spine.

Giselle, however, tried to maintain her distance. Every time she caught you staring, she'd make a snide comment or change the subject. You could see the unapproving glare in her eyes, but it only fueled your desire to win her over. It wasn't that she hated you, she was just, not into like that... not yet, at least.

However, as time went on, more lunches and work sessions went by, and Giselle began to open up around you. The sarcastic remarks became more playful, and the subtle glares disappeared.

One evening, a few minutes till the end of the work day, your manager approached your desk to let you know that you and Giselle will be joining the new idol on a tour. You looked up, your expression surprised. "What do you mean? You want us to buy tickets for all her shows?"

"What? No– You two will be joining her as she goes around for her tours. I'll book you one extra room for you two to share because that's how much we've got left of the budget. No funny business, or do, I don't really care."

His voice growled at the end as he turned and walked to Giselle's desk to tell her the exact same thing. As he left, you could see Giselle's eyes poking right above the desk dividers, a knowing eyebrow raise etched on her face. A few days go by and you two have found yourself in a hotel room together after the new idol's first performance. Giselle, now much more comfortable with you than before, leaned in close to you, her chest almost touching your arm. "Y/N, I think you've done a great job with this project," she whispered in your ear. You could feel her warm breath, and your heart raced.

"Wha– Huh?" you stuttered, your cheeks burning red.

She smirked before returning to unpack her things. "You wanna go out for a drink?" She asked, her ass swaying in the air as she reached down for her suitcase. You couldn't help but be drawn to her, like she was some sort of siren. You slowly approached her before deciding to grab her waist and gently buck yours against hers.

"What are you doing?" Giselle asked, standing back up. "You need something?"

You snapped out of your trance–like state, "Huh? What? Oh, uhh nothing. Sorry, just uhh– Yeah, it's nothing." You waddled back to your side of the room, blinking sporadically. "Yeah, I'd be down for some drinks." Giselle raised an eyebrow at you, not entirely sure of what just happened, but decided to brush it off.

You both arrived at the bar later that night and ordered a cocktail each. Giselle sipped her cocktail, her hair tousled, and her makeup a tad smudged from the hectic day of watching over this new idol. But your gaze settled on Giselle, entranced. As the night went on, the air grew thick with flirtation.

Eventually, Giselle reached out and took your hand, her fingers entwined with yours. "Y/N, I don't know what it is about you, but you've grown on me," she admitted, her eyes searching for yours, unsure.

You smiled, your heart pounding in your chest. "And I've grown on you, too, Giselle," you responded, feeling the weight of the world lift off your shoulders. It was an odd feeling. You could tell she was still quite reserved but she said it. You'd grown onto her. Maybe... just maybe, you should seize this opportunity, with a kiss...

You leaped into her arms, pulling her close for a passionate, deep kiss. The grumpy and unapproving façade slipped away, replaced by passion and desire. Her tongue began to intertwine with yours, as both your hands gripped onto her ass. Was this the cocktails? Certainly not, right? It can't be that you two got this drunk over one cocktail.

But alas, it wasn't the alcohol. It was the gradual build up of desire fostered through business rivalry and the need to be better than the other. You couldn't take it anymore, you lifted her into a bridal carry and rushed her back to the hotel room. Your frantic movements looked as though you were about to piss your pants. You probably were, but not due to poor bladder management, maybe just excitement.

Once in, you slammed the door shut, still holding Giselle in your arms. You could feel her heart racing against your chest, echoing yours. With a smirk, you laid her on the bed, the sheets crinkling beneath her. Giselle's plaid skirt clung to her hips and thighs, and her black lace panties revealed themselves.

She nodded, a hungry look in her eyes. "Then have me~ Take them off, Y/N."

You slowly pulled her panties down, until they reached her ankles. Giselle lifted her legs, slipping them off, revealing her moist, wet folds. Your cock twitched, eager to be enveloped by her. You licked your fingers before gliding two of them over her folds.

You unbuttoned your shirt, letting Giselle gaze at and caress your chest with her fingers. "Damn, you were hiding that from me?" Your pants pooled somewhere on the room floor as you lined yourself up with her entrance. Giselle laid there, her eyes teasing but also begging. She adjusted her glasses and rolled her top up, just enough for her gorgeous twin girls to be seen, still confined by her lacey black bra, but not enough for her top to be off.

"Not yet, Y/N~ You wanna see them? Feel them? You've gotta earn it~" She teased, tracing your jawline with her finger. She reached up and grabbed you by the back of your neck, pulling you in for another, intense kiss. The kiss was deep, hungry, and passionate, your tongues mingling as you plunged yourself into her.

Breaking the kiss, you feel your cock bottom her out, the tip of your cock already dripping with pre–cum inside her. "FUCK– YOU'RE SO TIGHT–" Giselle's eyes widen as she feels you inside her for the first time.

"NNGH~ Fuck yes, Y/N!" she responded, her voice shaky with desire.

You smirked as you began to pound her roughly, your lips unable to pull themselves away from hers. She bit her lip, moaning softly.

"Aahh, Y/N, I'm...", she let out a breathy moan, "...so full. You feel so fucking good, Y/N."

You smirked, thrusting in and out of her slow and steady at first. Giselle's legs wrapped around your waist, her nails digging in.

"Mmmm, Y/N... you feel... so fucking good..." Giselle moaned, arching her back, hips moving to match your thrusts.

Giselle's desire is burned brightly within her, and you loved feeling the power of being inside her. You're in control, the rhythm of your thrusts increasing in speed, causing Giselle's moans to grow louder.

"Gnnnngh... Y/N... oh, fuck... don't stop... Mmmf~" Giselle encouraged, her moans garnering more intensity.

You couldn't, you wouldn't stop. Your thrusts quicken, your hips slamming into her, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. You lean down to kiss her, your mouths crashing together, your tongues tangling, each thrust aligning with a sharp inhale from Giselle.

The heat between the two of you was intoxicating, and Giselle's moans grew louder, her grip on your back tightening. You can feel the walls of her pussy gripping you tighter and tighter, milking you for all you're worth.

"You like this, don't you? You like feeling my cock bottom you out."

Giselle nodded, her eyes rolling out as her tongue stuck out. You leaned down and used your teeth to lift her bra off her tits before helping yourself to them. You flicked each nipple with your tongue, letting your head swim onto them like a baby being breastfed.

"Y/N, I'm... I'm gonna cum... oh, God, Y/N," she panted, her walls clenching around you as she reached her climax. "Please– Kiss me–"

She pressed her lips onto yours as she let herself indulge in your taste. She felt your cock twitch and throb within her. "Cum inside me. Breed me."

Hearing the way she begged and commanded nearly pushed you over the edge. "I'm... I'm close, Giselle..." you panted, your thrusts became more frantic, the build–up to climax an intense, heady feeling.

Giselle's eyes fluttered open, her face flushed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Cum with me, Y/N, I want to feel you cum inside me. Fill. Me. Up."

You gripped the sheets tightly, your thrusts growing more erratic, your cock pulsating inside her.

"Oh God, Giselle– I'm gonna cum~!" you shouted, your cock twitching, the tip of your cock pulsating inside her, spurts of hot, thick cum flooding her insides, your body trembling. Giselle screamed as she orgasmed, her pussy clamping down onto your shaft. She shuddered and gasped.

You collapsed on top of her, chest heaving, a mixture of sweat and lust coating your bodies. "Fuck– Giselle– I– I–" you struggled, pressing a kiss to her lips, spent.

She's panting, her chest rising and falling. "That was... unexpected... We should uhm... do more of that... maybe not tonight, but we definitely should..." Giselle says, her hand tracing your back, her fingertips gentle, her eyes filled with a newfound appreciation for you.

You smile, gazing at her, "I agree, I came so hard... But I'm glad I could... surprise you, Giselle."

Her smile is small, tender, her eyes soft and forgiving. "Yeah..."

[Let me know if you want a part two or if you want me to make this a long running story. And let me know who else you'd want to see a fic about.]

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for monster fucker anonymous!

Request: Human is chubby trans masc uses he/him with a pussy/hole/cunt. Human very happily takes a job where he is a breeding hole for monster science studies. It's like a hole in the wall where only his bottom half is on show and his top half is hidden so he can hide his face. The monsters take turns using him till he passes out or gives up. In the end he is offered a full time job as a breeding hole. He can't get pregnant but it doesn't stop monsters from trying.

The hole in the wall

Orc x minotaur x werewolf x chubby trans masc!reader || free use, breeding, cum playing, lowkey dirty talk, glory hole

When they offered you a good pay at the science lab for a job that seemed too easy, you agreed immediately. They were trying to understand the mating cycles of different monsters and they needed human subjects in the control group. Seemed easy, seemed like a great pay for very little effort. You were 100% on with it, already thinking what would you do with the money.

“This is your station.” The researcher pointed to a padded hole in a wall. A literal hole in a wall.

“Wha-what?” You asked, confused. Maybe you should have paid a bit more attention to your friend when he explained the details.

“Yeah, we don’t want the monsters to get distracted with other parts of your anatomy, so you are supposed to get your torso in there, so your hole is the only thing they can fuck out here. Didn’t they tell you this in the interview?” She asks, as confused as you.

“I didn’t go through the interview… Your head researcher recommended me.” You didn’t tell her you agreed too fast to listen to the specifics, your brain already filled with possible scenarios involving your soft body and a hard, hard monster.

You didn’t tell her you were more than happy to be fucked by monsters. It was a special kink of yours, and you never found the moment to act on your fantasies. You had been a bit too self-conscious about your body, but this seemed like a great opportunity to get what you wanted without thinking too much about it.

“Well, you have to get in there and I’ll tie your extremities, then prep you for the monsters.” She explained as you inspected the padded space. It seemed big enough, but it might be a tight fit over your soft tummy and fat ass. But well, at least the ass would be on the outside of it. You had to bite your tongue not to laugh at your silly thoughts.

“Are they sentient?” You asked. You didn’t really mind if they were feral, but it would be good to know beforehand, just in case.

She kept checking some stuff on the wall as she wrote down some things on her tablet, not minding you at all. “Yeah, they are volunteers. Each clan or pack sent their own prime specimens.”

Nervousness was not your best friend in this scenario, you felt jittery with excitement and anticipation, and a soft dose of eagerness underlying those. “What are they?” You finally asked, wanting to know what exactly you were against today.

You didn’t really mind what kind of monsters they were, but the curiosity was making you jump on your feet. You hoped there was at least one werewolf there, you wanted to feel the knot so bad it would make you look stupid if you said it out loud. So you didn’t.

“Let me check.” She looked through some papers and choked a little trying to hide a laugh. “Well, I hope you are ready. Your group includes a minotaur, an orc and a werewolf.” Oh fuck. Not only a werewolf, but two of the other biggest species of monsters. You sent a silent thanks to your friend for setting you up on this job. You were going to get paid to get your sexual fantasies fulfilled, how wild was that?

You tried to act nonchalant so she wouldn’t know how turned on you were already. “Oh… Okay.” Your voice broke in the middle and you flushed, embarrassed. Your insides turned into jelly.

“Get inside and I’ll get you ready.” She instructed.

You got naked and positioned yourself on your back, legs hanging out and back against the padded table inside the hole. There was enough space for you to move, and it felt airy and comfortable. Your arms were free and there was a red button close to you in case something went wrong. That made you feel a bit better, even though you knew you wouldn’t press it. You wanted this more than you needed air. Your need and horniness making your brain felt like it was filled with cotton candy.

It was a weird feeling to have your lower half across the wall, but not in a bad way. You felt the anticipation building up, heat pooling in your lower abdomen. She tied your legs up against the wall, your body almost in a 90º angle. You felt completely exposed as she inspected your genitals as she explained the breeding procedure. You didn’t hear half of it, too focused on her moving around and poking at your skin. After that, you felt a splash of cold lube against your boy-cunt, the researcher mumbled a soft “sorry” when you jumped a bit. She worked it over your hole until you felt slippery and wet.

The medical technicalities should have made you feel weird, but they turned you on even more. When she said her goodbyes and told you to press the red button if you had any problems you were so ready to be breed that your brain was swimming in need.

And then there was silence. Your nervousness grew, and you wriggled your ass trying to find a more comfortable position, but your tied legs stopped you. You heard the footsteps before someone said: “Look at that… He has a great ass, fuck.” Next thing you knew, there were rough, furry hands groping your ass. The werewolf. Fuck, that was hot. You covered your mouth to muffle the groans. Not seeing whoever was touching you adding to your arousal.

That same hand that groped your ass, ran a set of very pointy nails down your crack, the threat of danger making you shiver, your legs shaking against the restrains holding them up. He spanked you lightly as someone else chuckled. You could feel your soft flesh moving as the werewolf played with your ass, pulling your cheeks apart and blowing warm air over your hole.

You moaned loudly around your hand, thinking there was no way the heard, but he did it again. The laugh they let out was enough sign of it. Fuck, you forgot about super-hearing. “Such a pretty hole. We are going to have so much fun with you, little human.” You had to bite your lip to refrain telling them you weren’t little, but a picture of a monster appeared in your brain and you stopped. You were probably small compared to them, they were so big… Shit, you didn’t even know you had a size kink. Another day, another unlocked kink.

“I call dibs!” A deep voice called out, making you press your hand to your mouth harder to stop a giggle escaping. There was some kind of struggle and you tried to imagine them fighting over who got to fuck you first. They were so eager to fuck you, it was the best ego booster. All your self-consciousness about your soft tummy or big ass disappeared as they bickered about who got to fuck your cunt first.

“Dude! That’s not cool. I wanted to go first.” He sounded pouty and you wanted to see them so bad. But at the same time, some part of you was excited that they couldn’t see you. It turned you on to know you were just a hole for them, and they were going to use you as they pleased. Fuck. Why was that so hot? “Okay, but I’m second,” he finally said with a very fake sigh.

“Sure, sure… Just let me taste him first.” You jumped against your restrains when a rough big tongue made contact with your gaping hole. You cried out and heard the responding chuckles across the wall. “He’s a screamer, this is going to be great.” A hand grabbed your hips and pushed up, appearing at your side of the hole. The orc. The pale green skin looked so pretty against your soft tummy.

Images of monster porn appeared in your brain as you felt the first poke of his fingers. He went right in with two, making you arch your back and shake your legs, trying to get away from the invasion. His green hand held you still, pushing your hip down as he continued his attack on your hole until you were about to cum, groans and moans escaping your mouth.

“That’s it. He’s so ready, his insides are so fucking soft and warm. He’s so damn tight. Look at him guys, look at this hole.” The orc retracted his fingers and opened you up for the other two to see. You heard their appreciative hums and grunts, your whole body flushed with embarrassment. You were tied and exposed, completely at their mercy, and good goddess if that wasn’t exciting. “I hope you are ready, little human, I’m not going to be careful.”

That’s all the heads up you got before his dick was pressing into you in one hard thrust. His big balls hit your ass as he set a punishing pace, grabbing your hips and fucking you against his dick, using you like you were just a fleshlight for him. He didn’t stop even when you came once, twice. He kept fucking you and grunting as your tight hole gripped his length like a vice. He told you how good you felt around him, how full he was going to make you. It was such a turn on you came a third time as the first shoot of his come hit your insides.

He pulled away rapidly. You felt his cum leaking out, your hole gaping at the emptiness. You whined and they shushed you. “Don’t worry, human, more is coming.” You felt the tip of a new dick in your abused hole, bigger than the orc’s. “Ready or not, I’m going to ruin your cunt.” The minotaur voice was gravelly and growly, making you shiver as he pushed the tip of his dick against your leaking hole.

He probed at your entrance for a few seconds before pushing inside in one hard thrust. You had to push your hands to the wall over you to not hit your head with the force of his thrusts, your tummy jiggling as he screwed you. He was restless, his dick was so big you could feel it touching ever single part of you, a tiny bump against your abdomen making you see stars.

He told you how good your human cunt was, how pretty stretched around his dick, how good you’d look full of him, full of his cum. You whined and threshed, oversensitive as he fucked a few more orgasms out of you. When you felt him shooting inside of you, it felt like molten lava. It was so warm and there was so much of it, you didn’t know a monster could cum so fucking much. A bump formed in your abdomen, and it stayed there even when he pulled out. You tentatively pushed down with your hand, blushing as you heard the gushing sound of cum dripping to the floor.

Their groans made you blush harder. “His hole is gaping, fill him up. He has such an eager cunt, I want to go again.” The minotaur said, making the other two hum in agreement.

“You can have another turn later, now it’s my turn,” the werewolf said as you felt his dick slipping inside you. You felt so full, your insides messy and your hole so tender pleasure and pain mixed with every thrust. He didn’t give you a resting second, he fucked you like he didn’t care about you. You guessed he didn’t, for them you were just a breeding hole.

You thought you were full before, but the second the werewolf knot started to swell inside of you, your brain short-circuited. You couldn’t hear anything apart from your rapid heartbeat as he pushed it inside, stretching you so wide and so harshly you felt your consciousness slipping.

Next thing you knew, the orc dick was being shoved inside of you around. The amount of cum inside of you mixed with your own juices created a slurping sound that was deafening to your ears, even through the space between your wide hips and the hole in the wall.

They joked between them and talked about how good your cunt was, how pretty and puffy it looked as they pushed their cum inside over and over. You felt like a messy glazed donut. It was almost disgusting, if it didn’t feel so fucking good. Your brain was unable to focus anymore, you could only feel the come inside of you gushing out as more was pushed in. The filthy symphony of your ravishment.

They fucked you one after the other over and over, it was a never-ending bacchanal and you were the center of it.

When your brain was completely shut down and your drool was creating a tiny pool, a beep beep sound alerted you that it finished. The breeding period was over. You made it. They booed and grunted in disappointment, but your poor abused hole gave a soft twitch.

“Good job, human hole.” One of them lightly caressed your ass as the other pushed some of the cum leaking out back inside and softly told you: “Hope to see you around.” You sighed happily, brain non functioning as you heard them walking away.

You barely remembered the researcher coming back to get you, telling you the results of the day and getting your bank account. Two days later you got a call. The lab offered you a permanent position as their breeding hole.

Apparently the group of monsters talked so well about your boy-cunt that everyone else at the facility wanted to give it a go. To give you a go. The lab usually asked for different humans in each trial, but they would make an exception for you. You would be the perfect breeding hole for the monsters to spend some of their extra energy, a free human hole for them to use as they pleased.

You said yes.

Remember you can comission me, the info is here.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Maybe Spencer is having a bad BAD day, full on ptsd, and sunshine!reader is trying hard to cheer him up. It gets to a point where Spmcer just snaps and says something mean and starts a fight

Spencer can feel the bars around him. He feels trapped in his own mind because he can see that he isn’t in prison anymore, but his brain has been conjuring these vivid dreams of him being back and of Shaw sending men to beat him up.

Every night, the dreams end with Spencer never being found not guilty and him having to spend five years in prison and his eventual death from Shaw’s men.

He’s gasping and shaking and there’s a sweat spot on his sheets. He apologises every morning, you tell him it’s okay and that you’re here to talk. He never wants to talk about it and you never push.

He doesn’t sleep the rest of the night and it makes him irritable.

When he comes into work, you try not to internalise the way he brushes you out of his path as he beelines for the coffee pot.

“I already put your cup on your desk. With breakfast.” You try to temper your cheeriness when you notice the way his shoulders tense.

Spencer wants to be grateful, but all he can think is, ‘I can do it myself. I can take care of myself.’

He doesn’t say anything, not a quiet thanks, not even a half smile.

Your nerves are frayed immediately.

You don’t know what Spencer experienced in prison, he’s told you bits and pieces, the nicer parts of living in a 4 x 4.

Yet, you know the signs of PTSD and as the day drags on, you’re almost certain Spencer’s having a rough go of things.

He’s been snappy with Luke, nice with Penelope, and then flippant with you all over again. It’s hard not to feel like nothing you do is helping.

“We could go out to get lunch. From the place you like, the burger joint.” Spencer’s been slipping in and out of this conversation and the longer he hears your sweet voice, the more it sounds like chalk grating a blackboard.

At his silence, “Or we could order in? Whatever helps, Spence.”

Suddenly, his coffee cup is shattering in the wall behind your head and Spencer’s chest is racing. “Stop!” You feel hot tears prick behind your eyes at being yelled at; at work no less.

“It would help if you weren’t fucking hovering all the damn time. I can take care of myself, I don’t need your help. As a matter of fact, I don’t want your help. Go find someone else to be happy go lucky with, some of us can’t stand it.”

Your breath hitches, you’ve never heard Spencer speak with such venom. You reach a hand to your cheek pulling it away to find blood on your fingertips. Spencer must see it too because he’s on his feet, reaching for you as you step away from his outstretched hands.

You try to remind yourself that he’s just reeling, that he’s been having a rough couple of nights, that this will pass and that you don’t need to be mean to him too. “Fuck you Spencer.” The words are out of you before you can think about it much more. It’s honestly the nicest thing you could muster right now, embarrassment and defeat hot in your chest.

Emily and Matt rush in, finding Spencer tugging at his hair. Emily sighs as she sees the broken mug, Matt sighs as he notes your missing presence.

“Fucking stupid.” Spencer murmurs to himself, pushing back his chair, digging around in his desk for a first aid kit. “I’ll come back and clean it up,” no one is really listening. Emily will do this for him while he cleans up his other mess.

Spencer finds you in the bathroom with Penelope cleaning the little shards from your hair and cheek.

She glares at him and Spencer feels even worse; to top it off you don’t even look at him, just at his shoes.

“I’ll finish it, Garcia.” She stills, not knowing what to do. As she looks at you, you give her a little nod and she leaves, rubbing your back as she goes.

Spencer doesn’t approach you for some time, standing there like you’re the one who exploded and he’s waiting for another shout.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, taking up the tweezers Penelope left behind and reaching for your cheek. Spencer cradles your face gently as he picks the shards out. “I shouldn’t have thrown the mug, or said any of what I said.”

You don’t say anything, letting him continue. “You don’t hover, and I love that you’re always smiling and happy. It’s not an excuse but my dreams are really getting to me, but I shouldn’t have taken that out on you.”

You offer Spencer your other hand. You weigh your words, “No you shouldn’t have. I understand that some of what happened while you were in prison is too hard to talk about, but you need to talk to someone Spencer. You can’t just throw things and scream and then shut people out.”

He nods, “Luke recommended me to a psychiatrist for people suffering from PTSD, but I guess I felt like going would be me admitting that things there got to me.”

You sigh, “I’m not sure if I can do this if you’re going to shut me out and be violent like that.” At Spencer’s panicked eyes you continue. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me on purpose, but this unchecked shit is going to. Whether you mean for it to or not.”

Spencer opens the first aid kit and swipes at your cheek gently, grateful that it hadn’t been a deep cut. Still he knows the silver scar it’s going to leave will eat at him forever.

“I made an appointment for tomorrow at nine.” He mumbles, worry and dread eating at his stomach. “I know it might take a bit for you to trust me again-“

You roll your eyes, “I do trust you. I trust that you’ll go to therapy, use all the tools given to you and cue me in when things are too hard. I trust that you won’t do this again Spencer. I’m not going to punish you for having an off day.”

Tears spring to his eyes unconsciously, “You don’t want to leave? Because I’d understand if you wanted to.”

You kiss his wrist, “No I don’t want to. I know you’re going to get better, but if there’s a next time, Spencer I’m not staying.”

“There won’t be a next time, I swear.” He kisses right under your injured cheek, tender and soft.

[cutielando]

wedding of the century ~ george russell

instagram au

synopsis: George and Y/N are finally getting married and the fans cannot wait for the event.

my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

liked by georgerussell63, alexandrasaintmleux and 1,267,348 others

yourusername last vacation as an engaged couple💍🤍 tagged: georgerussell63

📍Bali, Indonesia

view all 89,352 comments

georgerussell63 can't wait to make you my wife🤍

yourusername can't wait to be your wife😭😮‍💨

landonorris there are children on this app, you know

yourusername we know, so what are you doing out of bed?

landonorris you're not funny😢

georgerussell63 you're not either, what a coincidence

user1 our favorite engaged couple serving once again🤍🤍🤍🤍

user2 can you guys believe Y/N is going to be Mrs. Russell in less than a month?😭😭😭

user3 it seems like only yesterday they announced their relationship man😯😢😢

user4 i knoooooow, time is moving so fast😭

alex_albon some photo credits would have been nice

yourusername i'm sorry, do i know you?

alex_albon …lando’s right, you’re no fun

georgerussell63 don’t make fun of my soon-to-be wife, alexander

mercededamgf1 Wishing you a nice vacation and we’ll see you at the wedding!🤍

yourusername thank you admin!!❤️

user5 the fact that the Mercedes admin is just as invested in their relationship as we are does things to me 😮‍💨😮‍💨

lilymhe you’re glowing, y/n🤍🤍

yourusername wedding bliss is settling in already 🤍

charles_leclerc why didn’t you invite us?

yourusername …it was a couple’s getaway?

charles_leclerc i don’t see your point

georgerussell63 we wanted to be alone, mate

charles_leclerc oh…nasty asses

user5 my parents right there ❤️

liked by formula1wags, mercedesamgf1 and 39,147 others

formula1gossip George Russell and Y/N Y/L/N are getting married tomorrow! We wish the couple nothing but the very best. What do we think about the grand event?

view all 824 comments

user1 MY PARENTS ARE GETTING MARRIED🫶🏻🫶🏻

user2 i just know the other drivers will get wasted

maxlover max is gonna get so drunk lol

georgieboi I cannot wait!!!!🤍🤍

user3 seeing them get engaged and now married is like watching a fairytale for real

user4 so happy for them!!!!

mercedesamgf1 it's going to be a wild night, that's for sure😅

user5 we're gonna need photos admin!!!!!

mercedesamgf1 of course!!

user6 i just know their wedding is going to be so good!!🤍🤍 Y/N is going to be gorgeous, i just know it

liked by f1, francisca.cgomes and 9,174,582 others

yourusername & georgerussell63 Mr. and Mrs.🤍

view all 291,573 comments

f1 Congratulations to the happy couple!❤️

mercedesamgf1 the most beautiful wedding and the most beautiful couple!!!! (we're totally not saying that because they're ours)🤍🤍

maxverstappen1 congrats mate, beautiful wedding

yourusername you were drunk for the better part of it

georgerussell63 and shirtless

maxverstappen1 still a good wedding

francisca.cgomes congrats guys!!!! Y/N, you were INSANELY BEAUTIFUL BABE 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

yourusername thank you so much babe!!!!!!! i love you girlie 🫶🏻🫶🏻

francisca.cgomes i love you too 🤍🤍

georgerussell63 I was there, too, yk

francisca.cgomes stop trying to steal the spotlight, George

landonorris good job, guys👍🏻

yourusername thank you, lando

georgerussell63 do you even remember being there?

landonorris bits and pieces

yourusername no wonder, you drank half of the bar😒

landonorris i had fun, okay?

yourusername i’m sure you did 😂 i’m glad you had fun, you lifted the spirits

user1 OUR PARENTS ARE FINALLY MARRIED😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

user2 omg they look so good!!!!!🤍🤍

user3 if you look closely, you can see me under the car

user4 AHHHHHHHHH THE RUSSELLS🥹🥹🥹

user5 your honor, I AM IN LOVE WITH THEM

user6 George is so lucky, Y/N was stunning 🤍😭😭

georgerussell63 i know, right?

user6 George is just as much of a simp for Y/N as we are 😭😭

carlossainz55 wishing happiness to the happy couple!🌶️❤️

yourusername thank you, chilli🫶🏻❤️

georgerussell63 thanks, mate🤍

oscarpiastri very interesting event, it was

georgerussell63 we are sorry for the trauma you have suffered, Oscar

yourusername we are willing to pay for your therapy

oscarpiastri thank you

user7 i wanna know what happened to Oscar 😭😭

oscarpiastri it is never going to surface

user8 what happened at that wedding 😭?????

danielricciardo 🤍🤍 very beautiful night

yourusername thank you daniel 🤍 we couldn’t have kept everything under control without you

georgerussell63 glad you stepped up, mate

danielricciardo anytime for my favorite people

lewishamilton glad to have been by your side on the most important day of your lives!🤍

georgerussell63 thank you lewis!

yourusername roscoe was the most important guest 🤍🤍 if we’re being honest

lewishamilton ...overshadowed by my own dog

lilymhe the most fun i’ve had in a long time ❤️❤️

yourusername i’m so glad you had fun 🫶🏻🫶🏻 thank you for being there for us

alexandrasaintmleux you were so beautiful 🤍🤍 and the wedding was out of this world 🫶🏻🫶🏻

yourusername stoooop😭😭😭🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

charles_leclerc she’s been insinuating stuff ever since, what have you done?

georgerussell63 she has that effect

yourusername you’re sleeping outside.

lilyzneimer gorgeous bride 🤍🤍🤍

yourusername thank you, ily🫶🏻🤍🤍

oscarpiastri stop stealing my girlfriend, you’re married

yourusername and?

georgerussell63 what do you mean and????? i’m right here

yourusername details

liked by landonorris, mercedesamgf1 and 2,193,045 others

yourusername life is a constant honeymoon with you 🤍

📍 Amalfi Coast, Italy

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georgerussell63 every day with you feels like a honeymoon🤍

yourusername i love you so much 😭🤍

georgerussell63 i love you more 🤍

francisca.cgomes I want pictures!!!!!!

yourusername of course babe!!! could never forget you

georgerussell63 she's been taking pictures ever since we arrived for you

francisca.cgomes priorities, george☺️

mercedesamgf1 We wish you two an incredible honeymoon! 🤍

yourusername thank you admin 🤍🤍 (if you dare call him while we're away, i'll hunt you down)

mercedesamgf1 yes ma'am

landonorris come home, the kids miss you

yourusername we just left, aren't you having fun with your brother alex?

alex_albon we got bored of each other already

georgerussell63 figure it out, guys

user1 they are my roman empire😭🤍😭🤍😭🤍

user2 seeing them married has made me realize how old i am and how long i have been following these two 😭🤍

user3 georgerussell63 can you fight?

georgerussell63 for her, yes.

yourusername damn babe, that's hot

georgerussell63 you’re hot 😋

alexandrasaintmleux 🫶🏻🫶🏻

yourusername 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻miss u girl

charles_leclerc stop making her cry

yourusername stop making a fuss over everything i say

user3 they’re sooooooo beautiful together 😭😭

user4 i am so happy for them 😭😭

user5 all that’s left now is a mini russell running around🤍🤍🤍

user6 no because that’s all i can think about now 😭

user7 guys let’s not overdo it, they literally just got married 😭🥲

user8 how long are you guys staying?

yourusername two weeks!! 🤍 then i have to return him to mercedesamgf1 😒

mercedesamgf1 sorry 😅

lilymhe can i join? i’ll leave alex at home ☺️

yourusername yes

georgerussell63 no

alex_albon what did i do wrong?????

lilymhe nothing, dear. just circumstances

lewishamilton hope you two have a great time! keep him away from his phone 😂

yourusername he has very limited time allowed on his phone and what he can do on it 😁

georgerussell63 this is that time

yourusername use it well, babe. the clock is ticking

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REQUEST HERE

[purplecoffee13]

Please, Please, Please - pt.1

Summary: “Harry is utterly fascinated by his new neighbor, Y/N, and takes it upon himself to protect her. But little does Y/N know, that Harry may be the person she is supposed to be running from…”

Wc: 5.6k

Tropes: good girl x bad boy / neighbors

Warnings: mentions of violence, cursing, bit of gaslighting.

A/N: THIS IS A TWO PART ONE SHOT based on this request. Please note that it is based around the MUSIC VIDEO, not necessarily the song itself! I decided to cut it up into two parts, because it was getting awfully long, and I was too eager to share it with you. Next part will be steamy!

General Masterlist

You sigh, looking up at your new home. Well— you think. You're not exactly sure which window is yours, but you will figure it out once you're on the right floor. You adjust the duffel bag that is slung over your shoulder, and grab your suitcase before walking towards the entrance.

With your new set of keys which you got from the landlord yesterday, you open the door to the lobby. Or, hallway with post boxes. That would definitely be a more accurate way to describe it.

When you were little and fantasized about moving into a place of your own, you have to admit, you did imagine something a bit less... intimidating. Unfortunately, you had been left with no choice.

Ever since your dad died about five years ago, your mother has been serial dating like there was no tomorrow. You had learned to ignore the different men in your kitchen, eating the cereal and drinking your coffee at 7am, but lately something had changed.

Your mother had stuck with one man.

Sadly for you—and your mother, although she wasn't ready to admit that—the guy was a fucking prick. Worst thing about him? He was sneaky about it. When you confronted your mother, telling her you weren't sure if her new boyfriend was that good of a guy, she had flipped out. As she threw all kinds of accusations on the table, such as you not wanting her to be happy and even insinuating you want her boyfriend for herself, you decided that enough was enough.

That night, you hunted the internet for an affordable place. It's how you found this apartment. You knew it wasn't the best neighborhood, but it was a place of your own, and you were sure that you could make it on your own over there.

After all, you had a well paid office job not too far away, and the costs of the apartment wouldn't interfere too much with your saving for law school.

So, kind of on a whim, you contacted the landlord. And now, here you are, ready to unpack all of your stuff. Your mother had at least been so kind to hire a moving truck, but you think it mainly had to do with her wanting you out of her house as quick as possible. You shared the sentiment, so you hadn't said much about it, besides a polite thank you of course.

It takes you three hours to get everything upstairs, and the janitor, Rod, even helps you out with some of the big furniture. Being a tall, broad guy, appearing to be in his sixties, you had actually been quite unnerved by him. Nevertheless, you decided to play smart and throw him a sweet smile the first time you ran into him. It had faded the seemingly permanent  frown on his ever so slightly, and after introducing yourself, his face was even neutral.

It didn't take more than three minutes of chit chat before Rod had warmed up to you, and by the end of the fifteen minutes, he offered to help you. If it hadn't been for him, you would've still been carrying pieces of your couch into your apartment.

You had been able to take over the bed frame and the dining table from the previous owner, so you only had to put your mattress on your bed before you could let yourself fall on it and chill out for a while.

After letting yourself rest for about fifteen minutes, you unpack as much of the stuff in the kitchen, and you spend the rest of the night unpacking your clothes while dancing to the music that blasts through your headphones.

At around midnight, you pass out during a feeble attempt at sorting your socks.

Your peaceful slumber gets interrupted, however, by an array of less peaceful noises coming from another apartment. The first few minutes awake are spent with your eyes stubbornly closed, hoping to fall asleep again, but when you hear an extremely loud thud, your eyes shoot open.

Getting up from your bedroom, you walk over to your door, and look through the peephole. It doesn't seem like there is anyone in the hallway, and the sounds do seem to have quieted down. You sigh, turning around to go back to your bed, when you hear a shout, followed by another thump. Frowning, you go back and open the door, walking out into the hallway. You squint, and blink a few times to get used to the harsh light. Then, you knock on the door in front of you.

There's a couple of voices sounding from inside the apartment, but no one answers. You groan, knocking again, and even harsher this time. It grows quiet, and you are contemplating going back to bed, hoping whoever is on the other side of that wall got the message, but then the door swings open.

In front of you stands a man, with brown curls and a very apparent frown on his face. One that falters ever so slightly at the sight of you, and is accompanied by a small smirk. He leans against the door frame. His cross necklace dangles, visible by his dress shirt that is far from buttoned all the way up, and you swear it hypnotizes you for the shortest second.

"H-hi." You stammer, looking at the man with wide eyes. His smirk grows, and you forget why you are even here.

"Hello." He greets back, hands sliding into his pockets as he looks you up and down, shamelessly. "What can I do for you, sweetheart?"

"Uh, I just moved into the apartment across from you, and I was wondering if you could keep down the noise a little bit?" You ask, but the man doesn't respond. He solely scans you with some sort of frown on his face. You can't deduce whether that is his neutral face, or if he's pissed at you. Nevertheless, you are kind of scared. "It's just— I don't mean to be rude. I just have to get up very early, and it was very loud, so... also, are you okay? It's— I heard a thud, I thought maybe someone fell?"

Once again, it grows quiet between the two of you. With every passing moment of silence, you are regretting your choice to knock. Did you really have to piss off your neighbors the first night you moved in? Couldn't have just battled through a broken night? You curse yourself as you wait for some sort of answer.

"Sure, sweetheart. I'll shut it all down for you."

You let out a breath of relief, glad to see he is not taking it badly. You bite your lip, trying to fight your smile from getting too wide.

"Really? Thank you so much! I appreciate it, and I really didn't mean to offend you or anything. I promise, it's just because I have to get up so early and the coffee at my work is horrible so—" You stop yourself mid-sentence when you realize you are babbling your new neighbor's ear off. "Never mind. Good night, and nice to meet you. My name is Y/N, by the way."

The man doesn't say anything once again, so you take it as your cue to get the fuck back to bed before making it worse. You walk into your apartment, turning around to close the door, when you hear his voice.

"Harry."

Your head shoots up, tilting it ever so slightly at the sudden word spoken by your neighbor. He tilts his head, mocking you, as he repeats the name while pointing to himself. With that, he turns around and closes the door. You do the same, leaning against the door as you realize you have the hottest new neighbor ever.

Another, extremely loud thud sounds from his apartment, and your eyebrows knit together. A loud voice is heard, one that is clearly Harry's shouting 'sorry!'. You giggle, shaking your head at the comedic timing before waltzing back to your bed.

Little do you know, that while you fall back asleep in your comfortable bed, your new neighbor thinks about you through the entire night. Harry's mind is absent, even as they drag the body of the guy that didn't pay up in time out of his apartment, even as he scrubs the blood off his hands and face.

"Sure, sweetheart. I'll shut it all down for you."

He had been purely sarcastic, baffled by the fact that you even had the guts to knock on his door. The first time you knocked, he thought it was just noise from outside or something. No one was stupid enough to knock on Harry Styles' door. No one was dumb enough to risk it.

But someone did knock; an insanely beautiful woman with nothing but an oversized shirt on. Well, shorts under it maybe, but for the sake of his imagination, you didn't. And you weren't stupid, you just didn't know whose door you were knocking on.

Anyone else who would have been foolish enough to do so, especially while he was dealing with a deadbeat who owed him more than enough money, would've met an entirely different fate.

The way you stumbled over your words and  let your eyes travel over his body had given him too much of an ego boost not to play with you a little bit. And once you had reacted so genuinely to his sarcastic response, he somehow didn't have it in his heart to tell you that he wasn't being serious.

Which is strange, because he didn't peg himself for someone with a heart, not anymore.

Nevertheless, he decided that you were right. The incessant noise had gone on long enough. And so, right after he closed the door, Harry turned around aimed his silencer right at the deadbeat's head. Following the thud of his body falling down, he had shouted a 'sorry' for the last noise he would make that night.

Now, as he lays in bed, the reason for his sleeplessness isn't the weight of another death on his shoulders. No, it's his new neighbor and her long, bare legs.

************************************************

ONE DAY LATER

Your shoulders are hurting.

After yesterday's moving activities and today's excruciatingly long day at work, you are exhausted. Not only did you have to do an insane amount of paperwork today, you also got assigned to even more administrative work that shouldn't even be yours to deal with in the first place.

When you had mentioned you wanted to gain experience in the field of law during your interview for receptionist at a law firm, you hadn't expected them to throw all the work in your lap. You were doing a lot of things, spending way too many after hours in the office, doing jobs that were never in your job description, and instead labeled as 'ways to gain experience'. The worst thing is, your boss is acting like these tasks are a huge favor to you, but you know it's just the jobs that they are too lazy to do themselves.

Nonetheless, you don't say anything about it. Despite the cruelness and sometimes uselessness of the assignments you are given, you do have access to active cases that lawyers are working on, and it gives you an opportunity to observe their styles and its effectiveness.

Wanting to become a lawyer is something you had always dreamed of. You loved justice, and you weren't afraid to fight for it. In your day to day life, you are very sweet, bubbly, and in some cases—like yesterday—even shy. But once you are in a professional setting, you can switch and stand strong. The division between your personal and professional self is one you have learned to balance very well, and you also use it as a secret weapon. People are way too quick to underestimate you, and you always make sure it comes back to bite them in the ass.

You put your groceries and briefcase on the ground, allowing yourself to look for your keys, which you forgot to take out of your bag and are now buried somewhere at the bottom. Head deep into your purse, you don't notice Harry walking out of his apartment until his door shuts. It is right after you've found your keys, so with them in hand you turn around to greet him with a smile.

Your new neighbor looks gorgeous, which doesn't bode well for you because you are currently feeling like an expired, mushy sack of potatoes. You shiver at the thought.

"Hey!" You say instead.

"Hello sweetheart." His smooth, English accent hits your ears just right. "Sleep well last night?"

Your cheeks turn pink, and you nod. "Yes, thank you for asking. Oh! Speaking of..."

You turn around and bend down to dig through your grocery bag. When your eyes meet Harry's again, you are reaching out a bouquet of flowers. He stares at it, wary of your intentions.

"They're for you." You feel the need to clarify.

"Aw, sweetheart, you didn't have to go through the hassle of buying me flowers. I'm quite an easy man you know, all you have to do is ask." He says, grin wide as he observes the way your eyes nearly pop out of your sockets at the suggestion of him and you. He likes seeing you all flustered.

"W-what, no! I— it was for yesterday! Because you were so nice to me. I wanted to make up for meeting in such an unfortunate way. Didn't want you to think you have a shitty neighbor now or something." You explain, watching Harry's amusement at your awkwardness.

"I'd never think that, sweetheart." His voice is low, and despite saying it in a bit of a joking way, you swallow at the sound of the sentence. The raspiness of it just gets to you. You brush your nerves off with a weak smile, and turn to open your door.

"Well, have a good night." You say, awkwardly waving at Harry as you carry your bags into your apartment. You place them in your hallway before walking back to close the door. Harry waves back with the flowers, winking at you.

"Good night, sweetheart."

Your heart races at the continuous nickname. It sounds so sexy coming out of his mouth, and it is the only thing you can think of as you cook your dinner. It is even hard to concentrate while watching your favorite show.

A few hours go by, and the sound of Harry's voice doesn't fade from your mind. Neither does the excruciating pain in your shoulders. At around nine p.m. you give up and decide to grab some painkillers. However, to your great horror, you find out that you ran out and forgot to buy new ones.

Cursing yourself, you rush over to your coatrack and grab your jacket. Along with your purse, containing important things such as money, your keys, and pepper spray, you leave your apartment to pop into the convenience store nearby.

It's only a five minute walk, but with your speed you cut a minute from that estimate. It takes a little bit to find the paracetamol, but after grabbing two boxes of pills, you rush to the cash register. You wait until the man in front of you has paid, smiling politely when he turns around to walk out of the store, and step forward to pay for your painkillers.

Despite the cashier's monotone voice, you are more than satisfied with this convenience store, and you walk out smiling at the knowledge of being rid of your pain very soon.

You flinch at the sight of the man from before standing right outside, grinning at you as you walk by. Despite his middle aged appearance, his teeth are rather yellow. You avoid making further eye contact, tension growing in your stomach. As you walk back to your apartment, you make sure to keep your pace quick.

You're too scared to look behind you, but you feel it. You feel that this man is walking a few meters behind you and you also feel like you might throw up. But you keep walking, keys in one hand, pepper spray in the other.

You are ready to open the door that leads you to the hallway of your apartment complex, and immediately push the key into the hole once you get there. But for some stupid fucking reason, the door won't budge. Your heartbeat rises and your hands are getting clammy as you shimmy your keys, trying to open that goddamn door. As your eyes begin to water, you hear a voice behind you.

"Need some help, pumpkin?"

Frantically, your eyes search for a way to get out of here. Your eyes fall into the intercom, but you can't seem to find some sort of emergency button. Since you can't buzz yourself in, that option seems to be useless.

Then, an idea enters your mind.

You take a deep breath, hoping it'll steady your voice before you respond. "No thank you."

The man chuckles. "I think you do. 'S okay, I like a damsel in distress."

Pulling the key out of the hole and wrapping your hand around it, you turn around to the man. You swallow your pride and try to be as nice as you can be when rejecting someone. Stepping back a bit, you almost lean against the wall as you blindly press one of the buttons behind you. Luckily, the noise of ringing a bell isn't very loud from downstairs, so you don't think the man notices your sneaky action.

"I am fine, good night." You say, your smile gone now. You can't find it in yourself to be nice and sweet after that creepy comment. Technically, you are very helpless right now. Because of him, and his actions that fill you with fear. The threat of his presence is what makes you that 'damsel in distress' in the first place, and you hate the fact that men idolize saving you when often they are the danger itself.

"I don't think you are. Why don't you come with me, get a drink together?" His tone is dominated by the insincerity that drips from his words. You know it isn't a question, it's a command. The salacious smirk he wears with it is disgusting, and the way his eyes shamelessly scan you makes you want to shower five times just to feel less gross.

You feel the slight pain in your thumb for pressing so much and hard into the button behind you, but you can't help but pray that your idea will work.

"No, please leave me alone." You try to be as stern as you can, although your shaky voice isn't conveying that message very well.

"I don't think you understood what I said, pumpkin. You and me are gonna get a drink together." He reaches forward and grabs you by your arm, pulling you towards him. You try to shake him off of you, but his grip only tightens. You choke out a cry, still trying to get his grimy hands off of you while he only buries his fingernails further into your skin.

"Let me go!" You scream as loud as you can, hoping that there is someone who will at least hear you. Your free hand reaches into your purse, and you pull out your pepper spray. In a split second, you are holding it up and spray it in the man's eyes.

He shrieks in shock, and lets go of you, covering his eyes with his hands. You quickly turn around to run back inside, but crash into a body on your way there.

Holding your waist, Harry keeps you from falling over. He frowns, his jaw clenching when he catches your terror filled, red eyes.

"Go inside." He orders. While the context is stern, the words spoken come out way softer than one would think when demanding something from someone. You don't have to be told twice, rushing through the open door and running up the countless flights of stairs. You are completely out of breath when you reach your floor, but you don't stop hurrying until you are in the safety of your own apartment.

You tear all your clothes off your body, feeling like you might choke because everything you have on feels to tight to your skin. You keep crying as you jump into the shower to wash yourself off, as you take off your make-up, and as you put a tank top and loose sweatpants on your freshly washed body.

You take your head out of the bun it was in to keep it dry as you walk towards your front door upon hearing a knock. When you open it, you're standing face-to-face with your neighbor.

"Are you okay?" Harry asks, eyebrows knotted as he looks at you. You nod, not wanting to say a word because you don't want to make him uncomfortable by becoming a blubbering mess in front of him. "Can I come in?"

You nod again, opening the door further so he can enter your place. His steps are careful and light, and you see his eyes scan the apartment as he walks in. You shut the door behind him, making Harry turn around to look at you.

He is back at your side as soon as he spots the marks on your arm that the creepy man left when he tried to take you to god knows where. With a tight jaw, Harry glances up at you.

"You need to put ice on that. It's gonna bruise."

You look down, too timid to meet his gaze, and notice Harry's red knuckles. It doesn't take you very long to put two and two together. For some reason, you don't want to directly mention that just yet, so instead you whisper:

"You too."

Harry lets out a breathy chuckle and nods his head, watching you as you walk over to your freezer to get some ice. Putting it in two different dish cloths, you hand one to him before walking over to your couch. Harry follows suit, plopping next to you and putting the cloth meant for him on your arm.

Flushed from that action, you slowly grab his hand and place it flat on your thigh. Ignoring the way it makes the rest of your body feel, you press the ice filled cloth against his knuckles, hoping the cold will give him some relief. He winces, his fingers tightening around your thigh ever so slightly before immediately relaxing again.

Your eyes travel to your own arm, initially to see Harry's hand wrapped around it. However, the sight of the red marks on your arm make your eyes water again, the memory from what just happened resurfacing. The sickening fear of not knowing how the fuck to get out of that situation is as overwhelming as it was just before, even though you are safe now. You hate that a man made you feel so weak.

You can't help the tears from flowing, so you just let them as you silently recall the events of tonight. Your thoughts are cut in on when Harry removes his bruised hand from your thigh and cups it around your jaw. He leans forward, green eyes all sympathetic.

"It's okay, you're okay. He won't hurt you anymore, or ever again." He whispers. You shut your eyes, your silent tears now breaking into soft sobs. There is no choice but to let the sadness flow, and relish in the comfort of Harry's fingers wiping away your tears as you cry out the stress you had been feeling, and give it a place.

You feel it getting lighter with every cry. Each tear that Harry catches is a bit of weight off your shoulders. For some reason he chooses to sit there and offer you a space to store your pain. And even though normally you would never allow yourself, tonight you make use of that space.

*****************************************

A few weeks had gone by, and Harry had taken it upon himself to become your new watch dog. After what happened, he refused to let you go outside by yourself.

The morning after the incident, you got up and went to work like normal. But when you opened your apartment door, you ran into Harry, who had also been planning on going outside. He walked you to your car, and watched as you drove away. That night, when you returned from work, you ran into him again in the hallway downstairs, and walked to your apartments together.

After about three nights of these exact same situations, you could confirm for yourself that Harry was waiting to escort you anywhere.

You thought confronting him about your knowledge of his schemes would put an end to the overprotectiveness, but you were proved wrong. Instead of toning down his behavior, he amped it up. There wasn't a trip to the supermarket that you made by yourself anymore. And anytime you tried to say something about his following you everywhere, he would make up a silly excuse that left you speechless with flushed cheeks and a stupid grin on your face. You gave up fighting it not long after that, mainly because you enjoy his company so much.

Being so close to Harry all the time did make you realize how much distance everyone else kept from him. You didn't miss how people avoided his gaze, or how certain cashiers stumbled over their words as you paid for your groceries. It had you wondering; just how scary was Harry?

Harry had really taken it upon himself to protect you. It kind of went automatically, if he had to be honest. He simply couldn't watch you walk around the neighborhood so defenseless. What happened to you had enraged him so much, he didn't want a repetition of it.

Of course, an exact repetition was not an option anymore since he had beaten up the guy who assaulted you to the point where he was hospitalized. Harry couldn't find it in himself to feel even the slightest of remorse. Well, maybe only for the fact that he didn't kill him right then and there. He would have, had he not been too worried about you being alone upstairs.

Soon enough, word had traveled about your association with Harry, and it resulted into people being afraid of you. You were so incredibly confused about the shaky voices of people you'd ask for help in stores. You had never imagined yourself to have such an intimidating aura.

Since Harry had taken it upon himself to watch you, you had taken it upon yourself to feed him. It was the least you could do, and it gave you a reason to keep him around longer at night.

Part of you was aware that wanting to get closer to Harry might not be the best idea, especially considering the collectively instilled fear that lingered everywhere he would go. But he was so sweet to you, and you were sure that there was an explanation.

So, tonight during dinner, you had decided you would ask him about it.

Harry was delighted when you asked him if he wanted to stay and eat, and didn't hesitate to say yes. Now as he leans against the counter, watching you cook the pasta you promised to prepare, you have to actively control your breathing. His intense stare has a way of turning your legs into jelly and fogging up your mind.

"How was your day?" You ask him as casually as you can. Harry doesn't tear his eyes off of you, grinning at the way he is making you squirm.

"Good, love."

You swallow at the new nickname he suddenly conjured up. The low baritone of his voice combined with his green eyes on yours has your heartbeat getting out of control. You hear the breathy chuckle leaving Harry's mouth, and it makes your stomach turn. He knows exactly what he is doing.

"So, uhm... I have a question." You say, focusing extra hard on stirring the boiling pasta. He hums, indirectly telling you to ask away. You turn down the pitch on which your pasta stands, and turn to face him. For the first second that you meet his eyes, you were forget what you were even going to ask him, but you quickly regain your senses.

"Why is everyone here so afraid of you?" You tilt your head, really observing Harry. Sure, he is tall, with a broad and muscled figure. He always wears dark clothes and his green eyes will never look away first. But to truly be terrified of this man? You couldn't imagine why.

Harry doesn't say anything. He pushes himself away from the counter and walks towards you, slowly towering over your smaller frame. He leans forward, his face closer to yours than it has ever been before, and it gives you ideas that you probably shouldn't have.

"Do I scare you?"

Silently, you shake your head. Harry's eyes slowly travel down your face, fixating on your mouth for the longest five seconds you have ever experienced, and then shoot back up to meet yours again. "Then why do you care so much about what others think?"

"I don't." You respond embarrassingly fast, overwhelmed with a need to get his approval.

"Well, there you have your answer."

With that, he turns around to the counter and grabs the glass of white wine you poured for him. Taking it between his hands as if it were a cocktail glass, you watch entranced as he takes a sip. Your gaze falls onto his hands. You feel sinful for the thoughts that occupy your mind, but they fly out the window when you spot how bruised his knuckles are. And you realize...

"No, I don't." You say sternly. Harry looks at you, amused by your protest. "I don't know anything about you, Harry."

Harry laughs, but it’s a bitter laugh, accompanied by his hand running through his hair and his head shaking as if he can’t believe what he is dealing with. A part of you wants to get on your knees and beg him to forgive you for being suspicious of who he truly is, but you refrain from doing it.

“People fear what they don’t know, Y/N.” He says, his eyes finding yours. Your heart starts beating faster, aware of the fact that his eyes are going to keep being trained on yours without even so much as faltering.

“I don’t give a fuck about what those people think of me, they don’t know me. You do. So why is their judgment relevant? I’m here, aren’t I? Standing in front of you, letting you know me. Is that not enough?”

You feel a pang of guilt in your stomach at his words, and the authenticity of them. You let out a sigh, breaking eye contact to look down at the floor, contemplating what he’s saying. Maybe he is right.

“Sorry.” You say so softly it could almost be classified as a whisper. The feeling of Harry’s fingers pushing your chin up makes your eyes meet his, and you notice the hint of a smile he wears.

“Go sit.”

Slightly confused, you follow his order, looking back at him to see him finishing up the pasta and making a bowl for the both of you.

“I’m 29.” He states, his back still to you. Your mouth breaks into a smile, and you prop your elbow on the couch, leaning your chin into the palm of your hand as you observe him.

“Really?” You are grinning like a proper idiot now. Harry nods.

“I don’t have any siblings, but we did have a dog, and we rescued a stray kitten that was sleeping in our garden.” He goes on, turning around and walking over to the couch with the bowls of pasta. He sits down and hands you one.

“What are their names?” You ask.

“Dog is called Pepper. Mum let me name the cat, so I named her Hades.” He explains, making you a giggle.

“You named your girl cat Hades?”

“Persephone is such a mouthful. Plus, I was like ten, and had this big obsession with Hades.” He shrugs, taking a bite of the pasta. Your eyes widen, and you begin to laugh even harder.

“You mean to tell me that little ten years ago old Harry was obsessed with the Greek God of the underworld, the God of death… Are you okay?”

Harry shrugs. “He’s just doing his job.”

You cover your face with your hands, beyond amused by his nonchalance. You don’t see it, but Harry might take more joy out of the situation than you. His eyes sparkle with adoration as he watches you laugh, and he wishes he knew how to control time just to stay in this moment forever. There was something so extraordinary about your happiness having been caused by him. He was fascinated with how much he wished he could do it every day for the rest of his life.

He hadn’t known if opening up about himself was the smartest ideas, but he would give her his social security number if it made her laugh like that.

You took your hands off your face and looked at him, the sudden urge to kiss him being almost unbearable. Almost. You sighed, not knowing how to express these feelings you had towards him, so instead you opted for a simple comment.

“I’m so glad you’re my neighbor.”

Harry smirks. “I’m glad you’re my neighbor too.”

[helen-with-an-a]

I Am An Adult pt 7

Hiiiii. I hope you enjoyed part 6. As I mentioned, this was originally one long-ass story, so please imagine you're reading it as a continuation if that makes sense. Once again, a massive shout out to @lyak12 for helping me out so much and hyping me up - forehead smooches for you. I think technically the final part of the official series, but I do have an epilogue idea that I want to write too, so it's not quite the end of the story (again inspired by @lyak12). This was tough to write emotionally, so just a little heads up.

I just want to say thank you so much for the love and support you guys have given me. It means a lot. Please let me know what you thought of it <3

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 3.5 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Epilogue

Barça Femeni x Reader / Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Description: R faces the consequences of her actions

TW: This was emotional to write, so it might be a little emotional to read.

Word Count: 6k

The next few days were … interesting. It was clear to everyone that you and Alexia had spoken in some capacity. You were still avoiding conversation with most people, but the hostility between you and the captain had eased somewhat. You still partnered with the trainers and remained silent during breaks, but the ice was clearly thawing. It made people approach you more. Not outright, but you weren’t blocked from conversations. The side eyes and cold shoulders were no longer a signature part of training. The olive branches were slowly being offered out; a small praising smile or a water bottle passed your way. No one was brave enough to be your partner just yet, but that was fine. The only ones that weren’t fine were Lucy … and, by extension, Ona. You longed to talk to your best friend … if you were still allowed to call her that. But she remained solidly by Lucy’s side. You couldn’t blame her, though. You had made your bed, and now you had to lie in it.

It all came to a head during the final training session before you travelled to Zaragoza for the Cope de la Reina final. Jona had instructed everyone to work hard but to be aware of their own limits. Everyone had nodded solemnly; the last thing anyone wanted was an injury before a big match like that. Well … everyone, bar Lucy. It didn’t help that you played opposite positions; she was a right back and you a left winger. But so far, Jona had recognised the animosity between you, too, so you had been on the same team to avoid any confrontation … until now, anyway. To his defence, you seemed to both be over it. But, oh, how he was wrong.

Lucy’s anger had shifted from surface-level, emotional, visible rage to that deep, raw, pure wrath. She was aghast at how easily everyone was seemingly forgiving you. To her, you had disappeared on them, leaving chaos and devastation in your wake, returned and with a bat of your eyelids, everyone had forgotten the torment you had caused. Not her, though. Hell would freeze over before she could forget Ona’s heartbreak. Ona’s sobs were frequent in the reoccurring nightmare she had been having the past few days. She was getting little to no sleep, and with that, her ire towards you increased. You were the source of all her issues.

You had become accustomed to Lucy’s hard tackles and unnecessary shoves during training. It was inevitable, even with Jona and the other staff's interference, that you had faced Lucy a little. During rondos, she always managed to step on your feet a little or kick the back of your heel. If you were on the ground at some point during a training session, Lucy’s back was likely the first thing you saw when you looked up. It was starting to get to you a little. But what could you do? You had brought this upon yourself. Your heart sank when Jona called out the names. You were preparing to do a 15-minute 11 vs 11. Jona had pressed the notion that this was a chance to practice the skills and technical formations you had been practising all week. As you stood in your designated place, you inadvertently caught Lucy’s eye. She glowered at you, cracking her knuckles and rolling her shoulders. You were about to die. You knew it. The whistle went, and your team began your press forward. You could see your team's reluctance to pass you the ball; Lucy’s behaviour had not gone unnoticed. But eventually, you had to be included. It happened just outside the makeshift box. You had received a ball from Patri to make a cross for Mariona … or at least that was the plan.

Two sets of sharp studs crashed into your ankle, wiping your feet out from under you. The team watched in horror as you dropped. You landed heavily on your hip before your head hit the floor. You wanted to scream, but you wouldn’t give Lucy that satisfaction. You whacked the grass, biting back the pain. It wasn’t broken. You had snapped your collarbone once when you were still in youth age groups, and this wasn’t like that. But you had a feeling you wouldn’t play in the final. Everyone around you was frozen. Cata and Pina seemed locked in place, half wanting to help but the other, louder half telling them to stay exactly where they were. Marta and Caro looked shocked. Shocked that Lucy would do such a dangerous thing so close to two major finals. Alexia looked a mix of anger and sadness. Anger at Lucy for her behaviour; anger at you for not talking to her about it; sadness that once such good friends seemed to be enemies.

“Lucy. Ya terminaste por hoy. Vete a casa.” Jona’s voice was curt – sounding like the true manager he was. “Todos los demás, tomen un descanso para tomar agua.” No one moved. It was Ona who eventually stepped up.

“Amor, ir a ducharse,” she said softly, like you would to an angry child or wild animal.

“Why? So you can go check on her?” She said it with such contempt and disgust you reeled back, as much as you could, still on the ground anyway.

“I-” Ona began.

“No, I don’t want to hear it.” Lucy stuck her hand up, stopping Ona from talking. “I don’t understand how you can forgive her so easily. What she did was vile. And you’re letting her off the hook like that.” She was shouting now. You couldn’t let Lucy’s anger be misplaced. You couldn’t be the cause of a rift … or potential end … of their relationship. You clambered to your feet, hopping slightly on your uninjured ankle.

“Stop it, Lucy.” Your voice was surprisingly firm. She turned on you. “Don’t shout at Ona when you want to scream at me.”

“You want me to scream at you?” she asked rhetorically. You lifted your gaze to meet hers. “Fine, I’ll scream at you,” she took a deep breath. “What you did was inexcusable. Sure, you got some shitty news. But you don’t get to disappear like that. You are childish and immature. You hurt the people around you, people you are supposed to be your best friends. You can't just run away every time things get tough. Do you think you're the only one with problems? We all have our issues, but we talk to our friends. We don’t leave them behind like they are dirt. What if something had happened to you? Did you even consider how we would feel? No, you didn’t. You were too wrapped up in your own self-pity to think about anyone else. That’s not what friends do. I didn’t sit up every night watching Ona cry herself to sleep because you were missing for everyone to forgive you in an instant. I didn’t watch Cata and Bruna and Jana go crazy driving around Barcelona trying to find you to let everyone forget about what you did. I didn’t watch Alexia phone around hospitals in the area with a description of you to excuse your behaviours as soon as you return. You were selfish and reckless, and you showed us exactly how little we mean to you. We worried ourselves sick, we tore ourselves apart trying to find you, and you didn’t give a damn. Don’t think for a second that you can waltz back into my life and everything will be fine. Actions have consequences, and you need to face yours.” You could tell she had more to say.

You blinked. You felt like you wanted to cry, but no tears were forthcoming. Each accusation struck like a hammer blow, chipping away at your defences. Your heart pounded in your chest, and your stomach churned with a sickening blend of regret and fear. You tried to hold her gaze, but the intensity of her anger made it feel like your very soul was being seared. Her words echoed in your mind, each one a painful reminder of the hurt you had caused. The mention of Ona crying herself to sleep, the frantic search efforts by Cata, Bruna, and Jana, and Alexia's desperate calls to hospitals—all painted a vivid picture of the chaos and suffering you had unleashed. If you hadn’t felt horrific before, you certainly did now. Your throat tightened, and your eyes stung with the threat of tears. You wanted to speak, apologise, and somehow make things right, but you just ... couldn’t. You felt small and insignificant, dwarfed by the level of your mistakes. The raw pain and disappointment in her voice cut through you, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“Got nothing to say?” She asked, chuckling slightly. “You know what … I’m glad Barça isn’t offering you a renewal. You don’t deserve it.” The words cut like a knife, burnt like fire and stung like a thousand wasp stings.

“Enough, Lucia.” Alexia’s loud voice cut across.

“Whatever” Lucy scoffed turning on her heels and walking back towards the building.

No one moved, no one blinked, no one dared breathe.

“Did anyone else see that vein in her forehead? It was massive!” Vicky asked jovially, the tension breaking in an instant.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lucy that angry,” Mariona commented during the enforced water break. She had watched as you hobbled off to the medical room. You had refused help from anyone, and it was painful to watch you slowly trudge inside.

“I remember when we were at City and the doctors were telling her how truly fucked her knee was …” Keira reminisced sadly. “I had thought that was the angriest I would ever see her. She punched a wall in the gym; she was lucky she didn’t break her hand.” She shook her head at the memory. “But this … when Lucy sees the people she loves in pain … she’d burn the world down for them.”

“This is her burning the world down?” Patri asked.

“She’s definitely got the lighter ready, that’s for sure.”

“What happened after Lucy punched the wall?” Salma asked carefully. Keira chuckled, laughing at the memory.

“Gee put a frame around it and added a little label like they do in art galleries.” The whole group let out a tense laugh. Of course, Georgia would do that. “Alex says it’s still there too.”

Your initial assessment was right; you were ruled out from playing in the Copa final. You sighed but accepted the physio’s words with little fuss. You winced a little as they strapped it, grimacing at the movements. Lucy’s words echoed around your head, bouncing across your awareness as they played like a video in your mind’s eye. She had looked so angry … her eyes were filled with so much hurt. Hurt that you had caused. Of course, she thought you didn’t deserve a renewal. You didn’t deserve one. That was a fact of which you were sure.

“Tómatelo con calma durante unos días. Lo reevaluaremos después del partido.," the physio advised, giving your shoulder a final pat before standing up. You nodded absentmindedly, your thoughts far from the clinical room. You weren’t too upset about missing out on the final, to be honest. With all the extra … drama, issues, problems … everything, you didn’t think you should be playing anyway. You rolled your shoulders, hoping to ease some of the tension. Everything ached … not physically, although you were sure the extra time you had spent being sent to the floor was helping, but in a soul-weary, deep, painful way. A way that you weren’t quite sure how to fix. A way that you didn’t know if it could be fixed. You are childish and immature. You were childish. You were immature. God, you had spent so long wishing, wanting, demanding the team look at you like an adult, and this is what you do in return. This is how you repay them? Maybe they are better off without you next season. Your mind drifted back to that conversation with Lucy. Her voice, usually so warm and encouraging, had been cold and harsh. You felt a knot tightening in your chest, the weight of the past weeks pressing down hard. You knew she had every right to feel betrayed, to doubt you. The anger in Lucy’s green eyes haunted you. It was a mirror reflecting your own failures, not just as a player but as a person. You replayed every moment in your head, wishing you could go back and change things and make different choices. But you couldn’t. All you could do now was face the consequences.

And Ona, what about her? Your best friend. You tried not to imagine her face. Her warm brown eyes and wide smile were replaced by devastated, tear-filled expressions and anxious looks. God, what had you done? The guilt gnawed at you, a relentless ache that seemed to have no end. You could almost hear Ona’s voice; her playful teasing turned into something sharper, something pained. You had let her down. She had always been there for you, through the highs and lows, and now… now you had pushed her away too. The one time you truly, desperately, urgently needed her to help navigate this … you had disappeared. Like a ghost.

You weren’t sure how long you sat on the edge of the physio bed. Long enough for the team to have cleared out of the changing rooms, you think. You really should go shower. But you couldn’t move. Everything felt heavy. You were too tired to push yourself off the padded table, too weary to make the short walk back to the changing room, too fatigued to get into the car and drive home. A knock on the door pulled you from your spiral.

“Can I come in?” Ona. You looked up, reminding Ona of a meerkat on patrol. You smiled weakly, nodding and gesturing to the bed opposite. She didn’t take it, just shifting to stand on the other side of the door, ready to run if she needed to.

“Lo siento,” she murmured eventually. Why was she apologising? You were the one that needed to fix everything.

“You’re not the one who should be apologising,” you muttered dejectedly.

“I know, but Lucia is –”

“No, no, no, no,” you rushed out, cutting her off. “It’s me. I’m the one who should be apologising,” you corrected yourself. “I’m a horrible person. I am a truly awful person. I mean, who does that to their friends? Who disappears for days without telling them what was wrong?” You swallowed, taking a deep breath before surging on. “I need to apologise to you, Oni, uh, Ona … um,” you chuckled awkwardly. You cleared your throat. “I am so, truly, deeply, honestly sorry for what I did to you. I hate myself for it. God, now I’m crying again.” you said humorously, the joke falling flat as you wiped tears away. “I’m just so sorry. I don’t know how I can ever make it up to you, to Lucy, to Alexia, to the team. I don’t even know if you want me to make it up to you or if I should just let you live your life without me. You’d probably be better off,” you rambled. “I hurt everyone around me, and I have no explanation for it. Nothing beyond that; I genuinely didn’t mean to. I wasn’t thinking; I was just so overwhelmed with it all, and being here in Barcelona made it so much worse, so I just left, and I didn’t look at my phone because it was easier not to. It wasn’t happening if I wasn’t looking at my phone. It’s no excuse, and I’m not trying to make one up, I promise. It was wrong, and I know that. I know I fucked up so badly, and I’ve probably ruined the best things to ever happen to me, and now you all hate me, and I’m so, so sorry,” you sobbed. You hadn’t even noticed Ona had moved closer to you, her own tears streaming down her face, until her arms wrapped around you. “No, no,” you pushed her off or attempted to at least. “I don’t deserve your comfort. I am a horrible person, I don’t deserve…” you couldn’t finish as another wave of sobs broke through.

“Shhhh,” she whispered softly, her arms tightening around you despite your weak protests. You tried to move away, but the softness of her shirt, the warmth of her body, and the kindness in her voice were too inviting. “What you did … disappearing like that,” she began, her words spoken into your sweaty hair. “Realmente dolió,” her voice cracked slightly; you tightened your arms around her waist in response. “Your actions were bad, yes. But you are not bad,” she said emphatically.

You took a shuddering breath, the truth in her words piercing through the haze of your self-loathing. “I’ve made such a mess of everything,” you murmured, your voice muffled against her shoulder. “I don’t know how to fix it.” Ona pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes.

“You start by forgiving yourself,” she said gently. “Because …” she paused momentarily, “I forgive you. Te perdono. Et perdono.” This set a new wave of tears bubbling up. It was painful and raw but cathartic, too.

You didn’t want to, but you couldn’t help it as you felt a glimmer of hope. It was fragile and tentative, but it was there, a tiny spark in the darkness. You clung to it, feeling Ona’s warmth and forgiveness surround you. The heaviness in your chest lightened just a fraction, enough to allow a breath of relief. Ona’s embrace tightened, and you let yourself sink into it, missing how her hugs had felt, the comfort she brought you just by being close. She pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your head. “I’m sorry,” you whispered into the fabric covering her stomach.

“I know you are,” she replied just as quietly.

Every moment of the next few days seemed to blend into the next with dizzying speed, and you found yourself caught between triumph and confusion. Winning the Copa de la Reina, preparing for the Champions League, and waiting for the international announcements - it was a lot of everyone to process. Yet amidst the frenzy, you were quietly trying to mend the fractures in your relationships. Conversations, laden with heartfelt apologies, unfolded with each member of the team. More tears were shed, but you slowly began the painstaking process of stitching what was broken. Even as you sat beside Mapí during the Copa final, her silence spoke volumes, a tangible reminder of the distance still to be bridged. The sparse conversation, a mere trickle compared to her usual torrent of words, served as a reminder of the work yet to be done but also of the hope that lingered in the spaces between.

Then came the chaos of the Champions League final, a rollercoaster of emotions that whisked you from uncertainty to jubilation in the span of ninety minutes. Initially resigned to the sidelines, your ankle injury deemed worthy of rest by Jona, fate intervened as Ona fell. In an instant, the plans shifted, and you found yourself thrust onto the pitch, the weight of the final moments heavy on your shoulders. Yet as the final whistle blew and the roar of triumph echoed around the stadium, any lingering doubts were drowned out by the sheer joy of victory. Despite the bittersweet knowledge that this might mark the end of your journey with the team, at that moment, you refused to let anything dim the radiance of your victory.

The only issue that remained was Lucy. Ona had been careful to keep you two apart, but with the Olympics fast approaching, you knew a conversation was in desperate need. You had booked it ages ago, just after the Nation League finals, when you found out Germany and Spain would be heading off to fill the European spots in the Olympics. At the time, you hadn’t questioned it when you booked a singular hotel room with two beds for the entire two weeks of the competition. At the time, the logistics seemed simple enough – a singular hotel room with two beds, a pragmatic arrangement for two good friends united at WAGs in supporting their respective partners. But now … now everything was different.

And then you were waiting for Lucy in the middle of the Barcelona airport. What should you say? What would she say? Was she still angry at you? Judging by Ona’s actions, she probably was, but you didn’t quite know how bad these two weeks would be. You had decided that if worse came to worse, you would fork out for a new hotel room. It would probably be eye-wateringly expensive and damn near impossible to do, but you would do it. You knew a few of the partners of the German national team fairly; maybe you could crash on their floor? No. You needed to fix this. If not for your sake, then for Ona’s. You could see how hard this was for her, keeping her girlfriend and her best friend away from each other whilst balancing the international commitments.

You needed a plan. Ask her how she is when she first arrives. Let her start the conversation. Buy her a coffee. Let her choose the window seat if she wants it. Pay for the taxi from the airport to the hotel. Ask her if you could talk properly. If she says yes, apologise again. Answer all her questions honestly and truthfully. Try not to cry. If she says no … find another hotel.

You had been so wrapped up in her thinking that you had missed her arrival. She looked tired, but not angry. At least you don’t think she looked angry.

“Oh,” you said, surprised. “Hi.” You smiled at her. She nodded once, silently gesturing to the check-in desk behind you.

It was the most painfully awkward 3 hours of your life. Every attempt at conversation felt stilted and forced. You were often met with nods and grunts instead of actual answers. She granted you a small half-smile as you presented her with a coffee from the nicer-but-more-expensive stand near the gates. All you could do was keep reminding yourself that you were doing this for Ona. You were here to support Ona, your best friend. And Lena. Sweet, kind, perfect Lena … Ona and Lena, Ona and Lena, Ona and Lena

The room was rather large, you were grateful to realise. The beds positioned far enough apart to provide some privacy for you both, as well as a small seating area. The small balcony outside offered a great view, the hum of the bustling city audible, even from high up in the hotel. You waited for her to choose a bed, hoovering anxiously by the door, your grip tight on your suitcase. Ok … show time.

“Um … Lucy?" you began, the butterflies in your chest increasing when she didn’t look up. “Can we talk? I need … I want to apologise to you properly and talk a little.” Nothing. No reaction. Not even a flicker. This was not a part of the plan. She was supposed to say yes or no. Not nothing.  “Right, um …” you wracked your brains, trying to think of what to do now. “Ok, um, if you don’t want to talk, that’s ok too. I’ll… um … I’ll just �� I’ll just get out of your hair, then. Uhh, yeh.” Maybe you had come on too strong. Perhaps she needed to settle in for a bit first. You turned to go, your hand struggling to find the doorknob in your haste.

“Wait.” You froze. Every muscle locked as you waited for her to continue. “You’re right; we need to talk.” Turning back to face her, you looked at her properly for the first time in weeks. She looked so tired. The weight of everything was clearly etched into the lines of her face. Her green eyes were darker than normal, the set of her shoulders hunched slightly.

“Here? Or we could go get a coffee? My treat.” You managed a small, tentative smile, hoping it would ease some of the tension between you.

“A coffee sounds nice,” she gave a slow nod, picking up her purse and moving across the room.

The café was very typically French, no doubt redecorated somewhat for the influx of tourists, but the smell of freshly brewed coffees and warm croissants was too inviting to pass on.

“Bonjour,” Lucy smiled at the barista, her order flowing with ease in a torrent of French.

She stepped to the side, allowing you to add in your abysmal French, “un petit chocolat chaud, s'il vous plait,” handing over your card to pay for the drinks.

The seats were wide and comfortable, offering a quiet space for you to talk openly.

“I forgot you spoke French,” you fiddled with the napkin on the side of your saucer.

“Yeh, I didn’t want to lose it when I left Lyon. And it’s been helpful for learning Catalan too.” Lucy smiled weakly.

“How’s that going, by the way? Learning Catalan, I mean,” you started, attempting to break the ice a little

“Don’t. Don’t do that, Y/N. You wanted to talk, so talk.” She cut you off bluntly. Ok, she was still a little angry. That was fine, you could manage that, you think.

“Ok, um, well. I wanted to apologise.” You spoke slowly, thinking of exactly what to say before you said it. “Properly.” You took a steading breath. “I have no excuse, no explanation really, of why I did what I did. Why I disappeared. But … I am truly sorry. I know I hurt you, and Ona, and Alexia, the whole team, really. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you to watch Ona in that state.” You took a sip of your drink to help steady yourself. “I was selfish, and I didn’t think about the consequences of my actions. I was childish and immature; you were right.” You looked up to see Lucy’s eyes fixed on you, her expression unreadable but attentive. You took it as a sign to continue. “What I did was inexcusable, but I didn’t do it consciously. Lena said either I go to her, or she would come to me, and with the Pokal final coming, I couldn’t let her leave Germany, so I went to her. It all happened so fast, and when I got to Germany, everything was clearer, easier a little, I’m not really sure. But Barça and everything to do with Barcelona was just too much. I know that it might not make a difference, but I didn’t purposefully think about shutting everyone out and disappearing.” You took another sip. “I really am sorry for how I behaved. I completely understand if you don’t want to spend the next 2 weeks in a hotel room with me. I can find somewhere else if-”

“Stop it.” Her voice was quiet but commanding. Your mouth snapped shut, your nervous eyes drifting up to meet her gaze. “I appreciate your apology.” It wasn’t forgiveness, but she had at least acknowledged it.

“I really am sorry,” you cut in.

“Stop saying sorry.” You could tell it was an attempt at humour.

“Sorry,” you smiled sheepishly. She raised an eyebrow in response, trying to come off unamused but failing. Your heart lightened a little at the small sliver of the normal Lucy returning.

“I’m not angry at you,” she began. “No, wait, that’s not quite true. I was incredibly angry at you,” she corrected herself. “When I see people I love and care about upset, I get angry, and you really hurt Ona. But … I was also annoyed at the team, including Ona ...” You looked up, confused. “They all forgave you so easily, so quickly. It was like they had forgotten how hard it was for all of us when we didn’t know where you were, if you were safe … if you were still alive. And then I got angry at myself for being angry with everyone and ...” She stopped, looking around at the café you were sitting in.

“Um … they didn’t.” you breathed. It was her turn to look confused. “They didn’t forgive me. I spoke to Alexia after the first training session … I was back for. She explicitly said she hadn’t forgiven me. I still don’t think she fully has,” you licked your lips. “Not that she has to,” you added quickly. “No one has to forgive me if they don’t want to. Um, I guess the others picked up on her changes in behaviour and were following her lead.” It sounded like a question. Truthfully, you weren’t sure why everyone had eased off on you so fast, but you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“I … I didn’t know that.” Lucy muttered, either to you or to herself you weren’t sure.

“And Ona didn’t speak to me until after … that training session. God, I was a total mess. I am an ugly crier, and, bloody hell, was I sobbing,” you tried to lighten the mood.

“I didn’t know that either …” she trailed off. The silence wasn’t awkward, not anymore. But there were definitely things still unsaid that lingered in the space between you. “That makes me look like a total arse,”

“No, it doesn’t,” you said gently. “You were hurt and angry. You had every right to react in that way. I was a total bitch.”

“So was I,” she said wryly. Lucy sighed deeply, rubbing her temples. “It’s just … I didn’t realise how much I was holding onto. I'm sorry if I ... we ... made you feel like you couldn't come to us.”

“Thank you,” you said softly. “But disappearing was wrong. And I don’t expect immediate forgiveness. I want to make that clear. I just want a chance to make things right, to show you that I’m here to stay. Well, not literally, anyway, but … I’m working on it. I’ve started making enquiries for a therapist. I’m really trying to get better at communication and stuff.” You nodded, pushing some hair behind your ear.

“Where are you going anyway? I haven’t seen an announcement or anything.” She took another sip of her coffee, a clear attempt at normalcy.

“Um … Bayern,” you bit your lip. “I think if Barça were to offer me an extension I would have taken it, but I’m excited to move. It’s a new challenge and stuff,”

“Hey, hey, I don’t need the media spiel. I get it. It also helps that a certain someone is also moving to Bayern?” she guessed.

“Well, that’s definitely a perk that other teams didn’t have.” You both let out a soft laugh.

“I really am sorry, Luce,” you said when the laughter died down.

"I know you are. And I am too. None of us were acting very grown up." She smiled at you. You grinned back at her. “Now then, have you got the schedule for Lena’s matches?” She asked, taking another sip and shuffling her chair closer to you, a clear change of subject, yet also a tentative step towards what your relationship used to be like.

Over the next 2 weeks. You truly rediscovered how much you loved football. With good food and good friends, it was easy to fall in love with the sport. The Olympics was special. The energy was electric, and it showed on the pitch. You watched as Lena dominated the field. You were fairly sure you had dribbled a little when she made her appearance with the Captain’s armband on. You were very grateful that the Spain match was later in the day, so you had attended this particular game alone.

“Schatz,” Lena shouted when friends and family were finally allowed over to see the players. “Come here,” she waved you over, holding a hand out for you and helping you over the barrier.

“You played so well, Liebe.” You congratulated her, a hand resting on her bicep as you kissed the corner of her mouth.

“Danke, Schatz. I have some people I want you to meet,” she said as she tucked you into her side, an arm thrown across your shoulders. “This is my mama,” she said proudly, presenting you to the woman in front of you.

“Um …” you blinked and swallowed. “Hallo?” you settled on, a shocked smile on your face.

And then the summer was over. The long, sun-drenched days had given way to cooler evenings, the warmth slowly seeping out of the air as autumn crept in. The vibrant hues of green began to fade, replaced by the rich, earthy tones of autumn. The laughter and chatter of tourists that had filled the streets grew quieter, the city settling back into its regular rhythm. Slowly, forgiveness was shown on all sides. After long talks well into the cool summer nights, an understanding was reached. The scars would probably always be there, but they were not just a faint white line, not raw and open.

“Look after her,” Ona whispered in Lena’s ear as they hugged. The pair stepped back to look at you in a tight embrace with Alexia.

“I will.” Lena promised.

As you held Alexia, you could feel the strength of her emotions mirrored in the tightness of her grip. “Mantenerte fuerte, cariño,” she murmured into your shoulder, her voice muffled. “We’ll see each other soon.”

You pulled back slightly to look into her eyes. “I’ll miss you,” you said, your voice cracking a little. “But I’ll be back before you know it.”

Alexia nodded, blinking back tears. “Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself.

“Prometo,” you assured her, giving her one last squeeze before letting go.

“Bye, kid.” Lucy said, stepping forward for her own hug.

“Bye, Luce,” you replied. “Look after Ona,” you whispered to her.

“Of course.” Her arms tightened fractionally before you let go. "Look after yourself too, yeh?" You nodded into her neck, laughing as she tried to ruffle your hair.

All three of them separated themselves slightly as you and Ona came face to face.

“I’m not going to cry,” you said defiantly, your voice already wavering.

“Me neither,” Ona echoed the sadness in your own. You pulled her forward, arms wrapping around her shoulders as you pressed a kiss to her hair. The embrace was long and tight, both of you reluctant to let go. You could feel the slight tremble in her body. You were sure you were shaking, too.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” you whispered, your voice breaking despite your best efforts to stay composed. Ona pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.

“I’ll miss you too,” she said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But we’ll stay in touch ... every day.”

“Every day,” you promised her, pulling her into another tight hug. You held on for a few more precious moments before finally, reluctantly, letting go.

Lena approached you then, her expression soft but determined. “Ready?” she asked, holding a hand out for you to take.

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m ready.” You placed your hand in hers, cementing the notion that you were doing this together.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” you said, trying to inject some lightness into your voice. “And when I am, it’ll be for the Champions League, and we’re going to crush you,” you jested.

Ona smiled, a tear finally escaping down her cheek. “Oh, please. We’re Barcelona,” she said.

“Yeh, we’ll we’re Bayern. Feel our wrath.” You stuck your tongue out, a similar tear rolling down your face. You paused, reluctant to turn away.

“Look at you.” Alexia smiled proudly. “Getting a new job. Moving to a new city. Moving in with your girlfriend. A proper adult now.”

“Not too adult, though. I still need you.”

I hope you enjoyed the story and the series as a whole. Please let me know what you though <3<3<3<3

[cute-sucker]

boxer!rafe holding his baby for the first time, and knowing him he made sure you had a private room and good food.

tell me why he would be so jittery though ??

୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀 ୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

boxer!rafe never had gotten as scared as he did when you had given birth.

waiting. rafe had been waiting for hours, holding a lucky charm that you had given him. the strands of the bracelet were frayed as he toyed with it, over and over again. the smell of the hospital was nauseating, and the feeling of being in a place that smelt like antibiotics and sickness made his skin crawl.

he had gotten the call that your baby was born in the middle of a fight. he was on top of a guy before someone stormed in the middle of the fight. that was uncommon, and the referee quickly had them separated before rafe realised it was your work friend, delany. she looked frantic, as she tried to mouth something.

the minute he realised what it was, he was pulling the ropes of the ring, and yelling at people to get out of the way. blood was splattered across his mouth, and his swelling knuckles stung with pain, as his sweaty t-shirt stuck to his chest.

your water broke.

he was there in minutes, swearing as he tried to close the car. he'd run into the hospital with a huff, demanding to know where you were. to be quite frank it may have been sweet to you - but it was downright scary to the nurses.

a bulky guy with blood splattered all over him, holding a silly pink baby bag. the first nurse let out an uncomfortable laugh before telling him to sit down. now, rafe would have started yelling, but there was this drumming in his heart that made him feel as if he was going to vomit.

he couldn't lose you, no, this was a critical part of all of it. he'd read those stupid books that you had gotten him about pregnancy, and how dangerous it was, and how many mothers had died and how to hold a baby, and, and-

(goddamn it, he was scared.)

"mr. cameron. would you like to come in?"

he looked up to see a nurse with a painful smile, he took a deep breath before nodding his head. rafe felt his hands shake, as he took a step inside the room.

there you were, pretty as always with that discharge night gown, and a relieved sweaty smile on your face. you look so calm, but his eyes zone on your hands. the baby isn't in your hands, and he found himself wondering where the baby was, but he watched you get up to touch him.

"hey, hey baby. calm down. you need to stay like that," he muses, coming closer to rub your shoulders. you close your eyes, a soft gasp coming out of your mouth.

rafe gives you a soft peck on the shoulder, "why didn't you call me?" he whispers in that gentle tone of his. you squirm, peeling open your eyes with those pleading doe eyes,.

"i didn't want to bother you. i knew-" you gasped out, "i knew you had that important match and shit, and i don't know i thought it was like a bad time-"

rafe cursed, "didn't i tell you it was the two of us together? i shoulda' been there for you. shoulda' have held your hand through this shit-" and he knew he's going on a tangent as your lip wobbled and he quickly licked his lips while shaking his head.

"nah, it doesn't matter now. aw, my sweet girl did this all by herself. let me," he muttered, rubbing tears off your cheeks, "where's the baby?" you sniffled, nuzzling your face in his hands, before pointing to the sinks where he saw a small tiny girl.

she's squirming in the nurse's hands, as she gets washed off. her tiny face is squished up as she lets out small squeals. he's struck by how small, how tiny, how he made that little thing with you.

"i-" he choked up unable to take his eyes off your baby, "thank you sweets. thank you." his head bowed down into your lap, the words like worship. he was a devout in your temple.

"here's the baby, ms. cameron."

you looked up at her, a little bundle of joy as the doctor put her in your lap. rafe felt like everything was complete, feeling his throat sting and his hands get clammy. god, what did he do to deserve this?

the baby was perfect, a tiny sweet thing and rafe's hands shook at his sides as you looked up at him with teary eyes.

"do you want to hold her?"

he swallowed hard, his voice that soft whisper you knew so well, "can i?"

you laughed something that was so sweet, ringing in his ear like a song he never wanted to end. yet, he couldn't help but look at you with approval and when he looked into your eyes all he saw was love. all he saw was the truth. finally, he reached for his baby girl, calloused hands cradling her.

he finally had found his family.