#god I hope no one has come up with this before

[emchant3d]

siren steve and pirate eddie, part 2 pt 1

Steve heals slowly.

He’s irritable and restless, bedridden, and he doesn’t have the strength in his injured tail to support himself if he were to be tossed back into the ocean.

The crew helps him to the deck for a change of scenery and some sunshine - he seems more settled when he can hear the waves and feel the sun on his skin. He’s less snappish, at least, those sharp teeth tucked away behind his pink lips instead of bared in Eddie’s direction.

Eddie had panicked briefly about how much saltwater Steve needs, and he’d rolled his eyes at him. “Keep it near and I’ll be fine,” he tells him. “Half human remember?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, “but the fish part is looking a little dry, sweetheart.” 

Steve slaps him with a tail fin.

He finds himself spending most days with the Mer. Part of it is pure fascination - it’s difficult to not want to spend time around a story come to life. And if he neglects his duties as Captain a little, well - that’s what his crew is for.

Slowly, he pulls more from Steve. He finds out what caused his injuries - “the deep holds a lot of creatures that like the taste of Mer,” he tells him. “I swam right into a nest. By the time I realized, they already had me by the throat and were dragging me to the seabed.”

“Gods,” Eddie murmurs, and Steve hums in agreement. “Evil little things. Razor sharp claws and teeth, and their tails are like whips. They move in schools, so if there’s one, there’s dozens others.”

He speaks of these kinds of creatures so casually, monsters that have worked their way into human lore and others that are unknown to them, but the idea of them still makes Eddie’s skin crawl.

It’s like Steve has a sixth sense for his discomfort. He’s lounging in a long basin Freak and Jeff put together, a shallow amount of salt water in it to keep him comfortable, and he rolls his head to the side, peering up at Eddie.

“They probably wouldn’t turn down a human, either,” he muses, dragging those unnervingly deep eyes up and down him, “but your little lungs wouldn’t survive that deep down, so you’re probably fine.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Eddie snorts, and Steve breaks into a laugh.

As friendly as they’re becoming, Eddie knows Steve still doesn’t fully trust him. He’s excellent at reading people - he knows when someone is keeping secrets, and Steve is locked tight.

He doesn’t blame him. He knows it’s difficult to believe Eddie’s help doesn’t come with strings, and he catches Steve watching him and his crew sometimes, tense and on edge as if he’s waiting for someone to lash out at him.

Eddie hates it. But he doesn’t know how to settle him, not fully, and so maybe the solution is to craft those strings he’s looking so hard to find. Let him find what he’s looking for, but show him that they aren’t as bad as he’s built them up to be in that pretty head of his.

“So what other gifts are you blessed with, Highness?” he asks one cloudy day, the sky gloomy and overcast. A little rain won’t hurt them, but he’s hoping the darker clouds on the horizon will dissipate before they reach them and upend a true storm.

“Divination,” Steve says like he’s bored, and Eddie’s head whips around to stare at him. Steve holds his gaze, his own a little hooded, and he yawns softly.

“What,” Eddie asks flatly. Steve waves a hand dismissively. 

“Just about the ocean,” he says, like that isn’t still one of the most incredible things Eddie’s ever heard. “I can tell when danger’s near. When something isn’t quite right. Whole lot of good it did me,” he snorts, glancing down at his scarred torso.

The bandages have been removed, and pink skin is healing slowly where there used to be gaping wounds. His tail is faring much the same, scales missing from where he’d been bitten and ripped at, but the new flesh is beginning to blend in with the bright shades of his lower half.

“Everything was dangerous down there, I just tried to pick the safest option. I’m still pretty sure I chose right.” Eddie frowns. “You were almost eaten alive,” he says, can’t help it, and Steve cuts him a lazy smile.

“Almost,” he repeats, and Eddie supposes that’s an answer.

He takes a breath, calms his heart, and tries to act like the Captain he is. “So, if you stuck around, you’d be able to tell me what I’m heading towards.” Steve closes his eyes and lets his head hang back, arms resting on the sides of the basin. 

“Yes.” A cloud sweeps over them, blocking the sun from shining on Steve’s face, casting him in shadows. “I could tell you if you were sailing into an ambush, or if the waters were acting up, or any number of other useful little tips that could keep you and your crew alive.”

“You’ve thought about this,” he says, and Steve snorts.

“Of course I have. I have no home. No family. Going alone almost got me killed. I’m pretty but I’m not dumb, Eddie.” He opens his eyes, fixing his gaze onto Eddie’s. “So how about we make a deal?” he offers, and Eddie grins.

It’s an easy negotiation. Steve wants freedom. He wants to see the world. And he wants safety while he does it. Eddie wants an advantage, wants to keep his crew safe, wants them to thrive in this difficult life they’ve chosen.

They shake on it. Steve moves lightning fast as their hands meet, a sharp claw nicking his own palm and then Eddie’s, making him hiss.

“Fuck–” he grunts. A burning sensation shoots through him from hand to chest, fire hot and searing. He gasps, fingers locked around Steve’s, who stares at him impassively. “What…?”

“You’ve made an oath with a Mer,” Steve says simply. “You’ll be held to your word, Captain Munson.”

Eddie pulls his hand away and looks at his palm. 

A black mark surrounds the cut from Steve’s claw, a swirling spiral that snakes from the center of his palm in three little loops. Steve holds his hand out without being asked, showing the matching mark on his own skin.

Eddie’s no stranger to ink and tattoos, but this is decidedly different. It hums with an ancient kind of magic, a connection that he doesn’t - can’t - understand. Something unnameable settles into his bones.

This is a test, he realizes. Or maybe it’s insurance. Either way, it’s something Steve felt necessary to take Eddie at his word, and so he won’t ask questions - not yet, at least.

“Well, I’ve had worse deals, I guess,” he says, and when he meets Steve’s eyes again, some of the caution has seeped out of them. 

Eddie’s sure there’s more to be found out about this creature in front of him, but contrary to popular belief, he can be patient when it counts. 

For now he’ll take what he’s offered - a wary friendship. A slow-growing understanding. And a certain type of care, of gentleness, that curls warm within him and grows with every smile and soft look that Steve throws his way.

part 3 coming soon 💕 no tag lists, sorry!

[user-needs-new-hyperfixation]

You know how we joke about the array being like a group chat or social media? Well imagine if prayers went into a sort of heavenly email inbox. And when Xie Lian ascends for the third time, he expects his to be empty aside from the occasional spam from someone trying to schmooze up to every god they can think of, or the sadder chain emails from people desperate for help from anywhere.

Instead, he opens it and finds thousands upon thousands of prayers dating back throughout the entirety of his banishment, all from the same untraceable source. He opens random ones. Some are sweet little things, "Your Highness, wherever you are tonight, I hope you sleep well."

Others are more complex, "Your Highness, I find myself in a position where I must either seize power myself or risk it falling into other, more wicked hands. My own hands will inevitably be dirtied by wielding that power, but would they not be just as tainted if I did nothing, and let worse things happen? I know what I will choose, but I still wonder what you would do in my place."

Others still make him blush tomato red up to the tops of his ears, trailing babble still imbued with frantic eroticism and clearly never meant to actually reach him, cutting in and out like a poorly tuned radio as the devotee tries to keep thoughts from becoming prayers, panted strings of "Your Highness, Your Highness, please please please..."

The prayers date back to a few years after his second banishment, which makes sense because his inbox had been wiped when he was banished. He's surprised it's been allowed to gather all of this since: he supposes it's just that no one has even thought to notice. The centuries the prayers span makes it clear they do not come from a human, which is confusing and intriguing in equal measure.

And then, early on, he finds one that makes his heart stop and then take off again at a gallop.

"None of them are quite right, Your Highness. If I carve a thousand, ten thousand, will I eventually get it right? Will I ever be able to capture the kindness and the ferocity you radiate in something as base and cold as stone? I'll keep trying forever, or until I can see you again in the flesh. Your Highness has a believer here who still offers worship."

And that is how Xie Lian realizes that Wu Ming still exists.

(Insert long canon-divergent AU I'm too lazy to write here. I think there needs to be some kooky misunderstandings. Xie Lian is now aware that Wu Ming is out there and loves him and is looking for him and is so distracted by his determination to find him that it takes him 600k words of stubbornly denying his growing affection for Hua Cheng before he finally realizes Hua Cheng IS Wu Ming and has been desperately trying to court him for several volumes.)

[bumblebearzy]

SuperBat #1: Small Acts

This takes place after Bruce, Diana, and Clark find out each other's identities, and before the Justice League find out each other's.

Clark shows up to Justice League meetings in his supersuit, holding a drink carrier with two coffees; one hot chocolate, and an americano with a shot of vanilla. Bruce looks at him quizzically, but doesn't say anything, even when Clark hands him the coffee with his iconic S symbol emblazoned on the side. Internally, Bruce snickers at the thought of the God-like Kryptonian walking into a café, standing in line, and ordering as if he were any other person.

"Hope I got it right, Bruce. I think this is your order" Clark smiles, speaking quietly. Bruce takes a sip. He sits back ever so slightly, stunned. Clark's smile widens. "Is it right?"

"Did Dick give you my order?"

"No, Steph did." Bruce thinks back to earlier that day, walking past Steph's room and hearing her faint giggle. Ah.

Bruce adjusts his posture back to his normal rigid position. Diana, who always sits across from the duo, grins a cheshire smile. Bruce and Clark don't notice.

Bruce becomes used to Clark bringing coffee to their bi-monthly meetings. In fact, he comes to expect it. After a few months, Hal points out that Superman only brings coffee for Batman.

"Why don't I get one?" Hal teases. Clark blushes a bright pink, his smile falters slightly. Bruce notices, but doesn't think much of it.

"Well, Batman is pretty much nocturnal, right? I kinda assumed he would be tired during these meetings, so I guess I thought he might need a pick-me-up."

Well-reasoned, Bruce thinks. Of course, he isn't tired. He always has someone else, normally Nightwing, cover the night before so he is alert and attentive during these meetings.

A week later, Clark starts noticing encrypted e-mails popping up in his inbox. Its contents are all articles about a company that appears to be a shell organization for a company operating out of Metropolis. He starts writing right away. Two or three days later, his investigation is complete, and his article is written. He suspects once he publishes his findings, a certain crime organization will be taken into custody. Within a few days, Clark's suspicion becomes true.

At the next meeting, as Clark is handing Bruce his coffee, Bruce says "I noticed Ascorp has been taken down. Good work." Clark looks at him, mouth agape.

"You sent the email?" Bruce nods.

"It seemed right up your alley. Plus, I don't have jurisdiction in Metropolis. That's your territory."

Clark smiles at him. He hears a quickening heartbeat, and looks around. Huh. Not to say he hasn't noticed it before, but this time, it seemed... different. More noticeable.

Diana smiles her cheshire grin again. Hal looks over at her, than over to Batman and Superman.

"Oooooooooh" He jokes. Nobody else on the team gets it, except Wonder Woman, who sends a knowing wink over to him.

[wooahaes]

a place you can come to, a place I can go to

pairing: non-idol!wonwoo x fem!reader, ft coworkers!96z

genre: romance. kinda fluffy. just a very soft fic of wonwoo coming home. established relationship.

warnings: mentions of reader and wonwoo discussing having kids one day. reader has bad eyesight. reader is mentioned to be introverted.

word count: 1.8k~

daisy's notes: title taken from the lyrics for home

Wonwoo woke up to the sound of the captain speaking, announcing that the plane would be landing within the next hour or so. With a stifled yawn, he popped open his glasses case and began to compose himself. He reached underneath the seat, pulling out his backpack and rifling through it. He found a small bag of cheap toiletries, snagged his water bottle, and squeezed past Soonyoung with a soft apology for waking him up. 

He made his way to the plane bathroom, and rubbed at his eyes after a moment. He popped open the bottle of water, wetting his toothbrush before he began doing a little bit of basic hygiene. He could have waited until he was in the airport, but he wasn’t traveling alone. Soonyoung was out there asleep, and he’d passed by where Jihoon was awake and on his laptop (always working, Wonwoo swore) next to a half-awake Jun. With his teeth brushed, he threw away the disposable  toothbrush—his own was tucked away properly in his bag, and he didn’t trust breaking it out in an airplane bathroom unless he was going to boil the thing later. Then he paused, taking a better look at himself. He looked a little tired. Would you notice that? How would you wax poetic about him this time? You once told Wonwoo that you saw him in every romantic lead you wrote, and he’d been flattered. 

He finally left the bathroom, squeezing past someone else with a quiet apology for taking so long, and passed by Jihoon once again. His coworker looked up, giving him a polite nod before looking back at his laptop for a moment. Wonwoo popped open the overhead, zipping the toiletries into his carry-on instead. The cap of his mouthwash felt faulty when he screwed it back on, and he’d rather spare his laptop from an accidental spill by shoving the cheap, plastic baggie back into his backpack. A moment later, he met Jihoon’s eyes again.

“It’s her birthday today, isn’t it?” He said, far too awake for how early it was. All Wonwoo gave him was a silent nod, and Jihoon shut his laptop. “Hold on, then.” 

Wonwoo just pressed himself against the side of Soonyoung’s seat as a single father passed by with his baby still curled up against his chest. He caught a glance of the sleeping child, chubby cheeks squished against her father’s chest. Would that be Wonwoo one day? Quietly moving to the front to ask a stewardess about something, just to avoid rousing any of the other passengers, his child asleep in his arms while you slept in your seat? He found himself diving into this daydream a little too much. He hoped his child would have your eyes, even though you’d always mused aloud saying you hoped that any kids you had would be like him. Smart, patient, kind, and they’d hopefully have some of his looks. 

“Hopefully they won’t get our eyesight,” you’d giggled at the thought, head resting against his shoulder. “God, imagine how fucked that would be.”

It earned a soft chuckle from him. He had made peace with the fact you cursed long ago. It was nice that you cut down on the habit for him, though (although he’d heard you when you were heated at someone over the phone). You respected him enough to cut back, and he respected you enough to understand that you would never entirely quit because you were you. If anything, you’d thanked him once for it: you slipped up sometimes at work and always apologized profusely for it, and dating Wonwoo helped you slow down and be conscious of what you were saying. 

He did agree, though: thankfully, eyesight was something easily taken care of, but it would be pretty fucked up if your kids had both vision problems the two of you had. You’d laughed when he told you those exact words, too, before kissing him and joking that you were a bad influence after all. He’d hold back what he thought, though. You could never be a bad influence on him. Not when you brought him so much joy.

Jihoon reached forward, tapping something against his side to get his attention back. Wonwoo turned, and it was just a plain envelope, although a little thicker than if it just contained paper. He accepted it from him with a quiet thanks.

“It’s just money and one of those pins you said she likes.” Jihoon ran his thumb along the side of his laptop. “You chose between a few of them and I bought the one you put back. Tell her I said happy birthday.” 

Not all of his friends were like this with you. Wonwoo knew Jihoon was, because it had been Jihoon and Soonyoung who introduced you two to one another. You had been a longtime friend of Soonyoung’s, and it was Jihoon who thought that you would get along well with Wonwoo. He’d only meant it in a friendly way, but Wonwoo remembered when he told Jihoon the two of you started dating. He’d looked up, blinked a few times, and then congratulated him on the new relationship. 

You told him at one point that you had lunch with the pair. After Soonyoung left to use the bathroom, Jihoon quietly asked you to take care of Wonwoo. It had made Wonwoo blush to know that Jihoon was looking after him so carefully, and he’d later offhandedly mentioned it to Jihoon. He joked that he usually saw the situation reversed in fiction: a leading lady’s friends telling him to take care of you.

Jihoon had looked up again. “I know you’ll take care of her,” was what he said, “so I wanted to make sure she does the same for you.” 

Wonwoo tucked the envelope into his bag once he settled back in, and a moment later felt Soonyoung shift and rest his head on Wonwoo’s shoulder. He just shut his eyes, resting his own head against Soonyoung’s as he enjoyed a few minutes of peace. Traveling for work wasn’t something out of the question for him—he was usually one of the ones going somewhere if anyone was going. But traveling without you? It felt weird after the first time. He would see things and quietly muse about how you would respond to them. The two of you went to Japan almost three years ago now, and he made sure that the two of you went when the cherry blossoms were blooming. His phone background was you staring up at the pink flowers, a candid he was thankful to have taken. The soft, amazed look in your eyes, the way your lips were slightly parted, all too astonished at how beautiful nature could be. It was saved for his home screen, though. A little memory exclusive to him and you and anyone who happened to notice you in that moment. His lock screen would always be a picture of the two of you together with you centered, the apple of his eye and love of his life. 

The plane eventually landed, and Wonwoo stood with Soonyoung as the pair waited for Jihoon and Jun to rejoin them. Soonyoung had been half-asleep, swaying into Wonwoo’s side a few too many times. Wonwoo just wrapped an arm around him, patting his head. He’d been unable to sleep with the turbulence earlier in the flight, and Wonwoo couldn’t blame him. 

Even still… His mind was on you. Would you be awake by the time he came home? As much as he hated knowing it, you had to work today. The two of you had already set the plans in stone before he left for this trip: he would take you out tonight to celebrate your birthday, and then the two of you would probably cuddle and sleep while recovering from work and travel. A comfortable night for two introverts in love.

Wonwoo was the one who drove everyone home with the company car. First Soonyoung, who had Jihoon following after him to make sure he didn’t trip on the stairs up to his apartment and bust something in the fall. Then Jun, who waved him onward while insisting that he go ahead and drop Jihoon off and hurry back to you. Jihoon had thanked Wonwoo for returning the car to the company, heading up to his own house with his bag hanging off of his shoulder. And then it was just Wonwoo, listening to the radio as he relaxed against the driver’s seat. Soon enough, he was on his way home to you. The cab dropped him off outside the little home he owned with you, and he walked up the stone pathway. Had you taken care of the yard, keeping it all nice and neat? Or did you get Mingyu to do it, like Wonwoo said you could? You had always insisted that you could handle everything just fine, but Wonwoo had always believed there was no shame in passing the work onto someone else (especially someone who had offered) if you wanted to rest instead. In the end, it didn’t matter. The work had been done. 

Wonwoo unlocked the front door, quietly making his way inside. He set his bag down, stretching one final time before he started to put himself in order. Tennis shoes on the shelf next to your own, house slippers pulled out from where you must have put them while cleaning the entryway, keys back on their hook… It was nice to be home again. He had bought home new things to decorate your home with, but he’d unpack them from his luggage later. Wonwoo just picked his bag back up, and made his way to your bedroom together. He cracked the door open, smiling to himself when he saw you still curled up asleep. You still had time before you had to get up for work, thankfully. And he…

Well. As much as he wanted to stay awake longer, he needed a little more sleep, too. So he left his bag by the door and crawled into bed with you, leaving his glasses on the nightstand. He turned over, ready to curl up and fall asleep, only to stop and admire you. He’d tease you later for drooling in your sleep (you made fun of his bed head so, so many times by now—it was a love language between the two of you). He just reached forward, pulling the blanket back over you so you could sleep comfortably.

Yet you stirred awake right after, eyes searching for his own in the low light. “Wonwoo…” Your voice was hoarse and quiet, but he still heard his name clear as day. You tugged at his shirt, drawing closer as you curled up in his arms. Then he felt you press a sleepy kiss to the underside of his jaw before snuggling back in. “You’re home.”

He just held you closer, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m home,” he confirmed once your arms were around him. “Happy birthday, my love.”

taglist: @twancingyunhao@synthetickitsune@wonuziex@porridgesblog@staranghae @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @bewoyewo

[charlies-diary-entries]

HELLLOOO :) could I request a wolfstar x reader where there’s an upcoming exam that r is super stressed about and how the boys would help or comfort them? (This is indeed self indulgent bcuz I’m stressin for finals 😭)

oh my god darling, i'm aware this is two MILLION years late, but i fear i was ALSO stressin for finals :( i hope all of your exams went completely swimmingly and if they didn't then here is a little comfort for the start of your summer <3

"academic avalanche" poly!wolfstar x reader, very fluffy, mostly comfort

This was it. You'd considered it might come to this, but today seemed to make it official. You were now living, to eventually die, and then rot forever, beneath a wall of books in the library that completely obscured you from view. It was ridiculous. One gentle breeze and you'd be a victim of an academic avalanche.

As you once again desperately tried to cram information about the giant wars of the 19th century into your brain, tears began to slip down your cheeks. Hopelessly, you thumped your head against the horrid tome before you and let the tears fall. Hiccups and sobs also began to escape before you could stop them, and soon enough, you were trying as hard as you could to break down quietly as to not disturb the peace of the library.

They would write your name and death date on your gravestone, paired with the phrase, "Killed by History of Magic."

"Dovey?"

At the sound of a familiar, endlessly comforting voice, you wished you could pull yourself together and only fell apart more. A miserable moan left you from your place faceplanted in the evil textbook.

"Is that you tucked away there, darling?"

One of the shorter stacks was shoved aside before the voice cooed and you were suddenly shoved by an overly-aggressive hug. The voice chided your attacker with a quiet, "Sirius..." but was ultimately ignored as you were squeezed within an inch of your life.

"What have they done to you?" Sirius pulled you upright and gasped at the tears that still flowed down your face. "Scratch that, how did we let you hole up here like this?! Oh, dovey..."

You hiccupped through another sob as Sirius shushed you, pressing kiss after kiss all over your face in attempt to cheer you up.

"I think-" You began, "I think this exam is going to kill me. Actually kill me, I can't do this."

Remus perked up from where he had begun to deconstruct your cavern of books. "Alright dove, it's okay. Why don't we take a break, hm?"

This only served to upset you more as you moaned, flopping completely into Sirius's arms. Frustration only continued to bubble up and out of you as Sirius cradled you.

"I've got to pass this exam. I think I'm going to fail otherwise and I can't fail. I hate this stupid professor, I hate History of Magic, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!"

Sirius cooed and pressed a kiss to your temple, holding you tighter. "I think passionate declarations of hate are a pretty decent sign you're due for a break. Just a little one love, and then we'll help you study after, yeah?."

"I second this plan, besides," Remus said, now a little sheepish, "we've missed you dove."

"Missed them! Missed them, he says!" Sirius scoffed, "You've been holed up in here for nearly a week and your absence has actually taken a toll on our health! I swear, I've never felt so sick as when you're stuck studying!"

At this, you sniffed and smiled a little up at Sirius, who only grinned down at you, allowing himself to kiss your forehead.

"Starting to feel better now, though."

You giggled and Remus rolled his eyes fondly, having now successfully returned most of your books to their respective shelves. Sirius then easily pulled you up and you didn't have the energy to resist. Now with you on your feet, he began to speak before you were tugged away from him and into Remus's bone-crushing hug.

Whatever dramatic protest at you being stolen from him died on Sirius's lips as he watched you deflate even more in your boyfriend's arms. A few more tears rolled down your face as he joined the hug.

"C'mon dovey," Remus said as he eventually pulled away, leaving his hand tightly entwined with yours, "let's all go cuddle for a bit, yeah?"

You nodded and let him pull you along, Sirius attaching himself to your unoccupied arm. You continued to hang off them as they walked you back to their dorm feeling endlessly grateful for their ability to carry the weight of the conversation on their own.

There was something indescribable about the comfort that came from Remus holding you on his bed with Sirius on your other side telling you both about some muggle band he loved. You felt loved. Completely surrounded by love, actually.

And exam be damned, there was no where you'd rather be.

this isn't very long, but i hope you enjoyed love! <3

[azrielbrainrot]

When Prayers Fall on Deaf Ears

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Description: For the first time in his life, Azriel is not ready to accept death.

Warnings: Death, All Hurt No Comfort

Word Count: 1500

Notes: I'm so sorry. I didn't proofread this so I'm sorry for that too.

How could the Mother be so cruel?

After centuries of walking this world alone, of throwing himself at dangerous missions and surviving multiple wars, how come when he finally found something worth living for, his life gets taken away?

Azriel can hear you anguish cries for help, screaming at Rhys to get a healer, can hear your reassurances that he's going to be okay, but the truth is he can barely feel your hands on him, can barely feel his body at all. He's taken several falls like this, but this pain is different. He knows better than to check, knowing he wouldn't be able to bear the sight, - probably wouldn't even be able to complete the movement on his own - but he knows his left wing was mostly ripped off, his arm and leg might be in similar ruined states. The realization that he'll never be able to take to the skies makes him close his eyes for a second, tears gathering in them.

Everything happened so quickly, he had barely reacted in time, sending up a shield around him at the same time Cassian did. He doesn't know what kind of magic that was, had never seen anything like it before, but he knows if it hadn't been for the shield, there wouldn't be any piece of his body left, and his brother would have met the same fate.

His shadows were completely silent, uncharacteristically so, unmoving as they lay under his body, but, even if they weren't singing to him, Azriel could feel them mourning, could feel them disconnect, no longer following his command. They had been with him for most of his life, and he hopes they know how grateful he is for them, for the way they stayed by his side, protecting him and those around him, and they remain until his last breath escapes his body. He truly couldn't have made it this long without them - they were part of his identity.

It's your frantic calls of his name that has him opening his eyes again, blinking a couple of times to try and focus on your beautiful face. This is probably the last time he'll be able to see it so he should enjoy it as much as possible. You send him a relieved look when you notice him watching your face, leaning closer until he can faintly feel your breath on his skin. “Rhys went to get Thesan, alright? You're going to be okay, Az,” you promise, struggling to keep your voice from failing while trying your hardest to choke back your tears, and he struggles to focus on the words, the sound reaching his ears as if he was under water.

He won't be okay, you both know that. No matter how good a healer is, there are some things that can't be helped. Sometimes they forget given their long lifetimes, but fae are still mortals. Everyone around him seems to have come to the same conclusion, but they're all unwilling to accept it, stubborn as they are. Gods, he's going to miss them so much. Azriel almost wants to tell you to call Rhys back, so he can see his brother one last time. No healer is going to be able to fix this anyway, not even Thesan. He's not sure if he can form the words though, even breathing is becoming too much to bear.

Trying his best to pay attention, Azriel tries to focus on his family - the people who have made his life worth living. He can hear the three Archeron sisters crying somewhere at his side, holding onto each other. They've all lost so much in their short lives, Azriel hates that he's going to add to their suffering. After a particularly loud sob escapes Feyre, he realizes his mental shields are probably down, making her privy to his thoughts, but he can't bring himself to care, not anymore.

Amren is studying his body a few steps behind you, staring at him with a conflicted look in her eyes, arms wrapped around herself. This might be the first time she sees someone she cares about die right before her eyes, as she watches on, unable to do a thing about it. Right next to her stands Mor, an uncharacteristically blank look on her face as she watches one of her bestfriends take his last breaths, shock seems to have taken hold of her. Emerie stands behind her, ready to comfort her. He couldn't see Cassian but he feels him kneeling right next to his head, can hear his choked breaths as he desperately tries to keep his tears from coming, can feel the familiar thrum of his power. He had also been injured, but it seems that Azriel had taken the worst of it, his brother would be alright.

And you. He doesn't even want to imagine how much pain he's going to bring you. You, who's trying so hard to be strong for him, to keep on a brave face and make him feel better in his last moments, even though you probably want nothing more than to curse the Mother and any deity responsible for this. If it had been the other way around, he's not so sure he would survive it, or that he would want to, but he knows you're more resilient than him, so much stronger, always have been.

None of you deserve this. To have your family ripped away from you like this. And he doesn't either, after suffering through so much, he knows he deserved a few more good years with you and his family by his side.

“I don't want to die,” the words escape him in a whisper before he has the chance to keep them down. The sobs that escape both you and Cassian almost make him want to take the words back, knowing he's going to give you guys enough pain as it is. Your hands raise to hold his face, bringing a smile to his lips even at a time like this.

He was almost surprised to see that he meant it. Azriel had never been afraid of death, would gladly do it to save the ones he loves, as he is doing now, but that had always been easier when he felt like he had nothing to lose. Aside from his friends and his mother - who he knows should be more than enough reason - Azriel had never truly felt fulfilled or content with his life. Throwing it all away would have been easier then, but now he had you.

He's been waiting for a love that would give his life purpose ever since he can remember, as pathetic as that may sound, and now that he finally met you, he's going to die without ever getting the chance to give you the ring he keeps stored on his nightstand. He had been waiting for the right time to give it to you, it seems like fate had other plans for him. He can only imagine what you will feel when you find the silver ring engraved with both of your initials.

A sudden pressure in the air tells Azriel his brother returned with Thesan. He feels a strange sort of relief at this, not because he thinks the healer can still help him, but because he didn't want to go without knowing Rhys was here as well. His heart seems to echo this sentiment, as he can hear it slow down with each painful breath he takes into his lungs.

Azriel uses his remaining strength to hold up his hand, trying to feel your skin against his rough palm one more time. He can't quite raise his arm high enough, the blood loss catching up to him, but you hold his hand in yours and hold it up to your cheek. You always knew what to do, what he was thinking.

“I love you,” he struggles out.

Your tears are flowing down your cheeks freely as you repeat the words back to him, having no choice but to resign yourself to your cruel fate. Rhys and Mor kneel at your side, the latter resting a hand on your shoulder, trying to give you as much comfort as she can, while Rhys stares at his brother, the normally striking purple not visible behind his tears.

As scared as he was, he could admit this wasn't so bad, dying surrounded by his family, surrounded by so much love. He feels comfort that the last thing he felt before everything turned cold was the warmth of your body against him. Enough so that it almost catches him by surprise, barely registering his shadows moving from his body to yours, covering your body the same way they've been covering him all these years, barely feels his arm drop from your face, his strength completely leaving his body until he can't hear anything, can't see anything as the world goes black, and the last thing he feels is your head falling on his chest as a wail of his name escapes you.

[moviecritc]

june 18th ⋆ oscar piastri smau

pairing: oscar piastri x singer!reader

summary: everyone thinks that your new album is about break up and that you ended your relationship with your boyfriend

warnings: hate comments

a/n: i used midnights by taylor swift, it fits perfectly with the plot <3

english is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

yourusername just posted!

liked by lilymhe, yourbff and 627,921 others

yourusername life is emotionally abusive... 💎

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user1 IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING?

user2 TEASING A NEW ALBUM???

user3 everybody stay calm GEWUIEORLGNFDSKVBGFDSFG

user4 FINALLYYYYY, it's been almost two years we miss singer y/n

user5 wait why isn't oscar in the likes?? 👀

yourusername just posted!

liked by yourbff, sabrinacarpenter and 923,531 others

yourusername 'MIDNIGHTS' out June 18th 🌙🥀☁️

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user1 sabrina, billie, girl in red and now y/n WE ARE BEING FED

user2 LET'S GOOO

yourbff ok i'm so excited <33

user3 THE COVER, THE MAN AT THE BAACK

user4 it's giving break up album user1 it HAS to be a break up album user5 the tracklist feels very sad

user6 GUYS WHERE'S OSCAR.

user7 this can't be happening rn

user8 JUNE 18TH COME FASTTT

user9 guys, guys, june 18. 18 backwards is 81, OSCAR'S RACE NUMBER

user10 OH WE'RE GOING TO CRY WITH THIS ALBUM

user11 wait but we saw them together past month, i don't think she could wrote the album so fast

user12 idc IT'S GOING TO BE A BREAK UP ALBUMMM

yourusername just posted!

liked by yourbff, landonorris and 941,645 others

yourusername Some pics from the making off of 'midnights' 🌙

ps. when should i drop the first single?

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user1 wait she looks so happy

user2 she's healing from tha oscar guy

user3 DROP IT NOOOOWWW

user4 lando in the likes??

landonorris 😍

user5 ok this is taking a weird path now user6 he has never liked any of the posts on yn in all these years AND NOW HE'S COMMENTING user7 ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE user8 this wasn't in my 2024 bingo card honestly

oscarpiastri just posted a story!

[caption: ready for the weekend]

replies

user1 tf you think you're to hurt y/n user2 thank god you broke up with y/n, she deserves way better than this user3 not this guy thinking he could pull y/n user4 i hope you don't win any race for what you did to y/n

yourusername just posted!

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yourusername Sometimes all that a girl needs is terrorizing herself for 3:20 minutes. Anti-Hero mv is now yours 🌙🌙🌙

Writing and directing this mv was an amazing experience, huge thanks to all the crew that make this possible.

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user1 SLAY AND SERVED CUNT

user2 MOTHER

user3 it's giving tyler durden and the narrator ngl

user4 THE "EVERYONE WILL BETRAY YOU" SCENE?? OSCAR YOU'RE DEAD

user5 AND THE ORANGE IS ALL OVER THA MV (that is oscar's color team) user6 WHO TF THIS MAN THINK HE IS?? dude hasn't even achieve anything and has the courage to hurt y/n user7 FRR, i love him when he was supportive with her, but now? he better hide himself user8 oscar we're coming from you

user9 wait oscar is back in the likes

user10 he can leave honestly, we don't want him here

yourusername just posted!

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yourusername I know the album drops in one week, but... here's the Lavender Haze music video. Starring me and @oscarpiastri 💐

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user1 this is probably the most iconic thing anyone has ever done

user2 NOW THIS IS HOW YOU BEAT ALLEGATIONS

oscarpiastri my girl, i'm so proud of you ✨

user4 COUPLE GOALS. COUPLE GOALS COUPLE GOALS user5 oh shut up you were hating on him two days before user3 the fact that LANDO had to interfere bc of all the hate to oscar

user6 i'm so happy for them 💜

landonorris i wasn't aware of that part of you mr piastri

user7 so it's not a break up album

user8 it's literally a love letter 😩😩

lilymhe you guys are the cutest can't wait to the album to drop

yourusername you're so sweet lily 💖 user10 i need them to be friends user11 PLEASE

user9 ugh i'm so lonely

oscarpiastri just posted!

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oscarpiastri happy midnight release day for those who celebrate 💜

tagged yourusername

comments have been restricted

yourusername my everything 💜

landonorris booo go get a room

[brainrot-of-a-thot]

I’ll wipe those tears til’ they stop falling.

or, they help you fight your demons, featuring: bofurin + jo togame

a/n: this was originally an ask, but I accidentally lost the original ask (I’m so sorry about that love!) and had to create a separate post. writing these actually gave me a sense of comfort as a long-time survivor of depression/self harm, and i hope it can give you all some comfort too if you’ve ever suffered from that <3

c/w: fairly heavy themes, such as undertones of depression/anxiety/self harm/relapse/bullying/suicidal thoughts/social anxiety (these aren’t explored too deeply, but they are there), hurt/comfort, fluff, soft!boys, protective!boys, established relationships, some language, hugs, self-harm scars, minor bad thoughts, togame’s has a very very little bit of spice in it

you are so strong and beautiful; keep holding on darling <3.

“…I just don’t know if I can take it anymore, ume.” you sniffed, eyes glistening with tears that you desperately wished not to shed. “I don’t even know what’s wrong with me… I thought I was past all this.”

you had been keeping your distance from your boyfriend for a few weeks now; your conversations with him had grown infrequent due to your lack of energy. your own mind had been sapping it from you, filling your chest with a sense of isolation and hollowness as it forced you to push everyone away.

you didn’t understand why umemiya wasn’t angry at you, or why his eyes still glowed with ever-deepening adoration — he was sitting with you as if no time had ever passed, as if you hadn’t nearly cut him from your life.

umemiya’s hand was large and warm around yours, his long fingers slipped comfortably between the gaps of your own. he listened to you talk with a soft smile on his face; despite the turmoil rioting within you, the gentle expression still made your stomach erupt into butterflies.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you,” umemiya finally murmured, voice softer than you’d ever heard it before. “feeling emotions is proof that you’re alive. and it’s okay to not be okay, you know? but…”

umemiya used the leverage of his grip on your hand to pull you closer to him, until you had to shuffle into his lap just to avoid crashing into him. his body was warm beneath and against yours, and when he pressed your head comfortably into his chest with his other hand, his heartbeat seemed to resonate with and control your own.

“…when things start to get hard, don’t try to tackle them all alone. if you find that your strength is wavering, come to me. I’ll be your strength instead.”

those tears that you tried so desperately to keep at bay slipped out of your eyes like slick oil, sliding down the curve of your chin and plopping onto the front of umemiya’s shirt. your heart was shaky in your chest, each beat feeling constricted with the weight of intense emotions.

you weren’t even sure which one took the most precedent — happiness, shame, love, relief, frustration… they were all rampaging inside your chest, threatening to tear you apart at the seams.

god, you didn’t want to cry anymore.

“if you need to cry, don’t hold it back. I’ll stay with you — forever and ever, okay?”

well, as long as umemiya was there, maybe it was okay to cry for a while longer.

there was an itch beneath your skin; one that was insistent and familiar. the voices around you grated in your ears, rousing up static within your mind. your breath rattled in your lungs as you tried to suck down air as inconspicuously as possible. when had it become so stuffy in here…?

pothos was the group hangout — one that you had become comfortable and familiar with. any other day, the clamor within it would have soothed you; the clinking of silverware, the harmony of your friends’ voices melding together, kotoha calling out orders or yelling at your booth to settle down.

but right now, it felt like too much — your skin was going to peel off. before you could stop yourself, you brought your hand up to your wrist. pain bloomed along your skin as you dug crescents into the tender flesh. the pain morphed into an anchor, one that could keep you from being tossed around by the tumultuous waves.

but all too soon, that anchor was ripped from you — by none other than sakura, who grabbed your wrist to halt your movements.

you fixed him with a look of shock — you were unable to read his eyes; you couldn’t see any anger, or disappointment, or shock. they were brimming with an emotion that you couldn’t identify.

sakura remained silent as he pulled your hand towards his body, and you watched as he guided it down to his own wrist.

“if you need to do that, do it to me instead.” sakura whispered, and your heart dropped in your chest. what was he saying? you couldn’t hurt sakura that way!

“but I c-couldn’t hurt you—” you started with a stutter, only for sakura to stop you by tightening his fingers ever so slightly around your wrist. that emotion in his eyes deepened even further, and his voice shook when he murmured,

“then you understand why I can’t watch you do it to yourself.”

your heart skipped a beat. ah, that’s what that emotion was. deep, unearthed concern, born from feelings so intense that they could barely be contained. sakura couldn’t stand to watch you hurt yourself, because simply watching you do it had the same effect as you digging your nails into his very heart.

“I won’t do it anymore.” you promised in a whisper, rocked to your own core by how sincere you were about the sentiment. you didn’t need to use pain as an anchor anymore — because you had sakura, and he was the strongest anchor you could ever ask for.

“suo is dating her? but why?”

“I don’t know — she’s just so… plain, isn’t she?”

“I bet he lost a bet or something!”

their whispers echoed in your brain even long after they’d been uttered, slithering into the cracks of your subconscious and nesting there, until, at some point, you had begun to believe them.

why would suo choose you? out of everyone he could have, why would he choose the plainest girl in the town? you didn’t have any outstanding features, and your body was just on the low end of average — and suo was handsome, charming, talented and strong.

you used to believe that you had a place next to him, but now… now you weren’t so sure.

“you seem rather distracted, love; is something on your mind?” suo’s voice was like a soothing balm to your nerves, warm and familiar — but it struck a chord of pain in your chest, too, because it was just another reminder of how out of your league he was.

you swallowed thickly, those words once again bouncing around your skull. plain, average, untalented, dumb…

“suo, do you regret dating me?” you asked, choked up. you weren’t sure why you decided to phrase it that way; it just seemed to make the most sense that way.

suo fell silent. you didn’t dare raise your eyes to meet his — you couldn’t bare to see what may be within them. salty tears stung in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall; once you’d heard suo’s answer, you’d consider doing so. but until then, you would keep them contained.

there was the softest shuffle of movement, and in the next instant, you were letting out a small yelp as a body plopped down on the tatami mat behind you, and strong arms snaked around your waist.

the strong scent of patchouli invaded your nose and soft threads tickled your collarbone when suo hooked his head over your shoulder. suo was warm, enveloping your entire body from behind and filling you with a sense of safety.

“the only thing I regret,” suo started softly, his voice deep and reverent. “is not meeting you sooner.”

and suo’s voice was raw with such sincere emotion that the few words he’d uttered held more impact on your heart than a million reassurances.

your tears fell in unbidden rivulets from your eyes, but they were weighed down by pure happiness.

“… I swear, one of these days I really am going to back kick him into a different dimension…”

you wanted to pay attention to what your boyfriend was saying; really, you did. but your mind was so occupied by other thoughts — or, more accurately, occupied with keeping out other thoughts.

the urges had been more frequent, lately. it wasn’t as though anything was going wrong in your life; your grades were spectacular, you were surrounded by warm friends, and you were dating one of the best people on earth — yet, those thoughts and those feelings were still creeping in.

that drawer you had closed so long ago resonated with enticing whispers, the tiny objects located within beckoning you to pick them up once more.

come back to us… we’re your true friends. don’t you remember how much we helped you? how free you felt with us?

you shivered. even when you weren’t in your room, even when you couldn’t see the door of that drawer, you could still hear them.

“…babe? are you okay?” you blinked back to reality at the sound of hiragi’s voice calling out to you — it was then that you’d realized you had stopped in your tracks, and hiragi was standing in front of you, one large hand wrapped around your wrist and face painted with an expression of worry. how long had he been calling out to you?

“I-I’m sorry, what were you saying, hiragi?” you asked, almost robotically. those whispers had shirked into the shadows of your mind, but you could still hear them hissing at you.

hiragi studied you for a long moment, his eyes shaded with something you couldn’t put your finger on.

“the urges have come back, haven’t they?” hiragi asked suddenly. his voice held no judgement, anger, or sadness, and his eyes remained fixed in yours while he stroked the skin of your held wrist with his thumb. the scars, you realized belatedly. you swallowed thickly before nodding, tears gathering in your eyes.

you wished you could say no — you wished you could tell hiragi that you’d completely forgotten about the blades in your drawer; or better yet, that you’d thrown them in the trash rather than stowing them away out of sight.

but you couldn’t.

hiragi sighed softly and glanced down at your hand. after a moment, he slid his hand from your wrist to your hand, and with gentle fingers, he pried it open until it was facing palm up. he kept it in his grip as he used his free hand to remove his necklace from his neck.

he placed the jewelry into your palm, the metal warm from the heat of his chest. your eyes widened. he never took that off.

when hiragi was sure you had a firm hold on the necklace, he dropped your hand and brought both of his up to cradle your face. he leaned in and pressed his lips to your forehead in a sweet, chaste kiss.

“when those urges come, grab onto that necklace. use it as a reminder that I love you, and even when I’m not there, I’m still with you.”

hiragi’s breath was warm against your forehead, and you could feel the slide of his lips across the skin as he spoke. the depth of his words wrapped around you like the softest, comfiest blanket, and as hiragi gathered you into his arms to hold you tight, you realized that the whispers were silent.

you’d been with togame for a couple of months now — and you couldn’t be happier. he was an unbelievable package; sweet and loving, tall, romantic, considerate, and attractive to an extent that was almost unfair. but best of all, he let the relationship unfold at your pace.

there was no rush from him; whether it was kissing or sharing deep secrets, he let you do it on your own time. it was a monumental relief, especially in the physical aspect.

because you were hiding something from togame — something you didn’t know if you’d ever be able to show him.

your scars.

buried deep into your wrists, straight and jagged, crisscrossing and bumping — they were ugly, mars against the smooth expanse of the rest of your arm.

you had long since put down the knife. It had been over a year since you last cut, and as of late, you were no longer struggling with the urges of relapse. you had togame to thank for that.

it made you feel horrible. togame never hid anything from you — he’d even told you about the cruel things he’d done, about how he used to treat people. how much he’d hated himself then. he offered himself up as an open book for you to read any time you pleased.

and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to show him. you couldn’t bear the thought of him knowing who you used to be, what you used to do. you were terrified of his reaction, terrified that it would make him treat you differently.

terrified that he would love you differently.

you didn’t want togame’s view of you to change; even if it meant hiding something so big from him. it was selfish and incredibly unfair, you knew this. but you were too weak, too scared. you didn’t want to lose togame.

you didn’t want togame to be grossed out by you.

but, as they say, things that are hidden in the dark must always come to the light, and they’ll do so in some way or another.

maybe it was just karmic retribution that it turned out this way; or maybe it was your own raging hormones, the ones that beckoned you to shed your long-sleeved shirt to feel togame’s skin against your own.

whatever it was, it was too late to assign blame — because your shirt was off, and togame had seen; his emerald eyes were glued to your left wrist, to the scars that littered the skin.

you held your breath while your heart shuddered in your chest. you were unable to read togame’s expression — at this point, you weren’t sure if it was because there wasn’t any emotion behind his expression or because your own mortification was blinding you.

for a moment, togame was simply silent. then, his eyes slid from your wrist and back to your face, but he didn’t say anything. instead, he leaned back down and recaptured your lips in a kiss. the heat he’d had before hadn’t faded in the least, but you were so shocked and confused that you couldn’t respond.

there were many thoughts racing through your mind, but plucking a single one out to focus on was near impossible. why wasn’t togame reacting to them? did he not care?

“they don’t change a thing,” togame suddenly murmured against your lips, sending your train of thought to a screeching halt. “they don’t change the way I feel about you. they don’t change the way I see you. you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

you couldn’t understand why, but togame’s words brought tears to your eyes. they were fat and salty, sliding from the corners of your eyes and soaking straight into the freshly clean sheets. your heart felt like it was aching — but it was the ache that came from fullness, from emotion so strong that it threatened to completely shatter its container.

unadulterated love and acceptance. that’s what these warm, intense feelings were. he loved and accepted you, scars and all; and togame kissed and soothed that sentiment straight into your body, heart and soul — until there was no other thing you could do except feel it.

[mikkomacko]

Him and I: Savior

Warnings: Smut, blood, weapons, injuries, kidnapping, cursing, gun violence

A/n: I am so sorry this took so long but it's finally here! Thank you all so much for being patient and for helping me out with this one! I hope you all enjoy!! xx

________________________________________________________

Everything feels hot and sticky; the flames that lick in the fireplace, the knitted blanket beneath your knees, the back of your thighs every time they touch the skin of your calves. And Nico, god he’s so hot.

The heat comes off him in waves, almost stronger than the fire he lit for you earlier after Timo left to spend the day with his own family. His damp skin sticking to yours, his large hands that are intertwined with yours, even his breath.

“Come on baby,” he encourages, accent thick and heady with lust. “Doing so good, fuck.” You squeeze his fingers, palm pressing into his and his biceps flex to support your weight as you lift your hips up.

“Nico,” you whimper, tired and hot but he feels so so good, especially when you sink back down on his cock. You hiccup, the thick head of him nudging so deep it almost hurts. Nico doesn’t often request that you be on top, mostly because he likes being the one to pin you down, but he was all mushy and soft this morning when he snuggled into you on the large rug.

He bites at his lip when you fully sit on him again, the muscles of his neck and abdomen clenching. He’s so pretty like this, laid out in front of you with his chest glistening and splotchy, lips bitten red. And his eyes so dark they look black, glossy and wild with lust. Demanding too, like no matter where he’s at he knows his power, his hold over you.

“Just a little more,” he grunts, smirking when you immediately press into his hands again and roll your hips up until just the tip of him sits snuggly in your walls. “Work for it baby, I’ll make it worth it.”

And he always does, so you ignoring the burning muscles and skin, riding him with all you’ve got. It’s not enough though, every time you sink down on him your legs grow shakier. It feels too good, he feels too good and you’re used to be spoiled by him.

Frustrated, you blink back the tears in your eyes and pout down at him. “I can’t,” you mumble, everything in your body wound so tight it aches. You’re so close, so so fucking close but you need him to get you there.

As much as Nico enjoys seeing you all desperate and whiny above him, he prefers it much better when you’re like that below him.

Knowing he’ll break, you slump forward into him until he has to sit up and catch you, wrapping an arm around your back.

“Ok, ok,” he concedes through a laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You kiss at his collarbone, trail your lips up the damp skin of his neck. “Help me out here, just for a sec.”

Pleased that your pouting worked, you help Nico maneuver until it’s your back pressed into the warm rug, thighs spread to accommodate the large frame of your boyfriend.

Rough, warm hands ghost over your thighs before hooking under your knees and Nico hauls your ankles over his shoulders. You feel like mush, following whatever way he decides to move you and there’s something so freeing about getting to just be here with him.

Nothing to think about, nothing to do but be.

“Sweet girl,” Nico murmurs, kissing the inside of your calf and taking ahold of his cock. You dig your fingers into the blankets around you, hips lifting impatiently as he teases his cock through your folds.

“Please Nico,” you beg, teary eyed and pouting. Shaking his head in amusement, Nico shifts forward and sinks back into you. Breathe caught in your lungs, your hands find his forearms and hold on for dear life.

The noise that comes out of his chest, all deep and breathy through an almost manic sounding laugh, has your toes curling.

Back in his element, Nico shakes off that pleasure fueled giggle that sneaked out of him, grips your thighs and holds you still while he begins fucking into you.

His right arm wraps around your thigh, palm pressing into your lower belly and the pad of his middle finger easily finds your clit.

“Atta girl,” he mumbles, nimble fingers drawing circles that have you desperately tightening around him. “Come for me baby, please.”

Fueled by his words and the work of his hips and hands, you crash over the edge. Nico fucks you through it, rough and strong rocks of his hips that make you dig your nails into his arms.

Letting your legs slips from his hold, he presses down close to you until the pendant of his chain lay in the hollow of your neck. Boneless, you gently stroke through his sweaty hair and kiss him until his cock is twitching, his own high trembling through him with every stroke of his hips.

Hot and sticky, Nico peels his chest off yours just enough to kiss you. You tug at his hair, teasingly licking into his mouth and he grunts, softening cock twitching.

“God I love you,” he pants, lips moving to your cheek. You giggle, let him flatter you with kisses for a moment before returning the sentiment.

Lazily, he slips off you and onto his back, large hands molding your cooling skin into his side. You curl into him, lay your hand on his chest and watch the little flames of the fire flick.

“I think we should get married.”

It slips off his tongue so casually you’d think he was talking about the weather. But maybe within that, you suppose, is the truth of them. He’s not nervous about them, questioning of what he’s saying.

Obviously you know that Nico is your future, that the unspoken plan this whole time has been a life together. But that’s never come out of his mouth in the form of marriage. First it was your pendant, then it was your Devs ring, and moving into the house.

Him telling his sister you’re his prinzessin was already a huge leap to that next big thing in your relationship.

This is something he undoubtedly wants, even if it’s coming from his orgasm-loosened lips.

“That better not be how you’re proposing to me Nico Hischier.” You reply, playing coy even though your heart has begun thumping eagerly.

He breathes out a laugh, tugs on a tangled strand of your hair with his fingers. “And if it is?”

You hum, rolling onto your elbows so you can look down at him. He’s all pink and splotchy cheeks, smiling mischievously. You want to bite into the apple of his cheeks, dip your tongue in the dent of his dimples.

“It’s not,” you shrug innocently “because you know me and you know that I’ll only say yes if you do it the right way.”

“The right way?”

“Mhmm” you hum, trailing your finger between the pecks of his chest and into the soft tuft of dark hair. “You, on your knees obviously,” you continue and he laughs “and a ring, and preferably not when I’m all sweaty and messy.”

“Messy with me,” he quips, pouting his lip. “That’s not so bad, right?”

“More like messy because of you.” You giggle, kissing his lips back into a smile. Your lips still tickle his when you separate.

“Fine I will do it right,” he concedes quietly, “and afterwards I’ll make you messy with me.”

You seal the promise with another kiss.

~~~~

A day with Nico in Switzerland is the best therapy you could’ve asked for after the stressful day with his family. Following up the conversation of the morning, spending the rest of the day with no one but him is a dream.

He’s lighter here, almost floating through the streets of town square with you. A far cry from the man that dominates the streets of Jersey with you under his arm.

It almost makes you feel guilty for bringing the uneasy feeling that’s been following you all day.

“Nico?” You murmur, turning your head into his body. He hums, sipping his ice coffee through his straw. Glancing around the busy street, you tuck further into his side in an attempt to hide your words. “I think someone is following us.”

Like a flip has been switched in his brain, Nico quickly falls back into his mafioso role. You can tell he’s on alert, feel how rigid his body’s become but he stays casual.

“Where baby?” He asks, nonchalantly. “Who’d you see?”

Biting at your lip, you shrug. “No one specific,” you admit “I just - I don’t know, something feels off. Like when you’re at a red light and the person next to you is looking at you but you can’t see them through the window tint.”

“You just know.” He agrees, nodding. Nico stops you two on the sidewalk, his free hand moving to hold your face and he dramatically frowns. Even then, you can tell he’s scanning the area in his peripheral, but his eyes stay locked with yours.

“Your cold baby,” he takes the beanie off his head and pulls it over yours, then unravels the scarf around his neck and slips it over yours. Catching on, you help him bundle your face until just your eyes peek out from the fabric.

Smiling, he kisses between your eyes. “Perfect,” he compliment, taking your hand in his. Then he’s motioning for you to slip under his arm, and you do, hiding in the thick wool coat he’s wearing. He guides you to the edge of the street, looks around like he’s checking for cars but you know he’s looking for faces.

Deeming it safe, you two cross the street, turning down a block to an even busier street. Joining the crowd, you slowly filter along and the prickling feeling of unwanted eyes on you fades.

Nico speaks up once he feels you relax. “There’s no one baby,” he sounds worried, but not in the way you’d think. Worried for you for thinking that, and not worried that it might be true.

“I know they were there, Nico.” You reiterate, voice muffled by your covered face. He can practically picture the stern pull of your eyebrows, the pout of your lips.

“I know, I know, I just…”

“What?”

“I don’t want you to think anyone here is out to get you.”

You can hear the underlying truth. He doesn’t want you to think his parents, his family are watching your every move. He’s worried you think they’d do something like that.

“Ok Nico.” You mumble, slipping out from under his elbow and reaching for his hand instead. It’s a stupid and petty thing to do, but he’s not listening to you. You don’t think people are watching you, they’re watching him.

And his family would do that to him, he told you himself they would.

So you’ll be petty, and he’ll just have to deal with it. Which he does, walking hand-in-hand with you back towards the car. It’s a roundabout way, one that seems to be taken more by tourist than locals due to the amount of shops and people.

You’re silent as you go, hiding from Nico’s gaze every time he looks over at you by tucking into his scarf and pulling the beanie further down your forehead. By the time you make it to the car it’s basically over your eyes, and Nico huffs out a laugh as he pulls open the door for you.

You wait until he’s in the drivers seat and the doors are locked before peeling off the scarf. Neck and chin hot, you pull your hair off your skin and adjust the cool air.

Nico takes the scarf from you, flinging it back over your hand and pulling the ends until your leaning over the console and he can kiss you. His lips land on your cheek when you turn away, crossing your arms over your chest. You know how much he hates that.

“Hey,” he barks, tone all business. You look over, glaring at that mean flare of his nose and dark eyes. “Don’t do that. I’m listening, I’m always listening. We’re fine.”

“Fine,” you agree, turning back towards the front of the car. “Ass,” you add quietly and almost snicker when you hear the sharp inhale of his breath.

“Am I ever gonna win one of these?” He huffs, “Come on, we had a perfect morning. So romantic and sweet, and now you’re gonna ruin it pouting.”

Frustration burns at your ears. “M’not ruining anything! When there’s a bounty over my head at the end of the day because you’re being naive, that’ll ruin the day.”

Two fingers lock around your chin, strong and biting as they force you to turn back to him. Thick eyebrows lowered, jaw clenched, and eyes blazing, Nico shakes his head.

“Don’t say shit like that.” His tone is sharp and commanding, accent think. “I would never let that happen. I would burn every inch of Europe to the ground to keep you safe, and you know that.

“You’re gonna be my wife, my prinzessin. And no one is stupid enough to mess with that.”

You soften at his words, knowing you should trust him. But at the same time he should trust you, and you know something is off here. Still, you don’t want to fight with him, you know not to fight with him when he’s like this.

Gripping his wrist, you pull his fingers off your face and shy away from his hold. “Ok.”

He starts the car. You hold his hand. “Can we go see Timo?”

Nico sighs, puts the car in gear and takes your hand again. “Yeah baby, we can.”

~~~~

Timo can tell you two have had a disagreement. If your monotone voice and autopilot like movements weren’t enough of an indication, Nico following you around like a puppy is.

Some friends of his are throwing a roof top party, the whole area warmed by large heaters and hot alcoholic drinks. You don’t need any of them though, not with the way Nico has plastered himself to you. He’s hot on your tail for every movement, a strong arm wrapped around your waist or hand in your back pocket.

“Stop fighting with me,” Nico begs when you ignore his offer of a drink. He easily presses in behind you, hefting you up by the waist and sitting you in one of the bar stools at an abandoned corner table.

“I’m not,” you argue and he steps between your parted thighs. “I didn’t want a drink.”

He sighs, placing his hands on your knees. “You don’t want anything from me, it seems like. Or anything to do with me either.”

“That’s not true.” You argue, meeting his gaze. “I just - I want you to take me seriously when I say something is wrong.”

Nico’s eyebrows pull together, lips falling into a frown. “I am taking you seriously. I’ve been watching you, everyone all day since you told me. My first priority, always, is your safety.”

You can tell by the simmer in his dark eyes that he’s being earnest. Maybe you’re unaware of how he goes about his work when he’s in his home country. He can be obvious in Jersey, can glare and hound anyone he wants because he runs the place. Here is different. And maybe that’s why it seemed to you like he was doing nothing.

“I know,” you concede “I’m sorry. Just scared me I guess.”

Nico nods, something sad settling in his features as he looks over your features. Reluctant and silent, he steps back from you, fingers trailing after him like he knows he shouldn’t let go.

You ignore that stupid, hopeless voice telling you to just forgive and forget in favor of having your loving, sweet boyfriend back. But you’re too upset.

“We should go back.” You say instead, ignoring his gaze as you climb down from the stool. Nico nods, jaw clenched and nostrils flared as he follows you back towards Timo and his friends.

You sit with some of the local girls around them, purposely avoiding Nico’s gaze from the other end of the table as he fits back into conversation with his childhood friends.

The girls chat with you, doing their best to stick to English or try and translate, but after awhile you just feel like a burden. You don’t belong here, you can’t even speak the same language. It makes your skin crawl with embarrassment, cheeks feeling hot.

Ready to give up, you look over through glossy eyes hoping Nico’s watching, that he sees you and knows. Instead you find him laughing, that beautiful belly laugh that crinkles his eyes and makes his teeth buck out a little. He takes a swig of a drink, shifts through the playing cards in his hand.

“I’m gonna run to the restroom,” you say quietly to the ladies, and they pause politely to acknowledge you before continuing in Swiss German.

You hightail across the rooftop, unsure of where the bathroom even is. All you know is you need to get away from this for a moment, need to hear yourself think. Sniffling, you bound down the staircase and through the muggy hallway until you find the door outside.

The air is cold and biting, makes your lips tremble but feels so good in your lungs. You gulp down ragged breaths of it, feel your heart begin to slow down and you reach up to place a hand over your pulse. You can’t feel the metal of your Devs pendent through the layers and the thought jolts you back, makes you realize that you’ve just ran out of a foreign building without Nico after you’d thrown a fit for feeling unprotected.

Your brain has just registered to turn around, Nico’s name on your tongue when the scarf he’d wrapped around your neck goes taut, cutting into your windpipe.

Immediately you kick back, struggling for breath as a thick body presses into your back. You reach up, claw at any exposed piece of skin you can and your brain fights to remember everything Nico taught you.

All you can think about is his eyes. His warm, beautiful eyes that makes you feel so safe.

You kick again, try to tug the scarf loose but it’s no use. Not when something hard and heavy hits you in the temple and everything goes black.

~~~~

There’s a reason Nico and Timo don’t work extremely close anymore. Yeah Timo is his second in command still, but Nico knew what he was doing when he moved his friend to training and educating new Devs. And again when he made him your body guard and eye.

The two of them together ultimately fuck up.

Like when they delayed the opening of the coffee shop Jesper wanted to invest in by insisting they could put together the espresso machines themselves. Instead they spend two hours fooling around with the bubble wrap and then another two making each other really bad shots of caffeine that kept them up all night.

They just get too caught up in having fun.

Which is how Nico drinks his way through a pitcher of beer and gambles himself into $700 before he realizes. He’s stuffing his cash in his pocket, fending off Timo’s grabby hands for the money when a sudden longing for you hits him in the chest.

He started screwing around here in the first place because you were mad at him. And he’s mad at you too, actually. Pissed because he’s trying his best here. This is all new to him, being so fucking in love he feels like he could die. No matter how hard he tries to get that out to you, it never comes out how he wants.

Not knowing how to fix it but knowing he needs to touch you, to see you, Nico calls game.

“Tapping out,” he says, shoving Timo’s hold off and rising from his seat. “Don’t want to push my luck.”

The boys jeer and tease but he moves along, heading towards the other end of the large table where he left you. Only you’re not there when he finally looks up. Your seat next to Anna is empty, but nothing is left behind to indicate you were even there.

Panic rises in his stomach, hammers in his chest. “Anna!” Nico calls in his native tongue. It always makes him sound scarier, more powerful. “Where’s y/n?”

Wide eyed, the girl looks at him and then the rest of the table. “She went to the restroom like an hour ago, we thought she ended up going to sit with you.”

Another pipes up. “Yeah she didn’t seem to be having fun with us. Thought she was looking for a nice way to go back to you.”

A few more say something but it falls on deaf ears. Nico looks around the rooftop, scanning for your coat and his beanie but he comes up empty handed again. He feels sick as he digs out his phone, frantically hitting your favorited contact and holding it to his ear.

It’s goes to voicemail.

He tries again.

Voicemail.

Squeezing his phone in his fist, he thinks of that look on your face in the street when you told him someone was following you. How pale you were, the way you bite at your cheek and your lips seemed to shake. How easily you fell into him and let him watch over you.

Even then, your eyes still held that alarmed baby deer look.

He let you down.

Throat and chest tightening, Nico rushes back to Timo. He can’t even get the words out, just grabs his friend by the back of the collar and hauls him up from his seat.

Everyone around them catches on. Mafioso Nico is rushing across the rooftop, his right hand man being drug with him. They all move out of the way.

“Nico? What’s wrong? What happened? Wh-“

“I lost her.” Nico spits out, releasing Timo who gains his footing and follows him down the stairs. “She told me someone was following her and I blew it off.”

They crash through the door, out into the street and towards the car. “Who was she with?”

“Anna said she got up an hour ago. Haven’t seen her since. Phone is going to voicemail-“

“Tracker?”

“I don’t know,” Nico huffs, digging around for his keys. “I need the computer to be able to pull it up.”

They climb into the car, Nico starting it and focusing on the road. “Call Luca and Nina,” he instructs, forcing himself to keep it together. Even though he wants to cry, wants to throw up, wants to find a blow torch and knock on every door until he finds you.

He has to find you.

~~~~

The room around you seems to swim every time you blink, the floor tilting just a bit. It’s a nice tiled floor, white and pristine. Familiar looking, but every time you think you know where from a stabbing bolt of pain shoots across your brain and you have to squeeze your eyes shut, fight off the nausea and vomit rising in your throat.

Whatever is tied around your wrists isn’t that strong and you think you know how to get out of it, if your brain would just work right.

You can’t even try to turn and look over your shoulder. It feels like the skin of your neck has been burned and rubbed raw, swollen and tight when you look up at the figure walking towards you.

“Hello beautiful,” she purrs, familiar eyes gleaming proudly at you. Who is this girl?

You’re not supposed to speak, you know that. So you stay silent, head and throat throbbing and burning. Behind her trails a man in bulky black gear. The red flag pin on his chest is bright and eye catching, something clicks in your brain.

He’s Swiss. Which means this man came from Nico’s family.

“No greeting?” The girl scoffs, crossing her arms. You blink slowly and confused, waiting for anything to recognize from her. “I knew Americans were dumb and rude but I didn’t think like this.”

It’s way Americans fall off her tongue, how her accent twists it. She was at the bar the first night, the group of girl that Nina and Maja talked about.

“Lena,” you mumble out, voice raspy and so painful it makes tears spring in your eyes. The word was enough though, because she lights up.

“Nico talks about me?” She giggles, lips curling into a smirk. “I always knew he couldn’t stay away. No matter how hard he wanted to pretend like this isn’t home - like I’m not home.

“Even his parents think so.”

She’s trying to goad you into answers, make you beg for information on what she means and why you’re there. But even if you wanted to ask, you don’t think you can. Everything in you hurts, your head especially. Through it all, you know to stay silent.

You can hear it in Nico’s voice, that tone that rattles your bones. Never tell them a word.

“She’s not gonna say anything,” the man calls out behind Lena. You can’t see far enough to know what he looks like. “She doesn’t even look like she knows who you are anymore.”

You do but you’re not gonna say that. Head lolling, the ground swims and your vision blurs.

“You hit her too hard.”

Lena curses in German. You think it’s German. “She’s a brute, what else was I supposed to do?”

“Let us handle it,” the man argues and you can hear him walking but your eyes refuse to focus on anything but the blurry flag pinned on his chest. “Do you think we’ll get anything out of her if she can’t even tell us her own name?”

You want to know more, to listen in. You force your eyes to focus, find both Lena and a scruffy blond man standing over you. Angry red claw marks run down his face, fresh and painful looking. Your handy work.

“We don’t need her to say anything,” Lena argues, nudging your leg with her foot. “Nico will see it for himself, they all will.” Nico. They’re talking about your Nico.

“Hischier,” you mumble, the word slurred and nothing more than a raspy crack. The man looks down at you, tilts his head curiously. Your stomach swoops, nausea churning but you force your chin up, look him dead in the eyes that’s been marked by your nails. “My name is y/n Hischier.”

Something in the air shifts, you can feel it. Despite the fogginess and pain, you see the way the man’s eyes soften into confusion, into fear. Does he really not know who he was messing with?

“She’s lying, Marcelo.” Lena cuts in, and you immediately shake your head. The red hot sting of pain stabs at your brain again, makes you squeeze your eyes shut and curl into yourself.

“I am not,” you spit back, your own voice unfamiliar to you. Fighting the burning in your chest, the piercing in your temple, you glare up at him again. “I’m a Hischier and you are committing treason.”

Before another word can be spoken, Lena is swinging into your temple again and the world goes dark.

~~~~

It’s a joke. It has to be a joke. This whole day, ever since it took that awful turn in town today, has to be some kind of joke.

“She’s at your grandfathers house?”

The large red dot of your location stares back at him on the computer screen. You’re not even 15 minutes away from him, in the old house his grandfather built when he first started the business.

Nico hates that house. It’s been abandoned since Luca took over, their shared memories of that damned mansion enough to make him condemn it.

“Is father behind this?” Nico growls, looking over to his siblings. Nina, always so easy to read with her big brown eyes and eyebrows of expression. Unlike him and Luca, she’s never learned to hide her features behind anger.

He knows immediately that she’s just as lost as him.

Luca on the other hand. Set jaw, stern eyes, a mirror of Nico’s face. Tossing his phone to the side, Nico storms over and grabs his brother by the collar.

“Only your men have access to that house,” he pushes back until Luca is pinned against the wall “was it you or was it father?”

Nico is seething, feels it burning in his gut and veins. If he tried hard enough he could probably throw his brother through the wall without a second thought. Even when Nina grabs him by the bicep and tries to haul him back, Nico is fighting and shoving.

“It wasn’t me!” Luca shouts, eyebrows pulled together. He grips Nico’s wrists, pries his hands off. “It is my men, but they’re under no orders from me or father.”

He lets his sister pull him away, raking his hands through his hair as he thinks. Why would Luca’s men take her? Is it some kind of rebellion? Some reason for them to go against the family?

“Nico calm down,” Nina tells him, somehow soft and stern at the same time. “We know where she’s at, we’ve got backup, we’ll go get her.”

It’s easy. He knows it is. Whoever put this together obviously doesn’t know what they’re doing, for his family it’ll be amateur hour. But just because this person is an amateur, doesn’t mean they don’t know how to do damage. Especially if they were trained by his family.

“What if she’s hurt?”

He doesn’t recognize his own voice. He sounds weak, scared, pathetic. Like a child crying to his mother. Nina’s always had a way of making him feel like a little boy again though.

Luca and Timo begin calling for backup. Nina sits him down on the edge of the desk, stands in front of him with that warm, motherly look she gets with him.

“She’s strong, Nico. She’ll be fine.” With tender fingers, she pushes his hair out of his face and he looks up at her through watery eyes. “You picked the right prinzessin.”

The word echoes in his ears, shakes and rumbles in his chest. “I was gonna propose,” he mumbles, feeling wobbly when her eyes widen in surprise. “I brought her here to ask her to marry me and now she’s-“

“Oh Nico,” Nina gasps, and she’s hugging him, stroking his shoulder. “She’s going to be ok, I know she is. That girl is tougher than even you, I think.”

She’s right, he knows she is. You’re the strongest person he’s ever met, you’ve handled everything he’s thrown at you with grace and confidence. You’ve jumped headfirst into his life without a second thought.

“She has to be,” Nina continues, pulling back to smile at him. “If she’s going to deal with your craziness.”

He laughs a bit, lightens up and nods. He is a pain in the ass, takes everything a little too seriously, and often kicks himself when he’s down and takes it out on those around him. All things you’re well aware of and love him despite of.

“Let’s go get your prinzessin,” Nina encourages, squeezing his shoulders. Nico pushes himself back up, finds his phone on the desk, and nods.

He’s gonna go save you. And god save whoever dared touch you.

~~~~

The room is even harder to see when you come to again. Splotches and blurs of white, spinning in your vision to the point that you think you’re gonna throw up if you look at them any longer. You look up towards the ceiling, inhale deeply and try to focus on the banisters of the open second level.

“Good morning princess,” Marcelo greets roughly, stepping into your line of sight. “Do you think you can stay awake long enough for us to put a bullet in Nico’s head and then come back for you?”

It’s an empty threat but that doesn’t stop you from getting angry, jaw clenching and eyes narrowing into a glare. They’re not laying a finger on him, so help you god.

“Sure,” you agree, voice raw. “But when you fail, I’ll be putting that bullet right between your fucking eyes.”

Marcelo grips your face, pinching your chin between his fingers so hard you think you’ll bruise. It reminds you of Nico, how he does the same thing when you’re not listening to him. But he’s never rough, never with the intent of hurting of you.

“Aw she’s crying,” Lena voice tuts, and you blink rapidly, realize that part of the blurriness is in fact tears in your eyes. Big, fat tears roll down your cheeks, soak into Marcelo’s hand that restrains you.

It’s embarrassing, this whole thing. You know better, you should’ve never stepped away from Nico at that party. And you should know how to get out of here, you should be fighting back but you can’t get anything to work. Hell, you can’t even see ten feet in front of you. If you somehow managed to get free and get outside, you don’t even know where you’d go.

You’re lost in a country you don’t know. All alone.

Angrily, you sniffle and try to pull away from Marcelo’s fingers. It’s in your fighting to get away that you spot him. He’s hard to miss, Timo. With his tall build and broad shoulders, you can always find him in a crowd. And you can certainly find him when he’s sneaking across the open floor above you.

You meet his gaze, relief flooding your veins. If he’s here, Nico is with him. Holding a finger to his lips, he shakes his head. Adrenaline rushing through your body, you glare back at Marcelo.

“Even pretty when you cry,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “Nico has good taste, I’ll give him that.”

“Thank you,” his voice is meaner than you’ve ever heard it. Rough and angry, like he’s got oil burning under his skin. That last bit of fight, of adrenaline that had been holding you up fades. You cry even harder, holding back sniffles and hiccups.

Marcelo and Lena both whip around, Marcelo reaching for the gun on his thigh but he’s not quick enough. Luca is standing next to him, the barrel of his very own gun pressed to Marcelo’s temple.

“Move away from her.”

Luca kicks the back of Marcelo’s knee, sends him tumbling to the ground in front of you. Lena holds her hands up in surrender but doesn’t obey.

“I said move the fuck away from her!”

You close your eyes, inhale deeply as nausea bites in the back of your throat. You may have cried in front of them but you refuse to show any other weakness.

“Come on Nico, it’s me.” Lena purrs, “you wouldn’t shoot me, would y-“

The gun shot is so loud in the empty it jolts you, forces your eyes open just in time to see Lena collapse to the ground. She’s holding her thigh as red blood spills across the tile.

“Oops,” Nico grunts humorously, “missed your head.”

You can’t look away from the blood. It’s dizzying, even more so that just the floor was. Now red and white swirl together, mix with Lena’s sobs and it hurts your head. Everything fucking hurts.

“Y/n?”

You blink, feel soft fingers on your tear soaked cheek. Familiar fingers, fingers that run through your hair and trace your smile before bed.

“Look at me baby,” he coaxes and your muddled brain finds a way to blink, to look at him crouched in front of you. The sight almost breaks you.

Those big brown eyes that you love stare up at you with so much guilt, so much sadness you want to rip out of these restraints and hold him, let him know you’re ok.

“Nico,” you whimper, fighting at the ties around your wrist and ankles. You must look crazy or scared or something because he’s immediately shushing you.

“Ok, ok let me get them hold on.”

He flicks open his pocket knife, swiping it through the cable ties that had locked your feet to the chair. Then he’s covering your right hand with his, holding your trembling fingers still as he frees that one. You immediately reach out and grab his shirt, holding onto the fabric for dear life while he moves onto your next hand.

“My head hurts,” you tell him and he frowns, taking your hand between both of his. His eyes search your face, eyebrows pinched together.

“What happened to your voice?” He asks and you can practically see him making up things in his head, picturing the worst. Imagines of you crying and shouting so loud that you’ve lost your voice. You’re almost scared to show him the truth.

You look away from him, instead focusing on his hands as you release his shirt and reach up to peel back the scarf he’d slipped on you. The gasp that leaves him rattles your heart, makes tears well in your eyes again.

“Stop, careful.” Nico warns, taking the fabric from you and ever so gently unwrapping it. It must be bad, look bad. You can feel the skin throbbing, the change in pressure making you wince.

“Is she ok?”

It’s Nina, somewhere behind Nico but you can’t look up. He’s taking the pendant around your neck and slipping it out from under your shirt, trying to pull the chain away from your injured throat.

“Let’s get up baby,” Nico requests and you want to, want to stand up and follow him anywhere but here. But the thought of putting one foot in front of the other makes you physically nauseous.

“I- I can’t,” you whisper, wide eyed and scared when he rises, reaching for you. You plant yourself further into the chair, squeezing his hand. “I can’t stand up.”

Nina is by his side now, both of them looking at you with worried eyes. “It’s ok, you can get up now. They’re not gonna hurt you.” Nico promises and you almost smile at that. He thinks you’re scared of them, that you could ever be scared with him around.

“No,” you argue, trying to explain but you can’t put the words together. All you want to do is close your eyes, feel his hands on you while you go to sleep. That sounds so nice.

Frustrated, you let go of his hand. Your fingers feel numb as you tug at the hem of the beanie on your head, the black fabric soggy and caked with blood. He hasn’t realized the extent of your injuries because he can’t see them. You don’t even think Lena and Marcelo really knew.

You tug the beanie off, crying out in pain when it disturbs the split on your temple. If there had been a clot or scab of any kind, you just ripped it out.

A thin trickle of blood slips down the side of your face, the wound now throbbing and beating angrily.

“Holy shit,” Nina gasps, and Nico is taking the beanie from you, pressing it back into your temple and cursing under his breath.

“We gotta get her to a doctor.” He says quickly, and you look up at him, woozy and tired. He’s panicking, you can tell because he’s talking to his sister like you’re not even there. And he’s stopped asking you to do things, instead holding the beanie to your head with one hand while maneuvering you up and into his arms.

It’s a smart idea, for him to carry you. Because you can’t walk. You want to tell him that, tell him he’s really smart and you missed him.

You don’t get the chance though, because as soon as he’s got you sitting up straighter, every last bit of blood is rushing to your feet and you’re seeing black.

[peppermint-toads]

you don’t like doctor’s offices. especially not now. you don’t like the hypnotic hum of the fluorescent lights, the cabinets that’ve been there since the late 80’s, the pamphlets sitting in an acrylic holder telling you that you have options.

options. not anymore. because you’re sitting on the examination table about 16 weeks pregnant, waiting for the doctor.

“the baby looks healthy,” the doctor tells you, barging into the room without a knock. “i’m prescribing zofran for the nausea. the nurse will see you out.”

thank fucking god. you wanted nothing more than to get the fuck out of this place. the best part about these visits was the walk home. they are usually quite pleasant. being pregnant in the summertime has its downfalls, but feeling the breeze in your hair and through your thin dress is your saving grace.

it’s just another bonus that you pass your favorite ice cream shop on the way home. you think you’ll have an affogato today, decaf, of course.

it smells like heaven in the shop, that cool, sweet smell from the coolers. your favorite. this is your saving grace, this affogato will solidify the day as a good one, despite the lingering feeling of doctor on you.

ice cream in hand, it’s finally time to go home. the walk is clearing your head already. you eat a spoonful of vanilla and sigh. maybe you ought to stop by the pharmacy for those meds. on second thought, that can be tomorrow’s task. you’ll be alright.

actually, maybe not. because you see simon riley’s stupid, bulking form walking towards you about a block away. fuck. shit fuck. you should hide. duck into the closest shop before he can come after you. but it’s no hope, you’re looking up and you’ve already made direct eye contact. nausea meds sound so good right now.

may as well keep going forward. it’s not like he’ll notice, anyway. you’re barely showing, but your white dress isn’t doing you any favors right now.

you’ll give a polite smile, duck your head, and all will be well. no stopping, no small talk, no—

simon is physically cornering you to a complete halt in the middle of the sidewalk, and there is nothing you can do about it. maybe if you curl your back in a little bit, the bump won’t be as noticeable.

“what are you doing? stop that.”

he is so gracefully referring to your posture.

“i don’t have time for this simon. i’ve got things to do.”

you walk sideways around him, and he follows.

“where are you coming from?”

you can’t help it. “you lost the right to ask that question when you fell off the face of the planet.”

you hear him grunt behind you and smile. great, no snide comments yet.

“you look different.”

shit. he’s jogging, catching up to you and walking by your side now. the breeze is picking up and you shift uncomfortably. the fabric of your dress is clinging to your stomach.

simon looks down, his intent is to see what you’re eating, but he catches a glimpse of your swollen stomach and freezes. he’s nearly swallowed by all the foot traffic.

“simon?” you feel the loss of him by your side. he’s stood still, strangers bumping into him and jostling his shoulders.

great. now you’re backtracking, when really all you want is to be at home, in bed.

“simon, what’s your problem?”

“you’re pregnant.”

time stops for him. he’s the father, no way he couldn’t be. unless you were cheating on him, which he highly doubts considering your heart is the purest thing he’s ever encountered during his time on this earth.

you let out a long, long sigh. “yeah.”

then you’re swaying, trying to keep upright and simultaneously swallowing down vomit. simon watches as the life drains from your face a bit. his hands are gripping your shoulders to stabilize you. his touch feels nice, warm.

“i need to get home,” you tell him with a sad smile, pained to be leaving his soft touch behind yet again.

“i’ll walk you.”

you nod. you don’t have the heart to ask him to take his hand off your waist, feels too good. and he’s keeping the world right side up.

it’s only a short distance home, and soon he’s ushering you up the stairs to your flat. you don’t stop him from doing that, either.

you also don’t stop him from pulling your favorite blanket over you after helping you lie down on the couch.

you don’t even get the chance to tell him to leave because you’re just so tired, and his presence makes you feel so safe. you’re falling asleep and quickly. he lets you.

he sits and watches you sleep for the better part of an hour. when you stir, he’s there, staring.

he’s in your lounge chair, chin resting on his folded knuckles.

“i’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me.”

you’re barely awake and what’s he saying? “huh?” you say stupidly, wiping your eyes of sleep.

“i said,” he swallows, “i’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me.”

you’re sitting straight up now, definitely more awake now. “i couldn’t have told you. even if i wanted to. you disappeared, simon.

he did. but he doesn’t have the time to explain that now. so, he ignores you.

“how far along are you?”

you tell him. he stands from the chair, sitting down right next to you. he asks if he can feel your stomach. you guess so.

things are getting a little too serious for you now.

“right, well. i had a lovely nap, and i’m feeling much better. thank you for walking me home, but i need to stop by the pharmacy and—”

he interrupts you, tugging your wrist when you try to stand. “i’ll go for you. i’ll do it, please. i’ll do anything you ask me to.

you frown down at him. “simon, there’s no point to this. please just go. it’s just… too late.”

simon’s heart is breaking. he didn’t think it could break anymore than it already has in the last few months.

“let me stay.”

he begs. you think there are tears in his eyes, and if you let them fall you know there’ll be no going back. so you sit with him, you let him kiss you with his hand on your stomach. you let him lay you down on the beat up couch he was always pestering you to replace. you let him pull your dress over your head and kiss his way down your stomach. you let him sink into you slowly and pull your calves up to rest on his shoulders. you let him cum inside of you, again.

you even let him go to the pharmacy for you.

[wroetovic]

BLUE IS THE COLOR (mason mount x reader)

summary : in which y/n and mason argue about their newborn babys favorite football team

face claim : not needed

notes : im a sucker for dad fics and as of right now mason is my no1 pookie 😝 also imagine hes still in chelsea cause i refuse to support any other london team #loyal (god i miss prime chelsea). ALSO.. if u dont support barcelona or chelsea .. idk i dont think youll like this fic so mby pretend its ur teams xxx except for Madrid 😊 (i dont hate madridistas but yk im a culer soooooo) im also now seeing that the font is apparently purple but im slightly colorblind so js ignore that thanks xx

pairings : mason mount x reader (dad!mason mount)

"NO SHOT, my baby is NOT supporting Barcelona" The Chelsea midfielder argued. You and Mason have been together for quite some time already (five years to be exact) and you've recently welcomed your firstborn son, Nicolas Mount into the world.

You were born into a family full of FC Barcelona fans, so naturally, you became one aswell. Even after meeting your boyfriend, a Chelsea player, he couldn't change your mind. Thankfully, these two teams are in different leagues so you don't have to worry about having an aneurysm everytime these two played eachother (except for the champions league and thats also just a maybe)

This was a conversation the two of you have had multiple times, even before your baby was born. It was always shrugged off but now, that your son is here. It was time to decide.

"How about everytime Barcelona plays, he wears their jersey but any other time it's your jersey?"

"I'd look unloyal and like im joining Barcelona" (ironic isn't it) the brown haired man laughs.

You playfully roll your eyes at Mason's remark, knowing that this debate wasn't going to end anytime soon.

"Oh come on, Mason. It's just a jersey, it doesn't determine his loyalty at this age, just the fact that he's not a Madrid fan"

"But it's the principle, Y/N. We can't have our little boy supporting a rival team right from the start," Mason chuckles, ruffling Nicolas' tiny hair as he sleeps peacefully in his crib.

You lean in closer, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Fine, how about this? We let him decide when he's old enough. Until then, we can take turns dressing him up in each team's gear. That way, he'll grow up knowing both teams and make his own choice."

Mason considers your proposal for a moment, a smile forming on his face. "Alright, deal. But I'm warning you, I'll be teaching him all the Chelsea chants in the meantime," he jokes, kissing your forehead.

"Okay but he has Catalan blood? He's gonna be a Culer by default"

"I'm pretty sure he's gonna be sick of both teams and become a Juventus fan by the time he can decide" The man jokes while looking at his son.

"Still better than Madrid"

yapfest part two, i put out a poll and yall said i should do this but idk if its good 😭 anyways hope you enjoyed

[pirateprincessblog]

the other man

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: READ PART ONE HERE, also not completely proofread because i've been so tired and bloated these days i have no energy :( feel free to message me about mistakes!

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: after finding out you were used by your brother to get rid of someone he simply didn't like, you go on a break. every time you see that place or the man, you get reminded of another one who hugged your legs while on his knees, before he was dragged to his downfall. just why can't you escape it, no matter how hard you try? 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: song mingi x f!reader, ft yunho 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.5k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: prison theme, criminal!mingi, prisoner!mingi, doctor!reader, evilbrother!yunho 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: semi public oral (f!receiving)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: gore, v*olence, swearing, stalking, m*rder

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

"no! no, god, no! please!"

"get off me."

"please, please! yunho, please!"

"get" smack "the fuck" smack "off me!" smack.

you fall on the floor, knees hurting from being dragged across the floor all the way to his office, and cheeks red from all the hitting. you don't let go of his shirt yet, the fabric securely scrunched between your fingers.

"i'll do anything," you wipe your tears with your elbow, "anything!"

"anything?" he raises an eyebrow, lowering his hand that was about to land on you one more time.

a glint of hope appears in your eyes, and you straighten your posture. still on your knees, you put your palms together, ready to beg more. "yes, anything."

yunho is silent for a few moment, looking at you with an unreadable expression. and it kills you, that he can mask emotions so well. he crouches, getting down to your level. he cups your jaw in his big hand, and you suddenly feel shivers running down your spine.

"come with me."

his gentle touch turns into a painful one, his hand moving from your face to your hair in a split second. he drags you across the hallway, into the elevator, and throws you against the mirror wall. you barely have time to reach for the little pole to hold onto, he grabs you by your shoulders and lifts you so that you stand up.

"listen to me."

"please-"

"listen to me!" he grabs your face again, fingers digging into your cheeks and making your lips purse. "you act like a whore, you'll get treated like one. hell, i'll let everyone have their way with you, if that's what you want. but do not interfere with my work. never, ever again."

"but i-"

"have i made myself fucking clear?!"

"yes, yes!"

he finally loosens his grip, making your body slide down the wall and find peace on the floor. he punches the floor number, then leans on the elevator door. you look up at him, disgust and resentment painting your face. you hope the doors open and he falls head first on something sharp.

"don't look at me like that. this isn't my fault."

if only you could say something back, but fear has swallowed you whole. so you stay there, resorting in only sending him glares.

"frankly, it's not mingi's fault either."

"don't say his name, you don't get to-"

"it's your fault."

"it's not."

"oh, but it is. see, i warned you, little sissy. but you just don't know how to listen."

the doors open, luckily for him. you stand up, following him down a poorly lit hallway. you pass multiple metal doors, with a small window on top of each. until you stop by one right at the end. you gasp, then scream, along with the person inside. it echoes through the hallway, bouncing off the walls and torturing you.

"no, no!" you scream, trying to turn around. but yunho holds you still in front of the window, making you watch as mingi gets sat on a chair you thought you'd never see in real life. "god, please, please!"

"i said i'd make you watch."

"mr jeong!"

"watch."

"mr jeong!"

the voice gets closer, and mingi has more belts holding him with each second that passes. one of the guards stands aside, waiting for the final belt to be secured across his chest, before putting a metal electrode cap on his head.

"mr jeong!"

"what, what, what?!" he yells, letting go of you and turning towards the young guard running towards him. "do you wish to fucking join him?! how dare you interrupt-"

"inspection, mr jeong."

yunho takes a step back, breath halting for a moment. your fingers hopelessly scratch at the tiny window, eyes burning with tears as you watch the strapped man stop struggling and accept his fate. he doesn't look at you, but you know he hears you. he grimaces at your wails, avoids your gaze, and silently cries.

"fuck! go back to your position, tell barnes to start protocol b."

"what about protocol a?"

"are they in the building already?"

"yes...?"

"then, it's too late for that. protocol b starts now. block the doors as soon as the execution is done, and get rid of the evidence through the gate f." yunho then grabs you by your elbow, throwing you into the guard. "take her to elijah, let him escort her to my house. no witnesses."

the young guard nods, then guides you away from the doors. yunho opens the door, for a split second letting mingi's pained moans and wails escape the room of torture. it shatters your heart, weakens your knees, and makes you want to vomit right there. the ground sways under your feet as you try to reach the exit, the sign section Z being the last thing you see before collapsing.

when you open your eyes again, it feels like your lungs are on fire. you have been crying in your sleep, dried lines on your cheeks being proof of that. you remember waking up for a few seconds, elijah making you drink a sip of water before helping you into your bed again.

now, it is almost four in the afternoon, and you feel as if you dreamt the whole thing. but when you see elijah's note on the nightstand, you are reminded of the grey reality. the note states that yunho has ordered you lunch, and that it is in the fridge. barefoot, still in yesterday's clothes, you walk downstairs to the kitchen. you open the fridge, finding a plate of steak with grilled asparagus and mashed potatoes, along with a little bottle of orange juice. how kind of him to order you his favorite meal.

you scrunch the paper in your hand, anger making your vision red. you take the plate out, then set it on the kitchen counter. as you cut into it, you realize it is rare, blood dripping from it and soaking the mashed potatoes. it is like irony, red staining the yellow just like mingi's blood stained your dress in the cafeteria. is it some sort of a cruel joke coming from yunho? did he want you to feel sick and not eat? you slam the knife into the steak multiple times, ruining it and sending red drops of liquid everywhere. you slam your fist into the mashed potatoes, then take the asparagus and throw them at the white wall. the juice bottle shares the same fate, the knife piercing through it and letting the yellow juice drip on the marble tiles.

before you know it, the kitchen is coated in the sticky liquid, walls are poked with whatever your hand could grab, and the living room became the new victim. the recently bought leather couches were ripped open, cozy cushions no longer cozy, but only balls of cotton and feathers, and the glass coffee table was only a skeleton now, the glass shattered and digging into the rug.

you sit in the middle of it, pieces of collectible vases, statues and painting surrounding you. the sight is an invitation for yunho to strangle you right then and there. but you don't give him a chance. you gather clothes into your backpack, hygienic things and his spare wallet, then take his most favorite car out of five of them. you don't leave before keying the other four, despite the weird glances your neighbors throw you. you only smile at them, then nod your head as a greeting. they must think you are crazy. you can't wait until they tell yunho on you.

you have found peace in a cozy little hotel in a town nearby. you don't use his cards, in case he tries to track them down. he has enough cash to keep you there for at least a year. besides, you're already looking for a new job. working in a coffee shop seems promising. the fact that you know nothing but an espresso and hot chocolate doesn't seem to bother the manager. your eagerness to learn is enough for her to consider you a candidate.

if yunho has tried reaching out to you, you don't know. you got rid of your old phone, immediately upgrading to the newest one, with a fresh number. you didn't try finding out about him either. you don't care. you only hope elijah didn't get punished for your actions. after all, he only brought you home.

the hotel room is a bit cozier now that you've added your little decorations. from fake vines and fairy lights you bought from the dollar store, to expensive books and posters you got from the bookstore down the street. it is only temporary, until you decide exactly what you wish to do with your life. you've lived in yunho's shadow, having him decide for you and write out your future without asking you. and you never questioned it, really. did you dislike it at times? yes, you did. did you dare say anything? no, hell no. now that you have freedom, you are lost. yunho was always the one guiding you, and now you were alone.

"you're hired!" you hear the very next day, as you sit drenched in nervous sweat.

you breathe out, relief washing over your body. finally, a start. the first paycheck has you almost crying. people really live like this? the second one isn't a complete shock like the first one, but it could be better. by the third one, you have already accepted that you cannot live lavishly anymore. so you stop visiting the bookstore, stop buying pastries after your shift, and start cooking yourself. you didn't know it would be this hard. but it is too late to back down now. there is no way you're going back to yunho, not if you want to live.

"hey, can you help me out? it's like everyone made a decision to sit in my section today!"

your coworker is drowning in tickets, loose strands of hair falling out of her once perfect bun, and her apron is already smudged. you nod, hurriedly running over to the tables that have just sat down, again, in her section. your section is quiet, mainly because the sun is hitting it and it is way too hot to sit there.

three tables are done, and you have only one left. the man sits alone, typing something on his laptop. hopefully he didn't notice how long he had to wait. you finally approach it, eyes not leaving your notepad. "i am so sorry for the wait, we didn't expect the rush so early."

"no worries, i understand."

time stops around you, only the two of you stuck in a bubble. your fingers hold the notepad, losing colour in the tips from how hard you're gripping it. you gulp, audibly, before lowering the pad and locking eyes with brown ones. you almost run, seeing the bone chilling smile on his face.

"yunho." you gasp, fear swallowing you whole.

"iced americano, please."

you clear you throat, and finally write it down. "right. anything else?"

"no, that would be all." he goes back to typing on his laptop.

you are scared to pass by him, but remember that you are in a crowded space. he wouldn't do anything here, would he?

"oh, right."

"y-yes?" you turn around.

"a pistachio doughnut to go."

"right away."

shakily, you prepare the order. even the manager gives you a side eye, not used to that behaviour. but she doesn't say anything, assuming that you are just tired since it's almost the end of your morning shift.

"hey, could you please give this to table-"

"oh my god, i'm so sorry, but i can't. i have like four tables waiting for me, and i still haven't brought out that cookie for table six."

worth a try. you approach the table in the corner, trying to sneak a glance at the laptop screen. but yunho slams it just in time, depriving you of nosiness. you set the cup on the table, along with the paper bag with the doughnut in it.

"thank you." he says, handing you a big bill. "keep the change."

"uh, this is too much-"

"it's fine. you look like you need it."

with that, he sends you another smile and stands up, and if you didn't know him, you'd think it's genuine. but you know it's dripping with venom, and if you were alone with him somewhere, he would snatch you in a split second and have you in that very chair you keep having nightmares about.

"have a good day, miss...?"

"edwards."

"right, miss edwards."

you watch in terror as he exits the shop, not sparing you another glance. fifteen minutes ago, you just couldn't wait for the end of your shift. now? you're dreading it. up until the moment you hang the apron in your locker and gather your things, your hands don't stop shaking. not even when you exit the shop, head frantically turning in search of two brown eyes. walking to the hotel, you have time to think. he hasn't changed much, except a healed scar line near his eye. you wonder what happened. you wonder if the inspection managed to find anything. you hope they did. in revenge for mingi.

"good day, miss edwards." the receptionist greets, a smile always on her face.

"good day, rita."

"ah, that visitor of yours is so cute. is he single?"

you turn abruptly, head almost turning like an owl. "what visitor?"

"oh, the cute one! brown hair, brown eyes, very tall? he was so nice to me, even gave me a tip."

your legs have never been faster, bringing you into your room in under a minute. you barge in, like you were expecting to find your partner with a lover. you drop your work bag on the floor, approaching the unmade bed that you distinctly remember making. there is muddy footsteps all over the floor, and a familiar paper bag on the nightstand. you leave the door open, just in case, before approaching the bed. you take the paper bag in your shaky hands, eyes skimming over the written note on it.

for miss edwards, from her dear brother. miss you. x

the door slams shut, and you jump. the bag drops on the floor, and you squeal, turning around. but nobody is in the room. once you make sure you really are alone, you open the bag. you find the very doughnut you packed. you plop on the bed, scanning the food. it does look like originally packed one, so you bite into it, thinking about your next move. you can't stay here, now that he knows where you are. just how did he find you, anyway?

you take another bite, but this time your teeth stumble upon something hard. you let go after struggling, realizing it is not bits of pistachios, but something more dense. your eyes drop on the pastry, and when you can't decipher what it is, you pull it out, only to throw it on the floor with a scream. it is a chopped off finger, the small fix on tattoo on it very familiar to you. you gasp, hand flying to your mouth to stop a sob from escaping. how cruel, sick and twisted does someone's brain have to be to think of and pull something like this?

not even a week after the incident, you receive a call from your work that a costumer keeps leaving tips for you even when you're not here. the description fits yunho, but you haven't seen him at all. he knows that his name alone is enough to terrify you. this is worse than what you initially thought he'd do if he found you. it is slow torture, and you can't escape it.

you ask for a break, knowing damn well that you are safer there than you are in the hotel. but you keep messing up people's orders, spilling their drinks, and there's always missing cash from the register. your manager almost squealed with joy when you asked her for a few days off. you use the time to start thinking about alternatives. do you move towns again? do you go back to him? do you call police?

all three seem stupid and useless. for now, you'll focus on eating healthy and having some self care days. one thing is clear, if jeong yunho has made it his goal to harm you, he will do it; one way or another. he might be delaying it, toying with the prey before killing it.

you don't go back to work for another week, desperately searching for a way out. but you are bombed with random flowers, presents, and similar things waiting for you when you come back from your daily run. it has become a habit, for you to enter the room and immediately toss the unwanted gift into the hallway. you keep the severed finger in a tissue on the nightstand, each night patting it sleepily and saying good night in your head. crazy, but it is the only part of him you have left. and it makes you feel a little more at ease now that you know he is resting, not in pain. and at least you get to have proper sleep, since yunho never seems to disturb you during the night.

but universe loves to prove you wrong, because you get awoken by the door opening. you sit up straight, still halfway asleep. the person in your room halts, flowers secure in their hand and a hood over their head. you barely have time to react, because the person is quick to put a hand over your mouth. you don't see the face, from the dark and the hood, but you recognize that touch and smell anywhere.

"hush, doctor."

tears roll down your cheeks, horror and relief fighting for dominance in your body. you feel four fingers over your lips, the pinky missing. the very pinky you have in the tissue, now drained of colour.

"it's just me," he whispers, taking the hood off with his free hand. he still holds the flowers, not letting go yet.

you are overwhelmed by emotions. from relief, to fear, to sadness. you jump into his arms, without thinking. but there isn't much to think about. you only need to look into his eyes, to know that you are safe.

"mingi," you finally exhale, head buried into his neck.

"my doctor," he coos, hand rubbing your back as you cry into his hoodie, "my pretty little doctor."

now, you are confused. if mingi is holding the flowers, does it mean he was the one entering the room and leaving you presents? what about the doughnut and the finger? did they run into each other? do they work together now? what if there is a bigger story behind all of this?

"i can hear you thinking, doll."

"i'm sorry, i just-" you sob mid sentence, "i just don't know-" hiccup, "what's going on?"

"come on, lay down with me."

mingi sets the flowers right next to the scrunched tissue, then lays down and opens his arms for you. hesitantly, you lay on his chest, allowing him to wrap his warm arms around your shivering body.

"it is too much for you to handle, i know. you saw me on my death chair, and now i'm here. how about we go to sleep, and i'll tell you all in the morning?"

"no, i can't."

mingi nods, understandingly. "then, i better get to explaining.

when you fainted, yunho was called over, and it was too late for the execution. apparently, they never do it without him. sick bastard likes to watch. so, once again, i was saved by you, unknowingly."

you scoff through tears, hitting his chest gently. "right."

"i managed to fight them off and escape, and yunho had no time to deal with me because he had the inspection at his throat. he found me a little later, tried to kill me, but i managed to flee again. i cut him pretty bad, don't know if you've noticed. i was pretty proud of myself for that."

"near the eye?"

"bingo. glad to know that he has a reminder of me on his stupid face now. just like i have one." he looks down on his injured hand.

"were you the one leaving the presents for me all this time?"

"all this time? how long are we talking?"

"weeks."

mingi stills underneath you. so it isn't him. you let out a shaky breath, trying to stay sane.

"yunho found me."

"oh."

"he gave me your finger."

"he what?!" he sits up straight, visibly distraught. "he fucking what?!"

silently, you reach for the tissue, handing it to him. he takes one glance at it, then at his hand. his expression is unreadable, something between hatred and disappointment. you've never seen him like that.

"he has been terrorizing me since he found me, leaving me creepy presents and stalking me. i don't know what to do."

the man sighs, also thinking. "we could run away."

"where?"

"anywhere. just you and i. to start fresh."

"but you're an escaped convict."

you regret saying that, seeing a hurtful expression on his face. "i was wrongfully imprisoned."

are you finally getting his story from a first hand source? is this the right time to be excited about it? "why? didn't you kill your sister's boyfriend?"

"he deserved it. he was hitting and raping her."

"you aren't the one to decide who gets to live or die."

"and your brother is?"

you move away from him, jaw dropped. "he is not my brother, and you know that."

"you know what? you're the same as him. only using people when you see benefit in them." he spits, getting up from the bed and taking the flowers back.

"how dare you?!"

"watch your tone." his voice is no longer warm and cozy, but cold and stern. he looks at you with ice cold eyes, his posture different. "do not yell at me again, i am warning you now."

"what the hell is wrong with you? it's like you're an entirely different man-"

"i am. i am a free man. away from wrongful convictions, away from the abuse. i am a different, better man."

he steps closer to you, causing you to step back. your back hits the door, hand desperately searching for the door knob. he stops in front of you, mere inches away.

"but you don't want that, do you? you want the vulnerable mingi, the mingi that kneels in front of you and begs for your affection. guess what? things are different now."

this is what yunho was warning you about. and you see it just now. mingi is a criminal. a prisoner. an escaped one now. oh, how you would love for yunho to barge in and save you. but you fucked it up. you had it good, and you didn't even know it.

"that bastard deserved to get his head blown up, and i won't hesitate to do the same to the person that continues terrorizing you. you're mine, you said so yourself."

"i- i thought that was only-"

"what? dirty talk? no, no, my sweet little doctor. you are mine, and mine only." he takes your jaw into his hand, thumb caressing your tear stained cheek. "nobody can have you. nobody but me."

his other hand reaches behind your back, finding the doorknob for you. but instead of opening it, he locks it, then puts the hand on your waist.

"mine." he growls, before pressing his lips against yours.

it doesn't feel right. he is rough, not loving and warm at all. but you go with it, not having any other option available. he doesn't fight you on it, seeing that you aren't as enthusiastic as him. he pulls away, finger still cupping your face.

"come, you need some sleep."

and you listen. you go back to bed, getting into his embrace once again. only this time, it isn't anything like the first time. you fall asleep, scared to death, knowing that you now have two men who are a great danger to you. lovely.

in the morning, you are awakened by kisses on your neck. you rub your eyes, adjusting to the lighting.

"morning, darling."

"morning," you mumble, stretching.

you look down at the man, expecting to find the same possessive and cold gaze from last night. but his eyes are back to soft, and his tone is caring. what in the world?

"sleep well? i hope i didn't kick in my sleep. i tend to do that, since i'm used to sleeping alone and had barnes as my roomie."

"uh, no..." you say, puzzled. does he not remember what happened last night? or does he choose to ignore it?

"i ordered us breakfast. hope you're in the mood for waffles."

"mingi-"

"here," he adjusts your pillow against the bed frame so you can sit up straight, "i'll bring it to you."

you think this is a joke. a trap. is this the calm before the storm? if yes, how do you escape it? seeing mingi set the wooden tray on your lap so carelessly, as if you didn't fall asleep last night startled to death, makes you wonder if you should give yunho a call. would he even take you after the stunt you pulled? you eye the waffles, topped with various berries and honey. a glass of cranberry juice sits in the corner, as inviting as ever. but you don't touch it. you're too busy calculating in your head, even mingi notices your hesitation.

"what? want me to feed you?" the man in front of you jokes, popping a blueberry in his mouth.

when he sees your further lack of reaction and only your focused face, his smile drops. you gulp, hoping that last night won't happen again.

"i get it, i'm acting too normal for the situation we are in. but that's sometimes my only way out; to act like everything is fine. but everything can be fine, if you would just come with me."

"where would we even go?" you dare ask.

"anywhere you want." he replies, reaching for the knife and making you jolt. if he notices, he doesn't react. instead, he plays with it while thinking of his next words. your eyes follow as the tip of his finger runs down the sharp edge, as if determining whether it's sharp enough to use it. "just name it."

"with what money?"

"we'll figure it out. from the looks of it, you aren't doing too bad. i'm guessing you treated yourself with yunho's possessions?"

"you think nobody will recognize you?" you push. "you think yunho hasn't already sent out your photos and-"

"what the fuck is wrong with you all of a sudden?!" mingi roars, flipping the tray of food over and spilling the cranberry juice all over the white sheets. you shriek, then cover your ears as your body drowns into the mattress and beneath the covers. "answer me, dammit!"

his hand grips your wrists, pulling your hands away from your ears so he can yell at you more. you can only close your eyes, in hopes of making him disappear just for a split second.

"i came here knowing the risks, i'm offering to protect you from your awful brother, and i want to love you!"

"mingi please-" you beg through sobs, hands desperately trying to find their place back on your ears.

"why won't you let me love you?!" he then grabs you by your shoulders, shaking you. "answer me!"

the door swings open, hitting the wall with force and shaking your recently decorated shelves. books fall on the ground, but jeong yunho couldn't care less. he steps over them, grabbing mingi and landing a punch on his face. mingi stumbles, but regains his stability and wastes no time in giving yunho a taste of his own medicine. their faces soon match the colour of the spilled juice on the sheets, both of them wiping red trails from their lips and noses.

"get away from her." yunho demands, not having to raise his voice in order to make himself look intimidating. his calm expression as blood runs down his chin and onto his white shirt is scary enough. "now."

"i'm not letting her go back with you. not in that shithole."

"and i'm not letting her go with you."

you sit still on the bed, not moving a muscle and afraid to breathe. both of them look at you at the same time, causing you to squeal and jump out of the bed, legs carrying you to the door. yunho grabs you before mingi can, and for the first time in a while, you feel safe in his hands. you waste no time in wrapping your arms around his waist, burying your soaked face into his ruined shirt.

"i think it's pretty clear where she wants to be." yunho spits, protectively putting a hand on the back of your head and using the other one to push you further against him. "leave now, and i will leave you alone. you won't hear from me ever again. from either of us."

"no. i don't trust you one bit. doll, come back to me." mingi calls, putting his hand out for you to take.

you only glance at him, still in yunho's embrace and eyes full of tears. you shake your head, causing his face to drop. he frowns, then straightens his posture. something snaps inside of him, you see it. and you are grateful to have someone here, otherwise who knows what might've happened. something similar to the previous night, only worse?

"very well. that might be the stupidest decision you've made in your life."

with that, he passes by you, hitting yunho's shoulder in the process and causing you to jolt. but yunho doesn't budge. instead, he waits for the other man to leave before finally pulling away from you. you are overwhelmed by the situation, sobs finally leaving your mouth loud and clear as you try to process what just happened within a day.

"look at me," yunho says, voice soothing. "you're okay. he can't hurt you anymore."

when you only respond with a new fit of sniffs and sobs, he sighs and pulls you into a hug again.

"it's my fault."

"huh?"

"back in the elevator. it's not your fault. it's mine for keeping him alive."

"don't say that."

"you can't possibly- after what he's done to you? you still protect him?" the dark haired man scoffs in disbelief.

"no, i just- i don't like hearing you speak that way. can i just- have a day of not hearing anything about dying or living?"

yunho nods understandingly. "what do you want to do now?"

"what do you mean?" you ask, busying yourself by collecting the ruined sheets and avoiding his gaze.

"do you wish to come back and continue living with me?"

you halt your movements, trying to figure out if he is genuine or not. your eyes find his, and you try to read them as best as you can. but yunho maintains his poker face, causing you to step back.

"no prison, no anything. you can find a different job, i'll help you." he offers, seeing you put your walls up again.

"really?" you ask, not yet convinced.

"really. it's the least i can do." he looks down on the floor, admiring his shoes. "after everything i did to you."

you truly hope he is genuine. if not, well, there's nothing much you can do about it.

"okay."

the house looks the same as before your little renovating process. same pillows, same coffee table, same wallpapers. you forget how filthy rich he is. in contrast, your room was left untouched. messy, just how you left it when packing hurriedly. yunho didn't ask for his wallet or car back. he let you keep it all, even brought you job applications from nearby coffee shops on his way back from work.

"would you like to open your own?" he asks one morning, casually eating his cereal.

"what?!" you shout, causing him to flinch. "sorry, i just- what?"

"your own coffee shop. do you want it?"

"i'm not sure i'm ready for that. it's a lot of responsibility. besides, you'd buy it for me just like that?"

"yes. why not?"

you think about it, comfortable silence enveloping the two of you. you hear light crunching coming from his side of the table, the spoon gently grazing the bowl and milk dripping into it. it is the calmest morning you've had with him, and you can't help but feel grateful. you watch as he eats, wearing a simple nike set and fuzzy slippers you bought him when you were still a teen. he looks so... normal. like he doesn't torture people for fun during his working hours. like he didn't aim a lamp at your head and serve you a human finger. like he is your normal brother and this is a perfectly normal setting.

"what's on your mind?" he interrupts your thinking. "mingi?"

"yeah," you admit. "it's so weird. he was so nice in the cell, and when he came to my room... he was nice, then mean, then nice again. i'm confused."

he finishes his cereal, then brings the bowl to his lips and slurps the remaining milk. you roll your eyes, seeing the liquid drip down his chin and onto the table.

"yunho-" you cringe, watching him wipe it with his sleeve.

"i'll clean it up." he waves his hand, then reaches for paper towels to wipe his creation. "you were saying?"

"right," you clear your throat, gaze dropping on your own empty plate. "it's just- his behaviour is weird. he is so nice and loving, and the next second he is yelling at me and grabbing me like that. i've read his file, doesn't say anything about it. i've looked after him in his cell for months, he never had a rage fit. he never showed a hint of anger, let alone tried to do something to me."

yunho sighs. you look at him, eyes squinted. there's something he isn't telling you.

"yunho?"

"he has a personality disorder."

"what? why isn't that written anywhere? why didn't doctor maslow tell me?"

"listen, we made a deal, didn't we? me telling you this is my own free will, and i will tell you as much as i want."

you remember the deal, the one you've made the day you came back to the house again. if you're not going to work at the prison anymore, you don't get to interfere or ask him about it. and you accepted, gladly. you don't want to be connected with that place in any way.

"he has a personality disorder, i didn't inform you for my own private reasons. but since you came along and decided to help him, he was different. no more rage fits, even barnes was getting irritated because he had no reason to beat him."

but he still did, you want to say. and yunho knows, because he chuckles at your disgusted face.

"at first, he didn't remember the incident at his house. he was completely numb when we managed to enter the house, and was very much confused during the interrogation. even we were lost, because he was genuinely trying to help us figure out what happened. and then, when he heard a guard making a comment about his sister, we all figured it out. mingi jumped on him, bit his ear off, and that explained to us what's going on."

"oh."

"and that also explains what happened at the cafeteria, and why he was talking about protecting you. he was reliving the same story, and he couldn't contain himself."

you sit in silence, memories flooding back in. the prisoner with his throat bitten off, yunho holding mingi down, your dress soaking up the blood from the floor, all while mingi looks at you and doesn't fight back, only makes sure that you are okay.

"that's..." you huff, overwhelmed with the information you just found out, "...quite messed up. all of it."

"i know."

"if you see him again, will you bring him back?"

"no." he simply says, and with that, takes the bowl to the sink and approaches you. he plants a kiss on your head, something he hasn't done in... ever. "don't you worry about those things anymore. open a coffee shop, find a cute nerd and get married already."

"already? i am only-" you hit his shoulder, and he ruffles your hair.

"yeah, yeah. i'm leaving! don't wait for me, i won't be back until late tonight."

"yunho?" you call, voice small.

"yes?" he doesn't turn around, busy discarding his fuzzy slippers and putting his sneakers on.

"am i supposed to forget the lamp and finger incident?"

he halts his moves for a second, but pretends to be unbothered. you manage to see a frown on his face, no matter how much he tries to hide it. "that's behind us."

"i'll forever remember it." you admit.

"okay."

and with a door slam, he leaves you alone in the house. okay. it's not okay. not one bit. that part of this whole situation is still not resolved, and it is bugging you. will he do it again? is that why he isn't acknowledging it? you sigh, then make your way to bed. you rot in there all day, doing nothing but eating sweets and drinking cans of soda, your favorite show rolling on the wall tv. as the sun goes down, your eyes grow tired and irritated, and no matter how hard you try to stay awake, your body gives up.

you wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat. you keep dreaming of cells and mingi's screams, and it doesn't help that yunho isn't home most of the nights. everything is scarier when it's dark and yunho isn't here. especially tonight, when you reach for the bottle of water on your night stand and instead touch something soft. you turn your head, sleepily rubbing your eyes before taking a good look at the item.

a bouquet of tulips, with a note attached.

your heart stops, head frantically turning in search for a familiar figure hidden in the room. the window is wide open, a sign that you aren't or weren't alone. with shaky fingers, you reach for the note, using your phone light to read it.

𝒊 𝒂𝒎 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒅𝒐𝒄. 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒅𝒖𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘? 𝒊'𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒓𝒚.

𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚, 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒊.

you rip the note in tiny bits, then throw it in the trash and mask it with spare junk around the house. yunho can't see that. especially because you really plan on going.

fixing your favorite dress, taking your pepper spray just in case, and putting your newest sandals on, you make your way to the city library. you quietly walk among the shelves, like you once used to walk among the restricted sections. you pick a few books along the way, to look less suspicious. your heart pounds inside your chest, threatening to jump out. one part of you hopes he isn't here. you're not sure if you're ready for that encounter. the other part is getting disappointed with each section you pass, his figure not appearing yet.

you didn't quite think this through. frankly, you never do recently. how do you approach him? what do you say? what do you do?

you reach the end of the maze of shelves, letting out a disappointed, yet relieved huff. now what? the back of the note said ten in the morning, and it is now almost eleven. turning on your heel, your gaze remains on the random books you've picked.

"princess?"

you stop, head raising to find the source of the voice. song mingi stands in front of you, hands in his pockets and a hood over his head. words are lost in your throat, struggling to come together and leave your mouth. you step back, unsure of what to do. mingi steps towards you, and you continue like that, until your back hits the wall covered in shelves and massive history books.

"say something."

you fail to, only gulping and staring at him instead. his hands cup your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks as his eyes scan your features.

"please." he whispers.

"hi." you say, stupidly.

he chuckles, then presses his lips on yours. it doesn't feel wrong this time. it feels familiar, and sweeter than ever. he plants small kisses all over your face, from your cheeks, to your forehead, and then on your neck.

"mingi-" you stop him, dropping the books on the floor and putting your hands on his chest.

"i've missed you. please."

"you wanted to meet so you can fuck me?" you ask, disbelief evident on your face.

he pulls away immediately, but his hands stay on your face. "no, of course not. i wanted to talk to you, but now that i see you... i remember how much i miss you."

"this was a bad idea. i have to go."

you try pushing him away, but he grabs you by your waist and pushes you against the shelves. he drops down on his knees, hands sliding down your clothed hips and down to the bottom of your dress. you shiver as his cold hands touch your bare legs under the dress.

"mingi..." you say again, each time less convincingly.

"just... ten minutes. give me ten minutes."

his fingers find the outline of your panties, and you don't protest. remembering the last time his hands were all over you, you give yourself to him. his head disappears under your dress, hot breath caressing your clothed clit. he licks a strip over the panties, causing you to squirm. his grip on your legs hardens, spreading them in the process and making you stay still. your hand grips his hair as soon as he pulls your panties aside, hot tongue teasing the tip of your clit.

you shudder, body getting used to the foreign feeling of pleasure. mingi devours you like a starved man, sucking on your clit, licking up and down your folds, and teasing your entrance.

"you taste as sweet as you look." he pulls away just to say that, then wastes no time in picking your body off the floor and putting your legs over his shoulders.

you gasp, losing control of your body. "what if someone- ah! sees?"

"let them."

his fingers find comfort in your tight walls, scissoring and stretching you. the noises alone make you even wetter than you already are, mingi's hums combined with the slurping and squelching making you dizzy with pleasure. a knot forms at the bottom of your stomach, his fingers toying with your sensitive buttons and helping you reach the peak.

he doesn't silence you, instead, lets you moan his name as you grind your hips against him, riding out the last bits of orgasm. he licks up the remaining liquid, before putting your panties back in place and setting you down on the ground.

he finally takes his hood off, and all the pleasure and bliss you were feeling up until now disappear. his face is more wounded than ever, purple and red spots scattered on it.

"what the hell happened?!"

"yunho's men found me last night after i left your house. tried to kill me. again."

"oh my god," you put a hand over your mouth, not believing your ears. who do you even trust at this point?

"run away with me, doctor. please."

"i- i don't know." you avoid his gaze, looking at the long forgotten books on the floor.

"nobody will ever love you like i do. nobody knows you like i do. so please. make this easy for both of us and come with me."

you want to. you really do. but yunho-

"yunho is a bad man. i know he's your brother, but he is a monster. maybe you don't know, or maybe you do, but i wasn't the only one who had to endure that torture. countless of us, but only i found a way out. well, the way out found me. you found me."

you never thought about it. you only ever saw and heard of mingi, but who knows how many of them there were.

"how about this? i'll take you to my house, and while i finish some business, you can think about it. if you really don't want it, leave while i'm gone, and i'll never look for you again. however, if you do want it, there's spare clothes and a suitcase. you know what to do. that sound good?"

you nod, grateful that he is giving you time to think. he plants a kiss on your forehead, then takes your hand and leads you out of the library. you don't question where he got a car from, you like peace(lol). the house is almost an hour drive away from the library, and soon enough, you realize that it is the very same house you saw in the files back in prison. you walk the same path yunho has probably walked, only unarmed and with the person he came for.

the inside of it is mostly empty, besides a sofa in the living room and empty kitchen cabinets. there's multiple packets of cereal on the counter, and two or three unwashed bowls in the sink. is that what he has been eating since he got out?

he notices you staring at the place, a question mark almost visible above your head. "neighbors raided the house as soon as they moved out."

you hum, not sure what to say. he offers you a can of coke, which you politely take, but don't open yet. he sighs, seeing your hesitation.

"i'll be leaving now. feel free to explore, i have nothing to hide."

that was a lie, because as soon as you see him disappear down the street, you raid the house. everything seems normal, except a picture frame on the wall. you tilt it, noticing that it hangs weird. and indeed, you find something he is hiding. a hole in the wall, with a few weapons and bullets, stacks of money and jewelry. above it, a picture of you and your brother, with a knife stabbed into his face. you immediately figure out just what kind of business mingi has to finish.

yunho closes the door to your room, sighing. you texted him this morning, saying that you were meeting up with a friend. but you are not back yet, and his calls aren't reaching you. he has sent both barnes and elijah to look for you for almost an hour now, but all he has is we are close to her, sir.

he walks into his bathroom, ruffling his hair. his light blue silk sleepwear is suddenly uncomfortable, knowing that you are somewhere out there this late. he wishes you could only send him a message that you are fine. he wouldn't demand that you come back immediately, you are an adult. just to let him know that you are okay.

the man splashes his face with cold water, grief eating him inside out. every time he closes his eyes, he sees yours full of fear looking at him. as soon as you come back, he'll apologize. for everything. he will admit that he doesn't know why he did what he did. the power must've consumed him, he can't find any other reason.

he opens his eyes, looking at his drenched face and eyebags. he hasn't slept well in ages, but he is so close to it. little by little, he is working on making the prison what you wanted it to be; a place of rehabilitation, not torture and punishment. he sighs, reaching for the towel and burying his face into it. the scent of the fabric softener calms him, along with the soft texture of the towel. folding it neatly and setting it down, he glances at himself one more time. a hooded figure stares back at him, right behind him.

"FUCK!"

yunho jumps, hand grabbing the first thing he could. he shudders, for the first time ever in front of someone, when he sees the gun pointed at him in contrast to the electric toothbrush in his hand. he gulps, then glances at the open door. he runs into the dark room, hand reaching for the drawer where he keeps his weapon. but no matter how much yunho tugs, it stays shut. that bastard.

the other man catches yunho off guard, turning him around and hitting him with the weapon. yunho stumbles back, nose and teeth in incredible pain.

"fucking hell, i thought i killed you!" yunho says, spitting blood on the floor.

the hooded man in front of him only smiles, still holding the gun up. he tilts his head, somewhat creepily, sending yunho shivers up his spine. he takes a step back, realizing just how unsafe he is in his own home.

"third time's the charm, right? you failed the first two, even when you had the upper hand. now that we are even..." the hooded man tosses a spare gun on the floor, then kicks it yunho's way, "...let me see you. do your own damn dirty business."

"where is she?"

"safe from you."

"where the fuck is my sister?!"

"TAKE THE DAMN GUN AND FIGHT LIKE A MAN." mingi booms, having enough of the man in front of him.

yunho takes it, wasting no time in pointing the gun at mingi, finger hesitating to pull the trigger. mingi only laughs, not showing fear at all. yunho steps back, as if that's going to save him. he only hopes that you didn't willingly go with mingi. that no matter how bad it sounds, you went against your own will. he would be very disappointed if the first thing is true.

"pull the trigger, yunho."

something is not right.

"go on, that's what you wanted."

he is too calm.

"think about your little sister."

no, not you. he can't die and leave you behind.

"pull the damn trigger, jeong yunho!"

and yunho does, except, no bullet comes out. the weapon only clicks, and yunho barely has time to think of his next step when he hears a gunshot. he doesn't feel pain. he only feels weak, body threatening to fall. is this what it feels like to die? you don't feel anything? you just get dizzy and fall asleep?

"doc-" mingi gasps, and yunho finally looks at him. "what have you done?"

his eyes fall on your figure at the door. you hold a gun in your hand, shaking. mingi falls on the ground, and you run to yunho, handing him the weapon.

"i'm sorry, i'm so sorry," you sob, hiding behind your brother.

"it's okay," yunho says, shielding you from mingi.

he doesn't really have to, because mingi coughs on the ground, blood spilling from his mouth and down his chin. why, he repeats, eyes piercing yours. you want to help him, even though you brought him to that state. but yunho stops you, keeping your body behind him as he points the loaded gun at the wounded man.

he doesn't need to shoot again. mingi lets out a final cough, hand slipping from his wounded chest and on the floor. his head falls to the side, eyes still locked on you, lifeless. you sob, loud. you now have someone's blood on your hands. not just anyone's, but blood of the man who your promised to heal. instead, you killed him. but it was either him or yunho, and you didn't have much choice. keeping both alive was impossible, and you didn't want to lose yunho. not your only family. family that is finally starting to feel like one.

yunho drops the gun on the floor, turning to hug you. you wail into his chest, fingers gripping the silk and tears wetting it. he hushes you, hand rubbing your back as he shields you from the unpleasant sight.

"it's finally over. you're safe now."

taglist: *i tagged everyone who wanted a part two, if you want me to remove you, please dm me :)

@mingitheii @biancaness @dionysushyung @pearltinyy @jeon-ify @staytiny23 @vantediary @mingiswifeyyyy @aricebxmb @jadenance @seoft-for-seo @sunrins @mimisamisasa @nini4m @kyolovescats

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 77)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (63) / Alexia Putellas x Character (33) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson (17)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((**2.9k**))

YFN POV

“Morning, little one,” came a warm, husky voice in her ear. She pretended to not hear it in hope of some more sleep. Lucy nuzzled her ear. “Ignoring me, are we?”

She groaned and pouted, refusing to open her eyes. She felt Lucy’s lips on her ear, and then her jaw, cheek, nose, eyelid. “Time to get up, little one. You’ll be back asleep soon in the hospital.”

Her stomach growled and Lucy chuckled. “And no food before the surgery.”

“That isn’t helping you convince me to wake,” she mumbled. “Yummy food in my dreams.”

“Dreaming about me, then?”

She opened her eyes just to roll them as they settled on her favourite person. Lucia Roberta Tough Bronze. Those kind, loving green eyes behind her metal framed glasses today. She reached up to stroke her cheek, one of her fingers gliding along her sharp jaw. “I like that you’ve been wearing your glasses more recently.”

“You made me realise it was okay.”

“Mmn. Much more than okay.” She smiled. “It’s you.”

She then noticed the arm she was holding herself up with, her head in her hand, and saw her bicep bulging against her shirt. The urge to drool was high. She reached out and stroked that muscle, earning a shiver from her.

Lucy repaid the gesture by leaning forwards and kissing her forehead tenderly, her lips then travelling down over her eyebrow, eyelid, cheek, to find her mouth.

She kissed back a little until, “Luce,” she groaned. “I need to brush my teeth.”

“You taste like your toothpaste still, love.”

“You’re just saying that because you love me.”

“And because it’s true…”

“And I don’t know where your mouth has been.”

“Mmn,” she smiled as she reached down to nip her bottom lip between her teeth. “I know where it can be.”

“O…oh…” she replied, stuttering. To her, Lucy was the sexiest person alive so it was very difficult to avoid being so affected by her.

Lucy leant down again, teasingly, and just as YFN was following her mouth with her own, trying to touch lips, she pulled back. “It’s a shame we don’t have time.”

Lucy jumped up out of the bed, much to her shock.

“Don’t have time?!”

“I wanted to let you sleep,” she shrugged. “We have time for a shower, and to go.”

“I really wanted to go to Manchester today.”

“Me too, love. But you come first.”

“We come first. And… oh shit. We said we’d drive Jords back to Birmingham today?”

“I’ve already spoken to them. Leah is taking her.”

She couldn’t help the smile on her face. “And she’s okay with that?”

“Apparently so. She seemed… eager. They came by while you were sleeping to drop off your clothes and peace lily.”

“God, I wish I was awake to say thank you…”

“They know you’re grateful, love.”

“I hope so. Have you spoken to Alexia?”

Lucy nodded. “Barely. She’s leaving today.”

“Today?! So soon.”

“Yes, but we’ll stop by on the way to the hospital, okay?”

“Do we have time?”

“I’ve allowed for it.”

“And that’s why I’ll always love you.”

“Not because I’m gorgeous?” She asked, taking her shirt off to reveal her unnecessarily toned physique. Her eyes immediately dropped down to her abs and v line and suddenly, she was horny. God, she was such a tease. But she didn’t let herself fall for it.

“Come get me,” she said with her arms outstretched.

Lucy grinned and squatted down in front of the bed at a position that YFN could hug onto her like a koala from behind and be carried. “To the shower, peasant woman.”

LEAH POV

Waking with Jordan in her arms was the happiest Leah had been in a long time. She hadn’t realised how terrible she’d slept over the past year until she had her back. Jordan made no sound as she slept, though she was soft and warm, small and very cuddly. Her head remained tucked in by her neck most of the night, and even when they’d been too hot, they’d shifted together. Stayed together.

And it wasn’t anything less than perfect as they woke. No awkwardness or overthinking. Just stretches and yawns, followed immediately by a conversation about how they’d spend their day. That to Leah, was perfect in itself, because not acknowledging the fact that they’d just fallen asleep like they used to, made it that much more natural.

She wanted it back.

Jordan made them some breakfast while Leah was showering. Again, something she loved. No asking questions. No strangeness. Just working together and using each other’s things as if they both shared them. Because that’s how they’d always been.

She’d taken a risk by wrapping her arms around Jordan as she was cooking, and she responded by leaning back into her. They were getting back to themselves again.

Eating breakfast, they realised that they’d forgotten to give YFN her things, and so after breakfast, they dropped around their house. Lucy was awake, though YFN was still very much passed out according to her. “Come in, just be quiet.”

“Oh no, that’s okay,” Jordan said. “We don’t want to risk waking her.”

“Fair enough. What are you two up to today?”

“We were going to take Blu to the park and have lunch and then I need to go home…” Jordan trailed off as she realised she may not have a lift.

“Oh shit! We’re going to the hospital today. I can take you afterwards…”

“I can take you…” Leah offered, her heart beating faster at the idea of more time with Jordan.

A week ago she would have questioned it, but today, she didn’t. “Really? It’s not too much trouble?”

“Not at all. We’ll make a day of it. I’d like more time with Blu anyways…”

Jordan looked up at her and almost blushed. Jordan Nobbs, a little…shy? It made Leah wild. “Then yes. I’d like that.”

They smiled, completely lost in each other until Lucy spoke. “Do you even need to go back to Birmingham?”

“Huh?”

“Well it’s the 28th today. There are internationals, and the WSL isn’t back until the 9th so… you should at least have the next week or so off. Are you coming to the games?”

Jordan shifted as she thought. “You know what, you’re right actually…”

“So no Birmingham trip?” Leah asked. “You can stay with me. I’ll get us tickets.”

Jordan’s eyes glazed over a bit as she thought. “I’d like to go with you. I… my stuff is home. I need to get things. But… if it’s okay with you, then I’ll stay for a little bit. Until you get sick of me, at least.”

“Never. You know that. You can stay as long as you want. I’ve still got your key…”

They became lost in each other again, their little smiles showing as they thought about how relieved they were at more time together.

Soon enough, Lucy cleared her throat. “Sorry to interrupt whatever this is, but I need to wake my girl up for her surgery.”

“Of course!” They both said at once.

They said their goodbyes and gave their well wishes to pass to YFN. Jordan demanded updates from Lucy on how the surgery went.

From there, their day was at an easy pace. They stayed in town to have lunch and play around with Blu, and then decided on an overnight at Jordan’s place in Birmingham to split the drive. Lucy kept them updated with YFN and sent photos which had them both reeling with empathy. At least she had Lucy to look after her. She’d do anything to take care of her, that one.

Leah drove them to Birmingham and refused when Jordan offered to drive. She didn’t care about her driving her car as she had multiple times, she just wanted to take care of her, like Lucy with YFN.

They pre-ordered and picked up dinner as they arrived in town, taking it back to the house. When they arrived, Jordan grabbed one of her bags and the food, while Leah had their other bags, and Blu. She stood behind Jordan as she was unlocking her front door and noticed her hand shaking as she tried to put the key in the lock. Leah knew Jordan. It wasn’t a cold shaking, but a nervous one. She reached out and took her hand in her own, guiding the key into the lock. Her head was over her shoulder and as she held her hand with the key, she turned to kiss her temple.

“I’ve got you, Jord.”

There was moment of silence before she responded so quietly Leah almost couldn’t hear it. “You’ve always had me, Lea.”

Leah shivered.

There was a lot more tension that night, but the good kind. The sexual kind. Leah was so worried to make the same mistake as last time, and knew she’d never be the one to initiate it this time. Their night didn’t go that way, though. It naturally was more domestic than that. Dinner and packing for Jordan’s trip, bantering and getting ready for bed.

Leah showered first and was just finishing up putting Blu to bed when Jordan appeared still steaming from her shower. She walked straight up to Leah and took her fingertips softly in her own, guiding her to her room. Leah had wondered a few times where she’d be sleeping, and was overwhelmingly happy when she realised that it would be with Jordan. She followed her into the bedroom, Jordan flicking the lights off as they went, and Leah took care to notice all of the things in Jordan’s room that used to be in theirs. Her slippers in the corner. A spare jumper near the bed because she was always cold and needed it sometimes. Her hair ties on the bedside table. The smell of Jordan everywhere. Is this what it was like for Jordan at Leah’s apartment the night before?

They climbed into bed, Jordan on her usual side and Leah on hers, and they met in the middle. She already knew there would be no sex, as they weren’t there yet, however Jordan did kiss her goodnight. It was a simple, sweet kiss though Leah felt more than that. As it lingered, she felt the emotions of Jordan. The yearning, the passion, the love.

“Good night Lea,” she whispered so close that her lips brushed over hers as she said them.

Jordan ducked her head down under Leah’s chin and she felt her warm breath on her neck as she pulled her closer.

“Good night Jord,” she breathed, knowing she was the happiest she’d been in a long, long time.

ALEXIA POV

Alexia stared at the blank, dark wall opposite the bed and sighed as she realised where she was. Her hand reached out to touch the pillow that shouldn’t have been empty, and she stayed there staring at it until Chiquito’s little body wriggled against her as he stretched awake. He’d always been an energetic cat and so she wondered if his sleeping so much as of late was because he was missing her. She reached down and rubbed under his chin. He loved that.

They stayed only a little while longer before getting up. Alexia fixed the bed and left the room led by Chiquito, closing the doors behind her as if it were actual closure. On the other side of the doors, she took a deep breath and told herself that now she was ready to move on.

She wasn’t sure if she believed it though.

Alexia found Ona in the kitchen with Benjami and Richard, her eyes locking onto her as she approached.

“I thought you’d left.” She said, worried. “I couldn’t find you anywhere until Benjami realised where you were.”

Alexia ignored that and greeted the men who were setting the table up for breakfast. They’d made an array of English foods, it seemed, and Alexia was grateful for it.

“I say to Benjami we make England food for you breakfast,” Richard said in his broken Catalan. “Before both you go to home.”

Alexia smiled. “Thank you. Both of you. This is really thoughtful.”

She insisted they join and the four enjoyed their meal together.

“I’ve booked our tickets home. We’re leaving soon.”

“Okay.”

“But we don’t have first class because it was too last minute. Apparently there’s an event in Spain.”

“That’s okay,” Alexia shrugged. “It’s a short flight.”

They finished their breakfast and while Richard started to clear the table, Ona went to pack her things. When they were far enough away, Benjami turned to Alexia. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes.”

“Ah. Will you be back?”

“I don’t think so…”

By the look in his eyes, he already knew everything. “You are always welcome here… she’d have it no other way. She insisted actually.”

“It’s not my place,” she said lowly as Richard passed by.

“I do believe it is now…” he said. “I know Ridley. She wants you to be happy wherever you are. She’s very much okay with you staying as long as you want. In her mind, she’s finally putting this place to use seeing as her brother…” he stopped himself.

Ridley had made this place for her brother. It was her attempt to make a home, as she’d done so often before and failed every time.

“A house is not a home.”

“No.” He shook his head, though in agreement. “It is not. But she hasn’t let anyone in to learn that home is love, just yet.”

Alexia was shocked by his frank truthfulness. He truly did know her.

“Do you know when you’ll see her again?”

“Perhaps never,” he sighed and took Alexia’s hand. She didn’t usually like physical contact, though she didn’t mind this. “I just want to say this to you. She’s a good person, through and through. The best I’ve ever met. She does take responsibility and blame herself for everything, though. She doesn’t believe she deserves to be loved, and beyond that, she doesn’t want to inflict her pain onto somebody that she loves. And she does love you. I know that. I’ve seen that. I’m only telling you this because I need you to know that she’s a good person and I may not know everything she did, but I do know it would have all been for you, la Reina.”

Alexia swallowed the lump of emotions building in her throat and felt her eyes prick with tears.

“That is all I will say on that. It was lovely to meet you, and I hope we see you again in the future.”

Alexia and Benjami ended up sharing their numbers. She very much wanted to keep in contact with him and visit them when she was in London or they in Spain.

Lucy and Blau stopped by to say their goodbyes before the hospital, and Alexia almost didn’t let go of Blau. There was something about her that was so comforting, and she wondered if it was because she knew Ridley or just because it was her.

She requested updates on her surgery, and then the two watched as Ona and Lucy shared as awkward hug. Ona looked like she didn’t want to let go, her wide eyes staring up at Lucy who was being polite in return. After they left, Alexia packed and got dressed for the plane ride home. Ona and Benjami loaded their things into the car, and Richard attempted to coerce Chiquito into a crate, which gave Alexia the space she needed to walk through the penthouse one last time. She didn’t need to, though, as she already had last night. Instead, she went up to the library where her painting was. Taking out her supplies, she put the last finishing touches on and stepped back to admire it.

It was her best work.

Benjami found her there. “We’re ready to go Alex- my, my. That’s incredible.”

“He’s very fun to paint.” She said, staring at Chiquito’s painting. “Benjami, could you do me a favour?”

“Anything.”

“Could you hang this up on the wall opposite her bed, please? It’s too dull.”

He was silent for a few seconds and when she looked at him, he was smiling. “Of course, la Reina.”

The couple drove them to the airport and said their goodbyes there. To be honest, from there on was a blur. They arrived at the check-in to be told that they’d been upgraded to first class. It didn’t matter to her either way, she just hated to say goodbye to Chiquito and put him in his crate. He was unproblematic but she knew he didn’t prefer it.

“See you soon, my boy.” She whispered to him as he was taken away.

They boarded the plane and found their seats, just keen to get home to her apartment and her bed. She put on her noise cancelling headphones and wondered if Chiquito would like it there, in her place. He had a lot of room to play, a lot of sunshine and beaches which she knew he loved. He was strangely a water baby which suited her perfectly. She thought about what toys to buy him and where she could take him that would allow cats. Her mind was very much focussed on that when Ridley knelt in front of her.

[ssajemilyprentiss]

In the air

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader 

Warnings: Smut, angsty-ish, reader is a bit cold/lacks emotion, Emily is a bit out of character lol (just this once), mentions of death (you know the regular cm stuff), sexual tension (or more like an attempt at it lol), curse words, eating out, vaginal fingering, nipple/breast play, dirty talk, use of pet names, degradation, praise. Let me know if i forgot something - Also MINORS DNI

Summary: When you get brought in for questioning at the FBI and they have Emily interrogate you - the tension between you is instant.

Wordcount: 2k

A/N: Um hello I guess, I’m back lol. It has been a hot minute since I both wrote and posted on here, and tbh I am a lil scared doing this again. Even tho I love posting and writing I have been so uninspired and unmotivated for so so long for some reason. But I will try to post more, can’t make any promises tho lol. 

The beginning of this has been sitting in my drafts for god knows how long and I wanted to do something with it so here I am doing it lmao

Also a reminder if it has been forgotten, english is not my first language - and I would deeply appreciate your thoughts and opinions on this, thanks besties <3

This was requested by the lovely Jas @rafetopia​​​ (you requested this such a long time ago so you have probably forgotten it, and i can’t find your ask either, sorry about that lmao) who wrote the following: “so what if you wrote a blurb or one shot with emily (or jj tbh i don’t really care i love them both) and there are some murders and the reader is the suspect and there’s a hot interrogation session (i’m a sucker for it) but the ending is up to you like if she’s innocent or not (only if you want to lol) i didn’t want to make it too specific so you still have freedom 😅”

I decided to go with Emily for this one, hope that’s fine Jas (also hope it's fine i added the smut lmao) thank you for this request and i hope this turns out the way you wanted to <3

☽ My masterlist here

☽ Want to request something from me? Take a look here

You let out a deep sigh, crossing your legs for what felt like the hundredth time. The dark, pale interrogation room at the FBI headquarters was freezing cold and you feel yourself getting goosebumps from the chilly atmosphere. How long had you been sitting here? An hour? Two? Who knew? No one had told you anything yet, and none of the agents who showed up and arrested you had come in. Just as you’re about to uncross your legs the door opens and a grey-haired goddess of an FBI agent steps inside the room, her commanding presence immediately taking over the room. She takes a seat across from you, not saying anything. She stares deadpanned at you but all you can think about her eyes - dark brown, almost black, and you feel how you could get lost staring into them. The next thing you see is her nose, straight and pointy - one of her defining features for sure. Your eyes move on to her lips, they are full with a hint of red - red is definitely her color. You keep staring at her lips, biting your own lower lip as you do. You sit in silence for you don’t know how long, until she breaks the silence by clearing her throat. Your eyes shoot up from her lips into her eyes once again, and you see a sly smile forming on her mouth before she starts talking:

“My name is Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss, I’m a profiler with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit” she takes a breath before continuing “do you know why you’re here Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Actually I don’t” you reply, your lips forming a small smirk “but please agent, do enlighten me”

“You are here on suspicion of murder” 

“Murder?” you retort, raising an eyebrow

“Correct, murder” she replies, tossing pictures on the table - but you keep staring into her eyes. 

“Look at the pictures” she demands

You do, and see yourself in all of them - together with different women. You look up at the agent again with a blank expression. 

“Do you recognize the women in the pictures?” she asks

“Well yes I do” you reply

You point to one of them “That’s me right there” 

“‘I mean the other women” she retorts annoyed

“Oh, silly me” you chuckle “well yes I recognize them too”

“Go on” she says

“Well, as you can see I’ve met them all” 

“Doing what?”

“Do you really wanna know that, Agent Prentiss?” 

“Go on” she encourages you “What about her?” she asks, holding up one of the photos

You look at the photo for a while, it’s of you and one of the girls you had met - what was her name? Mia? Sophia?

“She was a pleasure”

“How come all the women you have met turned up dead just a few days after meeting you?” she asks, her tone accusatory 

“Don’t know” you reply, shrugging your shoulders

“This isn’t a game Y/N, people are dead” she says, venom lacing her tone

“Don’t you think I know that?” you scoff “well I didn’t kill them”

“Where were you on these dates and times?” she asks, sliding a piece of paper with them written down towards you

“Well I can tell you that on all these dates I was very busy” 

“With what?” she asks

You bite your lip again before answering “Well I was with my very good friend Izzie”

She sighs “And you were doing?”

You lean back in your chair, keeping your eyes fixed on hers as you do “You know the usual - shopping, drinking coffee, eating”

“Eating what?” she asks

You chuckle lightly “We were eating a lot of things, if you know what I mean” you say as you raise an eyebrow at her. You see how she takes a second, thinking about what you’re saying, but if your answer startles her - she doesn’t give it away. 

“To be fair Y/N” Emily sighs “I’m getting kinda tired of this” 

“Likewise” you reply, crossing your arms

Emily leans across the table, staring into your eyes. Her hands firmly gripping the table, and you imagine them gripping your body instead. You are woken from your fantasy by her hot breath right next to your ear. You feel the hairs on your arms raising and how wetness starts pooling between your legs.

“So why won’t you just tell me the truth, like a good girl” she whispers, nipping lightly at your ear

You take a sharp breath, exhaling shakily and not daring to move a muscle. 

“Tell me Y/N” she whispers again “do you want to be my good girl?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. She chuckles lightly and tuts

“None of that now, I want to hear you say it” she whispers

You whimper lightly and swallow, just as you’re about to open your mouth the door opens and you and Emily get away from each other, she sits down in her chair composing herself. You sit back in your chair, feeling out of breath. You lock eyes with a tall grumpy agent who stares deadpanned at you. 

“You’re free to go Ms. Y/L/N” he says

“What?” you ask, shocked

“You’re free to go” he repeats “your alibi checks out”

You get up from the chair and as you’re about to leave the room you stop right by Emily’s ear and whisper:

“That was fun, we should do it again sometime” 

You don’t give her time to reply, swiftly exiting the room. On the way out you feel all the other agents staring at you as you walk past them, but all you can do is smirk - thinking back at the moment you just had with Emily - and how you need to get rid of the wetness between your legs the first thing you do when you get home. 

/

The sun was shining outside the BAU, and you close your eyes taking a deep breath. You felt your phone vibrating in your pocket, picking it up you see your uber is on its way. You close your eyes and exhale once more, but before you know it someone is behind you and pushes you against the wall of the building, their hand on your throat. You feel your air supply being cut off and open your eyes in panic, and there in front of you is the grey-haired goddess of an FBI agent once more. She releases the pressure against your throat a little, but keeps her hand steady. You gasp for air as she leans towards you. 

“Listen here you little slut” she says “I don’t think you’re as innocent as you make it look, but to be honest right now I don’t give a fuck”

You don’t answer, focusing on your breathing

“But what I’m more interested in right now is to keep our little party going” she says, backing away “If you want to?”

You raise an eyebrow at her, but can tell from the look on her face that she is serious. You chuckle, looking down at your feet with a sly smile - you look up again, meeting her brown eyes and reply:

“I’d never thought you’d ask”

/ 

She pulls you inside her apartment, dragging you towards her bedroom. She pushes you against the wall once again and presses her lips against yours. You moan into her mouth as your hands caress her body, reaching her breasts. 

“Let me take your shirt off” you pant into her mouth

She pulls away and you pull her shirt over her head, and then do the same with yours. You take off her bra while she does the same with yours. She trails her kisses along your neck, and you throw your head back, giving her full access. She stops by your pulse point, sucking hard on it. You close your eyes and moan as she does, your hands finding her breasts. You start rubbing one of her nipples between your fingers, causing her to moan against your neck. She keeps trailing kisses further down on your body and reaches your breasts. She takes one of your nipples in her mouth, circling her tongue against it. 

“Holy fuck” you breathe out “keep doing that”

She chuckles lightly against your nipple before pinching it lightly with her teeth, making you yelp. 

“Lay down on the bed” she says

You obey, laying down on your back

“You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?” she asks, smirking

You lick your lips and nod, staring up at her. 

She lowers herself, trailing kisses along your stomach down towards your pussy. You feel your clit pulsing and wetness dripping between your legs. 

“Spread those legs for me” she says, and you obey instantly “let me see that pretty pussy of yours” 

She starts kissing your inner thighs slowly, just brushing over your clit lightly when she switches from one leg to the other. 

“Please” you pant, putting your hands in her hair directing her towards your clit “Please stop teasing and fuck me”

“As you wish princess” she says and start sucking forcefully on your clit, making you moan hard of the instant pleasure she gives you

“Such a good girl” she says against your clit, and you thrust your hips forward, looking for more. She chuckles softly and starts licking up and down your slit, and she easily slips two fingers into you - thrusting them slowly. 

“Harder please” you pant “I’m gonna cum”

She picks up her pace, her thrusts becoming more determined, and your eyes starts fluttering from the overwhelming pleasure that is approaching you

“Cum for me” she husks and circle your clit once more, your orgasm washing over you like a wave of pleasure 

“Fuck” you breathe out as she starts lapping up your juices

She kiss you and you taste yourself on her tongue, and then you flip her over - with her underneath you this time

“My turn” you coo and lick your lips, pinning her wrists above her head as you caress one of her nipples with your tongue

"So perfect" you murmur "Perfect tits. Perfect ass. Perfect everything" 

You work your way down her body, kissing her 

“Please” she breathes heavily “I need you”

“Where do you need me?” you ask, kneading her breasts once more 

“Inside” she whimpers “your fingers inside”

You lick a line along her slit, tasting her wetness 

“My my” you chuckle “do I make you this wet?” 

“Yes” she groans “please just fuck me”

You slide two fingers inside of her, thrusting them slowly as you lower yourself towards her clit and take it in your mouth. She moans deeply and arches her back, and you start picking up your pace. 

“Please” she breathes “need more”

You add another finger smoothly, and let her adjust a little before you start thrusting again, and you curl your fingers at her g-spot and start circling your tongue on her clit again - feeling her walls clenching against your fingers

“Yes” she cries out “just like that, I’m cumming” 

You pick up the pace, flicking her clit harder and thrust your finger faster. 

You feel her orgasm taking over, and she cries out from pleasure. You keep thrusting, helping her ride out her orgasm. When she has calmed down you slip out your fingers and take them in your mouth, cleaning her juices from them - and you moan once again from her taste. 

The two of you crash down on the bed next to each other, panting heavily. 

“That was good” she whispers

“So fucking good” you reply and she chuckles at you, turning her head towards you

You stare into Emily’s dark brown eyes once again, the first thing you had noticed about her when she walked into that interrogation room what felt like an eternity ago. Whatever lies behind those beautiful brown eyes is one mystery you would spend your entire life solving. 

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

Taglist: @rafetopia / @ssa-sapphic  / @sweetmidnights / @alexbllake / @emilyprsntiss / @sleep-deprived-athlete / @jemilyssecretlover /  @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos / @cmslvtt / @phatcrackdad / @rookie-prentiss (this taglist is sooo old, so i'm sorry in advance if you don't want to be tagged, just let me know and i'll delete you <3)

[hazbinsboss]

Drunk Alastor HC's (OOC)

Because Mimsy telling us how Alastor turns into a kitten when drunk is the best thing in the world. So what would it be like to be his partner when he's drunk?

For a solid year into the relationship Husk is the only one who knew that Alastor was seeing someone, let alone Y/N. After Alastor went to the hotel bar with a hopes of getting tipsy, he hadn't drank in months so it truly took only about 4 heavy pours for him to be strung out, drunk, his smile calm with hints of genuine joy in it.

Husk 100% took advantage of this, and asked him about the rumors that he had a partner, and by god did Alastor fess up QUICK.

"dO NOT... tEll ANYBODY" Alastor slurs as he downs his sixth drink. "Why don't I get Y/N down here so you can be taken care of" Husk laughs and phones them. Telling them that their boyfriend is a slurring drunk who needs someone to take care of him.

"I'll be down in a second Husk. Thanks for dealing with him"

Upon coming down to the bar, Alastor is doting and clinging to them like his life depended on it. "Oh Alastor, my dear. Lets get you back to your room-"

"oUR..." Alastor interjects. Husk was the only one around and Alastor already fessed up to him. So Husk knowing they slept in the same room was not surprising to him.

"Yes honey, our room" Y/N laughed, helping the stumbling slurring radio demon back the privacy of their room.

On the way back he just kinda, juts out random small shadow imps. He has sicked them on Lucifer when he was drunk before

[morallyinept]

Devoutness - Mature!Marcus Moreno x Mature 60+ F!Reader

Written as part of my B O D I E S Series 🤎

BODIES MASTERLIST

This story is part of my Heyday Hero universe. <- You might want to read that story first for context. But you can read this as a stand alone if you wish.

Summary: Marcus and you embrace the challenges of growing old together and enjoying intimacy.

Pairing: Mature!Marcus Moreno x Mature 60+ F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader in terms of ethnicity, Reader does have hair, however. Reader and Marcus are both in their mid-sixties, I've made Marcus 64 in this, and have real bodies with aging and Reader is on the curvier side.)

Word Count: 7.5k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Triggers & warnings: Reader & Marcus are much older and have real bodies reflective of their age/use of Viagra & sex aids/erectile dysfunction/unprotected PIV (wrap up folks!)/oral M receiving/mild dirty talk/Marcus has superpower hands ⚡️/lots of kissing/schmaltzy romance/Marcus doesn't fuck, he makes love.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: It's important to me that all types of readers are represented in my work, therefore this collection of stories is written for readers with REAL bodies. However, anyone can enjoy them. Whilst this story may not specifically represent your own personal journey, it is my hope that it resonates and offers comfort and enjoyment. This story is specifically about aging and growing old. If it upsets you to read about mature lovemaking, then I don't what to say - you'll be this age yourself one day... Everyone's journey is personal and unique, and I have undertaken as much research as I can to write accurately and respectfully. 🤎

MAIN MASTERLIST | MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

“Are you ready, kiddo?” Marcus asks.

“No,” Missy gulps. 

“You’re not nervous, are you?” 

“Were you nervous?”

“Yes.”

“Both times?”

“Yes.” Marcus nods. 

“Jeez.”

“Just breathe-”

“I am breathing. I-I think I’m breathing too much!” She squeaks.

He watches as Missy wrings at her hands that are visibly shaking. He’s never seen her so amped up and antsy before, and he decides instantly that he doesn’t like it. 

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” Marcus places his own hands deftly on her shoulders and rubs his thumbs into the bones gently. “You’ve got this.” 

"Dad, I'm so fucking nervous. What if I trip walking down the aisle?"

Marcus frowns with a soft smile. “I won’t let you and your potty mouth trip.”

“What if I forget my vows? Oh God, shit! I can’t remember them!”

"Hey now. Remember the time when you faced the Void Fiend head-on?”

“What does that have to do with-”

“You were brave, strong, and fearless. This? Walking down the aisle to marry the man you love? It's a breeze compared to that."

The Void Fiend was a creature of pure darkness, with tendrils of shadow that twisted and writhed like living smoke. Its eyes glowed with an otherworldly intensity, casting an eerie light that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of reality. And it had temporarily cast Missy into another dimension, until she battled her way out and ended the Void Fiend’s existence with her tenacity and strength. Something she’d inherited from her now retired, ex-Heroic father. 

“I’m missing the Void Fiend right about now…”

“Tranquila, estás exagerando. Tú puedes hacerlo." (Calm down, you’re exaggerating. You’ve got this.)

“I don’t know how you did this twice.” She sighs as she paces, placing her hand over the boned satin corset covering her stomach. “God, I feel sick.”

“Well, I didn’t really have a choice.” Marcus says, timidly. He takes off his glasses, rubbing at his temple.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“I know.” He reassures, and it stops them both in their tracks like a blow to the gut. 

A moment of silence passes between them, filled with unspoken thoughts. Missy’s eyes soften as she looks at her father.

“Look at this, you’ve always been useless at ties,” Missy smirks, fussing with the silk slate knot at her father’s throat. 

“Fingers are too big for something so slippery,” he snorts, casually. 

“That’s what she said.” Missy grins.

“Behave.” Marcus sighs, rolling his eyes. 

“There,” she says, as she tweaks and neatens the tie into place. She pats down the soft lapels of his dark navy suit and steps back to look at him. “I love seeing you so happy.”

Marcus smiles. “I love being so happy. For a while I didn’t think I ever would be again...”

His thoughts immediately drift to you and it makes the blood in his veins sing. Each thought of you ignites a warmth within him, spreading from his chest and radiating outward, as if you're the very sun that has lit his internal world.

“Do you think Mom would be proud of me?”

His expression becomes tender, a deep sadness mingling with his love. “She would be more than proud. She’d be over the moon. You’ve become everything she ever hoped for and more.”

Tears well up in her eyes, and she takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “I wish she could be here today. And abuela…” (Grandma) 

He nods, his own eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “They both are. They’re right in there.” He points to his daughter’s heart.

“Dad! I can’t cry, my mascara will run. Shit!” She fans her face quickly. “You promise you won’t let me fall on my face in these ridiculous heels?”

“They are pretty ridiculous.” Marcus smirks, clocking the sky high heels that his daughter totters around uncomfortably in. “But I take my job very seriously. You’ll remain fully upright. Until you say I do, then you’re Sam’s problem.” He chuckles. 

Missy takes a deep breath after giggling, and gathers her bouquet. It’s a stunning arrangement of flowers, each one grown and hand picked from Marcus's cherished garden, adding a deeply personal touch to her special day. Full of sweet smelling blush peonies, white roses and anemones, wrapped with eucalyptus leaves.

“Okay. I can do this.” Missy says aloud. 

He nods, his eyes filled with pride. "Of course you can. You've faced far greater challenges than this, and you've always come out on top. You’re a Moreno. Just remember to take it one step at a time so you don’t break your ankles-”

“Dad.”

“-and focus on the love in your heart. Everything else will fall into place." He simply shrugs. 

“It really will, won’t it?” Missy concludes, looking at him and how intensely happy he is. It just radiates off of him like a solar flare bursting from the sun.

“Sam’s a lucky man.” Marcus says proudly. 

She steps closer to her father, and they embrace, holding each other tightly. The bond between them, forged in love and shared loss, feels stronger than ever.

“Thank you for always being there for me. For being both a father and a mother when I needed it most. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Marcus wraps her in a warm embrace, his arms a safe haven amidst the whirlwind of emotions that try to rattle her.

"You'll always have me, muñeca. Now go out there and show that fiancé of yours just how beautiful you look." (Doll)

“You scrub up pretty well yourself, you silver fox.”

“Stop it.” Marcus blushes unabashedly whilst he straightens his cuffs as Missy wolf-whistles at him. 

His suit jacket is impeccably cut, with sharp, clean lines that accentuate his frame. A neatly folded pocket square, matching the silvery tone of his tie, adorns his breast pocket, its presence a small but significant nod to tradition and style. His cufflinks, sleek and elegant, catch the light with a gentle gleam, completing the sophisticated look.

His suit, complete with waistcoat and a white rose boutonniere, compliments the mercury that’s over taken his once dark, cocoa hair and facial scruff, both now trimmed neatly and styled for the wedding.

His eyes, a deep, soulful brown, still hold a spark of the formidable spirit that once defined him, shrouded often behind his thick, black-rimmed spectacles, that are a trademark feature. They reflect both wisdom and a hint of the mischief that lingers from his younger days. The crow's feet at the corners of his eyes deepen as he smiles, adding to his rugged charm. His body, though no longer in its prime, remains strong and capable, despite his advancing years.

The suit he wears fits him perfectly, tailored to accommodate the changes that time has wrought. His shoulders, still broad and solid, hint at the strength that lies beneath the fine fabric. His waist, though a bit softer around the middle, speaks of a man who has remained active and engaged with the world around him, despite slowing down in his retirement.

His hands, once steady and unyielding in the face of danger, now show the signs of age with slightly knobbled knuckles and veins that stand out against his papery skin.

Sixty-four has never looked so good on Marcus Moreno.

But at this age he feels the weight of time in his bones and muscles, a constant reminder of the years that have passed. Mornings are sometimes the hardest. As he rises from bed with you, his joints protest with a familiar stiffness. His knees, especially, ache with a dull persistence, a result of decades of wear and tear from heroic escapades.

He moves more slowly now, careful with each step, aware that a wrong move could lead to a fall. Yet, despite these physical reminders of aging, he carries himself with a quiet dignity. Marcus has grown accustomed to the small rituals of maintenances that aging requires: daily medications, regular doctors visits, the strength of exercise and stretches to keep his body as agile as possible.

And he's aging gracefully with you right by his side, watching the season's change and embracing them with a smile and contentment. There's a certain peace in accepting the changes brought by age. Appreciating a slower pace.

Life has a different rhythm now, one that allows for gratitude and reflection. He cherishes the stillness of the early morning, sipping coffee with his arm around you and taking in the scents of his garden. More moments to stop and smell the flowers.

He has more time to appreciate the small things. He's not merely growing older; he's becoming more himself with each passing day.

“I mean it, your lovely wife will need to watch her back. Those bridesmaids of mine are feral.”

“Cripes.” Marcus shudders, already feeling himself sweat at the horrid thought. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll keep you upright if you keep those hormonal women away from me.”

Missy giggles. “I can’t promise anything, Dad. One of them has the power of influence. You might be cast under her spell.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.” He groans.

Missy simply taps her nose and grins. With a newfound sense of confidence, she takes a deep breath and grips onto her father’s arm as he offers it out to her.

Marcus smiles down at her from behind his polished spectacles and slicked back hair, and beams brightly. 

“Come on, let’s get you married. You’re such a pain in my ass. Can’t wait to be rid of you.” He says.

“Nope. You’re stuck with me forever. That's the deal. You made me.”

“I should have worn a condom.” Marcus grins. 

“You’re such an ass.” Missy snorts ungracefully, choking on her giggles. 

Sitting in the front row of the aisle lined with garlands of fresh flowers, you stand and watch as Marcus emerges with Missy on his arm, in a modest ivory dress, to a solo violinist’s rendition of All Of Me. 

You clock Marcus’s face and he seems completely entranced and proud as he walks Missy down the aisle to her future husband Sam, who’s waiting and wiping discreetly at his eyes. 

You smile fondly at his reaction, remembering Marcus looking at you just like that on your wedding day to him. It was an intimate and heartfelt affair, celebrated in the same garden where he lovingly tended to the flowers, now featured in his daughter’s wedding bouquet. A place that you had grown to love just as much as him.

The setting was a testament to his life's quieter, nurturing side, a stark contrast to his years of heroic exploits, and you were only too inclined to agree at the lowkey subtlety. It was a place that was special to you both and you both spent a lot of time together basking in the Texan sun, as well as your love.

The retired superhero had stood at the heart-shaped trellis threaded with lilac roses and violet ranunculi - a nod to the purple heart emoji from your early days of flirting and getting to know one another on the dating app - his heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and excitement, and looking at you like you were the only thing that kept his word spinning on its axis. 

Marcus has spent years, decades, alone after losing his first wife shortly after Missy was born. A woman who had been his partner in every sense of the word. Her passing had left a void that seemed impossible to fill, a grief that lingered in the corners of his heart and a guilt that overpowered him when he thought about moving on.

Throwing himself into work and saving the world on the regular, between bringing up a headstrong and smart younger version of him, consumed him. and it was only when retirement beckoned did he realise he didn't want to spend the remainder of his life alone.

So then there was you. You were different and brought a familiarity that felt like home. You'd connected over shared experiences, laughter, your mutual love of flowers and home cooked food, and a heightened passion that sizzled between you both.

Your laughter was like a soothing balm to his weary soul and your kindness, understanding, and your acceptance of his late wife and the love he would always have for her, slowly began to heal the wounds that time had only partially mended.

Your relationship had grown slowly, rooted in deep conversations, mutual respect and compassion. You'd walked Marcus's garden many times, traversing the flower beds, conversing about the different species and plant types. Cuddled up by the pool at golden sunsets, kissing deeply in the loungers, and sharing twilight dinners and wine.

It was in his garden, that you both realised you could love again. And it was where he had proposed to you too. He'd had your ring custom made, a floral stone shape, cut with stunning teal diamonds.

You’d walked towards him on that special day wearing blue - a colour that you both loved on you - radiant and beautiful, every step bringing you closer to your new life shared together. You remember the way Marcus had looked at you as you exchanged vows, his eyes filled with unwavering trust and devotion. Tears making them glisten under his spectacles.

The ceremony had been simple yet profound, promises made in front of a handful of those closest to you, both not seeking an extravagant affair or party into the wild hours. Instead a small gathering and a lovely home cooked meal, which you and Marcus had lovingly prepared together for your family, after you both promised to stand by each other through all of life's challenges.

And as Missy and Sam prepare to exchange similar vows now, Marcus joins you by your side on the pew, his hand slipping into yours where it belongs, and you hand him a tissue.

“Thanks,” he whispers, smiling crookedly and blushing as he dabs at his eyes under his specs once more. “I'm a mess.” He sniffs.

He feels a tear slip down his weathered cheek, not from sadness but from the deep, abiding joy of witnessing his daughter's happiness. 

“She looks so beautiful.” You compliment, filled with adoration for her as if Missy were your own flesh and blood.

She’s become the closest thing to a daughter to you, your relationship with her deepened and special. Sharing girl-dates together on the regular, shopping and having lunch when she’s not saving the world. Teaming up and teasing Marcus to no end until you’re all in a fit of giggles.

You’re so proud of the young woman Marcus has raised.

“She does.” Marcus whispers. 

He turns his head and your eyes find his, big and watery and filled deep with sincerity. “You look absolutely beautiful, mi dulzura.” (My sweetness)

You gently squeeze his hand, feeling warm and more loved than you ever thought possible, as he places a gentle and lingering kiss on top of your head. 

The grand garden is alight with fairy lights underneath a gloaming sky.

The hazy orange glow that emits from the twinkles hovering delicately above this enchanted place leaves you with a sense of warm contentment, despite the gentle nip of the cool breeze as the evening wears on.

It’s an idyllic wonderland, draped in satin and ivy. Over the course of three days it had been transformed into an empyrean view fit for a king himself, and Marcus spared no expense in giving Missy everything she wanted for her big day. 

A vast lawn covered with bunting and a large white gazebo in the grounds of the Edwardian Manor House. Tables lined with crystal glasses, enormous plumes of roses that matched her bouquet.

Marcus was never an extravagant man, always mindful of living a modest life, but he wanted to make this a day Missy and Sam would never forget. His generosity, and smart investment skills over the years, is another trait of his that you love so much. 

The tinkling sounds of music flows through the crowd, like an invisible ribbon wrapping itself around all the guests that litter this decadent soiree. The threads of Heroic connections between them are visible, retired and current heroes in attendance; their radiance, euphoria and harmonies hum through your ears as Marcus twirls you around on the dancefloor.

The atmosphere is a blend of celebration and reverence. There's a sense of continuity, of old and new merging seamlessly. Marcus’s past as a Heroic adds an undercurrent of awe and admiration among the guests, but tonight, he’s celebrated for his role as a loving father and husband. 

The world around you seems to fade, leaving just the two of you bathed in the soft, golden glow of the twinkling lights. The band is in the middle of a slow, melodic tune, the kind that speaks of timeless romance and unspoken promises.

Marcus takes your hand with a gentle, yet confident grip, his fingers intertwining with yours as if they were always meant to fit together. You feel the familiar, crackly buzzing from his fingertips, reverberating deep into your skin and down your arm, igniting you, and he winks at you knowingly. 

He leads with a grace that hints at his once superhuman agility, his steps sure and deliberate. As you waltz across the floor, your eyes lock, a silent exchange that speaks volumes. Your eyes sparkle with a mixture of joy and affection, while his reflects a depth of gratitude and love that words can never fully capture.

You both share a secret smile, the kind that only two people deeply in love can understand, and it feels as if you’re the only ones in the world.

A palpable chemistry fizzes between you, helped by the static in his fingers that he teases you with, a testament to the deep bond and joy you bring each other. The music swells, a building crescendo, his hand gently guiding yours. At one point, he twirls you gently, your dress fanning out fully, and as you return to his embrace, you both chuckle, your foreheads touching for a brief, tender moment.

There's a playfulness in your dance, a sense of rediscovered youth, as if the years between you have melted away, leaving only the pure essence of your connection.

“Have you always been this smooth a dancer?” You query as he sways with you.

“I might know how to cut a rug.” Marcus smirks. 

“I’m still discovering all these wonderful secret talents about you, Mr Moreno.”

“Well, I like to keep you on your toes, Mrs Moreno.” He smirks with rosy cheeks.

As the song progresses, you pull each other closer, moving as one entity, lost in each other’s eyes. His hand rests on the small of your back, guiding you effortlessly, while your hand caresses his broad shoulder.

"You make me feel young again," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You make me feel safe," you reply with a smile. He loves the way your eyes crinkle when you do. “And so loved.”

“That’s because you are, mi dulzura.” He presses a kiss to your temple. (My sweetness)

"Look at her," you say softly, glancing toward Missy, who is radiant in her wedding dress, and laughing with others at a table. "She's so happy."

His eyes follow yours, and he nods, a proud smile spreading across his face.

"She deserves all the happiness in the world. She's incredible, just like her mother was..." He trails off and his eyes become a little deeper.

"She's incredible, just like her father is," you add gently, squeezing his shoulder.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "I don't know about that. I always tried my best. But I'm so proud of her. She's taken on so much, and she handles it all with such grace."

"She has a great role model," your voice is filled with warmth and admiration."You should dance with her," you suggest with soft encouragement.

Marcus hesitates for a moment, glancing at his daughter, who is laughing joyously with her new husband and their friends.

"Do you think she'd want that? It's her big day."

"Of course she would," you reply, your fingers brushing his cheek tenderly. "She loves you so much. This is a special moment for both of you."

He looks into your eyes, seeing the sincerity and love reflected there. "You're right," he says, his voice a little shaky with emotion. "I just... I don't want to intrude."

"You could never intrude. Go to her," you urge with a warm smile. "I'll be right here, cheering you both on."

Marcus takes a deep breath, then leans in to kiss you gently. "Thank you. For everything. You’re incredible."

"You're pretty incredible yourself." You smile back, your eyes shining. "Go on. Make this moment unforgettable."

He releases your hand reluctantly and makes his way across the dancefloor, each step filled with a mix of pride and nervous anticipation.

As Marcus approaches his daughter, she looks up, her eyes lighting up when she sees him.

"Dad," Missy says, her voice filling with delight. "Come dance with me!"

He nods, his heart swelling. "I'd be honoured."

The band begins to play another soft, melodic tune that echoes through the sumptuous garden.

“You took your shoes off,” Marcus chuckles, noticing her bare toes peeking out under the satin hem of her dress.

“I did. Let us never speak of those evil things again.”

“You know, I used to dance with you when you were little.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. You’d stand on my feet and let me move you about. You said you were no good at dancing and would pout. It was so cute.”

“And I stand by that fact.” Missy announces. 

“Nonsense.” He smiles. 

“And I’m always cute, for the record.” She grins. “Can I stand on your feet now?”

“Go for it.” He smiles.

She steps onto his polished shoes and he holds her close in his arms as he moves, his chin resting on her head and smiles. 

"You look so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, Dad," she replies, her eyes misting. "I'm so glad you're here with me. I know Mom would be," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the music.

"I am too," he replies, his grip on her tightening slightly. "I see so much of her in you. She would be so proud of the woman you've become."

She nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I hope so."

“I know so, muñeca.” (Doll)

“But you’ve got a wonderful woman who loves you just as much. Maybe even more.” Missy says to him. 

“I do,” he smiles over at you and you beam. You’re recording them dancing together on your phone, something for him to keep forever. 

“I’m still pissed that you found your one on a dating app you didn’t want to join for so long…” Missy snorts. 

“And after only one date too. What is it the kids say now, I’m winning at life?” He chuckles. 

“Yeah. You are. You smug bastard.”

“Easy now,” Marcus remarks with a thick smirk.

As the song draws to a close, Marcus pulls her into a warm embrace, holding her tightly. "I love you. Always."

"I love you too, Dad," she whispers back, her voice full of emotion.

They part with a final smile, and he steps back to let her return to her husband. As he makes his way back to you, you’re waiting for him with open arms.

"How was it?" You ask, pulling him into a hug.

“Perfect. Thank you for encouraging me.” Marcus beams.

"Anytime," you say, kissing him softly.

“Come on, dance with me some more, Mrs Moreno.” He says, pulling you gently towards the dancefloor again. 

Later that evening, after calling it quits on the late night as it shows no sign of dying down, you and Marcus ascend the grand staircase in the Manor House, a structure with an old-world charm blended with modern comforts.

The lobby is adorned with elegant chandeliers and plush seating, exuding a sense of timeless sophistication. Still glowing from the day's festivities, you make your way to your suite, hand in hand and talking softly with smiles and giggly laughter.

As you open the door to your room, you’re greeted by an inviting, romantic ambiance. The room is spacious yet cosy, with a large queen four poster, draped in crisp white linens and silky drapes. A pair of plush armchairs sit by the window, offering a breathtaking view of the city lights twinkling in the night.

A bottle of champagne chills in a silver bucket, accompanied by two flutes and a tray of gourmet chocolates.

You look around in awe, taking in the thoughtful details. "This is perfect," you murmur, your voice filled with contentment.

“Should be, we’ve paid for it,” Marcus chuckles, loosening his tie. 

You smile, stepping further into the room and slipping off your heels. "It's beautiful. Just like tonight."

You move to the window, admiring the view over Austin in the distance for a moment, before you feel him wrapping his arms around you from behind, pulling you in close. You lean into his embrace, feeling the warmth and strength that has always been so comforting.

Despite the buzz of the day, your bodies remind you both of the years you've lived. His back aches slightly from standing and dancing for so long, a dull reminder of his age and the years of unrelenting vigour from his past Heroic life. Your feet are sore, throbbing from your heels, and you feel a familiar stiffness in your joints.

“This night couldn’t be any more perfect,” you sigh dreamily, enjoying the way Marcus is planting delicate kisses against your neck and murmuring in agreement.  

“I may have had a thought on topping it.”

“Oh really? Do tell, Mr Moreno…” You prompt, smiling.

He turns you to face him and kisses you deeply, humming in satisfaction as his tongue massages against yours. Gentle and explorative, and leaves you utterly wanting.

“Thought that I would make love to my beautiful wife.” Marcus kisses over your knuckles one by one, planting a longer kiss over your wedding band. 

“I’ve been thinking about that all night.”

“You have?” He smiles.

“Mm-hm, it’s the suit.” You smile, running your hands down his lapels. “You look so handsome and sexy.”

He blushes and it’s still the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, watching his prominent tan nose and the tips of his ears turn a little pink. 

“You want to?” He asks and you nod. “Good, I came prepared.”

“I would expect no less from Mr Organised.” 

Grinning, he then steps away from you and rummages in the overnight bag that has already been brought up to the room by the concierge. 

You watch as he pulls out a small box and pops a little blue pill into his palm. He winks at you from behind his specs as he swallows it, and you reach for him. Your lips reconnect as you kiss him deep. 

The warmth of his lips running against yours, the familiar scent of him, and the deep, unwavering love in his eyes, combine to create a sensation that’s almost overwhelming and makes you dizzy with desire.

Your knees feel slightly weak, and you cling to him a little tighter, grounding yourself in his steady embrace. The giddy sensation is both disorienting and beautiful, a physical manifestation of the profound connection you share and the intensity of the moment.

When you finally part, he leads you to the small table where the champagne awaits. He pops the cork with a practised ease, pouring you each a glass.

"To how incredibly beautiful you look," Marcus toasts, raising his flute.

You smile, feeling your own face heat, clinking your glass against his.

You sip the champagne, savouring the bubbles and the moment. But he can’t resist much longer, waiting for the pill to work its magic, and neither can you as he pulls you into his arms once more.

The skin of his hands is marked by age spots and the veins more prominent, but his touch is as tender as ever. You feel the pleasant buzz from them sinking into your skin and travelling through your nerves. It makes you shudder, your nipples rousing awake as he glides his fingers down your arms.

"I can't believe how lucky I am," Marcus whispers, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back where your dress reveals a slink of skin. It's softer there now, a bit looser, but still so familiar and comforting.

"We both are." You agree. 

You both murmur and hum into more shared kisses, each one lasting a little longer and conveying your longing for one another. 

“Mmm, that’s nice,” you say as he nibbles gently on your lip and then licks over it.

“Really nice.” Marcus says, pulling you in closer. 

You giggle after a few moments. “My lipstick is all over you,” you smile, wiping his lips with your fingers. 

“I don’t care,” he smirks. “You can cover me in it, as long as I get more kisses.”

You giggle more as he rubs his lips against yours deliberately.

“Does it suit me, is it my colour?” He asks, grinning. 

“Yes, velvet pink is your colour, Marcus.” You titter.

“Well, blue is certainly yours, this dress is just so… stunning. I like how it just-” He loses the words as his eyes roam all over you. “I like how it just kind of shows all of you.”

“Yeah?” The dress is flattering, hugging your curves in all the right places and just revealing the subtlest amount of flesh, mostly down your back.

“Yeah… God, I want to peel you out of it so slowly. I want to enjoy the view.”

He kisses across your collarbone as you unbutton his waistcoat.

“I’m just gonna take my jacket off, set it over there…” he tosses it across the room and it misses the chair as he locks onto your lips. “You look so good in blue.” Marcus compliments. “Almost don’t want to take it off.”

“Then you won’t see what I’ve got on underneath it,” you tease. 

He makes a noise similar to a hungry bear, and you giggle as you reach for the zip under your arm and pull it down. 

“Fuck…” he sighs as you slip the dress off to reveal a matching lace set in midnight blue. “So gorgeous,” he smiles, pulling you in for another deep kiss. 

“You like it?”

“I love it…” He says, as his fingers trace the strap down from your shoulder, over the delicate cup, and he squeezes gently around your breast. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You both chuckle as he walks you backwards towards the bed as you push his waistcoat off. You pull on his tie, bringing him closer so you can taste his lips again. 

Sinking into its plush comfort, Marcus climbs over you. The soft lighting casts a warm glow, creating an intimate, serene atmosphere. He kicks off his shoes as you loop his tie out from under the collar and toss it to the floor.

“See what kissing you does to me,” you whisper, guiding his hand down between your legs, and he groans when feels how warm and damp it is there. 

“Quiero que te sientas muy bien…” (I want to make you feel really good) He whispers back.

“You always make me feel so good, Marcus.” You assure.

He smiles crookedly as you reach for his crotch.

“How you doing, big guy?” You say, stroking over the soft bulge in his slacks, and he sighs into your mouth. 

“Almost,” he pants. “Keep doing that… feels really good.” His cock although still a little flaccid, is swelling. But the Viagra needs a little helping hand to get him there.

“Do you want my mouth?”

“Oh God, yeah.” He groans and you’ve never seen a man unzip his pants so fast. 

He watches you pull out a small bottle of lube from the overnight bag. You squirt a little of it into your hands, rub them together and then slide them around his cock. He immediately groans out as you do so. 

“That feel good?” You whisper, nipping on his lobe. 

“Mmm… so good.”

A swollen, pale pink tip, and grey, wiry hairs that are trimmed almost to sparsity around his thick, heavy balls, greet you as you stroke and pump. Marcus has always harboured a generous sized manhood between his thighs, and aging certainly hasn't denied him of that as the throbbing length of him feels so good in your hands.

You grip a little tighter, making him work as he pushes his hips into your fist, almost like he’s fucking it.

“Oh wow!” He grunts. 

You kiss over his belly, down into his thighs and then take him in your mouth, cock swollen and hardening fully around your tongue as you suck on him. He tastes good, he’s always tasted so damn good. 

He repeatedly gathers your hair up, stylishly streaked with it's own grey, but it falls out of his grip, continually obscuring his view. He swipes it into a ragged, messy pony between his fingers in time to see you let your saliva dangle from your mouth and drip onto his head. 

“Fuck…” he whines, as you sink his cock back into your mouth. It’s rock solid now, throbbing against your tongue. “God, I fucking want you…” He grunts with those delicious expletives tumbling out of him in that way when he gets all worked up.

“Want you inside me, Marcus.” You moan into his mouth. 

He pulls down the cup of your bra and sucks your nipple into his mouth, and you both groan out in delight. 

“How do you want me?” He asks, removing his shirt fully.

“Lay with me, beside me so I can kiss you.” You pant, unclipping your bra and removing your panties.

Once you’re both fully naked, he shuffles up behind you, taking your leg and folding it over his arm. He kisses you, tongue slipping into your mouth as you reach down and guide his thickness against your folds.

"Wait, do you-"

“I don’t need any lube, you’ve got me so wet, Marcus…” You pant as you swipe him against you, up and down, covering him in your slick. 

You hear him growl in your ear as he pushes in, slipping through into you with ease.

“Just slides right in.” He agrees. “Fuck! You feel so good. So wet for me.”

The lewd sounds of his cock coated in your slick provides the background noise to your mutual pants and whines as he pushes in and out.

“Damn, this is such a beautiful pussy. Oh God.”

“Yours.”

“Mine.” He pants.

He kisses your knee, your cheek, your breast, your mouth - all within easy reach as his hips push back and forth, his cock sinking deeper into you with each gentle thrust. 

“Oh, you feel so good,” he whines. 

“Mmm, Marcus.” 

“You can feel me, hmm? Right here?” He places his large palm flat on your lower abdomen and presses down a little and you groan. 

“Right there!” You sigh, smiling. 

You gasp as his fingers slip down onto your clit, circling around and around as he kisses you again. You feel that delicious buzzing on it from his fingers and you shudder and grin into him. 

“I love that so much.”

“I know you do,” he smirks. You whine when he does it again. Little flares of electricity pulsing through you.  

He’s pressed flush against you, balls deep into your cunt, and rubbing your clit. Gentle, rhythmic strokes and you kiss around his lips and neatly trimmed beard. He nuzzles his nose across yours, smiling deeply into you. 

“Marcus… feels so good. Don’t stop…” You pant. He can feel you squeezing already; your breath more ragged as it pelts him in the face.

“Come for me,” he coos, as you grip onto his wrist; your thighs shaking as your clit pulls tighter under his buzzy ministrations. “Look at you, so beautiful. Come for me.”

He delves deeper, pushing that thick cock as far as it’ll go in this position - his crackly fingers gliding across your clit faster as you mewl and whine. You buck and push back, your body shaking and tensing. Your gasps reach higher pitches as you feel it rising within you. 

“So beautiful when you come for me. Tan hermoso... Quiero sentirlo. Quiero sentirte venir para mí. Ven toda sobre mí…” (So beautiful... I want to feel it. I want to feel you come for me. Come completely over me.) 

And that does it; the hushed whispers of the Spanish dirty talk flooding warm in your ear ignites the spark that crackles down your spine and floods in your core. 

“Así es, joder, te sientes tan bien alrededor de mi verga.” (That's right, shit, you feel so good around my cock)

“Oh fuck, Marcus, the way you speak like that-”

“I know, why do you think I do it?” He grins into your cheek, his tongue licking against it. “Porque sé que te gusta y te pone tan húmeda para mí. No puedes evitarlo, ¿verdad?, cuando hablo tan sucio así, ¿hmm?” (Because I know you like it and it makes you so wet for me. You can't help it, right, when I talk dirty like that, hmm?)

You nod, smiling and heated. “Sí, sí, sí…” (Yes, yes, yes)

He continues to slide in and out of your pussy, making you groan with each measured thrust.

“Let me ride you,” you say, sucking on his bottom lip.

“You won’t get no protest from me,” he grins. 

You straddle him, feeling him fill you full of him again as you sink down, all the way down on him. 

“Oh God,” he whines. “Thats it, that’s it… fuck. Fuck yes!”

“Marcus!”

“Feel good like that? Taking my cock so deep, mi dulzura… Oh shit!” He pants as you ride him harder. “That’s it, take it, take it, take it… It’s all yours. I’m all yours.” (My sweetness)

He likes watching you as you ride him, moving that bit faster, winding your hips more intensely as you draw closer to your peak. He likes to kiss you and suck your nipples as you work.

You watch him lick his thumb and press it against your clit, nodding and smiling at you to come for him, almost begging he wants it so bad - wants you so bad. You cry out as those crackles flood your core, making you clench and writhe.

He’s floored, watching as you glow riding on his cock like this. Unable to form words, you’re so beautiful. The fact he can still make you feel like this, even when his body can’t or won’t cooperate, stuns him. 

“F-Fuck…” Marcus can only stammer on a barely there whisper as you lean in to kiss him some more, feeling your pussy contract and rib around him as you come undone. 

You collapse gently on top of him, and he wraps his hands around your waist.

More often than not, he can't finish, especially with the Viagra. Just keeping him stiff and for your pleasure, which he’s more than happy with and to indulge in. “Just want to feel you come, mi dulzura.” (My sweetness)

Every time you come around him, he feels it, sees the joy and bliss in your eyes, hears the mewls and pants into the pillow, dusted over his lips. He’ll give you this, all of him as long as he can. As long as he’s able.

The mind is willing, but sometimes… sometimes the body can’t quite keep up anymore.

You’d both talked about it the first time it happened. The first time he lost his erection and couldn’t finish. He was so embarrassed, on the verge of tears and feeling like he'd let you down. But your reassurances and love, peppered with longing kisses, convinced him it was nothing to worry about. So he didn’t.

And he did the same for you, when you struggled to get wet sometimes. It wasn’t that he didn’t turn you on, because he sure as hell did. He still does every time you look at him - he takes your breath away.

But sometimes your body doesn’t want to play ball too, and you’ve both discovered ways to still enjoy sex together with some helpful aids such as toys, lubricant, some blue pills, but most of all, patience.

Switching up positions when you both tire easily and your joints won’t meld you into adventurous positions anymore. Spending time kissing and fawning over one another. Just being in his arms is more than enough.

You both enjoy pulling pleasure out of one another with no hurried pace or shame about how your bodies have changed, and continue to change. Your breasts have stretch marks and hang lower now, the skin under your arms flaps about a bit more - your own tummy is crinkled with wrinkly skin. And yet he always makes you feel beautiful when you’re naked in his arms.

His cock struggles to get hard without assistance now, his balls hang lower and the skin around his own waist and back is looser too. But you still desire him, you still love every single inch of him. 

You’re growing old together; something that both of you are lucky to experience and embrace wholly, together.  

Marcus whimpers, ragged little cries escaping his throat as you come around him. Your pussy is tightening and feeling so good that he can barely contain himself. And he’s so beautiful to you now just as he was when you first met him in that restaurant on your first date together. 

He still has that golden tanned skin from tending to his garden lovingly in the hot sun. Painted with some paler lines across his stomach and pubic bone where the sun doesn’t reach. The little sag of his belly from gaining a bit of weight now that he's not working out every day. A head of silver hair, almost snowy white entirely, replaces his dark curls. Liver spots and wrinkles appear in places they weren’t before.

Now in his mid-sixties, Marcus carries the weight of his years with a distinguished grace that speaks of a life well-lived and battles hard-fought.

Despite his enduring strength, age has brought with it a touch of forgetfulness too. He might occasionally misplace his glasses, only to find them perched atop his head after a thorough search. His keys sometimes elude him, turning up in the most unexpected places, like the refrigerator shelf or the bathroom sink.

These small lapses are met with laughter and gentle teasing from you, and you always help him find his missing items with a patient smile. One morning recently at breakfast, he hesitated, trying to remember if he’d taken his morning vitamins. But you, ever attentive, nudged the pill bottle toward him with a knowing smile.

"You didn't take them yet," you said, your voice filled with affection.

"Thanks," he replied, a bit sheepishly. "What would I do without you?"

"You'd manage," you’d teased, "but it wouldn't be nearly as much fun."

These moments, far from diminishing him, add to his character, painting a picture of a man who has lived fully and continues to do so with grace and humility. His forgetfulness becomes a part of your shared experiences, something that brings you closer and provides moments of light-hearted humour and tender connection.

“Oh fuck, you look good on top like this, so good on top… like that, that’s it. Oh God, use me. Keep doing that…” He’s drawn back to you, to this moment where you garner some more strength to keep going.

“Marcus!” You cry as you grind a little harder. 

“I just wanna hold you right here…” He pulls your forward and keeps you in place, crushed against his chest as he thrusts up into you. “God, you’re so hot, I can’t get enough of you!” He pants.

“Oh fuck, Marcus! I’m gonna come again!” 

“Yes, come, come, come, come…” He chants in your ear. 

You wriggle and squirm in the throes of your pleasure. He grips onto you tighter and pushes himself deeper into you. 

“Marcus!” You call out, your eyes rolling back. 

Gripping onto his shoulders, he almost roars as you come again, body tensing and sweat pouring off of him. You can hear him wheezing in the back of his throat as you shake and tense above him.

Then, a small whimper rolls off his tongue as he strokes your back, hearts thudding against one another. 

He taps over his heart. “Oh shit, it’s beating like crazy.”

“You okay?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine.” He chuckles breathlessly.

“Don’t wanna give you a heart attack.” You smirk.

“No, no, no. I’m good, really good. Although, it'd be a good way to go.”

“I don’t know CPR.” You muse. 

“I know the hymen-lick manoeuvre.” He waits for a second, before you burst out laughing. 

“That was terrible!” You cackle at his stupid joke. 

“You laughed, it counts.”

You hear him giggle, and then you giggle too as he looks at you with deep, brown eyes. 

“Not bad for an old guy, hmm?” Marcus smiles, nuzzling into you. 

“Not bad at all.” You agree, planting your lips on his. 

“I love you. Te quiero.” (I love you)

“Te quiero mucho.” You reply, kissing the tip of his nose. (I love you so much)

You lay there together for a while, cuddled up to him and savouring the tender, peacefulness between you.

“You wanna go again? I’m still hard. Will stay like that for a few hours…” Marcus grins. 

You snort, laughing into his lips. “Are you trying to finish me off?” 

He nods. “I’m banking on the life insurance policy. This wedding has cost me a fortune. I need to top up.”

“You’ll be lucky. Christ, I can only imagine what it would say on my death certificate.”

“Fucked to death.” He chuckles, pulling you against his chest, and you can’t help but laugh with him. 

"You silly man." You smirk, planting a kiss into his neck.

The following morning, you both spend time together in the elegant bathtub, washing and caressing one another in the fragrant soapy bubbles.

You lay in his lap as he strokes you gently to a soft orgasm with wet fingers, and tells you how much he loves you. You take your time with him, stroking his cock in your foamy hand until he eventually bursts, spilling warm and pearly over your grip, shaking and panting into your mouth.

You smile, watching Marcus pull on a soft sweater, and then you both laugh as he realises, whilst putting his suit in the suit bag, that he’s put it on backwards. 

Once dressed and packed, you both head down for breakfast in the Manor House’s elegant dining room. The room is bathed in warm morning light, with large windows offering a stunning view of the lush gardens outside.

The table is set with fine china and an array of delicious breakfast options, from fresh fruit and pastries, to a variety of hot dishes on offer and cooked to order.

Marcus pours out fresh coffee and you pick Marcus a fruit bowl whilst you wait for Missy and Sam to join you both as previously arranged.

You feed pieces of melon into Marcus’s mouth. He eyes you suggestively as he sucks your fingers free of the syrup. 

“Mmm,” he murmurs with a wink behind his dark-rimmed specs as he leans in to plant a sugary-sweet smooch on your lips.

"You two are worse than teenagers," Missy teases, a playful glint in her eyes. "How do you still act like this in your sixties?"

Marcus grins and squeezes your hand. "Love only gets better with age, muñeca." (Doll)

You smile softly, leaning into his shoulder. "We've had plenty of practice," you add, your eyes twinkling. "Besides, we're just setting a good example for you two."

Sam raises his coffee cup in a toast. "Well, if we end up half as in love as you two when we're your age, we'll consider ourselves very lucky."

Missy smiles warmly, looking at you both with a mixture of admiration and amusement. "Alright, alright, I get it. Love doesn’t have an expiration date. But still, maybe keep the lewd PDA to a minimum while we eat?"

Marcus laughs, his eyes glimmering with joy and pats your thigh affectionately. "No promises, but we'll try to behave.” He looks at you, with a cheeky glint in his eye. “For now..."

I really hope you enjoyed reading this story with Marcus, and welcome your comments/thoughts. I'd appreciate a re-blog if you liked it so others can find it on their dash to read and enjoy too - thank you very much! 🖤

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