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libraryofloveletters · 8 months

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Back At It Again

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Warnings: unrequited feelings, childhood friends to something more than friends but less than lovers, mentions of charles' past relationships (charlotte and giada), hints towards there something being wrong in charles and charlotte's relationship, lorenzo gives reader a bit of a reality check, reader's lowkey delulu for charles (like some of y'all), a few time jumps, monaco curse, france 2022 DNF and my personal vendetta against ferrari is showing again sorry.

Word Count: 3.9k

Author's Note: I feel like I never write charles outside of the daddy & me + three series so here you go, sorry for breaking your hearts in advance :))

---

Attached at the hip. Everyone knew wherever Charles was, you were only but a few feet away.

It had been like this since you were children, Charles sat next to you in class when he was there. The boy leant over, peeking at your page before scribbling the answers onto his own paper and flashing you a smile.

If you stopped to think, maybe he had you wrapped around his finger since then.

You had always had a soft spot for the driver; except back then, Charles was just Charles. A sweet, soft spoken, smiley little boy with a horrendous bowl cut - something you still teased him about.

A photo hung on your living room wall; you and Charles as children on the front steps of your elementary school, the ice cream that Lorenzo had bought you two dripped all over your faces, hands and uniforms.

There's a big grin on Charles' face as he looks towards the camera but you? You were looking at him, the adoration written across your face.

Sometimes you wondered if you had stopped yourself then, if you would have ended up where you were today.

As much as you held a soft spot for Charles, he held one for you; you were his safe space.

When things got tough and he didn't know what to do or who to turn to, it was you he came running too and you took him in, consoled him with open arms every single time. You dropped everything and everyone the moment Charles came running.

The man had a hold over you, something everyone but you and him seemed to see.

You were madly in love with him and frankly, it clouded all of your judgement. You held him to the highest of standards, you just hoped that one day he'd see you in the same light.

---

You found yourself in his driver's room. Charles had invited you along to your home race in Monaco, he had just started with Ferrari and after his split from Giada, he needed some support. You being the good friend you were, well.. you were there for him anytime he called.

He was excited, his first home race with the team had always dreamt of racing with and you, as his best friend, you were just as excited.

Charles found himself starting in P16 but he was certain he could fight his way up, he held out a hope that he'd win but at the very least, get the car into points for the weekend.

Things were going okay in the race, Charles was slowly but surely moving up the leaderboard but it was barely the beginning of the race.

Lap 8 was unfortunately as far as Charles's Monaco Grand Prix went.

The Ferrari driver made his way back to the garage after an incident with Nico Hulkenberg. Charles passes by, quietly making his way to his driver's room to change and you wait for a few minutes before following him, knocking on the door that was shut.

"Charles?" you called from the other side, "can I come in?"

"Yeah," he says and you find him sitting on the bench in the corner of his room. He looks small, broken; it broke your heart to see him like that.

The door shuts behind you but you stay in place, your back to the door as you look around; various shades of Ferrari red, the logo of the prancing horse engraved into the wall.

It made you wonder if Charles ever regretted it.

He had barely started with Ferrari but he was young, so young and to have a world champion as a teammate, not to mention the pressure that comes with being a Ferrari driver on his shoulders at the age of 22 was a lot to handle.

He looks over at you, glancing at the empty spot beside him and you take that as a signal to join him, walking over and sitting next to the man.

"You okay?" You asked quietly and he shrugs. He won't look at you again but you don't miss when he brings his hand up to his face, the back of it wiping across his cheeks. "Charles," you whispered, your hand resting on his knee.

The driver finally looks over at you and it breaks your heart to see him like this. You tsked, arms open as he fell against you. Your touch brought him comfort, you rubbed his back softly as his breathing slowed, calming himself down. His skin was warm and sticky under his fireproofs, the material stuck to your hand and your chin rests on his head as he moves closer to you, holding onto you.

"It's not your fault," you whispered and Charles shook his head, you can feel it against your chest. "It is. If only I turned another way-"

"Charles, no." You stopped him, giving him a nudge to sit up so he could look at you. "Listen, I might not be a racer but even I could see that what happened was Nico's fault. You can't blame yourself for that, there's nothing you could have done differently. I'm sure the team knows that, ask Seb - I know he'd tell you the same thing."

He sniffled, pulling the collar of his top up to wipe his face. He pulls the thing off, tossing it in the corner of his room.

It's quiet again, the two of you sitting next to each other in silence, Charles stared at the wall and you, well you were looking at him - you were always looking at him.

He turns to you, his hand coming up to touch your face, cupping your jaw. You raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to speak. There's a small smile on his face, "thank you, y/n, for everything."

You return the smile, your hand wrapping around his wrist before giving it a small squeeze. "Anything for you, Charles, you know that."

---

Summer break rolls around, Charles is now in his second year with Ferrari and things are going reasonably okay.

He ended off the first half of the season with a DNF in Hungary but he was certain things would pick back up in Belgium after the break.

It's a typical Sunday in Monaco; sunny, hot, people were at ease, out for a stroll or a drive but the Leclerc's were having lunch at Pascale's.

She had invited her boys over for lunch, to have them all home at the same time was a rare treat these days. It was a family day, which meant no girlfriends but you were there but you were always there. Charles' parents, especially his mother, had always seen you like another one of their children; the daughter they always wished to have.

Lunch was on the balcony today, chatting with a side of people watching. Charles sat next to you, his arm stretched out over the back of your chair as you laughed at something Arthur, who sat next to their mother, said. Lorenzo eyes the two of you from the head of the table, his arm on the edge of the table, chin resting on the palm of his hand.

The plates were empty when you stood, starting to pick them up. "Let me help," Pascale goes to stand but you stop her, "no no, you relax. You made lunch, it's the least I could do."

She smiles at you, thanking you as you cleared the table and took everything inside. You had just put away the leftovers and were about to start on washing the dishes when Lorenzo came in, bringing in the empty wine glasses.

"Thank you," you smiled at the oldest Leclerc brother.

He nods, leaning on the counter as he watches you wash the dishes. "What?" You look over at him, setting the plate in the dish rack carefully. "Worried I'll break mama's good china?" You joked and he smiled, shaking his head.

"Are you okay?" You ask seriously, despite you two knowing each other for years, it was unusual for him to just hang around like this.

"Yeah, are you?"

Your brows furrow, setting the washed glasses into the dish rack. "I'm fine, Enzo. You're sure you're okay?" You asked, your back to him as you wiped your hand on the hand towel.

He shrugs and you take that as a drop in the conversation, about to walk back to the balcony but he grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. "I love you like a sister, y/n, so this is why I'm telling you this." He starts.

Worried would be an understatement, all the possibilities spin around your head, from good to bad and you're still racking your brain as to what he wants to tell you.

"Don't let Charles stop you from living your life, y/n." You look at him confused, blinking a few times before you speak. "Wha- Lorenzo, he's not stopping me from doing anything."

"I know he's got you fooled, has you thinking that you'll be next, that he'll come running to you and never leave but he always does. I love him, he's my brother but he's a fuck up when it comes to relationships. He loves you, we all know this but in his own fucked up way, he think you'll always be there for him and that's why he keeps stringing you along. He's in a relationship, y/n, don't forget that."

"Lorenzo, why are you-"

"Listen, I just don't want to see you hurt. I don't want you to wait on him and then when you finally realize he's using you in his own messed up way, that it'd be too late and your whole life has passed you by."

You pause, unsure how to process what he's just told you. You know he's right, you wished he wasn't but he was.

You did the only thing you could think of, the only thing that could keep this going - somewhere in your own fucked up delusions, you knew couldn't lose Charles, doesn't matter if you got hurt in the process.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Enzo." You say quietly, the man nods, sighing. "I know you do, you know exactly what I mean, y/n. Just be careful, okay?"

You don't answer but he looks at you, "do you understand me?" He asks once more and you nod, Lorenzo finally lets go of your wrist.

"Hey," a voice comes from behind Lorenzo; Charles. "Tout va bien?" (everything okay?)

Lorenzo turns to his brother, a smile on his face before he speaks. "Ouais, je parle juste du travail de y/n." (yeah, just talking about y/n's job.)

The man nods, glancing at you for confirmation and you smile, giving himself a subtle nod. Charles hums, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. "C'mon, mom wants pictures." He sighs, grabbing your hand to pull you out with him.

You glance over your shoulder, looking back at Lorenzo who gives you a warning glare; he was looking out for you, despite his words cutting into you.

---

Laid to your left on the bed, your hand felt over the empty space to find your phone. Squinting, you checked the time - 4:53am.

Who the hell was knocking on your front door?

You pulled the robe on as you stood up, wrapping it around you and tying the knot as you begrudgingly followed the noise to the door. It didn't even occur to you to check who it was before you had already turned the handle.

Much to your surprise, it was Charles with his luggage in tow.

"Charles?" You blinked, rubbing your eyes to make sure you were seeing right. The man steps past you, letting himself into your apartment. He leaves his suitcase by the door, slipping his shoes off before heading to the kitchen. "Yeah okay, come on in then," you mumbled, shutting the door behind you.

He comes back, sitting himself on the couch. There's something in his hand, he pops one into his mouth - grapes. "I don't know what happened." He sighs, passing his hand over his face.

It takes you a second - who can blame you, it is 5 in the morning after all - but you finally connect the dots. He's home in Monaco, he raced yesterday, in France.

"How'd you get here? Isn't everything closed, wait did you drive?"

Charles shook his head, "took the last train out last night, well this morning."

"Okay," you hum, walking into the living room. "Do you want to go home? I can give you a ride -" "No."

"What's going on, Charles?"

You were genuinely confused and concerned about him. You had seen the race, you knew things went sideways fast and it's not like him to come home in such a rush, even if things did go wrong.

He sighs as he leans forward, his elbows on his knees as his face drops into his hands. "Things are bad."

"Meaning?"

"Charlotte," he admits.

This isn't the first time Charles had come running to you when things got tough between the two of them and frankly, it was often that he showed up at your doorstep with nowhere else to go.

"I can't see her right now, y/n." He looks up at you and you nod, walking over to sit next to him. "She's still your girlfriend, Charles. Whatever the issue is, you can talk it out."

"She doesn't understand, y/n - not the way you do." He turns in his seat to look at you, he looks so tired and broken; god, he's lost all the boyish joy you had always loved about him. Some would say it's age but you knew it was more than that. It was Ferrari and all that they made him out to be, the pressure of the world on his shoulders and he's trying, he's pushing and it never seems to be enough.

Ferrari is red; red like the colour of blood, the blood of their drivers, their broken hopes and shattered dreams. You don't escape that place without a fight, and a brutal one at that.

You can't help but reach out to him, your hand pressed to his cheek; warm, the stubble that's formed over the weekend prickled at your hand.

"You're my best friend, you understand me more than I understand myself sometimes." He chuckles, smiling at you.

"I'll always be here, Charles. You don't have to think twice about that."

He nods, smiling at you. "Can I.. stay the night?"

"Isn't.. she looking for you?" You asked hesitantly and he shakes his head. "She thinks I'm coming home on Tuesday, told her I'd be spending some time with Pierre and his family."

You think about it for a second, you know you really shouldn't let him stay. If you were such a good friend, as you had always claimed to be, you'd send him home, let him work out whatever issues he was having with his girlfriend but alas, you were but a woman and a selfish one that is.

Whatever you could do to keep him in your grasp, to live in this delusion for only a second more, you'd do it.

You justified it to yourself; he looks so tired and broken, you can't possibly kick him out.

"Yeah, stay as long as you need." You tell him and he smiles, pressing a kiss to your palm. "Tu es le meilleur," (you're the best.) he says, getting up and making his way down the hallway.

You assumed he was going to the bathroom but when it goes quiet in the hallway, you head over to check on him. "Charles?" You called, seeing that the bathroom door was open and the light was off but when you see your bedroom door open, you peek in to find him in bed.

Charles has always been comfortable in your space; too comfortable if anyone asked.

He was curled up on your bed, the duvet pulled over him with his socks left on your bedroom floor by the bed along with his hoodie and shirt discarded on the chair in the corner. You shook your head, tossing the robe on the chair before getting on the bed. You got into bed as quietly as you could but Charles must have felt the dip in the mattress, rolling over towards you, his arm stretched over your lap.

You smile to yourself, your hand reaching down to twirl a few strands of his hair.

As you looked down at the man, his brother's words rang in your hand.

Your blood runs cold and you feel sick, but you can't bring yourself to move.

---

Christmas has always been your favourite time of the year. Your apartment was decorated from the time November 1st rolled around. You had all out this year despite the fact that you were going to visit your sister in the states for the holidays.

You had just put the tray of cookies into the oven when there's a knock on the door. You make your way over, peeking through the peep hole to find Charles there.

"Hey," you give him a small smile when you open the door. He smiles, a bag in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. "Can I come in?" He asks - shockingly.

You step to the side, letting him in. You shut the door behind him before turning around to face the man. "Happy holidays, y/n," he hands the stuff over to you," this is for you."

"Thanks," you take the flowers and the bag, setting it down on the counter as you grab the vase for the flowers.

Per usual, he finds himself on the couch as he looks around. He took in the stuff you had put up since the last time he had been there; a tree in the corner filled with ornaments, garlands, you've changed the curtains on your windows and the hand towels in your kitchen, even the throw pillows were different.

He's sure your bedroom has had a Christmas makeover.

"You okay?" He looks over at you when he notices you're quiet. You nod, setting the flowers into the vase, "I'm fine."

You take a seat on the couch across from him, your legs folding under you when you sit. Charles looks at you a bit confused, not sure what you're doing all the way over there. He pats the spot next to him, "come sit with me, y/n. I missed you."

Rolling your eyes, you scoff at his words.

Now he was really confused. "What's wrong?"

Your hands fold over your chest, looking over at the man. His white knitted hoodie was a size too big for him, swallowing him whole. He looked adorable, you wanted nothing more than to hold him in your arms but you can't let yourself fall into this again; things never change.

He never changes.

"I'm sick of this, Charles."

"Of what?

"This," you gesture between the two of you, the man's head tilting to the left, brows furrowed. He's still unsure what you meant by that.

"You do this every time, Charles. You don't miss me, you miss the idea of a relationship, someone to be at your beck and call. You know I'm always here for you and because of that, you use me. When things get tough in your relationships or you're single, like you are now, you come running to me and god," you huffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "It's like I never learn, I'm so stupid that I let you in every time."

Charles looks at you, his jaw hanging open a bit. "Y/n, come on- that's not true."

"Yes it is," you nod, sighing. "When you broke up with Giada, you clung to me, Charles. You spent every moment you weren't racing with me until you started seeing Charlotte. When things got tough with Char, you came to me, you hid here until you felt like you had to go home. Somehow you used me as an escape from your real issues, you made me feel special, like you loved me-"

"I did love you, y/n. I do love you." He says, his fingers poking into his chest to emphasize his words. You scoff again - the audacity of this man.

"Don't say shit like that, Charles. you know it's not true. You came to me when things got tough and no matter what was going on in my life, I dropped everything for you. I was always there for you and now that Charlotte's gone, you've come running back to me in hopes that I'll distract you until you find someone new."

"God, why are you making me out to be such a horrible person? I love you, y/n, I care about you. I really do."

"I know you love me, and that you care about me, Charles but I cannot keep doing this."

He sighs, passing a hand over his face. You take his silence as a chance to say what you have to say. "Either we become more or we're nothing at all."

"Y/n, please. Don't be like that," he looks over at you, shaking his head in disbelief. You give him a small shrug, unsure what else to say.

Charles stares at you for a moment, trying to figure out what exactly he's supposed to say. You were his best friend, the only person he had actually trusted enough to confine in, to turn to in times of hardship and you had the audacity to throw that back into his face?

He watches as you stand, walking to the door. "What's the answer?" You asked and his brows furrow, you open the door this time.

You clarify the statement for him. "Are we more or nothing ?"

You're standing there, the front door to your apartment wide open and Charles can't help but laugh when he stands. "You're not serious."

"I am," you nod, taking his words as an answer in itself. "You need to go, Charles."

"Y/n, don't-"

"Charles stop, we all know you don't want more with me, I can see that clearly now. You laughed in my face, that's enough. There's no need to humiliate me anymore, please just go."

He nods, walking over to you. The man stops in front of you, his hand cupping your cheek. "Look at me," he says but you look everywhere but at him. "Y/n, look at me."

You finally do, your eyes meeting his. "You're serious about this?" He asks. "Yes," you nod, "unless you want more."

A tiny piece of you hoped he'd say yes but he lets go of you, moving his hand from your face. "Okay."

"Okay."

Charles leans towards you, his lips pressed to your cheek before finally taking a step back. "I'm sure I'll see you around," he says to you quietly and you nod, chewing at your bottom lip. "Sure."

He steps out of your apartment, walking a few feet down the hallway before he calls for you. "Bye y/n."

You watch from the door, nodding towards him as he steps on the elevator. You've both got a clear view of each other. "Goodbye Charles." you call out to him just as the doors slide shut.

The front door to your apartment shuts as well, your back pressed to the cold wood. Your head tipped back as you sigh. You aren't sure how you're supposed to feel because right now you felt empty and lost; you hoped it wouldn't be like this forever.

That chapter of your life was over and you hoped that one day you'd find the happiness you deserve.

---

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monzabee · 11 months

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hot girls support 44 – lh44

masterlist

Summary: The one where your husband realises that you are, indeed, his number one fan.

Pairing: lewis hamiton x wife!reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: cursing? (i’m not even sure), and a whole lot of fluff

Request: “Hi can you do we’re Lewis Hamilton wife is with him to see one of his races but she leaves the garage for some reason and over hears someone talking bad about her husband and she snaps and tells them straight and Lewis is watching her from a distance like damn that’s my wife”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i don’t know if this classifies as a drabble but let’s just pretend it does because i realised that i can’t write anything under 1k? this was a very fun request to work on, so thank you to anon, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

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

Both you and Lewis are private people when it came to your relationship. It has always been that way, with him leading a lifestyle in front of the cameras, and you preferring to stay away from those said cameras as much as you can. Over time, you both developed a rhythm, a delicate balance between Lewis's public persona and your desire for privacy. It was an unspoken agreement, an understanding that you valued above all else.. You knew how much Lewis's racing career meant to him, and you admired his ability to excel under the constant scrutiny. And in return, Lewis respected your wish for a quieter, more intimate life together. It was this mutual respect that solidified the foundation of your relationship, allowing it to thrive despite the challenges that fame and attention often brought.

That is not to say that you guys were completely private, of course. You’ve had your fair share of events the two of you attended as a couple, as well as races, but Lewis is always mindful of the fact that you don’t want cameras in your faces. In the early days of your relationship, the media had tried to capture glimpses of your relationship, eager to uncover every detail and learn more about the woman who finally made him give up his bachelor status. However, Lewis, being the fiercely protective partner that he was, had firmly set boundaries to shield your personal life from the prying eyes of the world. He cherished the sanctity of your bond and understood the importance of keeping certain moments sacred and away from the public eye.

The two of you have a special routine for the race days where you decide to join him on the track – you mainly spend your time inside the Mercedes garage, instead of lingering around where the cameras are most likely to be. However, you make sure to leave the garage for celebrations for those races where Lewis is up on the podium, celebrating him with the people who support him every step along the way whom he appreciates immensely; while the podium celebrations were reserved for the public eye, the garage held its own intimate victories. It was here that you celebrated the milestones and shared the unspoken triumphs, basking in the knowledge that your presence was an unwavering pillar of support for Lewis. But for the most part, you’re happy with your routine – it’s safe, familiar and it has worked for a very long time. So you don’t really know why you decided to take Roscoe on an impromptu tour of the paddock, especially when he gives you that look which clearly says that he would rather be taking his afternoon nap.

It's a good day despite the chaos everyone on the paddock seems to be in, but then again, there’s only a few hours until the qualifying session. So, in hopes of avoiding the human traffic, you decide to take Roscoe to a more secluded area in the back. As you walk, Roscoe happily wagging his tail by your side, you take in the sights and sounds of the paddock. The familiar smell of rubber and gasoline fills the air, mingling with the excited murmurs of fans and the distant roar of engines. It's a world you've come to know and appreciate, even if from a slightly different perspective. Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly hear voices growing louder as you approach a group of people gathered in conversation. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you slow your pace, intending to discreetly eavesdrop before continuing on your way. But as you get closer, you realize the topic of their conversation hits closer to home than you expected.

In hindsight, you know better to get involved in situations which might cause you to bother yourself with rude, petty people, but when it concerns your husband and everything that he has worked hard his entire life for, you don’t even hesitate. With the fierce protectiveness you feel inside, you clear your throat to get the attention of the engineers, “Excuse me,” you say as you give them a (fake) smile, “could you repeat that again, please?”

The group falls silent, their faces registering surprise and perhaps a touch of embarrassment. They exchange glances, seemingly unsure of how to respond to your unexpected intrusion. “We just meant that–” The man is quickly silenced by one of his friends elbowing him in the side.

You ignore the silent ow that comes from the man’s mouth and give the trio a stare down. “Well, I guess everybody is entitled to their opinions.” Your sweet smile and dulcet tone is enough to think them that everything is fine, but you’re quick to continue voicing your thoughts, “But that doesn’t give you the right to undermine a man’s hard work, especially when he has broken record after record and don’t even get me started on the fact that not only he is a pioneer in this sport, he is also a role model and inspiration to many and has impact beyond the track.” You let a frustrated hum, “Also, have some respect, the guy is an eight-time world champion.”

The guy who spoke before looks confused as he attempts to point out, “He won it seven–”

“Do you want me to let Roscoe attack you?” You ask as you point to the puppy sitting next to you, who, in hearing his name, looks up at you; all panting and happily sticking his tongue out.

Little do you know, Lewis had been watching the entire scene unfold from a distance, a mix of admiration and adoration in his eyes. He waits until the engineers leave in a hurry, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed on his chest. A smile tugs at the corners of Lewis's lips as he watches you handle the situation with such grace and confidence. As you turn around, ready to head back to the safety of the Mercedes garage, your eyes meet his, and a surge of warmth fills your heart. Walking towards you, Lewis closes the distance between you, his steps purposeful and full of pride. His arms quickly find their place on your waist as he mumbles, “Damn, that’s my wife.”

You roll your eyes at his antics, your face quickly mirroring the smile he gives to you. “Didn’t you see the sign? Apparently, ‘hot girls support 44’.”

“Is that so?” He hums, letting his hands wonder towards the back pockets of your jeans as he continuously presses kisses along your jaw, “It’s definitely right.”

As Lewis's lips trail along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine, you playfully swat at his chest. "Behave, Mr. World Champion. We're in a public place," you whisper, trying to suppress the laughter bubbling up inside you.

Lewis chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with love and mischief. "Can't help it, love. Seeing you stand up for me like that, it's a turn-on," he teases, his voice laced with admiration. "But you're right, let's save the public displays of affection for later."

With a shared understanding and a silent promise, you and Lewis turn, making your way back to the familiar comfort of the Mercedes garage. In each other's presence, you find solace and strength, ready to face whatever lies ahead. And as Roscoe happily trots beside you, you can't help but feel grateful for the extraordinary life you share with the man who has captured your heart, both on and off the track.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fluff

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

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MW2 Reaction to Their S/O Who Self-Harms

Warnings: Heavy Mentions of Self-Harm, Non-Explicit Mentions of Injuries, Mentions of Violence (Not Towards Reader), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Petnames, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

A/N: Hey guys, just letting you know that this post is a bit heavier than my usual ones. This has been requested of me quite a few times, so here it is. I’ve tried to remain as realistic and respectful as possible while bringing you your favourite MW2 people. I’m going to link some mental health resources here for anyone who needs them, and I implore anyone suffering, regardless of whether you self-harm or not, to please, please talk to someone. Nobody deserves to live with the weight of poor mental health, so if you’re able, don’t hesitate to reach out to someone and tell them how you’re feeling ! Friends, family members, pets – anyone who you think will be able to be a good listening partner, even if they’re not a licensed therapist. And if you feel you have no-one to talk to, there are always options ! Local and national mental health services, some of which are free and don’t show up on phone bills ! A lot of the time, simply speaking about what’s hurting you is the first step to mental healing <3. Please stay safe, guys <3

Ghost

Is appalled at himself that he didn’t notice sooner.

He bundles you up into his arms, pulling you as close to him as physics will allow, and then some. His head is buried in your shoulder, his grip around you tight, but he doesn’t hurt you.

“Oh, Sweetheart– I’m so sorry,” you hear him whisper. His voice is thin and high as if the composite of helium, yet a sombre tone weights it.

“I should’ve known how you were feeling – I should’ve been here for you more–”

It doesn’t matter how much you try to console him, or how well you are able to conceal your suffering. Simon will never forgive himself for allowing you to go through this alone.

“It’s no excuse,” he says, and there’s a hitch to his voice. Something wet, warm, hits your shoulder.

Now, distraught as if he’d already lost you, Simon pulls away just so he can see your face. His eyes are glossy and red with tears, his face the mask of anguish.

He takes your head in his hands, holds it at the jaw, and, with angel tenderness, presses a kiss to your crown.

He tucks your head beneath his chin, encases you with his body again.

“I’m never gonna let anything hurt you,” he says, and you can feel his heart pounding against his chest. “Not again.”

And you know he means it.

Due to his own mental health struggles, Simon will use his own logic to try and help you.

He’s never had anyone to rely on – before you, at least – so he makes himself available to you wherever and whenever you need him.

He does everything you ask of him without question, whether that’s making you a bowl of soup or listening to whatever thoughts roll into your head.

He helps you get ready for bed and tucks you in when he can tell it’s been a taxing day, mentally or physically.

And he watches over you, as if to make sure you don’t disappear before his eyes, before going to sleep himself.

There’s nothing he loves more than to hold you, whether you’re upset or not. He just wants to feel your weight and your warmth in his arms, nuzzling you and telling you “I love you. D’you know that ? Very, very much,”

You do know. He tells you every waking moment.

And throughout it all, despite the unfortunate circumstances from which this is derived, Simon is just glad that you want to open up to him, and he’ll never deny you a request or a question, wanting to remain a source of hope and comfort to you for as long as you need him.

König

König’s many dealings with his own occupation have clued him into how severe one’s mental health issues can become. Especially when left unattended.

And, as a result, König has the propensity to become…overbearing.

Of course, he’s mortified that you’ve been suffering in silence this whole time, and while he knows he can’t change the past, or rewrite the stars to ensure this never happens again, he does everything in his power to prevent you from falling into despair.

“It’s okay, Engel,” he says, taking you into his arms and holding you close so you can hear his thundering heart. “You’re safe. You’re alright, you’re alright…”

In the beginning of your shared journey to healing, König tries to do anything and everything for you. Chores, cooking, pillow readjustment – anything he thinks would be a nuisance to you.

However, he ends up completing tasks that you actually find enjoyable, leaving nothing for you to do.

While you appreciate everything he’s doing – very much so ! – you still want some independence, even if it’s minimal. And you told him as much.

König looked like he was on the verge of tears when he apologised: “I just wanted to do what was best for you, Darling,”

You have to console him, tell him that his gallant efforts are not appreciated.

König still keeps an eye on you if he has cause to believe you may be trying to self-harm again, but he won’t smother you.

He’ll wait for you to come to him, trusting that you know yourself and him well enough to understand that there is nothing you can’t tell him.

Even if you relapse, or stumble a little, König always encourages you to get back up.

“That’s why our skin heals,” he says, holding your injured arm in his hand, cleansing you of your pain. “So we can start again.”

He loves taking you out on trips – anywhere he knows you’ll like.

He just wants to see you feel something again. Or at least see a sliver of happiness light up your face, even if just for a second.

Petting zoo, amusement park, shopping trip, spa day – you name it, it’s yours !

At the end of the day, when you’re exhausted and König is carrying you home on his back, your 6’10 military princess is just happy that he gets to spend time with you, your warmth the best he’s ever felt.

And he’ll do whatever he can to keep it. To keep you.

Soap

Initially, he’s in denial. But when he sees how tired you are, how grey your soul has become, his heart tears, and everything he’s ever felt for you comes pouring out.

He takes your hands in his, and, the feeling of tears burning his throat, he buries kisses into the back of them.

“I love you– so, so much,” he says, breathless. “You know that, don’t you ?”

The tone in his voice suggests haste, or perhaps desperation. The need for you to know that you are loved. Very, very dearly.

And when you start to cry, Johnny can’t keep his tears in any longer.

“It’s okay, my Love, it’s okay,” he tells you, voice low and soft.

He pulls you into an embrace from which you gather the impression you will never escape. Not while he’s holding on to you as if you could slip between his fingers at any minute.

“We can get through this. Together,”

His assurance is resolute as the sunrise in the morning, and you know, from the way he holds you, speaks to you, that what he’s saying is true.

“You’re okay. You’re safe now. We’ll be okay…”

Johnny makes a concerted effort to watch over you more from now on.

You still maintain your independence – that’s not an issue.

But if he can sense you’re not feeling too good, he’ll either ask if you want to talk about it or wait for you to come to him.

He trusts you to come to him when you’re ready, just as he trusts you with his heart.

He makes sure to ask what your boundaries are when it comes to talking about mental health, just to be sure that he doesn’t accidentally overstep or trigger you in any way.

The last thing he wants to do is upset you. He’d never forgive himself if he did.

And whenever you come and tell him that you’re feeling a little better today, or you found even just one, tiny thing to celebrate, like finding a cool pebble, he’s overjoyed, overcome with pride for your achievements.

Valeria

She is daughter and heir to her own demons, but none of them compare to the thought of you harming yourself or being harmed.

Her initial reaction is anger, but not towards you.

Never towards you.

She wants to eradicate whoever or whatever has driven you to feel this way.

It will take some explaining that the source of your pain isn’t necessarily easy to vanquish, and even if it is, right now, all you want is comfort.

Valeria doesn’t cry. Not in front of you.

Instead, she pulls you to her chest and cradles you while you tell her all your worries, your problems, your sorrows.

And, when she settles you into bed, she embarks on a journey to rid you of your demons.

If they are caused by something external, it’s gone by the time morning rolls around.

If your habits are a result of something within yourself, Valeria will try to remedy it as best she can.

Hours upon hours of research, tending to you whenever you need her, letting you know she’ll never let anyone or anything hurt you–

“And that’s a Valeria guarantee !”

She never breaks out her humorous side, so you know she means it.

She does have the potential to become a helicopter girlfriend, so you’ll have to speak with her and establish some boundaries if there are some things you wish to do alone.

Valeria will understand, but she does get worried when she doesn’t hear from you every hour, and she has to resist the urge to send one of her men to check on you.

At the end of the day, she trusts you and knows that you are your own person, intelligent enough to make your own choices.

All she wants is to be able to be with you, and so long as you plan on sticking around, she will work to bring you a life that can chase away the shadows in your mind.

Price

Due to Price’s fatherly nature, his immediate reaction is deep concern.

“Oh, Love,” he says, his brow creased as his discovery weighs heavy on his face. In all his years as a military professional, he’s seen many a mortifying scene. But none of them have hurt to witness as much as your suffering.

“Come and tell me about it,” he tells you, bringing you to sit beside him on the sofa. “Tell me everything, and I’ll listen.”

Whether you confide in him or not is entirely up to you; he won’t force you to divulge anything you don't want to. But he does remind you that “We’re a team, you and I. There’s nothing you can’t tell me – that we can’t tell each other.”

And he means it. Truly.

Whenever you stand by the doorway to his study, he drops everything and invites you to sit with him, on him – whatever you want to do.

And he listens to anything and everything you tell him.

Price is an incredibly intuitive, intelligent man, and whatever you tell him, even in passing fancy, you can expect to have it within an hour of you unintentionally requesting it.

Price once bundled you up in a blanket and carried you around the house, calling you “Love Bug”. Sometimes he uses it as a comforting tactic since it keeps you warm and you can be nearer to him whenever you want to be.

He calls you his “Brave little soldier” whenever he’s tending to your scrapes or cuts (intentional or otherwise), telling you how you’re the “Strongest warrior this side of the planet !”

He’s always looking for ways to make you smile.

It doesn’t matter what he has to do to achieve a result; for you, there are no boundaries to his love.

And yes, that includes making duck lips out of Pringles.

Or walrus tusks out of chopsticks.

And whenever you smile, no matter how faint, John knows that, regardless of how bleak things may seem now, everything’s going to be okay.

Horangi

Given how mental health is rarely spoken about in Horangi’s birthplace, even stigmatised, he understands how difficult it can be coming out to someone about your inner struggles.

Initially, he sighs, though not out of frustration or anger.

But rather, understanding.

He knows there’s nothing he can say to make everything alright, but he wants to try and help you in any way he can.

And the first step is thanking you for opening up to him.

“I’m just happy you felt you could talk to me about this, 내꺼.”

He does everything in his power to make your life easier: doing your laundry, keeping your toiletries organised, preparing your meals; anything that’ll put a smile on your face or just make your day more bearable.

He doesn’t want you to feel as if he’s trying to sanitise the content you watch, but if he suspects or outright knows that specific topics or content triggers you, he’ll try to steer you away from it and bring you some safer alternatives.

He knows that everyone has different contributors and triggers so he never assumes that one specific thing may be yours; instead, he asks what makes you feel good, what doesn’t, or, if you don’t want to talk about it, he’ll try and use his intuition.

He’ll never force you to give something up, though. But he’ll gently advise against it if he feels it isn’t serving you in your journey to mental healing.

He teaches you how to ground yourself in a way that’s immediate and effective, and, whatever the weather, he’ll take you outside if you ask him to – to feel the rain or the sun or the snow, or to be held by the fog that rolls in over the oceans and mountains.

And he’ll always be there to hold your hand when you want him to, to be your shoulder to hold on to when you can no longer stay standing; your driftwood in the black sea, leading you to the lighthouse on a calm shore.

Alejandro

After priding himself on being the one person in the whole world who knows you the best, he feels his world shatter.

Not because he’s been proven wrong – his ego does not come into this equation – but because he feels as if he could somehow have helped prevent whatever feeling has driven you to self-harm.

Alejandro is a strong man, both physically and emotionally. But seeing you like this, in a ceaseless sea of despair, he crumbles, falls to his knees before you as if you are God itself.

“Mi Amor…why ?” is all he can say. “What has caused you to do this ?”

When you explain to him that, sometimes, it’s not anything external at all, but entirely conjured within your own mind, your own worst enemy, he understands.

Even when he feels he has failed you, he refuses to allow you to come to any more harm, whether from yourself or someone else.

“We– we can get help for you, or– or we can just stay here, go out like we always do, go and see new things–”

Alejandro is the type to throw anything at the wall until it sticks. And by god, he is not stopping until something sticks.

He pays particularly close attention to you now. Not so much as to become a helicopter boyfriend, but enough so that you know he’s there.

He grants you your privacy, believes you are entitled to it as anyone else is, regardless of your condition.

But, if you disappear for half an hour or more, he’ll come to check on you.

He doesn’t want you feeling smothered, but he’s just so terrified of losing you that he’s not sure what to do for the best.

You may have to help him here. Let him know what you want, what you need, so he can do what is right by you.

He apologises for reacting the way he did when you initially told him. “It was…selfish, self-centred. I thought that I could just– destroy whatever was hurting you. But…now, I see that’s not how it works.”

Alejandro doesn’t rest until he knows you’re at maximum comfort and happiness (however much your mind will permit that day), and he will shield you from anything that could cause you to spiral, no matter what.

Rodolfo

For the first time, he’s dead serious. His face goes straight and thin with what you think is consideration.

And he stays that way until he breaks his own silence, his eyes softening as he looks at you.

“Mi Sol,” he says, quiet, as if keeping a secret. And then, you see it. Just a flicker. But a weight bears down on his shoulders – one which wasn’t there before. But it isn’t a burden of weight. Far from it. And you know this when Rodolfo smiles, his eyes becoming glassy.

It’s the weight of love, of his heart taking on your load, halving it.

He holds his arms out to you, pulling you to him.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says. His hold around you tightens. “I know that can’t have been easy,”

From then on, he is at your beck and call – 24/7.

Though, this isn’t a big change given how he already willingly threw himself at any request you made. But now, he uses his intuition more. Taps into verbal or physical cues that let him know you’re not feeling all that good today, and so he’ll take over the chores and tell you to go and sit down.

He makes your favourite meal every night you want it, no matter how unorthodox it is.

Cereal and a plate of sausages ? You got it. Spaghetti with dino nuggies ? It’s already on the table.

The only time Rodolfo will ask you to do anything is when he thinks it’s for your own good – like taking a quick walk with him around the block so you’re out in the sunshine for a bit. Or washing your hair when he can tell it’s getting you down.

He never makes you do anything you don’t want to, though.

Nor does he make you talk when you don’t want to.

He listens whenever you come to him of your own volition. And if he can tell something is really bothering you, he’ll press once for any kind of information. If you don’t want to tell him, he drops it. But he’d rather risk your upset and try to find a solution to whatever’s upsetting you than live to regret it later when it all becomes too much for you.

And whenever you confide in him, he can’t hide how lucky he feels to have someone as special as you; even if you don’t see it right now, Rodolfo knows you’re the most important person in the world, and he won’t stop until you’ve grown into the person you’re destined to be, no matter how long it takes.

And he’s with you every step of the way.

Graves

At first, he was overwhelmed.

Of course, he was hurt that you’d been suffering – and hid it so well, too.

“Darlin’... I’m so sorry – I should’a known or asked or– done– somethin’ !”

To rectify his self-proclaimed self-inattentiveness, he purchases the best therapist money can buy.

“So you can tell ‘em all about your feelings,”

He doesn’t realise how insensitive a gesture can be until it’s too late; it doesn’t even occur to him that you may not want a therapist, but just to speak to someone you know.

Someone like Graves.

And this is something you’ll have to teach him.

But, of course, this will also take time for him to adjust to.

“Well…I– uh…Are ya sure ?”

He cannot wrap his head around the idea that you could ever possibly want to confide in him about something so important, but he’s relieved that you do.

It takes time for him to understand that he doesn't need to have all the answers, or be a trained professional to help you feel better.

He just needs to be there.

To listen, to help whenever you ask for it (or when he can tell you want it).

He makes himself available to you as often as he can, sending others on business trips for him if he knows you’re encountering a particularly rough patch.

Your opening up to him inspires him to open up more, too.

Sometimes, late in the night, you sit together, awake, pouring your wine-darkest thoughts and patchwork memories into a never ending conversation.

Philip wants you to know that he’s always got time for you, so he joins you more frequently in your hobbies, and yours his.

Anything to simply be with you. And also to finish this cool bauble he’s started decorating.

Gaz

Gaz is young; he grew up in a generation that values mental health above all else, so he knows a thing or two about helping people.

However, he never assumes to know anything and everything about your causes, your triggers, your contributors; those he lets you tell to him.

He’s always willing to listen, no matter how early in the morning or late into the evening it is; he lends you his ear whenever you need it.

He tries to take time off work whenever he knows he can so he can be with you. Especially if you’ve encountered a rough patch and have asked him for help.

If you choose to pursue professional mental help, he’ll come with you if you want him to – hold your hand for as long as you want, speak for you if you’re finding that words are escaping you and you want his help.

There’s nothing this guy won’t do for you.

Not that there wasn’t already, but now he does it even quicker.

Brings you a healthy snack whenever he knows you need or want one.

He partakes in new hobbies with you when your usual ones just don’t cut it.

Colouring, crocheting, antique collecting, drawing, writing – he’ll gladly follow you down any path you take.

He brings you things he thinks may help you feel better, if only for a minute.

Whenever you need a change of scenery, he takes you on a “Magical mystery tour !” (bundles you into the car and drives to wherever your hearts take you).

He tries to pick locations he knows are scenic – ones which are calming and not too densely populated.

The days where you want to be around people – humanity – he brings you to the park, lays a blanket down for you and people watches with you the whole day.

At the end of the day, he won’t stop until you’re feeling better, be it by one percent or a hundred; any progress is monumental, in his eyes.

And he congratulates all your little victories with your favourite treats and days out of town – the country, even, when you’re feeling up to it.

He loves you so much, it’s unreal; he just can’t believe how lucky he is to have you in his life.

And he makes sure to let you know, whether through gestures or just telling you, every single day.

And he hopes that, even if you don’t believe it now, one day you’ll see yourself how he sees you.

The perfect human being.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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luveline · 7 months

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HIIIIII! I’m so obsessed with you and this series but If it fits into the storyline maybe could we get something where princess hasn’t been seen or heard from all day and the whole castle is gossiping that she ran away and Prince Steve hasn’t been able to pull away from his duties to find her but he eventually does. Kinda vague but I know if you do this you’ll write it better than I could ever explain it lol 💖💖

thank you so much! ♡ prince steve au fem, 1.3k

Steve is in his politics class when he hears the first whisper. There are many awful things that come with being the future inheritor of an entire kingdom, and the very worst in his opinion is having to know the politics of the surrounding kingdoms, cities, islands, island kingdoms and their cities. It's exhausting.

And what cruel torture is this? His mother and father insist he needs to find his soulmate before he turns twenty four, but when he does find you he's not actually allowed to spend time with you. You're locked away like a sick fairytale and Steve spends hours at a time wondering what you're doing, what you're thinking, if you've been eating properly. He went from knowing nothing about you to not enough.

Your name is like a lime spotlight. He hears it and he perks up, a trained dog, looking out of the corner of his eye at two service maids changing the eucalyptus sconces.

"I heard she tried to leave a few days ago and got caught. If I were Y/N I'd never walk again, let alone run away. I'd have someone bring me a pot to piss in–"

"Shush!" the second maid laughs. "What if someone heard us?"

They're lucky the others in the room are distracted, less lucky that Steve is a moth to your flame.

"Wherever she is, I hope she doesn't come back. Prince Steven doesn't flirt with us anymore, it's depressing. Do you think my tabard makes me look fat?"

Wherever she is? Where are you?

Steve starts to stand and gets forcibly sat back down by his tutor. "Don't make me hit you with the stick, Steven," he says, his teasing lost to a permanent monotone drawl.

It continues more of the same but in different places. He hears possible locations at fencing practice, motives between sickening spoonfuls of pot pie and biscuits he can't stomach. Guardsmen talk of you in alcoves and the seamstresses whisper it between pins held in their lips, until finally Steve's had enough.

"What use is fitting me for my suit if the bride's run away?" he asks, pulling pins from his thighs. "This is ridiculous. I'm done."

He scrambles into his clothes and shoes. He's buttoning his shirt in the middle of a wide hallway when Robin appears. "Public indecency, nice."

"This is my house."

"No need to brag." She offers her hands to take his jacket so he can button faster. "You know your princess is missing, right?"

"Where have you been all day?" he asks.

"Where do you think? I've been looking for her. Safe to say she's not in the Palace. Where did you say she lived before this?"

"I… don't know."

"Useless. We've no hopes of retrieving her then, unless you want to put out a mandate for her return."

"Stop talking like that," Steve says, scrubbing his jaw tiredly. "I know where she is, I think. You can't come with me."

"Why?"

"It's a secret."

"You can't leave the Palace without me. Do you know how close I was to getting fired last week?"

You and Steve snuck out before dawn to explore the city together, and to finally get to know one another for a chunk of time. It wasn't enough, but it was a good start. Steve told you a few secrets, and it's about to come in handy.

"Good thing it's not outside of the Palace, then," he says, grinning at Robin mischievously as he takes his jacket from her, turning to walk backwards and steadily away. "Stay here."

"I'll find your dumb hiding place!" she calls after him.

Steve shrugs into his jacket and descends the stairs. It took him years of being constantly watched to evade the eye, and if you've successfully secluded yourself where he thinks, you're a natural royal. Steve slips down another set of marble stairs, through a hallway, into one of the many intricate drawing rooms, to finally slip unseen behind an ornate oil portrait of his great great great grandma.

He finds you sleeping in his den. The walls are tacked with teenage dreams, the floor littered with books he had good intentions of reading. You're curled on your side on the cot, the rinds of blood oranges at your chest and your lips stained mildly red from eating them. There's barely any light in this secret room; Steve can't stay here long without getting claustrophobic, but he needs to come here sometimes or he ends up feeling a different kind of trapped.

He turns the latch of the oil lamp and lights a match. When he touches the red head of it to the lamp's dish, blue, green, and hyacinth-purple light sprays the walls and your snoozing face. Cutout stars remain, the shade of your skin left alone.

He resists the urge to wake you with the tip of his thumb pressed to one such star, instead kneeling by the cot to shake your arm. "Hey," he murmurs, "you okay?"

You blink. Sleep crusts your left eye and your lips are chapped, the whites of your eyes a sore red as you meet his. It's funny, nobody looks pretty waking up, but Steve thinks you've just about managed it.

He gives into what he wants, his hand riding the gentle curve of your arm.

"What's wrong?" he asks quietly.

You stare at him like he's not what you were expecting.

"You okay?" he asks again, rubbing the crook of your elbow in search of an answer.

"'M fine," you say, barely audible through hoarseness.

You sit up and wipe your eyes. Steve reluctantly takes his hand back, not wanting to overdo anything. It's the strangest feeling in the world to know someone will love you one day but they don't know you yet. Stranger still to know you're all alone here, and if Steve doesn't advocate for you, there aren't many who will.

He's happy to do it.

"Did someone say something to you?" he asks gently.

He wouldn't speak to you like this if you didn't respond, your posture slouching forward, relaxing from that tense rigidity you hold whenever you first see him.

"No one said anything to me, Steve. Your– my lady's maids wouldn't leave me alone. I'm not used to, uh, having my entire day planned for me." You collect your orange rinds into your palm. "It feels childish now, but I needed to be by myself. Do you know what I mean?"

"I've been doing what other people tell me for years." He takes the orange rinds from your hands. There's nowhere to put them, so he keeps them. He didn't want you to get your fingers sticky with pith. "And it drives me crazy. That's why I told you about this place."

You make a face like your breath is caught. He sees it everyday. He's starting to worry you're too easily panicked.

"Have you eaten anything else today? We should go."

"Will they make me do all the things I should've been doing?" you ask.

"It's evening. We'll have dinner on the terrace, your lady's maids won't come up to you while we're together." He seals his promise with a quick kiss to your knuckles. Your soul mark glows palest pink. "You're sure it's nothing else?"

You, hesitant as a dormouse, trail the side of your pinky finger against his wrist where it rests on the cot. Purple‐blue light like iris petals paint your skin. "This is all really crazy," you whisper.

"I know," he says back, voice dropped to a murmur to match you. He can't offer you a better response —this will always be crazy.

You nod slowly for a moment, visibly thinking. "What do you want for dinner tonight?" you ask.

"I want what you want."

"Maybe I want what you want, Steve."

You make his name sound like an inside joke. He tucks the glow of his soul mark out of view as it burns a rosy hue.

#prince!steve au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things

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cat3ch1sm · 7 months

Note

you've made a lot of fics about killua, but never a general relationship headcanon? 🌸 could I request that?

By the way, I love the way you write the characters, it always feels pretty Canon and I enjoy reading your works a whole lot <33

🌱~ messages like this always make my day💚 than you so much!! im so happy you enjoy my works <33 more are on the way! ilysm 🫶🏾🫶🏾

these are way longer than i thought they were gonna be wow😭😭 turn out i have a whole bunch of killua relationship hcs in my brain and you seem to have broken the dam😭 i hope you like them lmaoo

𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬!

°˖ ⊹ ꒰🌱꒱ ♡ definitely don’t expect killua to be the sappy, super overly affectionate type. he will either call you a dumbass or stupid or some other insult. but when you protest he’ll just be like “whatt? i meant it in a nice way.”

killua is not a pda guy. the most he’ll do in public is hold your hand and even that’s a coin toss. he isn’t that fond of things like that anyway, but mostly he’s just worried that if an enemy of his sees you with him that they’ll target you in order to hurt killua. he’ll never admit that, though.

in private it is a different story. he lets you play with his hair and likes to lay with his head in your lap. once he fell asleep like that and woke up so embarrassed even though you told him over and over that it was fine and you thought it was cute, which just made it worse. it’s rare he’s the one initiating physical affection, but it does happen. it’s slightly awkward when you first start dating though, since obviously that’s a new concept to killua. i can definitely imagine him doing that yawn and stretch move when you’re watching a movie or something, but when you reciprocate his affection killua gets all flustered.

killua has legitimately no idea what to do in a romantic relationship. hell, he doesn’t know what a good family relationship should even look like, and he never made a friend until he was like 12, so healthy relationships are a foreign concept. he will be absolutely flabbergasted when you buy him gifts every once in a while just to make him happy, and he’s shocked when you buy him chocolate robots for Valentine’s Day, and he is beyond confused when you give him compliments or tell him that you love him.

killua always admonishes you when you buy him stuff. whenever you bring him something he’ll just stare at it and scoff. “why do you even bother buying me stuff? i’m rich enough to buy your whole family and more, so why do you even bother getting me stuff like this?”

he always takes it anyway so don’t even mind him. killua has a specific place where he keeps your gifts. when he’s away from home he keeps them on him in a knapsack or wherever he’s staying at the time, but when he’s at the zoldyck mansion, killua locks everything away in a box safely hidden and always keeps the key on him so his family can’t get to it.

speaking of his family. you are definitely out of your mind if you think killua is willingly taking you to meet them. absolutely not in a million years. if ever killua does need to go back to his home for something, usually to check on alluka, you are staying wherever you are until he gets back. he will also ask gon to keep an eye on you if gon happens to be traveling with you. killua would rather his family just not know about you at all lest the zoldycks do the same to you as they sometimes do with alluka- capture you, and then hold you over killua’s head and threaten you whenever they want him to do something.

okay enough with the angsty stuff and back to how literally clueless killua is about dating. when gon who is the rizz god for some fucking reason informs him that he needs to take you out on dates, killua is blindsided. at first he just takes you places he likes to go, like the skate park or heavens arena to watch fights, but gon pulls him aside again at some point and says that he needs to take you places that you enjoy. which is something that killua is kind of stubborn about at first, but he does actually want to make you happy, so he obliges.

there’s this post on like twitter or something where this guy is talking about how since spending time with his gf she has him watching stupid shit he would never watch like twilight or grey’s anatomy. that is basically what happens with killua. he’s doing stuff with you that he never thought he would do in a million years and enjoying it for whatever reason. don’t tell anyone though because he gets so embarrassed

one of the things he found out that he likes is wearing eyeliner. you made sone offhanded comment about it and that his eyes look like a cat’s and suddenly you were doing eyeliner for him. it took a lot of convincing, but when killua sees how good it looks on him, he’s asking you to do it for him every day. eventually you teach him how to do it himself as well

killua winds up going to gon a lot for relationship advice. what does he do when you’re sad? go to gon. what should he do for your birthday? ask gon! should he get you new shoes or a new jacket? what do you think, gon?

killua rarely lets you pay for stuff. he’s rich so he doesn’t see why he should

whenever you’re on your phone or reading a book or something, killua will randomly appear behind you and put his head on your shoulder and just watch what you’re doing in silence. but if he sees you’re doing something like online shopping, just scrolling through items, killua will tap the screen whenever he sees something he likes for you. he especially likes to pick out your clothes, and he’s actually good at it. unlike the going out on dates thing, he picks out what he thinks you will like and what looks good on you. honestly killua was the only character who actually changed clothes every day in the show so he’s good with fashion lmao. most of the time he’ll buy the item for you too

killua also doesn’t mind too much if you steal his clothes, like his hoodies or hats. he might not let you take the newer stuff, but he doesn’t mind letting you parade around in his clothes. on the flip side he will also steal some of yours.

killua is very much that bf who claims “im not hungry” but then proceeds to steal half your food. so you’ve learned that whenever he says that to order twice the food

around people he knows, mainly people he doesn’t like, killua likes to show you off- but in a subtler way. like he might casually hold your hand just to show everyone “yeah, i have a partner. no big deal haha”

you literally never have to worry about killua cheating on you. he is fiercely loyal. he’s not one of those bfs that, when approached by another girl or guy, is like “oh, im sorry, but i have a partner.” nah he’s sprinting full speed in the opposite direction of whoever’s trying to approach him. either that or he’s just super rude to anyone who asks for his number or is romantically interested in him.

*cue random mf who wants him* “hi! i thought you seemed really cool and i wanted to know if-“

“nah i got a partner”

“well i just was wondering-“

“fuck out my face im dating someone”

“just-“

“hell nah”

in addition to that, killua is very much the jealous type. if you haven’t watched the phantom rouge movie go watch it rn and tell me killua isn’t jealous. anyone else who makes you smile or laugh or makes the mistake of touching you, killua instantly hates. he always makes sure to be there whenever you’re around that person. situations like that are an exception to his PDA rule- he’ll throw an arm around your shoulder or waist if he’s feeling really protective, or hold your hand. he doesn’t get jealous about gon, though- all three of you are friends and he knows for sure gon wouldn’t try anything on you in a million years.

killua may or may not go a little overboard with his jealousy at times, though. he might mistake a simple interaction for someone trying to get with you

“yo, y/n- why was that guy talking to you?”

“*long sigh* killua. how else was he going to take my order?”

killua is on the protective side and doesn’t really like for you to be out without him or gon. if you aren’t back within a certain timeframe he’ll start spamming your phone with texts and calls to make sure you’re okay.

from: killua @ 10:56 pm

“yo”

“y/n”

“yo”

“you good”

“heLLOOOO”

“you’re supposed to answer me im your boyfriend”

“why do you hate me”

“are u alive”

“come back”

“pls”

“where u at”

“it’s almost 11”

“if ur dead im going to kill u”

“ANSWER BRO”

from: y/n @ 10:57

“HOW DID YOU SEND SIXTEEN FUCKING MESSAGES IN THE SPAN OF ONE MINUTE”

from: killua @ 10:57

“:3”

#cat3ch1sm #hxh headcanons #hxh memes #killua x reader #reader x killua #killua zoldyck x reader #killua zoldyck x you #you x killua #anime #hxh imagines #hxh fic #killua hxh #killua headcanons #killua x you #reader x killua zoldyck

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myseungsunglove · 7 months

Text

An S-Class Connection | Hhj

Pairing: Hyunjin x reader

Warnings: language, smut, friends to lovers

Word Count: 1.7k

𖠫Summary: Seeing your best friend perform at the VMAs stirs some feelings in you that you had been pushing down for years. Upon congratulating Hyunjin on his award and amazing performance, the dynamic of your friend takes a sharp and unexpected turn into territory you were never expecting but gladly welcome.

��A/N✎: It’s been a hot minute since I wrote a full on smut piece. I have one with Seungmin out there called “The way you Make Me Feel” but it’s mild really. This one isn’t particularly spicy, but it is my first go at a sexual encounter in a fic in a long time. It’s also my first time writing Hyunjin so I hope it isn’t massively disappointing! Your feedback is always greatly appreciated.

◠ ◡ ◠᭚ιαᵕ̈

「© September 23, 2023 by mysweethannie」

✘MDNI✘

Smut Warnings: Fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (stay safe, homies), creampie

The moment his eyes meet yours from the stage, you feel your feelings fundamentally shift in a way you aren’t going to be able to stuff back into a box or a closet or wherever else they had been previously hiding.

The S-Class performance ends and you are escorted backstage as the crowd roars its appreciation for Stray Kids. You are so proud of them getting to perform at the VMAs. But at the current moment that accomplishment is secondary to whatever the feeling is that is stirring inside of you.

You haven’t seen the boys since you had departed from your hotel in the morning to get ready for the evening at the VMAs. You had separate presser events to get to yourself and those didn’t align with their schedules. You’d been with Hyunjin when he got his haircut the day before, but the stylist had done a next level job with his hair tonight. The tight undercut, the short ponytail pulled up in the middle of his head. The strands of hair that fall perfectly on his forehead, framing his intense stare in a way that have your insides burning with desire. Something you had not felt, or at least not acknowledged you felt, about your best friend before.

You round a corner backstage and see the boys thanking their backup dancers. Their smiles and energy are both contagious. Then you spot Hyunjin and it feels like all the air is punched from your lungs. As if he feels your presence, he turns around and once again his eyes fall on you. The look in his eyes is something you’d not seen before, and it makes your stomach twist into knots, the heat of his gaze making your legs tremble slightly.

He slowly moves toward you, his eyes raking over your form and you suddenly look down at yourself, taking in your appearance. You are in a skin tight black dress that hugs your curves, showing off your small waist and making your hips look delectable. The dress is short, barely covering your ass, coming to rest just below it on your thick thighs. You are wearing a pair of Black Highland Stuart Weiztman boots that came up thigh high and accentuate your leg’s best features and a simple black garter visible on your left thigh.

“Damn,” Hyunjin breathes once he is within earshot. His large hands rest on your hips, pulling you into his. You can’t help the tiny gasp that escapes you. “You look fucking incredible,” he adds. You hardly register the compliment because his fingers are dancing along your hips as he rubs them gently.

“Y/n?” Hyunjin questions when you don't respond. “Anyone alive in there?” he jokes, gently tapping his knuckles against your temple.

This brings you back to reality.

“Me? look good?” you scoff incredulously. “Have you seen yourself?” you ask. “Your hair alone would be enough to part legs like the Red Sea.” The words are tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them.

Hyunjin narrows his eyes at you, his hands on your waist, pulling you into him so that he can whisper in your ear.

“And what about your legs? Would the hair work on them too?” he whispers against the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin causing goosebumps to rise up on your neck.

You pull back from him with a start, looking at his face to read his expression. Your eyes search his for any sign that he may be joking or looking to get a rise from you. You are met with a look that says he would devour you right there in front of everyone if he could.

You swallow thickly, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as you take a step off a cliff you know you won’t be able to take back once you utter the words. You place your hands on the base of his head, your fingers dancing along the undercut, eliciting a shiver from him.

“Most definitely,” you finally respond, your voice breathy and desperate.

You barely have the chance to get the words out before his plush lips are pressed against yours, his tongue licking into your mouth insistently like he was in fact trying to devour you. His large hands are sprawled across the expanse of your back, pressing you tightly against him as he kisses you breathless.

Just when you start to feel a little lightheaded, you break apart both of you heaving in heavy breaths.

“Let’s go,” he says, grabbing your hand and dragging you down the hall away from the prying eyes of the others and all of the people attending the awards show.

“Fuck,” you whisper as he pulls you into a dressing room, closing the door and pushing you up against it, this time his perfect pink lips finding a home on your neck and sucking a mark there.

“I’ve wanted this for,” he kisses your neck and moves along your jawline. “For so fucking long. You have no idea,” he admits before kissing you hard. His hands are groping your ass, squeezing hard as he presses you against himself. One of your legs is wrapped around his hip, making your core come in contact with his hard length. He groans against your lips at the contact, his hand moving to push your dress up over your hips, exposing the small black thong you are wearing. “I could make you feel so good,” he teases, his fingers running over your barely clothed core. “Do you want that?”

You nod frantically.

“Your words, baby,” he says, his eyes not leaving yours.

“Fuck me, Hyunjin,” you beg, your lips leaving a trail of wet kisses along his jawline as your fingers continue to dance lightly along his freshly shaved hairline at the nape of his neck.Your lips meet again. He bites your lip and you can’t help but gasp. He pushes aside your thong, his long middle finger running between your folds, gathering the wetness that has gathered there. He circles your clit a time or two, causing you to moan out against his neck as he moves to enter you with his long finger. You hold tightly to his neck, your mouth hanging open as you fuck your self first on one finger, then two as he works to open you up.

“Need. Fuck.” the words are punched out of you as your hands move to his pants, trying desperately to push them away from his hips as his fingers continue their assault on your wet cunt. “Need you inside of me.”

“I am inside of you,” he teases.

Your hips still as you successfully push his pants over his hips, his long, hard cock springing free against your leg. You wrap your hand around his length and stroke him gently.

“I need this,” you whine, your hand holding him firmly, giving him a gentle squeeze.

Immediately his fingers leave your sopping hole as he grabs his cock, running the head against your wet folds and tapping it roughly against your clit, causing you to shiver. He lines himself up with your hole and presses the head of his cock into you, looking into your eyes and he pushes deeper into you.

“Shit,” you groan, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders as your warm walls welcome him in.

He bottoms out, his pelvis pressed firmly against your pussy as he picks your legs up off the ground and wraps them around his waist. This causes his cock to hit that sweet spot inside of you, an involuntary moan spilling for your lips. He kisses you then, and this kiss is wet and dirty, desperate. It is all teeth and tongue as he pulls his hips away from yours, only to push back into you. He wastes no time repeating the movement, pulling his cock out to the head only to shove it back in as quickly as it left your aching cunt.

“You’re so fucking tight. Absolutely perfect for me,” he praises against your lips, and that causes your pussy walls to clinch around his hard member. “Shit,” he gaspes, feeling you grip him tight.

His hips begin to piston harder and he pushes back into you, shoving your back up the door a little bit from the force of the blow. He keeps his pelvis pressed against you as he pounds his cock into you relentlessly. You can feel every delicious inch of him, his veins brushing along your walls causing you to clench around him.

“Fuck,” you moan. “I’m gonna come,” you warn. “Come inside me.” Your words were tumbling out of your mouth again as if you had no control over them whatsoever. “Please,” you beg, squeezing your walls against him as his thrusts became more erratic.

“You’d like that, yeah?” he asks, one of his hands moving between you, his fingers moving in circles around your clit. His forehead is pressed into yours, his breath fanning across your lips as he speaks. “I’m gonna fill you up so good baby,” he promises, suddenly pressing his fingers hard against your clit as hips stutter against your pelvis, the head of his cock nailing your g-spot.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin moans desperately, his movements stilling as he suddenly comes, spilling into you ropes of hot, white ecstasy. He is still twitching inside you when you come hard, your legs squeezing around his body as your own body quakes from the pleasure of your release. His lips find yours again as he helps you ride out the high.

“Holy shit,” you breathe against his lips once your body stops shaking against his. “I can’t believe we just did that,” you voice aloud.

“But I’m sure as hell glad we did,” he said, kissing you hard and pressing his body against yours once more.

“Me too,” you agree. “That better not be the last time either,” you add.

He smiles against your lips then and chuckles softly.

“I’m never getting enough of this now that you’ve given it to me,” he admits, his voice low. “I’m yours, baby,” he says, kissing you tenderly.

It is at that moment you realize what the feeling you had felt earlier in the night was. You had fallen in love with your best friend. It only took him fucking you in a dressing room at an awards show for you to figure it out.

There were worse ways to come to that conclusion, you think to yourself, thankful that no matter where or how it happened that it did. Things will definitely never be the same between you, but in the best way possible.

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #Hyunjin x Reader #Hyunjin Smut #Hyunjin fanfic #Hyunjin one shot #Hyunjin Drabble #Hyunjin fanfiction

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fire-lizard-ro · 4 months

Note

I am furiously chewing and gnawing on the idea of an arranged marriage with sunday hlep

Thank you for the ask, anon! And yesssss thank you so, so much for sending in a Sunday request!!! My boy!!! I am also brainrotting over this man at all times he lives rent free in my mind and I love him-

Hope you're doing well and enjoy what I wrote.

But also- This is not my expertise, so I'm going to say my piece and then direct you to my friendo @pix3lplays - This is like. Her thing. So I'm sure you'll get a more interesting response please go follow her hehehehe- <333

Writing under the cut (it’s all SFW):

Sunday is the picture of gentlemanly grace. Perhaps it is by the order of the family that he is to wed you for the good of the family and Penacony. Perhaps it is to strengthen their relations with the IPC as you are an important member. Or perhaps it is for other reasons that will help secure the safety or wellbeing of Penacony and its members. And of course, Sunday is a man who wishes only the best for his beloved home and he will do what he can to follow the path the Aeon of Harmony has laid out for their followers. So he takes it in stride, setting up an appointment to meet you. He would like to get to know his future spouse before the wedding no matter how willing he is to do this for his family.

The first time you meet, you immediately find yourself encapsulated by the gorgeous man who has come to meet you- At a place of your choosing, no less. He extended this favor in hopes of putting the right foot forward with you. Sunday wants things to go smoothly and for the marriage to go through to achieve whatever goal it is the family had in setting this up. He may be a busy man, but he can make time for important matters such as this.

He himself is surprised at you. You're far more than he was expecting, having been ready to deal with anything. But you're actually quite wonderful and he finds your appearance more than appealing. A pleasant surprise. He is sure to pull your seat out, hold the door for you, ask you before doing things- He even gives you a kiss to the back of your hand in greeting after asking politely if he could.

Sunday enjoys his time with you and so discusses more times in which the two of you can get to know each other. When you both are done with your little date of sorts, he gives you another kiss to the back of your hand and makes sure you have a safe way to get back home or to wherever you are staying. As he watches you leave first to make sure you get to your mode of transport safely, he asks gently that you let him know when you make it to your destination and raises a hand in farewell.

Each subsequent date brings the two of you closer and closer. One time, he brings flowers. Another, he brings you a snack from Penacony which could be considered a staple for them.

I, personally, think that Sunday would be someone who is easy to love and even easier to like. So by the time you both are walking down the isle, you're smitten with him. I'm sure he would also have a fondness for you. The both of you had already discussed the matter as Sunday is a thorough an who plans things out. You two had already talked and you both want to be amicable with one another and make this marriage work for the both of you. At the very least, the two of you would be companions and friends. But the two of you have also admitted that it would be nice if there was more beyond just that in your marriage.

Sunday is a man who always does right by you because you are now his spouse. But also because he likes you as a person. Days in which he brings back snacks and nicknacks he thinks you'd like. Calling you when he think he may be late at work. Picking up groceries on the way home when he can, calling to ask if you need or want anything. Making sure your favorites are always stocked even if you don't ask.

I imagine that for the two of you, after marriage the time you spend together most often is in the evening at dinner and then the time leading up to bedtime. He does lead a people and is always in high demand for his services, expertise, and leadership. But of course, he's very sweet on you during this time as a result. Nights of being laid up in bed, his back against the pillows placed against the headboard whilst he reads and you lean into his side, doing your own thing. Sunday will wrap an arm around you and occasionally rub your side or arm.

Slowly, over time, I think you both could become a real couple.

Yayyyy~ Sunday~ I love this man so much. <333

I might write an NSFW part to this. But as of right now, I'm happy with just this. If you want one, you can always send in another ask and I'll be sure to get right on it!

#Roro writes #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #gn reader #hsr x gn reader #honkai star rail x gn reader #hsr sunday x reader #sunday x reader #asks answered

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screeching-bunny · 7 months

Note

Helloooo my fave yandere!character writer! I hope your having a wonderful day! Can i request yandere!jock with male!reader and he finds the reader crying bc someone was bullying them or said smth mean or smth like that? Ik he would be pissed but i was thinking something along the lines of this:

*Reader explains what happens*

*Yandere!Jock absolutely pissed and turns to go beat the shit out of them*

Then the reader would grab is arm to stop him and say smthing like: “wait!…please…..please just….stay with me….please?” Like EEEEEEE I LOVE YANDERE!JOCK SMMMM AND IMA PASS OUT IF YOU DO THIS! OKAY THANKS BYE

(Also plz ignore if your requests are closed rn)

Yandere! Jock x Male Reader

Asks 2

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Reader is specifically going to be Male in this post!!!

Asks 1

Yandere! Jock liked looking at you whether it be intention or not his eyes were almost always on you. He loved looking at every expression you made throughout your day to day life and practically memorized every fine detail on your face. So it was no surprise that he was instantly alerted when he saw a hint of sadness appear on your face when you came in for your afternoon class. Like a little leach he started attaching himself towards you with a concerned look on his face to find out what had happened to his little darling but alas his attempts reamied futile as you refused to give him an answer that he accepted.

“I’m just tired and just didn’t get that much sleep last night.”

Tired his ass. Yandere! Jock knew for a fact that you fell asleep early last night while watching an animal documentary. How does he know this? Well, he was stalking I mean watching over you last night. Anyways the sentence “The giant horse cock weighs over eight pounds” was still fresh in his mind but that's not the point! The point is something or someone made you upset! This is honestly so absolutely unacceptable!! When class finishes he ends up cornering you to try and figure out what has happened to you. Soon you start to give in and tell him the exact reason as to why with tears bawling out of your eyes.

When he finds out the reason he is beyond pissed. A bunch of npc bullies had the audacity to go and bully you! There is nothing he wants to do then skin those losers alive for making you cry like this. How fucking dare they. Yandere! Jock immediately decides that at that moment, he would go on a manhunt. He genuinely believes that it’d be a good riddance, no way in hell is someone going to miss them. As he tries to get up, he is immediately stopped by you as you grab ahold of his arm.

“Please stay, I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Holy shit! That sentence damn near put him in a coma. He just can’t believe how adorable you are. With that, he decides right away to bring you to his home in order to comfort you. The rest of the day is spent with just the two of you guys together while watching Netflix and ordering out to eat. All of his plans that he had before were canceled in favor of being by your side. He does his best to make you happy and laugh as much as possible. That smiling face of yours suits you better than a teary eyed expression. Although he can’t do it now, he vows to absolutely destroy the lives of your bullies. The mental and physical wellbeing of yourself matter more than anything in the world to him. Anything that causes harm to you he quickly deals with even if it means people. All that he wants is that you’ll be safe in his arms and by his side whenever he wakes up.

He makes it a point to prove the words of you tormentors were false and does his best to undo their claims. He’d be so appalled by the whole situation and just can’t wrap around his head at how someone could be mean to you. Like just look at you! You’re literally perfect what the hell were they smoking when they decided to verbally assault you. Yandere! Jock would be so overbearing and clingy towards you. Wherever you went he was close behind you. You’re going grocery shopping? Cool he’s right by your side. You gotta go to class? He’s right by you. Even if he doesn’t have the class he’s still coming. Showering? Move over and make room, he wants to shower as well. Is totally the type to throw a fit when you say no which causes you to relent and let him follow you.

In a few weeks after this incident there were missing people reports all over town of local college students. The same ones who coincidentally were vicious towards you. Everytime Yandere! Jock walks past these posters, he has a hidden smug look on his face. Justifies it by saying that he’s doing it in the name of love and that those people were the spawns of Satan. Besides, they're not even dead yet. They’re just trapped in a cabin in some random woods that only he has access to. Content with himself he spends his days by your side and pledging to himself that he’d never let anyone bother you ever again.

#yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere oc #yandere jock

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mydearesthrry · 9 months

Text

the end - h.s.

a/n: and just like that, harry styles love on tour is over. thank you for the memories. hoping and praying h stays happy and safe and healthy always. enjoy nearly 600 words of me being emo also none of this makes sense and it’s so so shit but I had to post something im so sorry

🎀 warnings/cw: angst. fluff. harry crying

🐇 pairing: fem!reader x harry styles

💐 wc: 583

summary: following the final show of love on tour, you reassure harry that it’s time for him to rest now.

“C’mere Bunny,” she whispers in the muffled quiet of the dressing room. Harry was sat on the opposite side of her on the couch, and she knew to give him space at this moment in time. Harry was fully soaking everything in. Every ounce of love, support, every atom of appreciation he felt, he was allowing it to happen in the safe of his dressing room, no prying eyes there to watch one of the most vulnerable states he’s been in besides his love.

He looked up from where his head was in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. Her heart broke when she saw his face. Watery eyes, splotchy redness covering his cheeks, and pink pillowy lips damp from him flattening them into his mouth. He crawled over to her without a second thought, resting his body from his waist up on hers, twisting to bury his head into her neck, the tears falling at an even more rapid pace.

“Bunny, ‘s the matter?” YN asked, her lips pressed to his sweaty mop of curls, pecking soft kisses to his head.

“‘M jus- I dunno, I jus- I feel so loved, and I feel selfish that ‘M leaving them when they’ve given me everythin’ I have… I jus- It doesn’t feel… right?” He let his insecurities float around in the stale air of the room, wincing at the quietness that seemed to amplify now that he let his thoughts roam free, thoughts that he knew would now spill into his girlfriends.

“You— Harry, you saying that is more selfish than you leaving. Baby, do you know how long we’ve been on tour? Truthfully, do you?” She asked, a look of confusion blatant on her face as she pulled his head from the crook of her neck.

“I- no, time doesn’t really… ‘M not good at that stuff, Lovie.” He hung his head in shame and sadness.

“H, we got Peach in May of last year when she was a kitten, a few months before we left, and guess what, H? She’s stayed with Mum and has had babies, and my sister had her baby in June, a week before the tour started, and he’s turning two this year. So many things have happened, Baby, you’ve just been so caught up in this tour that you aren’t allowing yourself to see them happen,” She whispered, knowing he needed a little ounce of tough love in this moment. “You have to let yourself rest.”

“‘M so tired, YN.” His voice cracked, and she felt the tears begin to whir behind her eyelids.

“I know, I know baby, I’m so tired too, but you can rest now, my sweet love. It’s time for us now. You can— we can rest, and we can go anywhere y’want. We can go home, if you want, or we can stay at the villa, even. It’s just— it’s time for you to rest.” She allowed herself to get emotional, wanting Harry to know that he wasn’t in this alone.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered. “I don’t… I don’t deserve you, at all.”

“Bunny, you deserve more than me. You deserve everything that’s good in this world, sweet boy, and I kick myself every day that I can’t give that to you. I love you more than I can even explain, Harry. You’ve changed my life and have saved me, time and time again.”

Harry shook his head. “There’s no one above you. You’re it for me, I swear on it.”

“I know, H,” She smiled down at him. “I feel the same way. I always have and always will.”

“Can we go home?” Harry asked sweetly.

“Of course we can, Baby. Wherever you want. I love you.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry edward styles

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jenniferjareauwife · 29 days

Note

hi hi i love ur writing sm😇do you think we could get an imagine where jj and r have an established relationship, and somebody (an officer wherever they are for the case or smth) is flirting with r but she’s oblivious, and jj gets a little anxious. then r has to reassure jj, and maybe you could add just a smidge of angst before that and have jj ignore r and r doesn’t realise why until jj brings it up. also if you’re comfortable w it you could add some smut at the end, preferably w some body worship (jj receiving) thank you sm🙏🏻🙏🏻

He Was Flirting?

pairing: jennifer jareau x reader

category: slight angst, smut

warnings: smut, scissoring r & jj, body worship jj, switch jj & r

word count: 988

summary: you're on a case and an officer is flirting with you, your girlfriend notices but you don't when leads to the silent treatment and some sexy time 😏

JJ, Officer Hicks and I walked through Boston's Back Bay, observing the nearest crime scene. The victims all had y/h/c hair and y/e/c eyes, same height and my age exactly. It kind of freaked me out a little bit but I knew I wasn't in trouble. No one would mess with an FBI Agent and anyone who knew Ms. Jennifer Jareau would not want to mess with her girlfriend.

"Pretty girls like you better stay safe around here." Officer Hicks said, both hands on his waist as he looked at me with a small smile. I just gave him a small nod, feeling a bit creeped out about the crime scene.

We got back to the station 20 minutes later and I went to the break room for a coffee, hoping to spend some time with JJ after this tiring day. I walked up to her to go talk to her but as soon as I opened my mouth she pushed past me and walked away. Oh. That sting a bit. I turned around to follow her but was stopped by Hicks when he walked into the break room. "Hey hon." He said with his lopsided smile.

"Hi." I looked over his shoulder at JJ who looked completely pissed off. "Hey do you um-"

"You should smile more. It looks good on you." I nodded. I didn't really smile a lot and it was something my friends always told me to do so I took it lightheartedly.

"Thanks." I froze as JJ and I made eye contact. She looked like she was seething with anger. I turned to Hicks and gave him a smile, trying not to to look anxious.

"Sorry to interrupt. Agent Y/l/n and I have to get going." She grabbed my hand with an iron grip. "Come on babe let's go." She kissed me passionately on the lips, making Hicks's jaw drop. Once she pulled away I was left speechless, feeling a familiar heat burn in my lower belly.

"Yeah...yeah let's go." I agreed, letting her drag me out of the station.

Once we got back to the hotel room she was all over me. Her hands were on my ass and her lips were attacking my neck, leaving hickeys and marks everywhere she could reach. "Jayje...JJ." I pushed her away slightly, wanting to see her face. She looked down at me with lustful eyes while gnawing on her bottom lip. "I wanna see you."

"You've gotta earn it after flirting with Hicks sweetheart." She pushed me down onto the bed, making me whine.

"What...what? I wasn't flirting...was that flirting?" I was panicking right now, was she mad at me?

"That was most definitely flirting." Her eyes had a hard look to them again. "Don't try to get yourself out of this."

"I'm not trying to get out of anything just please...please." I tugged at the collar of her shirt, wanting to kiss her all over. "JJ please." I pulled her down on top of me and pulled off her shirt quickly so she couldn't protest. My eyes widened once I saw the swells of her breasts. She didn't protest when I unclasped her bra so I took that as a sign to flip her over, kissing ever inch of her skin that I could reach.

I cupped her breasts in my hands and moaned against her skin as I started to rock against hers, our clits bumping against each other. "JJ...JJ fuck you're so pretty." I couldn't get enough of her, just wanting her to know how pretty she was. I looked up at her though my lustful eyes and saw her blush. "I love you so much. You're so pretty- fuck." My eyes rolled to the back of my head as my hips bucked forward.

"You look so hot on top of me like this." She said with a soft laugh, reminding me of her dominance over me. I kept grinding against her and leaving kisses all over her body. She deserved it, she was so beautiful.

She gripped my waist in a bruising grip so I kept my pace. I could tell she was reaching her high, the way her muscles twitched under my lips. I could get off on her cumming, she just looked so fucking hot while doing it and I never hesitated to tell her that. "Fuck...fuck JJ I'm gonna cum."

"Me too baby." She held me close to her as I left sloppy kisses over her breasts. I kept my body as close to hers as possible, just wanting her to feel how much I loved her. "Y/n...y/n I'm coming!" I lifted my head up so I could kiss her as she rode out her orgasm. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I climaxed, kissing all over her face and neck, not caring where I kissed just caring that I was kissing her.

"I love you I love you I love you." I chanted, pulling away once I got too sensitive. I left sloppy kisses along her jaw before dropping my head to her shoulder.

"You ok?" She panted, dragging her fingertips over my back. I gave her a small nod and snuggled up close to her.

"I'm sorry for flirting with him...I didn't know." I whispered, tracing shapes on her belly. I felt her inhale and exhale sharply, trying to get the air back in her lungs. "I really love you...and I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize...I'm sorry for getting jealous. You weren't even flirting, it was just him."

"I didn't like the silent treatment." I told her quietly. I felt her chest cave in a bit.

"I'm sorry honey. I won't do it again, ok? I really should've communicated with you better. I'm really sorry."

"It's ok." I kissed her stomach. "I love you so much." I mumbled against her skin thinking maybe she would absorb it. It was silly but I wanted her to know how loved she was.

"I love you more baby."

#criminal minds #jennifer jareau #x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #lgbtq #wlw post #jennifer jareau x you

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pix3lplays · 10 months

Note

I really love your hsr men fic when they accidentally get their s/o pregnant! I'd like to request the same but instead of telling them, how about s/o ran away from them after she knows she's pregnant because she thought they never want a child?

Hi! Thank you so so much it means a lot to hear you enjoyed something I worked on! And yes I can absolutely do this request! It’s so good oh my gosh!! Part two to this!

Cw! Pregnancy

-Honkai Star Rail men with a pregnant reader who ran away-

Welt Yang: is heartbroken to receive a letter from you simply saying that you must leave him. He wants an explanation. Wants to know what he did wrong, how he hurt you, Anything and Everything that he did to chase you away. Safe to say he searches for you. He sticks with the Astral Express crew, but suddenly he’s very hands-on with every mission. He wants to go to each new world, with your picture, asking about you, about what happened to you, but he can’t find ANYTHING. It’s like you’ve vanished from the universe. Dan Heng, March 7th and Himeko also pitch in, but there’s no sign of you. The others notice how distressed he is, but he does his best to remain calm and collected, for your sake. He doesn’t want to lose himself. He can’t afford to lose himself. Then he might never find you…

Sampo Koski: Receives the news from Natasha that as soon as you found out you were pregnant, you vanished from the clinic. She tells him the truth of course, it shouldn’t be hidden from the father, and he realizes right then and there why you’d run away. Oh he feels so bad. He didn’t mean to chase you away like that. You asked him about kids once and he made his stance clear that he hated kids, didn’t want anything to do with them. And that’s why you ran, isn’t it? You were scared of what he would do and say once he found out? He doesn’t stop looking for you, but his life has to go on. He mentions you to all his clients, he has a photo of you in his wallet, and eventually time passes and now he mentions that you might have a kid with you. As scared as he is to admit it, he can’t find you anywhere, and he just has to hope you’re safe. But he doesn’t give up that one day he’ll see you again…

Jing Yuan: is terrified to wake up and find you not in bed, nowhere in the house, or in the gardens. He immediately alerts Yanqing and assembles the Cloud Knights for a search and rescue. Oh he’s scared. You’d never just…disappear like that, right? Something happened to you! You must’ve been kidnapped or something awful like that. He doesn’t give up his search for you. He leads it personally, and the search goes on for weeks until he finally has to disassemble the cloud knights for other duties. Him and Yanqing don’t give up though. They even go door to door looking for you, not giving up hope that someday they’ll be reunited with you. Eventually he HAS to return to his duties as General, but he uses up all his free time to track your last known movements and continue his search for you, not willing to just let you go like that. Not ready to give up on you, and the belief that he can find you…

Gepard Landau: like Jing Yuan, he immediately assumes the worst when he can’t find you. You’ve been hurt, attacked, kidnapped or something! He gets permission, and then assembles the Silvermane guards to find you. He puts missing person posters up around the city and the underground (oh my gosh imagine if he drew them himself I’m crying) and he’s determined to find you, offering a promotion to whoever returns you to him. He so, so badly hopes you’re safe wherever you are. He even begs Wildfire for their help in finding you. And when you don’t turn up after the first day, he genuinely begins to panic. He doesn’t know where you could be. Or even why you disappeared, and the thought that something awful happened to you scares him the most…

Luocha: Luocha at first, stays calm and collected when he wakes up that morning and can’t find you anywhere. He just assumed you’ve decided to take a nice walk or something. But you don’t return to him. Now he’s afraid. He uses his merchant contacts to ask around about you, and nothing comes up. He begins to search on his own, trying to start logically, like places you were more likely to be or maybe you’ve been to. But nothing seems to work. He can’t find you anywhere. Now he’s panicked. Why would you just…leave him like that without a word? Were you safe? Were you alright? Right as he begins to really feel the panic sink in, he receives a text from you. “I’m sorry. But I’m safe. Please don’t look for me.” Well. That’s a relief. But he’s afraid he can’t promise he won’t look for you. He tries asking you where you are but you stop answering his texts, and he’s left all alone again, trying to piece together where you might be. He’s not just going to give up on you just like that. He wants to know what he’s done wrong, and he’s determined to find you in hopes that the two of you can work this out…

Let me know if anyone wants a version where they find you, or any other requests for that matter!

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jtargaryen18 · 11 months

Text

His Inheritance: Chapter 29

Part 29: There for the Taking

Series Masterlist

Words: 7.8k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mob crime families, strong language, physical violence, character death. (No this isn't a carryover from Chapter 28) This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve had just wrapped up his meeting with Murdock when someone knocked at his study door.

“Thank you, Matt,” Steve told him. “My driver will take you wherever you want to go.”

Murdock finished stowing his items away in his briefcase, rising from the chair with the help of his walking stick. His new consigliere paused.

“Thank you,” Matt said. “Good luck on everything.”

His lawyer opened the door to let himself out, Luca allowed him to pass before peering in. And Steve could tell from the look on the cook’s face that something was off.

“Boss, we have a situation,” Luca said. “I’ll see Murdock out first.”

“Thank you,” Steve muttered.

Steve stayed in his chair, tired. He had only spent one night away from his wife, and he hadn’t slept. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was the hurt on her face when he told her they’d continue their marriage when her birth control shot was no longer in effect.

It had been a shitty way to handle the situation and he knew that. He let anger conquer his head. He tried to justify it to himself with the idea that isolating her in their bedroom would keep her safe. At least until their plans with the families were complete. Once that was done, it would be him trying to earn her forgiveness. Trying to earn his way back into his own bed.

The sooner they could deal with Barnes and the other families, the sooner he could mend things with her.

For fuck’s sake, they had to. Steve shook his head.

Women had been an addiction of his to this point in his life. A love-hate relationship. Steve loved the beauty of women, their softness, their smiles. He loved them dressed up so he could show them off, one conquest after another. Sex was his fix, the best way to get high and out from under all the things that plagued him in day-to-day life. Steve was always up for it. Any time of the day, anywhere.

Like any addiction, like alcohol or drugs, there was a dark side. The women were a problem with their needs for validation and ownership. If they tried to hold onto him, he walked. If they tried to manipulate him, he ran. And considering who he was, there wasn’t a damn thing any of them could do about it.

When he decided to marry, his wife had everything he could have hoped for in his position. Young and naïve, sheltered. She had an innocent beauty, ballerina delicate. And for his dark world, she had a bonafide motherfucking pedigree. Steve would be the envy of every man, not just for his position but for his beautiful young bride, the daughter of the man who led before him. And behind closed doors, he’d teach her to please him…

How had it come to this?

A man could learn to live without alcohol, without a drug. It wasn’t easy but it could be done. His wife was neither of those things. Living without her now was like trying to live without air or water. It scared him and that fear pricked at his anger, made him lash out at her.

The fact that he couldn’t control her, couldn’t even contain her, made him want her even more.

Luca’s heavy tread let Steve know he’d returned, closing the door behind him. The edge of desperation on his man’s face brought his focus back to the present.

“What’s up?” Steve asked, watching Luca drop heavily into the chair his lawyer just occupied.

“Look, Nat got a call from Clint,” Luca said slowly. “Said we’ve been ratted out.”

Steve knew he wouldn’t like what Luca had to say but he didn’t think it would be that bad. “What?”

“Clint called Nat and told her we been ratted out,” Luca said again. “Told her to get your wife and go to the sewing room. They’re both up there.”

Steve’s mind spun. He checked his phone and saw he had nothing from Clint.

“He hasn’t tried to call me,” Steve said.

“Nat said things didn’t sound so good on his end. We don’t have a location on him.”

It wasn’t going well at all for Clint to go so far as to ask Nat to go to the hiding place his father set up years ago and take his wife with her.

Steve had always hated being hidden in there with his mother and sister. He felt small, helpless. The last time he’d been fourteen years old. Once they got past the feds, Steve had complained to his father about being put there. He’d loudly told his father he could have helped. His father had given him a solid beating for that outburst. His father had taken his pride down a peg or two that day.

Now that he was older, he understood why his father had placed them there when the situation called for it. His father had come from a place where he wanted to protect what was most valuable to him.

They didn’t know where Clint was. They supposedly had a rat. And his sister and his wife were in the sewing room. Nat would stay there just like Clint wanted her to.

His wife? Steve just knew she would hate it. He knew she’d be bristling before long just like he used to. Probably for the same reasons.

“Think Barnes got to Clint?” Steve asked.

“Nah,” Luca replied. “he’d let them kill him before he’d bring Nat into things in any way.”

That rang true.

“But he said Barnes knows everything now. That we’re all in danger,” Luca went on. “He didn’t say who.”

“He wouldn’t tell Nat,” Steve said, trying to wrap his mind around this turn of events. “It protects her… Where’s everyone else?”

“We’ve been trying to reach Dyson but he ain’t answering any of us,” Luca explained.

“Even my wife?” Steve had to ask.

“You have her phone,” Luca pointed out. “He ain’t answering Nat’s phone.”

That wasn’t a good sign.

“Scott’s fine. He’s on his way here.”

His cook left someone out. “Neal?”

“I don’t know,” Luca told him, his expression grim.

“You think Neal is our rat?” Steve asked.

“Your wife does,” Luca told him.

The tap at the door stopped their conversation. Luca rose and went to the door, opening it to find Scott. Steve motioned him in, Luca closing the door.

“Scott, I have a question for you,” Steve said as his men took seats across from him. “What happened that day when I brought my sister home? Specifically, what happened between Banner and my wife?”

Scott blew out an exhale, nodding. He explained that he caught Mrs. Rogers before she went down to confront the angry lawyer and tried to send her back to her room, to let him handle it. When Scott explained that she wouldn’t agree to that, Steve nodded. It was what he expected.

“I told her to stay behind me,” Scott told them. “But she really didn’t do that either. Banner came in yelling about you taking his wife. He blamed you. He blamed Mrs. Rogers. He turned a scary shade of red. Right before you came in, he reared back like…”

“Like?” Steve asked.

“Like he was going to hit her,” Scott finished. “Like he was going to hit Mrs. Rogers. I pulled her back, but it wouldn’t have been enough. Belova came out of nowhere and blocked him, got him under control.”

Scott’s story matched his wife’s so far. Steve felt his anger rise.

“And Neal? What was he doing?” Steve wanted to know.

So did Luca, he was staring Scott down hard.

Scott shook his head. “He didn’t try to protect her, boss.”

Scrubbing a hand over his beard, Steve looked at Luca. ‘What are your thoughts?”

“Dyson beat the bejesus out of him right here in this office,” Luca said.

“Because he threatened Belova,” Steve reminded him.

“You ever known Dyson to beat the shit out of someone as a warning?” Luca said. “I’ve known Dyson a long time. I’ve seen him warn people lots of times. But not like that. He has a problem with Neal just like your wife and Belova has a problem with him. If they think he’s the rat, yeah, so do I.”

“Scott?” Steve asked.

Scott nodded. “Neal doesn’t talk to me. I just know I didn’t like how he acted that day with Mrs. Rogers. I don’t like how he treats Yelena either. I could never tell if it was because he didn’t like her or he didn’t like her because of her loyalty to your wife.”

Neal had been a loyal soldier to Steve, someone he trusted. Neal had even saved his life. How could it be that everyone else in his house didn’t trust him? How?

Jesus.

“If Clint is right and we’ve been ratted out,” Steve told them, “We have to call everything off. If Neal is our rat, Barnes and whoever is working with him knows exactly what we’re planning. Fuck.”

Rising from his chair, Steve began pacing. “Dyson is supposed to be going with Neal to deal with Hansen. I thought by sending them together, they could mend fences. Bond over taking care of shit. And it would prove Neal isn’t a liability. Now… hell, Neal might kill Dyson himself for that beating. If he hasn’t already. We have to find Dyson, now.”

“Unless we have reason to believe otherwise, we have to assume Dyson will meet Neal as planned,” Luca said. “And that’s not long from now. We need to be there before Neal is.”

“Luca, I need you to dial back orders. If Barnes knows any of this, our people are walking into a trap. I need you to talk to everyone. Personally. Call it off.”

“You got it, boss,” Luca said.

“Luca, I want a small goddamn army around this house,” Steve instructed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Luca said.

“See if anyone knows anything about Clint,” Steve went on. “I want a status on him ASAP. Scott help Luca.”

Both men nodded.

“Otherwise, my sister will lose her fucking mind.” Steve thought of her in the sewing room with his wife.

Luca and Scott left his study to do his bidding. Steve went to the bar behind his desk, poured himself a scotch. He needed it for what was coming next. Pulling open his desk drawer, he fished out his wife’s phone.

Once he finished his drink, Steve headed up the stairs, passing his bedroom. When he reached the linen closet, the façade that hid the sewing room, he took a deep breath. Quietly as he could, he opened the door, pushed the button that opened the door to the hidden room within.

Nat was huddled on the bench looking miserable, physically and emotionally. Her green eyes filled with tears when she rushed to him. Steve caught his sister in his arms, hugging her tightly. She was cold, shaking.

His wife? She sat on the floor under the window, eyeing him warily.

One thing his wife wasn’t? Afraid. No, she wasn’t showing any fear.

Easing his sister back onto the bench, Steve smoothed a hand over her red hair. “Nat, I’m going to have Luca bring some blankets and a space heater up here with your dinner, okay? You’re freezing.”

Nat wasn’t letting him go. “Is Clint on his way home?”

Steve met her gaze squarely. “We’ll find him. I promise.”

Nat didn’t look convinced, but she sat back down on the bench, her hands wringing. Steve walked over to his wife, held out his hand. She took it, allowing him to help her off the floor.

“I’m going to talk to my wife for just a moment out here, okay?” Steve asked carefully.

Nat nodded. His wife followed him through the linen closet and out into the hall.

“We need to talk,” Steve said slowly, trying to keep his tone even.

“I’d like to help you, Steve,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “But we don’t resume our marriage until 29 days from now, so…”

“I know, I know,” he said. “Everything’s so fucked right now between me and you. And we will deal with that.”

“Yes, we will,” she said, way too calm standing before him.

“But right now, we have to deal with the threat to this family,” Steve told her as he would one of his men. “Were you with Nat when Clint called?”

She frowned. “No, I was locked in my room.”

“Nat came and got you,” he said. “What exactly did she tell you about that phone call?”

Surprise flashed across her beautiful face for just a second. “She said that Clint told her we had been ratted out. That Barnes knew everything and that placed us all in danger. He told her to come get me and to bring me to this room as soon as she got off the phone. And she did just that.”

“He didn’t tell her anything else?” Steve asked.

She shook her head. “I wanted to see if she had left anything out or could tell me if she heard anything in the background. She’s too upset about the fact that he’s in danger. She’s barely holding herself together right now… Have you heard from Clint? Or Dyson?”

“No,” he said simply. “Luca’s doing his damnedest to find anything on either of them.” Speaking of Luca… “You have Nat’s phone. That’s how you got Luca.”

“Yes,” she told him. “It was obvious you hadn’t heard from Clint if you were still meeting with your lawyer.”

“You didn’t call me,” he had to say it.

Her chin tipped up in challenge. “If I had known what to expect from you, I would have.”

Steve earned that. “Is there anything else you know, Sweetheart? Anything at all?”

Oh, she did. He knew that look.

“What?” he asked.

“It involves Yelena,” she said, holding his gaze.

“This is not the time to bargain with me—”

“Oh, I’m not bargaining for anything,” she informed him, anger hardening her expression. “Yelena will be back where she belongs when this is over. She’s loyal to me and it was out of that loyalty that she told Clint where he could find Banner.”

“Excuse me?” Banner was supposed to be gone. Long gone, off to the west coast.

“He was still here,” she told him. “On Stark’s turf. He needed to be dealt with and Clint deserved a go at him.”

The way his wife spoke, the fire in her eyes. It mirrored the anger he was struggling to keep down right now.

“Think about it,” she said. “Yelena gave him that information. Then he calls Nat, tells her we’ve been ratted out and Barnes knows everything. We’re all in danger.”

Steve stared her down. “You think Banner is the rat?”

She shook her head. “Banner’s involved, but he’s not the rat. He didn’t know what you had planned for tonight. And he had no access to that information unless it was from the rat who did. But he was still here. Banner was hoping for something, and it wasn’t Nat.”

She had a point. Banner had sworn to Steve he’d be gone.

“You think Stark is involved?” Steve pressed.

“No,” she said. “I don’t really know him. But from the impression I got, he wouldn’t be that stupid.”

It was his thought exactly about Tony Stark. Jesus. Who was this woman he married?

“Barnes?” She shrugged. “Well, that remains to be seen.”

“You’ve talked to Belova,” he said.

“And she is on her way to the location she gave Clint,” she explained.

“Alone?”

“No, she’s with friends,” his wife explained.

“What friends?”

“All I know is that they are friends of Dyson,” she said. “And if he trusts them, and she trusts them, then so do I.”

Not a hint of doubt or hesitation. His wife stood toe to toe with him, talking about the dangers of his world with authority.

“But we have no idea where Dyson is.” Now her expression softened. The smallest trace of fear in her eyes. “I tried to call him from Nat’s phone, Luca called. There’s no answer. He’s supposed to be going with Neal to deal with Hansen. Steve, we have to find him.”

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Steve nodded. “We do. We really do… Dyson didn’t take it well that I pushed Belova out.”

“I’ll bet he didn’t,” she said bitterly.

“You got in his head about Neal,” Steve told her. “Neal said something about Belova Dyson really didn’t like. He beat the shit out of him last night, right there in my office.”

Steve saw the flash of excitement in her eyes at that. Just as quickly, it diminished.

“Jesus, Steve. Dyson’s walking into a trap between Hansen and Neal.” His wife shook her head, her teeth tugging at her lower lip nervously. “He’s dead if we don’t do something.”

Steve knew she could be right. If Neal was who she thought he was.

“You really think Neal is the rat here?” he asked.

“I know he is, Steve.”

It was then he realized something. The conviction, the certainty in her voice? It was all too familiar.

It all very much reminded him of her father. Every bit of it. And her father had been a hell of a leader in his time. He would never have found himself in the shit situation Steve let himself fall into.

Could he put aside who he thought Neal was? Did he have a choice?

Pulling her phone out of the pocket of his slacks, he handed it to her. “Try to call Dyson. One last try before I start making hard decisions.”

She took the phone without hesitation, hitting Dyson’s number with haste and putting the speaker on so he could hear. It only rang once before someone answered.

“Hi there, Princess,” Hansen drawled.

Fucking Hansen?

Steve tried to grab the phone, but his wife pulled it away, putting a finger to her lips. A signal for him to be quiet.

How was he supposed to be quiet when the slimy bastard had his mentor?

Why was the fucker calling his wife ‘Princess?’

“Are you there?” Hansen taunted.

“I’m here,” his wife said finally, taking a deep breath.

“Nothing to say?”

“Why are you answering Dyson’s phone?” she demanded.

“Dyson’s a little occupied at the moment,” Hansen went on in.

“He’s alive?” she asked.

“For now.”

“Is Neal with you?”

Hansen laughed at that. It was the moment Steve realized his wife was right.

“They’re working through a few things,” Hansen said casually. “It’s going well.”

“I want to speak Dyson,” she told him. “Now.”

“Think I’m lying to you, Princess?”

“Now, Hansen,” she said with more force.

Hansen’s sigh was loud and there was the sound of movement. Another voice mumbled in the background, Steve thought it was Neal. Then they heard Hansen say, “she wants to talk to you.”

“Hey,” Dyson said, sounding out of breath.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Dyson said slowly. “Don’t you worry yourself about me.”

“You know better than that,” she said. “But I need you to come home.”

There was a loud crash and the sound of Dyson’s yell. His wife gazed up at him wide-eyed. Now she was afraid. Steve wanted to grab the phone, but it was better for Hansen to think she was alone.

“You want Dyson back home?” Hansen’s tone was a little impatient. “Let’s talk.”

Her eyes were still on her husband. Steve nodded.

“Okay.”

“I’ll give him back to you, but I want something in return,” Hansen said.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“You know what I want,” Hansen told her. “You.”

The thought that the ruthless bastard wanted his wife so badly had Steve choking on his fury.

She snorted. “And what do you think is going to happen? You’re going to show up with Dyson and Steve will make a trade?”

“Steve’s running out of time,” Hansen told her. “If he was the man you deserve, I wouldn’t have his top lieutenant, would I? I wouldn’t be so easily able to reach his wife. Steve can’t hold his own family together, much less lead the other families. When he falls, have you thought about what that means for you?”

It was all Steve could do not to start ranting at the arrogant fucker. Especially as he watched worry creep into his wife’s expression.

“How would it happen?” she asked.

“No!” Dyson yelled in the background. “Don’t you even think about—”

A sharp crack cut off the rest of what Dyson was about to say.

“Please don’t hurt him,” his wife whispered.

“You can stop it,” Hansen told her.

She looked to Steve, big eyes filled with so much emotion.

In his head, Steve narrowed down his choices. The fact that Hansen had Dyson, cut down his options. Neal was with them, confirming his wife’s suspicions. Neal would have told them all their plans. Fuck. Neal knew lots of things about Steve, how he ran the family.

If something happened to Dyson, and he had to admit at the moment that it was a very real possibility, the family would survive it. They already appeared to be struggling and that was Barnes’ intention, he knew. Losing Dyson would make them look even weaker. Blood in the water to put doubt in the minds of Odinson, Stark, and Wilson.

If something happened to Dyson, his wife might not survive. Especially with Hansen making her believe she could personally save the only father she really had. Hansen’s cruelty forced his hand. If Steve denied her now, he’d lose her.

With a fear shooting through his heart he’d never known, he nodded. His wife’s eyes widened in surprise.

“How will it happen?” she asked Hansen again, not missing a beat.

Hansen muttered his instructions in his wife’s ear. Steve didn’t catch most of it, gripped by the seriousness of the situation. Hating that he had no other choice. Hating the risk that he could lose both his wife and Dyson.

“I’ll see you soon, Princess” was all Hansen said when he ended the call.

And just like that, leading the families wasn’t the most important thing to Steve. Leading his family, having everyone’s respect didn’t matter. Not nearly as much as the man they held hostage or the woman he loved, watching him with the phone clutched in her trembling hands.

“Steve, what are we going to do?” she asked, sounding as scared as she looked.

Wrapping his arms around his wife, Steve pulled her close. She trembled in his hold, and he knew she was afraid, but she was brave. Steve was proud of her for that.

“He said I needed to be there, at his house, within the hour,” she told him. “Or they’ll kill Dyson.”

“I know,” he said low by her ear. “So we need to move fast.”

Moving past her, Steve went to the sewing room, leaning down to kiss his sister’s forehead. “I’m taking my wife with me,” he said. “Stay here and stay hidden even though I’m going to do my best to keep the fighting away from here.”

Nodding, she said, “Be careful.”

“We will,” he told her. “Luca will still be here if you need him.”

His wife hugged her quickly. “We’ll be home soon. With Clint.”

Steve just hoped his wife was right.

***

Your heart raced as Luca and Scott arrived at Steve’s office, closing the door behind them. Both of them looked startled to see you.

“What’s up boss?” Luca was still staring at you. “I’ve got the men setting up around the house.”

“We’ve had a complication,” Steve told them. “It’s Dyson. Hansen has him.”

Scott’s mouth dropped open. Luca scowled at Steve. “How the fuck did that happen?”

“With Neal’s help,” Steve said calmly. Glancing back at you, he blew out an exhale. “My wife was right.”

You couldn’t even enjoy being right. Not with someone you loved in danger.

Leaning against his desk with his heavy arms across his chest, Steve looked deep in thought.

“Barnes found out just in time that we were going to hit him and hit him hard,” Steve said. “We were going to strike his turf, his holdings. Hansen. By now, he knows we figured out we were betrayed. He’s going to do one of two things. He’s going to try to hit us here, which we’re ready for and he would know that… Or he’s going sit tight and see what our next move is.”

Luca shook his head. “Barnes ain’t going to do shit right now. If he’s smart.”

Steve nodded. Scott looked as lost as you felt.

“Why not?” Scott asked.

“We can’t prove the hits on us were Barnes,” Luca explained. “We know they were, but we can’t prove it. Then there’s the other three families. They swore allegiance to Steve. If they find out Barnes is knifing Steve in the back, they’ll rally to our side. But if Barnes can get in their heads, make it look like Steve is paranoid and weak…”

From the beginning, Barnes’ plan was to prove Steve was unfit to lead the families. You remembered the first time you met him in the kitchen, the bitterness of his tone when he spoke to Steve. The belief that he should have been leader of the families – Barnes not Steve.

“Barnes can’t just fight Steve for leadership?” you had to ask, wanting to learn.

“No,” Luca told you. “He doesn’t have the muscle.”

“Why did Barnes have Hansen grab Dyson?” Scott shook his head. “If what you say is true, that move doesn’t make a lot of sense. No one is closer to Steve than him.”

“I don’t think that was Barnes’ idea,” Steve said. “We’d planned for Neal and Dyson to go deal with Hansen. And Hansen has it coming for attacking this house and trying to get his hands on my wife.”

“But Neal and Hansen grabbed Dyson instead,” Scott said. “How is that going to play out?”

“Dyson beat the shit out of Neal right here in this office,” Luca explained. “It’s perfect really. Neal claims he’s having problems with this family and Dyson beat him like a dog. So he defected, telling Barnes things to earn a place over there. Offing Dyson would be seen as just a little bit of payback between two soldiers. That’s how that plays out.”

You swallowed hard. It was all plausible. Complete bullshit and terrifying, but plausible.

“How do we get Dyson back?” Scott asked them.

“He wants to trade for him,” you told Scott. “He’ll let Dyson go if I agree to take his place.”

Scott’s mouth dropped open again. “What?”

“Hansen called my wife. He doesn’t know I was listening. He thinks he’s scaring her into doing what he wants.” Both Luca and Scott looked to Steve. Steve cut you a glance. “I really don’t like this either but that was his condition. And we have just under an hour to decide what we’re going to do.”

“Fuck,” Luca said. “That would start a war. Barnes can’t go around snatching someone else’s wife. The families would never accept that.”

“I don’t think that’s Barnes’ idea either,” Steve replied. “Not his style. But very much Hansen’s.”

“Hansen wants your wife?” Scott shook his head. “Then what? That would start a war between the families for sure.”

“I don’t think Hansen intends on sticking around for the outcome,” Steve said. “He likely thinks he can grab her and go.”

Your heart raced in your chest. You knew Steve wasn’t seriously considering the trade. That meant coming up with a plan where Steve kept you and got Dyson back too. No matter the plan, it was dangerous.

“You up for this?” Luca asked you in a calm voice.

For Dyson? “Yes, I am,” you told them with no hesitation.

Luca grinned. “Okay then. We need an airtight plan because whether or not he can get his hands on Mrs. Rogers, he’s not planning on leaving Dyson alive.”

What?

“Agreed,” Steve said.

“And we have some friends here to help,” Luca went on. “Friends with skills that are perfect for this.”

“The ones Yelena is with?” you asked.

“I know how you feel about Belova,” Steve said, “but she’s not that experienced.”

“The ones with her are,” Luca told them. “There are five of them and all but Aisha were fucking special forces.”

“Maybe so, but I’m not trusting just anyone with her,” Steve told them.

“Well, you can’t go,” Luca pointed out.

“What?” Steve asked.

“You can’t go,” Luca reiterated. “Hansen thinks she’s sneaking out to come make the trade. They see you and they’ll know it’s a trap.”

Color rose from Steve’s collar, darkened his face.

“You have to be here, and you know this,” Luca told him.

“I’m supposed to just send my wife to Hansen’s knowing I might never see her again?” Steve was getting more upset by the second. “Entrust her to people I don’t know?”

Luca put his hands on his hips. “Or we could keep her here. Sacrifice Dyson.”

“No!” you shouted. It wasn’t an option.

“That’s where we are,” Luca told him. “But we can make this work. I’ll call Clay right now, okay?”

After a moment, Steve nodded. “Give us a minute, okay?”

Luca and Scott left you alone with Steve. And Steve looked like he himself was facing the gallows.

Yeah, you were scared. But you had to try and save Dyson. From Hansen. From Neal.

“This is all on me,” Steve said, more serious than you’d ever seen him. “I want you to realize this. Yeah, I lost my temper about that incident, but it doesn’t seem so important now. And now I know Neal was the rat. He instigated all of it.”

Sliding a hand over your cheek, he gazed into your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll talk about it when Dyson and I get home,” you told him.

You were shaking but you were holding up. You could do this.

“If Dyson trusts the ones Luca is talking about,” Steve said, “then I will too.”

“I trust Yelena too,” you told him. “And she will be reinstated when we get back.”

Steve nodded. “But I fucking hate this. This is exactly the sort of thing I wanted to avoid. I’m going to lose my mind until this is over. Until you’re back here.”

Now he’d have an idea what you went through. The play of anger and fear in his expression kept you from enjoying it.

“I need you to promise me something. I know how you feel about Dyson and Yelena. I know you love them. But if things look to be going wrong or you don’t see a way to get everyone out, you get out of there. Even if it means you’re the only one who gets out. Even if it means you have to leave them behind.”

You just stared at him.

“Hansen wants you,” Steve reminded you. “He’s not going to harm you. Remember that.”

Leaning in, he kissed your lips. A seeking kiss, gentle and slow, almost as if he were asking permission. You answered it, a kiss to remind yourself that Steve wasn’t all bad. You still cared about him.

The desperation in his kiss grew. You could taste it. Steve was kissing you like it was goodbye. You didn’t miss the slight tremor in his hand on your face.

“Come back to me,” Steve whispered against your lips. “Please.”

Easing back, you gaze up at him. “I will. And we have a lot to talk about when I do.”

Both of you smiled at that. Your usual marital fighting seemed like a happy memory next to this.

“I love you,” Steve whispered.

“I love you,” you whispered back, just in case you didn’t see him again.

And just maybe you meant it. The way your heart squeezed in your chest made you wonder…

***

You scrambled down the road like a scared little runaway, trying to play the part as Luca had explained it to you. The sun was going down and according to your phone, you had just under 20 minutes to reach Hansen’s house.

A small SUV pulled up next to you as you walked. Your Uber. When the driver asked if you were Mrs. Rogers, you nodded, climbed in the back.

The driver’s blue-eyed gaze met yours in the rearview mirror. He was a bigger guy with spiky blond hair and round glasses. He smiled before turning his attention to the road ahead.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

It was a strange question.

“I’m… fine,” you told him.

He nodded, driving along.

“I’m Jensen,” he explained. “Dyson’s a good friend.”

That got your attention. “Are you one of the friends Yelena’s been staying with?”

“Yeah,” he explained. “She’s going to be there with us. We’ve got a plan. We’ll do everything we can to get you and Dyson back home shortly.”

“Thank you,” you told him. “Thank you for helping us.”

“Hey,” Jensen said. “Dyson’s helped us out a couple of times. We owe him.”

It was good to know that they cared about getting Dyson out safely as much as you did.

“We’ll be there in about ten minutes,” he explained. “I’ll pull up and you just hop out, okay? I’ll stash the car and take up my position.”

“Okay,” you told him.

“You’ll need to leave your piece in here with me,” he went on.

“What?”

“Your gun,” Jensen said. “Put it in the duffel bag back there. It’s my stuff. I’ll make sure you get it back.”

You’d almost forgotten about it honestly, pulling it free of your jeans. “Why can’t I take it?”

He smiled. “Yelena said you shot him once.”

“I did.” You were proud of that. Having the gun made you feel a little safer.

“There are too many things that could go wrong here,” he said. “I promise I’ll get it back to you.”

You nodded, knowing you had no choice but to trust these people. Dyson trusted them…

Unzipping the bag, you made sure the safety was on and carefully put your gun in. There was another handgun in there among some other ordinary looking belongings. A keyring caught your eye. On it was a small picture of Jensen with a pretty woman and the cutest little girl. On the other side the words “Best Buy” were engraved into the pewter.

“Is this picture your family?” you asked, zipping the bag again.

“Yeah,” he said with a wide smile. “My fiancée and our daughter Charlie.”

“They are beautiful,” you told him.

“Thank you. We have a baby on the way,” he told you. “I’m trying to get her to the altar before he or she gets here though.”

“Let’s make sure that happens,” you told him with conviction.

Jensen nodded.

“Is there anything else I need to know going in?” you asked him.

“Just be yourself,” Jensen told you. “You have friends. Remember that. You’ll know me and Yelena anyway. Dyson. Follow our lead. We’ll get you home.”

Five minutes later, Jensen dropped you off in front of an older house. It was an isolated location with no neighbors in sight anyway. You did just what Jensen told you and hopped out, not looking back at him. You weren’t taking your eyes off the impressive house before you.

You walked along the stone path leading to the front door. Just off to the side of the house you saw Dyson’s Cadillac, Neal’s SUV. It was surreal and you struggled to keep your knees from knocking.

Neal was the asshole you believed him to be. He sold all of you out. He sold you out.

But the worst thing he did was try to take Dyson from you. You focused on him.

Dyson was yours. Your caretaker. Your friend. Your father.

It would be a cold day in hell when you let Neal or Hansen take him away from you.

Before your foot hit the first step, the front door of that house opened. Hansen.

Well, you didn’t want your audience to be disappointed. You took your time climbing the steps, your back straight, your chin up. When you stepped on the porch, only then did you meet his gaze. You gazed at the huge beast of a man as if he bored you. As if he were beneath you.

Hansen didn’t appear to be moving from the doorway to let you in. He grinned at you.

Then you stopped.

“Planning to pat me down and check for weapons?” you asked him.

“Do you want me to?” he asked, his grin widening.

You rolled your eyes. “Take me to Dyson. Now.”

Hansen stepped back, motioning you in with his hand. You walked by him, into a living room with a high ceiling and elegant furnishings. Nothing out of place in the opulent room.

Well, just one thing that didn’t belong there. A tiny purse, its purple leather standing out on the sand-colored upholstery. Why did Hansen have that?

You kept walking until you reached the kitchen. You met Dyson’s gaze first. He was bound to the chair, his face bloody and bruised. He was gagged. The steel in his gaze gave you courage. Told you without words that he trusted you.

Neal stood up from another chair at the kitchen table and he didn’t look much better. The only difference was Neal’s wounds had little time to scab over, to set in. You grinned at Neal.

“You look beaten down. How does it feel?” you asked him.

“Fuck you,” Neal spat, taking a menacing step closer to you.

You didn’t move.

“That’s some big talk for someone whose husband locked her in her room for disobeying him,” Neal said, cutting a glance at Hansen who stood behind you.

Hansen chuckled. “You couldn’t handle her any better than Rogers could.”

You flinched when you felt his hand at your lower back. Not a barely there, tentative touch. No, it was possessive. When it moved lower, you moved before he could touch your ass. You glared up at the bastard, hoping he couldn’t tell you were fucking terrified on the inside.

“The only one allowed to handle me at all is my husband,” you told him, raising your chin. “Now, Dyson goes back home. With me.”

Hansen’s grin didn’t subside. “That wasn’t the deal, princess. It’s a trade. Him for you. The only terms I’ll accept.”

“If you know me so well, you know I have no intention of ever making a trade,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

Hansen cocked a brow at you. “Then what are your intentions? Your husband doesn’t know you’re here not that he ever knows what you’re doing.”

You tried your best to look bored. It was true. But having the enemy reference the fact that you didn’t appear to respect your own husband made you pause. You didn’t like it.

“Belova isn’t here to protect you,” Hansen went on. “You don’t appear to be armed. You don’t have a lot of options.”

Yelena was somewhere close. You hoped.

“We’re wasting time here,” Neal told him, his usually annoying self. You froze when he pulled out his gun, a Glock like yours, and pointed it at the back of Dyson’s head. “She goes to Barnes, we get rid of Dad here, and head over there to finish this. Rogers’ camp is in chaos right now. Let’s hit them while they’re weak.”

“You son-of-a-bitch.” You glared at him. “Steve thought so much of you. I couldn’t convince him otherwise. And this is what you’re doing?”

“It is.” Neal’s finger twitched around the trigger. Your heart raced in fear as Dyson’s gaze met yours, his gaze calm, like he was willing you to hang on. “Once we get rid of your husband, Barnes gets you and for that, he’s going to help me start my own family. I won’t be a soldier anymore. I’ll get everything I ever wanted.”

“Barnes?” You laughed humorlessly at that. “And you believed him?”

The man’s gaze moved from Dyson to you.

“That worked out so well for Banner,” you taunted him.

The gun in Neal’s hand lowered, wavered. Good. You were drawing his attention away from Dyson…

Before you could blink, Hansen pulled a gun and shot Neal in the face. Bone, brains, and gore splattered Dyson in his chair as your ears rang from the shot. Neal just dropped to the floor.

Now you were afraid. From the apprehension you read in Dyson’s gaze now, he was too.

Hansen tucked his gun away as casually as he might a phone or his wallet. He turned what he must have thought was a charming smile on you.

“Does this mean I’m not going to Barnes?” you had to ask. “Was anything he said true?”

“It was true,” he told you. “Barnes has everything carefully planned out. And he can have your husband, But he’s not getting you. That was never part of my plan.”

“How does that work with him being your boss?” you wanted to know. “Or are you betraying him the same way Neal was betraying Steve?”

That grin widened behind his mustache. “That’s just the way this little world of ours works. You’re either born into a family like you and Rogers or you make your own way like Neal here. But you’ve got to be smarter than that.”

“So where does that leave us?” You moved closer to Dyson, not turning your back on Hansen. He could have shot Dyson just as easily.

“You already know the answer to that,” Hansen told you, his gaze shifting from Dyson back to you. “A trade. You can send him home right now. But you’re mine.”

You rolled your eyes. But inside, your fear was escalating. You remember the horrible things Yelena told you. What Hansen did to her. She was brave and fierce, more so than you. You didn’t want to consider what the asshole had planned for you.

You knew Dyson’s friends were with her. But Yelena herself? She was terrified of him, and she was right to feel that way.

Could Jensen get you out then?

Here’s hoping.

“Fine,” you told him. “Let him go. The trade isn’t complete until I have absolute proof that he’s back home.”

“Fine,” Hansen repeated slowly. The look he cut you told you he didn’t quite buy your performance. Pulling a knife from his pocket, he used it to cut through Dyson’s bonds, allowing him to pull the gag away himself.

Dyson eyed you warily. “Don’t do this,” he said calmly. “Whatever it is you think you’re doing, please don’t.”

Before you could say anything, Hansen blew out an exhale, looking more annoyed than anything. When he turned to look behind him, you saw the man standing there. He was tall as Steve with broad shoulders. The man was a little older with threads of white in his dark hair, in his beard. His grin gave him a very roguish charm.

“Oh, I think it’s a pretty good plan,” the man said, his voice deep whiskey. “We’re going to have to change it up though. We’re here to take Dyson and Mrs. Rogers back home.”

“That doesn’t work for me, Clay,” Hansen told him. “Now, I’m going to kill you. Then I kill Dyson. Then I’m taking Mrs. Rogers with me. And then we call it a day.”

From behind the man he called Clay, you saw Jensen step out. Your heart swelled to see Yelena, her concerned gaze on you. Both held handguns, assessing the situation. Yelena looked so small next to the two dangerous men.

Without looking, Hansen reached for his gun. A bullet hit the floor at his feet, had him jumping slightly in alarm before moving to put his hands back up and in view.

Yelena’s expression was pure rage.

“Hey, Lena,” Hansen crooned. “Miss me?”

You shook your head at her. Don’t answer him. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

You inched closer to Dyson until you put yourself between him and Hansen. Yelena’s eyes widened on you. But you knew what you were doing. You weren’t about to let Hansen kill Dyson.

Hansen’s laugh didn’t appear to phase the trio in front of you, but it chilled your blood. “I’m not exactly alone here,” he told all of you.

A tap at the kitchen window behind you got your attention. An armed soldier in body armor was holding an assault rifle outside, his eyes cold as he gazed at you. Two more soldiers crept up the hallway from the opposite direction to the kitchen, also armed with rifles.

Clay eyed them warily as your fear escalated. What happened now?

“They aren’t alone either,” a familiar voice said from behind Jensen and Yelena.

Tears pricked the backs of your eyes to see your husband making his way into the room, his gaze on you. He didn’t stop until he reached you. The expression he wore scared you because you’d never seen that before. It was terrifying. Only the emotion in his blue eyes revealed the relief he appeared to be feeling at reaching you.

You couldn’t help it. You ran to Steve’s side, wrapping your arms around his waist, clinging to him.

“Ballsy,” Hansen told him. “Let me guess. You’ve got this place surrounded.”

Steve’s nod was curt. “We’re done here.”

The smile faded from Hansen’s face. His gaze moved over you as you clung to your husband. It was covetous, angry.

“I say when we’re done here,” Hansen said coldly.

All you saw was the large hand that pulled the handgun out, pointing at Dyson who still sat in the chair where he’d been sitting the entire time. You saw the bastard’s finger at the trigger. Fast as you could move, you jumped in front of Dyson’s chair just as the shot rang out.

The room spun around you violently, as hands grabbed you. Dyson’s. Your husband’s. You saw your blood splatter the front of Dyson’s shirt and tie, more gore on top of Neal’s, as he watched in horror. It felt like someone punched you in the shoulder really, really hard.

There was a blur of activity in that moment all around you, but you weren’t aware of anything but the pain that was starting to come on and the sound of your husband dropping to his knees behind you. Crimson bloomed at the front of his white dress shirt and his hand flew to his chest as he went down.

Yes, you’d been shot.

But fear and guilt choked you to realize your husband took the brunt of it.

“Steve!” you screamed.

PS: Just on my fic posts, I’m adding a tip function. In honor of the kitty we just lost in February, I’m donating everything to our local animal shelter. Tips are not, will never be, and have never been expected. But if you feel so inclined, thank you. 🙏

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metal-mouse · 11 months

Text

I Feel Better With You

pairing: Ominis Gaunt x gn!MC

themes: Smut. Fluff. Ominis is stressed af and you comfort him. Insominis. kinda subinis.

warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. m!receiving oral sex. everyone is aged up.

summary: 4.5k words. Ominis Gaunt has had an awful day, and he can't get to sleep. Instead of driving Sebastian mad with his anxious energy, he gets up and wanders wherever his restless feet will take him. What he doesn't expect is to run into you.

note: Tried to leave reader's everything ambiguous. I proofread this half of one time, sort of. i also finished it at 3:30 am lol oopsies. This started out with completely pure intentions, but i am a wee creature of debauchery and added a little sprinkle of spice. I can apparently only perceive Ominis if he's in the ROR, next time we can take him somewhere nice I promise.

Ominis lay on his back with his eyes closed despite his annoyingly alert mind. The events of the day just would not leave him alone - from his abysmal attempt at brewing a befuddlement draught, to accidentally changing your hair colour to what Sebastian had called ‘troll bogey green’ in transfiguration, to even just how he spoke to others during dinner... He let out a sigh, his hands coming up to run through his bed-mussed hair. He rolled over for what felt like the millionth time, unable to find a comfortable position. He let out another annoyed sigh.

“Sigh again and I’m going to smother you with a pillow.” Sebastian’s annoyed half-asleep voice came from the other side of their shared dormitory. Ominis made sure to sigh loudly one more time, causing Sebastian to throw a pillow across the room at him, before getting up and snatching his wand from his night table. He shrugged on his housecoat and shoved his feet into his slippers before crossing the room towards the door. One hand held his wand, the other was outstretched until his palm pressed against the smooth wood of the door. He was scowling as he pushed the door open quietly and made his way down to the common room. Just because he was unhappy from his inability to sleep didn’t mean he had to take it out on Sebastian - he could go mope in peace elsewhere.

Ominis Gaunt was not usually one to find himself wandering the halls of the school after dark, but tonight was an exception. He just hoped the fates had some mercy so he didn’t come upon any teachers. He had no plan on where he was to go, he just allowed his wand and his feet to guide him through the halls. He stewed in his thoughts as he walked, his face fixed in a permanent frown. The worries about his day slowly shifted into his constant stresses about getting good enough marks on his N.E.W.Ts that were approaching far too rapidly, and that the safe space he’d found at Hogwarts was no longer going to be his safe space. Once he graduated, he’d be at his family’s disposal. They’d have full access to him, and he didn’t know how to get away from it all. While he knew that he had a place to stay in Feldcroft, he also knew that he couldn’t impose on Anne and Sebastian forever. Eventually, he would have to strike off on his own and that caused a flurry of emotions that he’d never anticipated.

His grip on his wand tightened as his mind lingered on those emotions he was feeling day in and day out. While he was losing the safest place he’d ever lived, he was also going to lose you. Ominis had grown accustomed to spending every day with you since you’d gotten close during the catastrophe that was his fifth year at Hogwarts. The idea that he won’t be able to enjoy breakfast with you every morning, or a butterbeer in Hogsmeade, or even just a quiet study session broken up by your quick quips and amusing stories, made his throat knot painfully. And now, he’d made an ass of himself turning your hair bogey green. He should be spending every second he could with you making good memories, not defacing your appearance. Merlin, why hadn’t he partnered with Sebastian instead–

“Ominis?” A voice from the other end of the hallway made him nearly jump out of his skin. With one hand over his thundering heart, he scowled in the direction of your quiet laugh.

“That, was not very kind of you.” Ominis said sharply, before cringing at the memory of today’s transfiguration class. At that moment he almost wished it was Professor Weasley standing before him, and not you.

“You’re not still thinking about my hair, are you?” You asked. He listened to you coming towards him, his heart still thudding violently. A deep burn of shame and embarrassment settled in his stomach, and Ominis greatly regretted ever leaving the sanctuary of his bed; even if Sebastian would have smothered him.

“I am terribly sorry about that.” Ominis said, feeling as though his apology was rather lame.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Ominis. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes. Professor Weasley had me back to normal in a matter of minutes.” The kindness in your tone was not lost on Ominis, you meant what you said. He felt a fool as the thought of you not being angry with him calmed his mind quite a bit. He took a moment to assess his surroundings, realizing he’d made his way to the foot of the Astronomy Tower.

“Thank you…” He said.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Your question was simple, but it caused Ominis to swallow nervously. He wasn’t sure he wanted to tell you that he was too worry-filled to sleep, especially when you were one of his worries. You had been through so much during your time at Hogwarts, he didn’t need to burden you with his trifles.

“I-I… couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d go for a walk.” He said carefully.

“Ominis, we’ve spoken of this before, if you ever need to talk about anything I’m here to listen. I can see you’re unhappy.” You said in that insufferably kind tone, your hand even going as far as to rest on his shoulder. You’d made that gesture hundreds of times since he’d met you, why did this time feel different? Why did your touch make him on edge? He supposed it could be his lack of sleep, or perhaps it was just because you’d caught him lamenting about his future without you.

“What are you doing out of bed?” He questioned. He would be doing the interrogating, if you were skulking around the halls in the dark then you couldn’t be up to any good at all. Your grip on his shoulder tightened ever so slightly, the smallest indicator that he was right. You were either causing trouble or in trouble. Ominis couldn’t decide which was more likely, or which was more worrying. Before you could answer his question, heeled footsteps clicked against the stone floors heading right for you.

“Damn it. Follow me.” You whispered, your hand sliding from Ominis’ shoulder to grab him by the bicep. He blinked in surprise at your strength as you tugged him towards the stairs. He wasted no time following you all the way to the top, utterly confused. This was a dead end, whatever faculty or prefect that was heading towards you would surely find you. He supposed there were some spots at the top of the tower, under the observation deck or in the astronomy classroom… His frown deepened when he heard a door groan open in the hallway, and you unceremoniously shoved him inside. Your hand left his arm, and he paused to adjust to his surroundings.

“Where have you brought me?” He asked, curiosity cutting through his irritance. The room was filled with the most curious noises, and he could feel every pulse his wand made detecting what was in the space surrounding him. He could hear cauldrons bubbling to his left, the sound of papers flapping like wings in the air above him. Water trickled deeper in the room, and Ominis swore he could almost hear the distant crashing of waves.

“This is the Room of Requirement,” You said smoothly, “And, if you must know, I am out of bed because I was here. One of the Unicorns was foaling, and I wanted to be here in case she needed help.” Your explanation for being awake so late only gave Ominis more questions. The way you had said one of the unicorns indicated that there were several, here, in the walls of the astronomy tower. That was outrageous, even on magical standards.

“What?!”

“Er… right, I suppose a tour is in order…” You mumbled sheepishly. Ominis was stunned into silence as you guided him around the room, showing him almost every corner of the magical room. He’d heard rumours of the room of requirement before, but he had never been able to find the entrance. It deeply impressed him that you had made such a detailed place, it truly had everything a person would ever need. He realized at that moment he was very much intruding into your personal space. A hideaway you had crafted that was entirely personalized to you and your needs. It was almost as though he was in your head, every word you spoke and every telltale pulse of his wand gave him a better idea of his surroundings.

“You mentioned unicorns?” Ominis asked, his head tilting expectantly. You chuckled, your arm hooking with his. He could feel the heat of your skin through his housecoat, and his throat felt a little dry. You’d certainly never seen him like this, dishevelled and in his nightclothes. It was utterly indecent of him. He exhaled softly in surprise when the unmistakable breeze of fresh air brushed his skin, and you guided him through a doorway. One moment he was in the comfortable warmth of your Room of Requirement, the next he was clearly standing outdoors. He could hear the chirping of birds, he could smell the flowers and the unmistakable odour of animals. It was like he’d stepped out right into the Care of Magical Creatures classroom.

“Here you have it, Unicorns. Five of them now, with the new foal and all,” You said, coming to a halt suddenly, “And a family of Kneazles, a few Diricawl, Puffskeins… I rescue Magical Beasts from poachers and bring them here to one of my vivariums.” Your voice was close to his ear, your breath lightly tickling against his skin as you spoke softly. Shivers ran down his spine, and his face was heating up from your proximity. In the last year and a half you had gotten taller, and stronger.

“I… don’t know why I expected you to be lying. You’ve never told me anything but the truth.” He admitted.

“When someone suggests they’re keeping unicorns in the astronomy tower, it’s a healthy reaction to be skeptical,” You teased with a laugh that worked its way right under Ominis’ skin. “Do you want to pet them?” You asked him. Ominis nodded, and marvelled at the warm strength in your hand as you took his and held it out. The velvety nose of a unicorn nudged his palm and he found himself smiling. Sleep was the farthest thing from his mind right now, and your presence had subsided that persistent tug of anxiety in his mind.

“I’m happy to be wrong, in this case.” He said, gently working his way to the unicorn’s neck.

“Now, do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?” You asked, and Ominis sighed. He knew he could trust you, just as he knew that you would actually listen to him, but something made him hesitate. He was no stranger to feeling bashful when you were around, sometimes your presence was just so… overwhelming. Every kind word you spoke, and every time you laughed, he was reminded of your unconditional support of him during one of the most difficult times in his life. He often thought about the day after Solomon had died, when he’d broken down and cried on your shoulder. Or when you’d been abducted by Rookwood, and done the same to him, exhausted and terrified. You’d broken down and confessed everything to him that day, about your ancient magic and the quest you were on. He’d shown you his weakness, and in return you’d shown him yours.

“I suppose I’ve been rather anxious as of late…” He said cautiously, his hand running strokes down the unicorn’s soft neck, “About… well… my future. Where I’ll go after this year, what I’ll do. I-I’m worried about my family. If they bother to even try and reach out to me, I fear they won’t be… pleasant.” His heart rate quickened as he began to voice his internal thoughts that plagued him. Ominis continued to pet the unicorn who whickered softly, nudging him with its muzzle.

“I’m still listening.” You said, your shoulder brushing his as you stood next to him.

“I don’t want things to change. I don’t want to leave. As eager as I am to never brew a potion for Sharp ever again, I like the familiarity of my days. I like waking up, knowing you’ll be waiting at breakfast. That we’ll go to double charms together every Tuesday, and then work together on our assignments on Wednesday. I… I’ll have to find somewhere to live, I can’t stay with Anne and Sebastian forever. Sebastian already has plans to find a flat in London, and Anne has been courting that man from lower Hogsfield, and I-I-I…” Ominis knew he was rambling. He was floundering over every word that came out of his mouth, but you’d opened the floodgates.

“Ominis.” Your tone was patient and gentle, interrupting his stammered attempt to continue speaking. Just the way you said his name jolted his brain back into forming words.

“I am going to be alone, and I am going to be a disappointment. It doesn’t matter where I go, or what I do, I just know it. And perhaps I deserve that.” He breathed out, a horrible ache in his throat as he admitted the baseline of his worries.

“I don’t believe that for a second, Ominis.” You said, and his brows furrowed as he frowned. His hand stilled on the unicorn’s neck, earning himself an insistent nudge from the magical creature. He resumed his petting of the beast, giving you a chance to explain yourself. When you refused to elaborate, he huffed.

“What do you mean?” He demanded.

“You are going to do wonderful things, Ominis. You will not disappoint any one of us who love you, and the opinions of others are irrelevant. You are intelligent, charismatic, and very hard-working. I have no doubt in my mind you will be successful in whatever it is that you wish to achieve.” Your hand closed around his wrist. It made him feel ridiculous how much comfort your words brought him, yet made his entire body tense up with your touch.

“What if-” You cut him off with a finger over his lips, and he was frowning again.

“What ifs are not productive thoughts. You have told me many times that I am not my past, and the same principle applies to you. We’re finishing school, Ominis, we’ve still got our entire lives ahead of us.” Your hopeful tone carried so much conviction that it made his heart ache.

“Thank you.” He murmured.

“I still want breakfast with you every morning too, Ominis. I did promise you we would face it together.” You said. You believed in him, and showed no inclination to abandon him. He thought back two years, when you’d promised to face everything together. He supposed there didn’t need to be a murder to cover up between the two of you this time to still apply. In fact, he rather preferred this scenario instead. Together. He loved the word, especially when it came to you. Ominis had learned of his weakness for you very early into your meeting, and that weakness had rapidly spiralled into what he could only describe as devotion. Your hand slowly released its grip on his wrist, and he turned his hand to lace his fingers with yours. He loved how warm and strong your hands always were, especially as he found himself cold more often than not.

“I’m glad you understand.” Ominis said, giving your hand a little squeeze. His head lifted when he heard the distance chime of a clock, his brows rising in surprise at the late hour. He hadn’t realized how long he must have spent tossing and turning. Class in the morning was going to be torture.

“We should stay here tonight.” You said bashfully, your fingers flexing as though you’d pull your hand from his. He held onto your hand firmly, nodding and hoping you didn’t notice the little shiver that ran down his spine. It wouldn’t do to try and go sneaking back to the Slytherin common room now, especially with the prefects and professors lurking near the astronomy tower. That was at least the excuse Ominis was going to give himself. He followed you from the Vivarium, back into the comfortable atmosphere of the Room of Requirement, and then through the door you’d shown him earlier. You excused yourself to go prepare for bed.

Ominis took his housecoat off doing his best to ignore the knots in his stomach, climbing into the comfortable bed in the room. He tucked his wand away safely on the small table beside the bed, and got under the remarkably soft covers. They were far nicer than the scratchy things he slept with every night in his dormitory. When soft footsteps padded across the floor towards the bed, Ominis’ mouth went dry. He’d slept in a bed with others before, you wouldn’t be any different. The bed impressed slightly as you crawled in on the other side. Ominis rolled to face away from you, his face suddenly burning.

“Well… Good night.” He said a little stiffly, clearing his throat and shifting in his spot to try and get comfortable.

“Good night, Ominis.” You agreed, your voice as tight as his body felt. Silence blanketed the room, and Ominis closed his eyes willing sleep to finally tug at his overactive mind. The familiar feeling of tiredness never came, no matter how long he lay there. Instead, all he could do was lie there and listen to your breathing. It was peaceful enough, he supposed, although this whole situation was far too intimate. You rolled, and Ominis’ face burned when your hand bumped against his back before pulling back quickly with a mumbled apology. He lay there with his heart pounding violently in his chest, silently praying you couldn’t hear it. It seemed like an eternity passed, when he rolled onto his back with a loud sigh. You huffed a laugh next to him.

“You can’t sleep either.” He noted.

“Not with you tossing and turning like that. I’m surprised Sebastian didn’t stun you.” You said. He was not amused in the least.

“He did threaten to smother me with a pillow.”

“That would work.”

“Far too permanently for my taste.” Ominis rolled to face you.

“I’d try something… different.” You were close enough that your breath fanned over his face. The proximity only made the tension in his body build further.

“And what would that be?” He asked. Your warm hand reached up and ran through his hair. He let out an inadvertent groan, his skin prickling with goosebumps at the feeling of it. You slowly and carefully ran your fingers through his hair. The tension in Ominis’ muscles seemed to melt at your touch, his body visibly relaxing. Your deft fingers massaged at his scalp, slowly working your way down to his neck. Another groan slipped from his lips as the pads of your fingers traced over the sensitive skin of his neck and down onto his half-exposed collarbone. Your hands felt glorious on his skin, he leaned into your soft touch. Your fingers traced back upwards, combing through his hair again. Merlin, it felt so good.

“How’s that?” You asked, your fingertips lightly brushing along the outside edge of his ear. The only reasonable response he had was to grab you by your shirt and haul you against his lips for a hungry kiss. It was no small satisfaction to him, the way your fingers knotted in his hair and you pushed in closer. Ominis felt as though his heart was going to burst from the way your lips moved with his, and how your tongue slowly caressed his bottom lip. The small, pleased sound that rumbled in your throat as his hand smoothed over your chest went straight to the already uncomfortable strain in his pants.

He gasped as you shifted forward, gently pushing him onto his back without breaking the kiss as you leaned over him. Your tongue slipped into his mouth, taking advantage of his gasp. Ominis’ hands found your waist, snaking up under your night shirt to paw at your heated skin while his tongue met yours eagerly in long, lazy strokes. Merlin, the way you tasted. It was enough to drive a man mad, how sweet your lips and tongue were. Your fingers were at the buttons on his shirt, unbuttoning them nimbly as you trailed kisses from his lips to his jaw down onto his neck. He cursed violently when you bit down on the base of his neck and licked a stripe back up his sensitive flesh.

“Filthy little mouth on you.” Your voice was husky at his ear, your teeth lightly closing on his earlobe and your hand on his bare chest roaming down and down over his stomach towards the waistband of his bottoms. Ominis’ head tilted as he searched for your lips again, his hips bucking slightly at the groan you let out when he found them. He knew he’d chase this forever, the shivers you sent down his spine, the aching arousal you caused, the taste of your tongue… Ominis had been devoted to your mind and your heart before, but this was an entirely new beast and he loved it. A fractured moan ripped from his throat as your hand grazed along the length of his cock through his pants, the sudden friction made him absolutely ravenous for your touch. His hands roamed under your shirt, getting acquainted with every inch of your body that he could reach. Your hands, however, had gone annoyingly still.

“Please, do you want… I want…” Ominis could hardly string a sentence together. He could be embarrassed about it later, for now he just needed you to touch him.

“What is it that you want, Ominis?” You asked in a dangerous tone, your hands withdrawing from his body altogether. He was reminded of your power, and the importance you held in this world, and it sent a thrill to his heart that he was here and sharing your bed.

“You. I want you.” He breathed out, his fingers curling into your skin gripping your waist tightly. When you slid a finger along the waistband of his pants, he had to stop his hips from bucking. His heart pounded wildly in his chest as you pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to his lips and withdrew from his grip.

“You have me.” You murmured with a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another to his jaw. He bit down on his bottom lip as you trailed kisses down his exposed chest, down and down to his belly while your hands ran down his sides. When you reached his bellybutton, your fingers hooked into his pants and he raised his hips to assist while you pulled them down. He let out a sigh as he was released from the confines of the tight cotton. Nerves coiled in his belly momentarily as he lay exposed before you, this had passed the untoward phase quite a while ago, and this would certainly change your dynamic forever.

Ominis’ nerves evaporated as your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, and you let out an appreciative hum. He choked on a moan as your warm, wet tongue swirled around the tip of his length oh so slowly. A soft sound of longing rumbled in your throat, and that sinful tongue of yours ran up the entire underside of his cock before swirling around the head again. One of his hands gripped the sheets beneath him tightly, the other flew to his hand to muffle the moans that wouldn’t stop tumbling from his lips. You pressed a delicate kiss to the tip, before taking it into your mouth. Your tongue teased along the bottom of his tip as you slowly inched towards the base. His cock throbbed at the attention, and he could have sworn he had never been this vocal before. He was leaking already over your tongue, his hips tilted upwards as you took more and more of him. Ominis was in disbelief as your nose bumped against his pelvis and you moaned, creating the most delicious vibrations.

“Please.” He panted out, and you obliged. Your head began to bob to and fro, your hands massaging up and down his thighs. Ominis was sure he’d found utopia, and then your cheeks hollowed and you sucked. He whimpered out your name, his hips bucking as the hand covering his mouth found your hair and took grip. He’s got to be drunk, he’s had to have taken some sort of drug, for this amount of sheer pleasure to be making his toes curl like this. Your warm mouth took all of him, and he was a moaning whimpering mess as his hips rose up off the bed. You were moaning too, as his hips bucked and rolled and he fucked into your mouth to aid in your efforts. Ominis had lost coherent thoughts, the only thing he was capable of thinking of was you and the pressure that was rapidly building at the base of his spine. His hand twined in your hair pushed you down further as he lost all control. You stayed in place dutifully, with your tongue caressing him and the tantalizing sucking motion sending him barrelling towards the edge of an orgasm.

“Oh.” Was the only word he could manage as one of your hands lifted to massage at his tight sack as he fucked your face. Dull nails dug into the sensitive flesh just inside his thigh, and he was gone. His entire body tensed in anticipation as he reached his peak. Pleasure exploded inside of him, his toes curling and his hands gripping tight to your hair and the bedding respectively. Ominis hips rolled into your mouth over and over again as he filled your throat with his seed. You refused to let up on him, sucking him absolutely dry until he was whimpering and twitching beneath you. He was limp on the bed when you finally lifted your head, releasing him. He could hear your heavy breathing, and a ragged little laugh. He was sure he was a sight to behold. Likely a sweaty mess, completely disheveled and a far cry from his usual tidy appearance.

“You taste amazing.” You said, your voice a little hoarse. Ominis didn’t have the energy to respond in full, instead letting out a weak sound of acknowledgement. His mind was completely clouded with thoughts of you, of the lingering grips of the pleasure you’d brought him. Gone were his worries, there wasn’t a hint of anxiety remaining in his mind. You crawled back up beside him, tucking yourself against his chest. He was conscious enough to wrap an arm around you, keeping you close. Utterly spent, Ominis’ eyes closed and he listened to the sound of your breathing until sleep began to finally tug on him. As he gave into that tug of exhaustion, he listened to you whisper words of love to him. He drifted off into a deep sleep, dreaming of all of the ways he’d show you he loved you too.

#ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt smut #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt x gn!reader #ominis gaunt one shot #ominis gaunt imagine #ominis x you #ominis x reader #ominis x y/n #nehehe now it's time to let this weaslow fic consume my entire brain #time for reni to sleep oh boy

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khaosrealms · 6 months

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YUE LAO’S BLESSINGS (part four!) / saying i love you— as if urged by the gods themselves.

a/n: honestly i’d say i’m surprised i’m making another part of this, but that would be a lie— because here i am, with another part! thank you so much again for such a big response to my writing! to you, dear reader, i dedicate this post 🩵 !

REPTILE:

“I love you” from Syzoth is nothing more than his purest honesty. It drips out from his every pore, leaks out from the crevices of his heart and into every word and action he shows you. His stares, his touches— his kisses, his embrace. “I love you” is always knowing he’s there. To hold, to run; wherever you go, Syzoth will be there, waiting for you, wishing to be with you. Hoping, pleading that the world, as cruel as it may be, would never be as cruel to you as it has to him. “I love you, as much as you deserve more.” And even when you respond back, his pounding heart simply can’t believe he’d be allowed something so good and true.

SINDEL:

“I love you” is Sindel’s consecration to you. The promise you have made to her in choosing to bind yourself to an Empress. You won’t be her only love, you know; but the love there will be honor-held, tightly wound. “I love you” is kneeling by her feet, worshipping her warm skin and powerful eyes. It is dying to preserve her. Living to speak praise of her. Pleading for one more kiss before she leaves you to attend to her duty. “I will not forget your love.” Sindel promises, knowing she will outlive you but allowing you to stay tucked in her heart. Deep within, kept safe and warm, no matter how much it may burn her.

REIKO:

“I love you” for Reiko is fuel enough to fight battles, to win wars. You are his as truly as he is your’s. He’d survive for you, fight for you, kill for you. “I love you” is never fearing the night. Never fearing the dark. It is the purple marks he leaves on your flesh to mark you as his. The stain of his hand across your chest, the blood of his foes on your back. “They will rue the day they spoke your name.” That is Reiko’s promise to you; in all his blood-soaked glory. Stained into your lips, forever his to return to once the battle has been won.

BARAKA:

“I love you” is a choked back word, itching in the back of Baraka’s throat. A lost home, a lost title, a lost love. It’s hesitation, sitting there as he approaches. So strong— this former merchant. To command, to lead; but still diseased, still too scared to love again and lose. “I love you” is distance. Always an arms length away; a whisper away. Touch through fabric, words across tables. Gazes with so much yearning he might melt if you’d look back the very same way. “Are you well?” Baraka asks; because it’s easier than admitting he’s fallen in love again. Easier than losing you to Tarkat’s cruel kiss as well.

GERAS:

“I love you” is an odd sentiment on Geras’ tongue, like a stone being rolled by the waves; smoothed over, coaxed into the sun. It is questioning, curiosity— the first touch of mortal warmth, a paradox made true. “I love you” is time Geras spends in silence. Imagining you, thinking of you. Feeling the lines that form you; fingers across your cheek and through your hair. Understanding you and learning he knew nothing of the beauty of the many, many worlds until you gazed up at him. Smiling only at him. “Is this love?” Geras asks knowing it is the first question he’s never held an answer for. The terror it should cause, to be unlearned; but instead, smiling, back only at you.

#mortal kombat x reader #reptile x reader #sindel x reader #reiko x reader #baraka x reader #geras x reader #mk1 #mk1 headcanons #mk1 imagines #x reader #khaosrealms #i want you to guess #what time it is right now.#go on. it won’t be hard to guess 😭#yue lao imagine

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qqtxt · 4 months

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[🐯] windflowers brought me back to you

✿ pairing: beomgyu x reader / idol!txt / non.idol!you / exes-to-lovers (kind of) / very angsty in the beginning but fluff at the end / 8,915 words ✿ disclaimer: cursing and foul language / heavy emotions and insecurities / mentions of food and eating / clichè romantic trope / reader is friends with the other members / reader calls beomgyu ‘gyu’ / the timeline kind of follows their act:lovesick tour / jokes of death in a playful manner / txt members acting like cupids (not them trying to fix your relationship with gyu) ✿ you thought the day that beomgyu broke up with you was the day he had let go of the love he had for you; little did you know, he carried his love for you throughout his tour and came back to fix his mistake. ✿ 🎧: windflower by mamamoo (lofi remix by karma)

note: hi 👉👈 i know i literally dropped off the face of the earth but honestly, life has been a handful but i’m slowly writing things in the drafts and this is one that was sitting on the shelf for a while that i didn’t know how to feel about it so, i’m sending it off the shelf! merry x’mas, lovelies and hope you are all safe and well! 💖

[masterlist 🌸] / @kflixnet ✨

it was a normal day today; it would’ve been, it should’ve been. peace, quiet... the lingering embedded pain in your heart every time your phone receives a notification and you know you’re not going to see a familiar name showing up. at this point, it’s been months. you should move on by now; maybe you were, in some twisted way your heart was healing each time his name rang in your mind and you tried not to show any emotion–cruel, but it was the only way you’d cope. it was progress, one day at a time, slowly, his face will dissolve, his name won’t hurt you when you hear it, and maybe you’ll man up to delete all traces of him from your life.

today, however, that name you’ve been longing for shows up in person by your door–and he only hopes that you still long to see him as he lifts his head up to look at you–all your efforts be damned.

choi beomgyu, who decided to let you go–days before he went on tour–was standing in front of you. the tour merely ended days ago and he had returned home. the first place he was determined to go was wherever you were.

the sight alone is what makes you wonder if this was some sort of cruel hallucination. it doesn’t feel real, let alone look like it. your chest feels like it’s contracting on you; restricting you from breathing right the longer you process what’s happening. why isn’t this going away? when will it disappear? what the fuck is going on? is this a nightmare? no... is this a dream? whatever it was, it was hurting you; it was scaring you, you’re shaking, you still–stay still, for fuck’s sake, don’t move–still can’t breathe.

“y/n.”

oh my god.

it fucking talks.

it makes you instinctively shift back, one step, two, your hand still gripping the door handle. if this was some sort of apparition, you want absolutely no part in. beomgyu licks his lips, well aware and prepared for you to slam the door in his face... but the longer you wait... the more he feels like there’s a chance.

a chance that you hadn’t banished him completely. that maybe somewhere, in your heart, he’s still in there.

he slowly reaches out with one hand, carefully, as if he’s afraid you’d dash off if he had moved any quicker. when his hand touches the side of your arm, a gentle squeeze as his fingers manage to have a hold on you, it reaffirms to you that this is real–that this isn’t some sort of sadistic mockery from up above but it just may be a commentary coming from hell itself with how ironic this all was. the one who decided to end things and cut ties with you shows up at your door, under your mercy, looking afraid of you.

as if the nights you spent crying wondering what went wrong didn’t matter. as if you didn’t suffocate yourself to sleep in the tears of thinking if it was all your fault, if you weren’t good enough, beautiful enough, not nearly enticing as the people day in and day out of the industry he works in. as if... you didn’t wish things ended differently if only you had the chance to make things right. as if he didn’t just disappear the second he broke your heart.

your head robotically manages to look down to the side where his hand is twitching as he has a hold on you. it feels like it’s barely there but the longer you stare; the veins and the tremble of his hand, it all confirms to you that it’s real. you don’t move a muscle as your eyes look back to him. the silence is your welcoming friend when beomgyu’s lips quiver as they part to speak, yet no words come out.

you find the strength to grip his wrist and push his hand off of you. you would’ve been quicker, stronger, if it wasn’t the way he holds onto your hand before you can shove him off entirely. it scares you, so much that your eyes snap shut to the unknown. in the midst of seeing the pitch black, the scarring image of his face still flashes beneath your eyelids. you hate how your stomach still churns at the sight of his face; how handsomely painful it was to swallow it.

his hold on you is tight, desperate... anxious. his hand... feels exactly like they way they were when he last held onto you. his slender fingers find their way to hold yours properly, feeling palm-to-palm. not even when you try to shake him off does he let go; he holds on tighter.

he takes a step closer, stopping when your eyes peel open and he gapes when the tears start to fall from your eyes. his lungs feel like they’re failing him; contracting, shrinking on him when he needs to breathe the most. ten seconds; it was only ten seconds that he stares at you in the midst of heavy breathing and his eyes start to water. hot tears stinging his eyes but he stubbornly holds his gaze on you.

just what on earth was he doing?

you’d be surprise that beomgyu was wondering the same thing.

where does beomgyu begin? ten seconds, with ten fleeting thoughts that rapidly thread through his mind. one, you look beautiful. two, you still, always, breathtakingly look beautiful–as if the months had done nothing but polish the imagery he had of you in his mind. three, i miss you. four, i miss kissing you. five, i’m sorry. six, i’m sorry. seven–ten, i’m sorry.

“i’m sorry,” is the first thing you hear him say under a whispered breath.

shaking; the syllables trembling to get past his lips.

the soft sound of surprise, choking from your tears, echoes into his ears like a stab to the chest. you’re squeezing his hand, so hard that it feels like it’s starting to dig into his skin, clenching to his bone but he deserves it. he deserves all the pain willing to lift from how much he’s hurt you.

the piercing glare he’s met with almost makes him break but he refuses to let go of your hand. it feels like the only leverage he has on you to make sure he doesn’t let you go. let you go. how truly, ironically idiotic. another step closer and you can feel his breath ghosting your skin. he’s already making you cry without saying anything and upon hearing his voice for the first time in four months makes your heart shatter.

“what do you want from me?” your whisper is broken, so soft that it can barely be heard but it cuts straight through beomgyu’s ears, aiming to strike a chord in his heart.

“y-you.”

the answer was simple, yet the most difficult to say.

the silence soon gets filled with the sounds of you crying and you trying to stop yourself from crying. it’s ugly, painful, and no matter how many hits to the chest beomgyu takes, he’s taking it all rightfully so. you grow tired, weak, unable to hold yourself up that beomgyu has his arms around you and he knows. he knows that he’s trying to be as close to you not for your sake but for his.

your presence was all he ever dreamed of since the day he said goodbye.

and now that he’s here at your doorstep, as selfish as it may seem, he doesn’t want to say goodbye.

beomgyu slowly shifts you back into your home when you don’t say anything. hell, you’re not even looking at him. your hands are glued to your sides, stubbornly staying there as he calculates his movements to close the door behind him. when he turns back around, he sees how you’ve moved to sit on the sofa, sitting crossed-legged with your feet folded between your thighs and you hug a pillow.

he swallows thickly and feels his hands getting all clammy. the fact the he’s in here speaks volumes but it doesn’t guarantee anything just yet. he makes his way towards you and kneels before you, sitting on his heels, peering up to you with a small frown. he keeps one hand on his lap, the other reaching out to touch your knee.

it seems like that captures your attention when you gaze down to his hand on you and–and...–”oh... oh my god,” you gasp, pulling out the ring from the box, adoring the simplistic but shining silver band with the engraving of his initials. “it’s so pretty!”

he chuckles and reveals his hand behind his back, making you grow wide-eyed at the similar ring he’s wearing on his middle finger–ignoring the way he’s flipping you off playfully–that you grab for his hand to see how your initials are on the ring he’s wearing. it was your one year anniversary and you’re certain he’s not proposing but it’s the sentiment that gets to you. you feel the tears filling your eyes and–he slips on the ring onto your middle finger, now laughing when you flip him off in return.

he snatches your hand and kisses your knuckles, shaking his head, “augh, such a cheeky little thing you are.”

“takes one to know one, you brat.”...–your eyes scan the initials imprinted on the ring he’s still wearing. it reminds you of the ring you shoved back into the box and in the deepest part of your closet... but the scarring memory of where it is is imprinted to your brain.

beomgyu was prepared for anything–but nothing can prepare him for the way you uncross your arms hugging the pillow to trace the engraving on his ring. it’s as if you’re in disbelief he’s still wearing it and it pains him. it pains him how sad you looked; as if he wasn’t the root of the cause to begin with.

he builds up the courage to speak when your hand goes back to hugging yourself, this time staring at a spot on his shoulder rather than outside the window.

“i never took it off,” he begins, clearing his throat when your eyes flicker up to meet his gaze. he notices a shift in your eyes when you notice that he’s crying, quietly, still trying to remain strong and tall to get his thoughts out. “i... i never stopped loving you. you’re–you were all i ever wanted to be with. still are.”

“it doesn’t make any fucking sense,” is the full coherent sentence you’re saying. it makes his gut drop to his stomach, his mouth going dry. “you broke up with me,” your voice is soft; a mere whisper. but it cuts through the thick tension; straight jabbing him through the chest. “you left me.”

he licks his lips as he shifts up, on his knees as he squeezes your kneecap, “y/n, please let me exp–”

“you don’t have to explain anything,” you move your knee to let his hand slip away, now keeping your knees in front of you like a shield from him, “you told me you didn’t love me anymore. told me you never wanted to see me again...”

he shakes his head at your words, trying to get a look of your face when you hang your head low, refusing to look at him as you hid behind your knees, “so why the fuck are you here?”

that gets him to sit back on his heels in defeat. he lowers his head to his lap. beomgyu has one hand on the armrest next to you, the other holding onto the cushion on your other side. at the lack of his response, you peek from over your knees to see how he tries to muster up a reply. and when it does come, you find yourself getting angry.

“i thought it was the best for you. i... you didn’t deserve a love like this,” his voice shakes as he speaks, “you deserve to have someone by your side. day by day–everyday. giving you the love you deserve and–”he gets choked up with his words, to the point it’s making it hard for you to breathe. you hated it. you hate how you believe every word he’s saying even if it’s making your heart break and again all over again.

“i thought you were better off with someone else other than me.”

you clutch onto the pillow close to your chest, sitting up a little until your eyes are aligning with his eyes the second he tips his chin up. tears falling from his eyes, your eyes; both crying, like miserable, broken faucets.

“have you ever thought to ask me?”

it was a simple question; yet the hardest for beomgyu to comprehend.

“have you ever wondered what it was like from my point of view? seeing you smiling on stage as if nothing happened to us. days of wondering of what went wrong, months of unable to put together why all of the sudden the one person who promised he won’t leave me, left?” you’re surprised you’re speaking without losing a train of thought. but you guess that’s what anger does to you when you feel your veins being set ablaze. the anger, the frustration, the pain; it all bottled up and now it was your chance to vent it out to the source of your suffering.

“i thought about you everyday,” he tries to defend himself, straightening his back, “i keep thinking of you. when i’m awake, when i’m asleep,” he gulps, brows meeting the centre of his forehead at how serious he sounds, “i miss you,” he whispers, “i’ve missed you so much–”he gasps softly when he tries to reach for you and you move away from him, dodging his touch trying to reach your knee.

“you don’t get to do this to me,” your words hit him; hard enough to get him to rise to his feet when you start to move away from him. you manage to stand, ditching the pillow with your mind pinning your bedroom as your destination to get away from him. the blood boiling from within is making the words fly out of your mouth before you can hold them back. maybe you’ll come to regret it later or maybe you won’t. in the heat of the moment–right fucking now–nothing else mattered.

“you don’t get to leave and decide when to show up promising me the moon and the stars and in the next, make life a living hell for me,” you’re now talking to the wind, to the hallway of your home because it was easier to vent that way than saying it to his face. stubbornly refusing to look at him as you trudge your way to the bedroom. based on the footsteps, the brush of his fingertips against your lower back, you can tell he’s following you closely.

your hand pushes the bedroom door open and you’re turning around in attempts to shut him out but you should’ve known better. should’ve known that your heart would grow weak at the sight of him; more so when he’s crying, begging with his eyes even if he doesn’t know he’s doing it subconsciously. his eyes have nearly gone red, much like yours but you always, always feel the hurt he feels even when you shouldn’t.

he holds onto your shoulders to stop you from closing the door as he steps in; to your room, to your personal space, to you.

“i’m sorry,” he says, licking his lips to taste the saltiness of his own tears tearing him down, “i’m so sorry,” his voice is softer this time, a weak whisper, a broken plea.

then he leans his forehead on you and it breaks you for the second time when you start crying again. he anchors you with a hand on your shoulder, the other reaching up to wipe the tears falling from your eyes.

“i-i can’t take back what i did. i can’t fucking rewind time but i can do better now. i promise,” he sniffs, shaking his forehead against yours, “p-please...” he begs, “please give me a second chance.”

for a split second, beomgyu’s heart stops when you blink up to him; past the tears, past the horrible struggle to breathe. the hammering in his head stops thumping to hear you sob a broken you didn’t even let me say goodbye.

beomgyu’s eyes shut as shifts his hands to pull you into his embrace; feeling his heart clench at the sounds of you crying and shaking against him. the consequences of his rash actions are being paid with each tear, each cry you let out that it scars his heart. and he knows it. slept with it every night, haunting him when the daylight comes through and the first imagery that comes to mind is the smile on your face he’s taken away. with a hand cradling the back of your head to the space between his neck and shoulder, the other clutching you by the waist to feel all of you. as if he doesn’t want to wake up if this was some sick, twisted dream; a beautiful nightmare, a bittersweet hallucination.

“you’ve hurt me so much,” your words are muffled to his skin, as he feels your tears burning his skin but he stubbornly holds on, nodding against the side of your head as he whispers: “i’m sorry.”

“i hate you,” you don’t mean that.

“i want to hate you,” and you have every right to.

“but i can’t,” beomgyu feels your arms weakly hugging him, then it shifts to a tighter grip as you pull him close. if this was a dream, you wouldn’t want to wake up from it, either. he exhales shakily as he feels your arms around him, welcoming him back home even if he knows he doesn’t deserve it but he’ll prove it. from the moment he saw you today, from the days building up to this moment; in every waking moment since he’s made a decision he’s regretted, he promised himself he’ll make it up to you.

it could be days, weeks, maybe months, but beomgyu wants to work for it.

for you, for us.

“i’m sorry,” he murmurs into your ears once more, and this time he feels you nodding into his shoulder with a croaky i know.

“i love you,” he tries his luck, even when he knows it’s too much to ask for.

he doesn’t get a reply, but he doesn’t need to when you simply snuggle into him and give his waist a squeeze. that... this was enough.

being in your arms, being home... this is love.

love itself isn’t easy and beomgyu knows that getting your forgiveness isn’t something that’s just granted. sure, the two of you fell asleep on the same bed that night, granting him to hug you and cocoon you from the pain he’s caused embedded in your chest but it wasn’t something you could forgive right away.

to be honest, as you woke up in the middle of the night and saw his face so close to you, it didn’t feel like you needed to forgive him for what he had done. an apology wasn’t something you were looking for; not when he was away, not when he’s here... perhaps... perhaps it was the reassurance that he truly did love you during the time apart; during the days and nights you spent wondering if your love was real... maybe that was the thing you needed the puzzle pieces for.

and it’s not something he can just say, that would be impossible.

it was hard. you love him, that much you know. he says he loves you but... that doesn’t feel like it when the doubts start to cloud your mind. not when you had accepted the fact that your love with beomgyu wasn’t meant to be; not when you’ve finally tried to remove him from your heart, only for him to stem his presence back in the deepest crevice you can’t seem to get rid of.

beomgyu wakes up to emptiness that morning and he pads out of your bedroom to see you preparing breakfast. even though all he wants to do is stride up to you to hug you, there’s something in the air of eggs and bacon that tells him not to... so he doesn’t. he asks if you need help instead to announce his presence and you tell him that he can help with getting the table ready and pour whatever juice he wants.

breakfast was eaten in silence but in the tension lighter than the day before. he feels his heart in a chokehold when you clear your throat and he looks up to this expression on your face he can’t piece together. he gulps the orange juice down and reaches across the table when he sees your fingers trembling as you hold onto your cup.

he makes you set the cup down and then he holds onto your hand. gently, reassuring you that you can say whatever’s on your mind because even though you two have been apart for months, once upon a time, beomgyu could read you like the back of his hand... maybe some information are out of date but he knows your body language. he still remembers the things about you to know you had something on your mind but was too nervous to speak.

“i... still love you,” your confession is soft but it was certain. beomgyu heard it and you know he did when he involuntarily squeezes your hand as an acknowledgement. “t-that much i know but... i need time...”

you swallow and look up, meeting his gaze with glazed eyes, “i took so long to heal from us,” you can feel your own breath wavering and you try to swallow it down but it doesn’t seem to work when you feel your eyes start to burn. “f-from you... the last thing i expected is you showing up on my door to tell me you still love me when i spent days convincing myself you never did.”

beomgyu’s mouth opens to retort, to tell you that you’re wrong, that you should’ve never felt anything of that sort but... succumbs to the fact that he can’t change anything you’ve felt in the past; during the time of his absence. your feelings were valid and they are real in his eyes as he witnesses more of the result of what he’s done. quietly, he seals his lips together and nods.

“i just need some time to clear my head and... and...” beomgyu hates the crack in your voice when the emotions get the best of you.

“hey, no no no,” he quickly rises from his seat and lets go of your hand. his eyes watches how you’re wrapping yourself up, trying to hide yourself but he’s crouching before you. his hands carefully peel you open so you can lean into his embrace as he lures you to bend from your seat, entering his arms as he slots your face to his neck; the tears trickle down his skin as he holds you closely.

it solidifies to him that he’ll need to respect your decision to give you the space you need until you’re ready to see him again... until you’re ready to love him again.

three days.

going to work eased the nerves, gave you some time out from overthinking about the questions you can’t get the answers to. you don’t even know what questions you had. you quite literally don’t know what you don’t know. it was confusing, frustrating... suffocating. it’s a bit lighter and bearable when you are on speaking terms with beomgyu despite him giving you your space. before he left the morning after you two reconciled, he asked if he could contact you during this time and you had agreed. that much you can give him, that much you know you can handle.

apart from the good morning’s and the sweet dreams’... everything in between felt like a blur. you two could still converse like you used to but you’ll be honest to admit that something doesn’t feel quite right. like something was missing... maybe it was trust? you weren’t sure if you trust him, if you could wholeheartedly trust him when he says he loves you.

you enter the quiet of your apartment and set your bag down. work has been idle, so it granted you some extra time to try to clear your mind but not without anything to do. as you switch on the television for some white noise, the knock on the door is what makes you jolt at the sound that resonates your home.

carefully, you pad your way over and take a look at the peephole, noticing a familiar looking face and–”y/n!”

“oh?” your eyes widen, gaping at the face smiling at you so widely.

“augh, don’t tell me you forgot us already!” soobin chuckles, spreading his arms out and you’re raising a brow at the word ‘us’ but you step into his arms regardess, peering over his shoulder to–”k-kai?”

“this is ridiculous,” soobin scoffs a laugh, squeezing the life out of you that you squeak a garbled: “s-sorry, sorry! i just–soobin, i can’t breathe!”

“hyung!” kai huffs, prying his arms from your figure. that grants the latter to cheekily pull you into his arms.

"ugh, hug stealer...” soobin mutters under his breath, patting kai’s shoulder when the younger boy clings onto you like a koala, now dragging you back in to your own home. they quickly settle in as if they live here, knowing where everything is from the layout to where you keep your cups you use to make tea and then making tea with what you have. they move like clockwork; soobin putting the water to boil and kai making you sit on the kitchen counter and you watch them.

kai occupies one of the stools you have by the island and soobin leans his hip against the kitchen sink as they both watch you fiddle with your fingers on your lap, legs dangling against the kitchen cabinets behind your feet.

“i... i’m sorry,” are the first words you say to them after a while.

soobin gapes, shaking his head, “h-hey, we didn’t come here for that...”

kai frowns as he hunches over the island with folded arms, a similar expression with soobin. being together with beomgyu meant that you were introduced to the circle of people he surrounds himself almost everyday. if beomgyu wasn’t here with you, he’s back in the dorm with them so it was a matter of time that you all slowly spend time together. and it happened so naturally that you forget that beomgyu’s the reason why you know the rest of the boys in the first place. you get along with all of them but for some reason, you gravitated towards soobin... who drags along kai just because.

it was hard to keep in contact with them when you know they’re with the source of why you were hurting during your break-up. seeing them felt the same like seeing beomgyu; it reminded you too much of him that you shut all of them out. taking advantage of the fact that they were away on tour meant blocking them on any social media platform and on your phone gave you the power to control what can hurt you and what can’t. and it can’t hurt you if you can’t see it. at least, what’s what you told yourself the second you started to dessert your phone and soon, all five of them are on your blocked list.

“i know but,” you offer them a small smile, “i’m sorry.”

soobin and kai keep quiet, returning your smile that slowly fades when you continue to speak.

“when things ended between me and gyu... it was hard to see you guys, let alone talk to you even if it was on text so i...”

“blocked us?” kai auto-fills, not with any malice but simply for the act of trying to help you. soobin hisses with a narrowed look he shoots at the younger, “huening!”

“what? i was just trying to help!”

“yeah,” you snort, now looking at your hands on your lap, “i didn’t know what else to do and i most certainly knew i couldn’t talk to you guys in the right headspace so i just did what felt right in the moment,” you glance up to see they’re both still staring that you shyly lower your eyes, “again, i’m sorry.”

“will you stop apologizing?” soobin huffs, crossing his arms and tilting his head at you. “we didn’t come here for an apology. we came here to check on our friend.”

with pressed lips, you nod.

then, curiosity takes over.

“did... did you guys know?”

both of them shake their head.

“he only told us after our show in chicago,” kai answers, now resting his chin in his palm. “then we all tried reaching out to you but–”

“huening, oh my god,” soobin chastises, to which kai rolls his eyes, “how else am i supposed to say it?!”

“oh i don’t know, maybe with a bit more sense?”

“you have no sense!”

the two of them only stop bickering when they hear you laugh, clearly enjoying the way they can still act how they did months before they left, as if nothing has changed and... the words slip out of your mouth: “you guys are still the same old idiots.”

three laughters now intertwining, filling the kitchen. slowly, however, the hilarity subsides, and soobin’s the first to break the silence.

“that applies for beomgyu too, you know?” beomgyu never stopped loving you.

you meet with soobin’s eyes and even when you don’t say anything, soobin can feel the sadness in your eyes especially when you look away. the disbelief evident, the betrayal still running in your veins, in your every waking thought.

“hyung never stopped loving you,” kai tries to help, “even on tour, he keeps writing these cheesy lines–”kai’s voice is cut short when soobin lets out a sound, a mix of a yelp and a tsk that it gets lost in translation. that’s not what gets kai to stop, though. what does is the way you quietly plead with a soft don’t.

“i-if you guys truly meant it when you said you came here as my friends, then please just come here as that,” they only notice you’re about to cry when your voice wavers, eyes still avoiding them. you hop off the kitchen counter, rubbing your nose with the back of your hand when you feel the tears incoming, “d-don’t come here to fix a mistake that someone else made.”

they can’t respond when you mutter a soft be right back and scurry off to the bathroom; closing and locking the door after. the two boys almost get into an argument on whose fault it is but decided against it when the water boils. they instead prepare instant ramen and cups of tea, waiting for you in the living room as they circle the coffee table.

when you return to the sight, on cue, both of their arms wave out a ta da! that it makes it difficult to stay mad at them. whether you knew them through beomgyu or not, they truly did care about you and that much was evident.

the three of you ate for the first time in a long time that night. all smiles; filling in each other on the ins and outs, the whats and all about. they stuck to their word. being there with you as friends; not a peep about beomgyu.

you were able to sleep well that night.

the next day, your daily routine continues from morning of leaving to work until the time you return. you’ve done the same cycle that sometimes you’re on autopilot; getting to work, clocking in, heading to your cubicle, seeing what you need to do throughout the day, grab lunch, then a snack, after that continue to work until you can clock out. today is no different... except when you reach home, there’s a guy standing outside your apartment complex.

just as you walk past and intend to scan yourself in, a voice breaks you away from what you were about to do–”yah... it’s only been a few months and now you don’t know me anymore?"

you look over your shoulder to the source of the voice, squinting your eyes when he’s clad in a black cap, leather jacket and black jeans–he might as well be a shadow for all you know. he tips his chin up and lifts his cap to let you get a good glimpse of his eyes. the glow of the lamppost illuminating his features for you to see that it’s–”jun...”

he gives you a small wave with that gummy smile of his.

“long time no see.”

"funny,” he starts off, “it feels like you broke up with all of us,” yeonjun says, his voice reaching you softly but surely in the quiet of the night. from your apartment, you obliged when he asked you to walk with me? and you can’t reject him when he came all the way from his dorm, probably after practice just to see you. he offered his arm for the taking, allowing you to link arms and he steals your bag to hold as the two of you mindlessly made your way to a park nearby.

that’s how you two ended up on a bench.

“it does feel that way,” you chuckle, shaking your head. you glance at him, seeing how he does the same when he senses you doing so, “i miss you guys, though.”

“feeling’s mutual.”

a shared sigh.

“i just couldn’t bring myself to–”

“you don’t have to explain yourself,” he cuts you off, letting out a soft tsk after. “we understand. i understand. i would’ve done the same thing if i were you. hell, i bet beoms would’ve done it way faster if he was in your shoes.”

“still keeping up with spreading the slander, huh?”

"it’s the only reason for my existence,” he winks at you, earning himself a laugh from you. the beautiful thing about yeonjun and beomgyu’s friendship beyond their group was how they had this playful banter. beneath that, there’s this root of respect and protection they have for one another, even if it may seem absolutely manic at times.

“i heard soobin and kai met up with you the other day,”

“yeah... it was nice seeing them,” you lightly bump shoulders with him, “nice seeing you too.”

he scoffs a laugh, “duh, don’t need to tell me that.”

“augh, cocky,” you snort, crossing your arms.

he makes a sound like he’s offended, hand to his chest. the two of you glance at each other and share a laugh... but you’re not stupid. you know yeonjun’s here for another reason and it’s clear when he pulls out something from his sling bag. a book, one that looks familiar and–”here,” he places it on your lap, then he puts his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

unfolding your arms, you hold onto the book, noticing the name choi beomgyu scribbled on the cover; like some high-schooler’s notebook. you eye it curiously but break away from it to look at yeonjun, who refuses to look at you.

“i found it in my bag when i clearing out my luggage and... i figured you should have a look. return it to him when you’re done, okay?”

he sees your hesitance, especially when you try to give it back but he makes you hold onto it, giving you a couple of nods of reassurance.

“what’s worse than what you’ve already went through?”

well... he wasn’t wrong.

“shall we go get ramen?” is the next thing he asks, as if he didn’t just give you a bomb to diffuse on your own. “i think there was a convenience store nearby, right? down the block?”

yeonjun turns to look at you when he doesn’t hear a response and tries not to laugh at your expression, the mix between what the fuck? and what is wrong with you? nevertheless, you shove the book in your bag and get up. then, you start walking, to which he gets up hastily to match your pace with a grin when–”you’re paying!”

curiosity gets the best of you that night.

you’ve showered, clad in just a shirt and shorts as you sit on the bed, blanket to your hip with the book on your lap. with shaky fingers, you open it and initially, it doesn’t make any sense... until the more you read, the more you can decipher the words and the dates that correspond with the time during your break with beomgyu.

they’re lyrics.

something kai said a couple of days ago echo in your mind: hyung never stopped loving you. even on tour, he keeps writing these cheesy lines–

you don’t process them as lyrics when the memories flicker through like a film in a rose-tinted film. the first time he asked you out, under a dingy lamppost near your apartment. the day you two kissed at the park underneath a tree in the middle of the night. one of the worst argument you had when you found out he was leaving for tour not from him, but from soobin. it felt like a domino chain of one memory after another, you barely make it halfway to realise yeonjun’s intentions of making you read this.

not for your artistic visions of approving beomgyu’s lyrics, but for recognising that you’re all he writes about during a time you thought he didn’t love you anymore. his feelings bare on the pages, bleeding through the ink of his pen as he writes about the insecurities of not being able to fulfil a partner’s wishes when he’s not even here most of time. how could i compare to someone else when i’m not even there? i’m like a ghost, your ghost, wandering and searching for your love, wondering when you’ll leave me when you know it’s easier to do it when i’m not around.

the realisation is relieving as it is painful. painfully overwhelming. you felt sad that he felt this way, then angry that he didn’t tell you about this, then happy that he was telling the truth all along. you were all beomgyu’s ever loved, love, still loves. it’s making your head spin, your mind blurry; it’s a clusterfuck of emotions you can’t comprehend. he should’ve told me. why didn’t he tell me? why did you suffer all alone? you only realise you’re crying when you can’t see things clearly, your chest heavy, breathing is more difficult when it feels like your mouth is being stuffed with cotton.

your phone buzzes by your bedside table and it’s...

[beoms 🐯] hey, you still awake? 🙇‍♂️ [12:42a.m.]

you push the book to the side and you hastily reach for your phone. with wet fingers, you don’t know what you press in the midst of trying to blink away the tears rapidly filling your eyes but the second you hear beomgyu’s voice echoing from the speaker, it makes your heart stop. unwittingly, you’ve tapped to call him and whether it’s an honest mistake or a nudge from fate, you’ll take it.

carefully, you put the phone to your ear, rubbing your nose with the back of your hand.

"please, answer me. are you okay? is something wrong?” the way he sounds worried makes your stomach churn, the butterflies roaming free like they once did; like they always did. it becomes clear; his intentions, his mistake. “g-gyu...” you try your best to contain yourself but it’s like he always knows; the tremble in your voice, the soft sniffs.

“ba–”he stops himself before his old habit kicks in, clearing his throat, “y/n, a-are you crying? what’s wrong?”

you inhale and intend to answer but a soft sob escapes instead. your hands are shaking and you can’t even hold your phone properly. the lack of response from you is all it takes for him to tell you to–”i’m coming over. i’ll be there in ten minutes. don’t hang up, okay?”

you hear rummages from his end as you sink in the bed, pulling your legs up and attempt to shrink against the headrest as you keep your phone to your ear. the line grows quiet on the other end and then it’s a couple of thuds and the sounds of his breath against the microphone that indicates he’s plugged in his earphones.

“t-talk to me. let me hear your voice, please.”

“i... i read your notebook,” your voice is soft, but beomgyu catches all the syllables.

the quietness from him dissolves when you hear the sounds of the outside world welcoming him. then the sounds of his clothes ruffling against the wind tells you he’s running.

“what notebook?” he asks mindlessly, trying to keep you talking so he knows you’re on the line with him. that you’re safe. that when he reaches you, he knows you’re still at where he thinks you’re are.

“the one you took on tour.”

you hear him stop running when his sneakers screech loud enough for you to hear. then it’s his soft panting, the slow realisation hitting his nerves.

“how–why did you read it?”

“because i didn’t trust you.”

beomgyu remains quiet and you’re squeezing your phone so hard, it feels like it’s going to shatter. your eyes are closed, snapped shut with the tears still trailing down your face but now’s a good time as any to tell him how you really felt during your few days of trying to process things.

“how could i believe you when you broke up with me? months later you show up at my door telling me you never stopped loving me and i’m supposed to believe it right away?” beomgyu remains by the sidewalk, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to stop himself from speaking. his hands, clench to fists in the pockets of his hoodie as he listens with a bated breath.

“i never doubted you for a second when we were together but the moment you broke up with me, i started questioning everything. i jumped to my own conclusions because that’s all i was left with,” the sounds of you crying grows evident when beomgyu can hear how hard you’re trying to breathe. the imagery of you crying, possibly curling up all alone is what gets him to start walking again, picking up the pace as he pins out the route to your place in his mind.

“i-i’m sorry,” he murmurs, shaking his head, blinking away the tears, “we’ll talk when i’m there, okay? just please stay on the line with me.”

you didn’t. not because you didn’t want to but because you can’t let him hear the cries that leave your mouth the more you process the words he’s written in the pages of his notebook. and that only made beomgyu run faster to get to where you are.

beomgyu’s partially breathless as he stands in front of your door, knocking on your door frantically. “y/n!” he calls out, giving the door a few more knocks, impatient with each thump of his chest that reminded him of how fast he’s sprinted to get here. he doesn’t let up until the door opens so when it starts to creak open and–”y/n...” he mumbles under his breath, still trying to breathe right but then he sees the notebook in your possession, along with... with the...–”promise me you’ll wear it?” beomgyu huffs, holding his pinky out with a familiar looking ring on his finger. you chuckle and hold out your pinky to lock it with his, a matching ring on your finger as well, “of course.”–beomgyu’s brought back to the present when you extend your arm out, seemingly returning his notebook.

he catches his breath, shaking his head as he peels the book from your fingers, “h-how did you get this?”

“jun gave it to me earlier,” you murmur, quietly, voice strained and beomgyu hates it. hates how you look like you’ve been crying so much your eyes are puffed up, your nose sounds like it’s blocked and how your fingers tremble–smudged with black ink–gripping yourself for support.

“why didn’t you tell me?” you ask, to which it seems like the question to what you’re referring to pops up like a haunting in his mind through the time you’ve spent apart; the thing that keeps him up all night since he’s made his mistake. truthfully, he only considered it for a fleeting moment before it disappeared, committing fully to a decision that broke his heart and yours combined.

“i-i didn’t know how,” he sounds helpless, the crack in his voice is what causes him to break, “i thought–”he swallows”–i truly thought...”his breathing grows shallow as he inhales through his quivering lips, his voice drowning in his emotions surfacing, tears pooling in his eyes.

”...i thought i wasn’t the one for you–”beomgyu lets go of the book, allowing it to thud onto the floor as he steps in. the door closes behind him and everything fades to black the second he enters your arms that welcome him in.

he’s still suppressing his emotions to his best ability; as if in some twisted way, he thinks he can still bottle it in. holding up a front. sticking his chest out. what gets him to crack is when he feels your hand running through his hair–like you’ve always did–the feeling of the silver band on your pinky, lightly grazing his scalp that it breaks his entire façade.

the promises weaving through each stroke–i love you, gyu. he feels your fingers–you love me. tangled between his hair–i’m here. your fingers glide down, resting by the nape of his neck–i’m not going anywhere. he feels you, the soft squeeze you give by his neck and he can breathe–you’re okay. beomgyu clutches onto you like a lifeline, his face buried in your neck as he cries, quietly. then, it grows louder with the agony he’s held in his chest thinking he was doing what was best for you, for us. the pain he’s carried alone, the weight of his thoughts burying him so far deep he hadn’t thought of allowing them to resurface but it all comes out; overflowing before he can restrict them at the feeling of you in his arms.

god only knows how long you two stay like that. until either of your breathing evens out. until the tears dry up and you two no longer have running noses. the air around you, though heavy, feels lighter than it was a few days ago. it’s more... calming, if it made sense. the tension that felt thick, seemed to have filtered out and all that’s left is–”i love you,” beomgyu whispers, his hands cradling your face past the tears that have dried up on his face. his nose, slightly red from all the crying and his eyes are slightly puffy but his emotions shine the brightest.

you’re no different. even when there are bags of emotions lining the under of your eyes, your nose seemingly blocked with damp cheeks, beomgyu’s able to see your eyes just as clear as day. the fogginess of uncertainty has faded away; washed by the tears. the clench in your chest has loosened, screamed and released through the cries you two shared earlier. it’s ugly, it’s painful, but that’s still love.

“i love you,” you whisper back; and this time, beomgyu felt it. you felt it. the two of you did. although certain puzzle pieces are left askew, the right ones are finally, finally back in place.

an hour later, the two of you snuggle on the sofa with cups of tea on the table. beomgyu embarrassingly has to explain the lyrics upon lyrics he’s written and braves himself to tell you what he’s felt during his time apart. the setting allows you to speak of how you felt, your thoughts, your conclusions; and he rebukes each one just as you soothe every insecurity he brings up. it won’t go away immediately and beomgyu knows–you know–it’ll take some time for him to prove to you each day he truly loves you but it’s... it’s a start.

it’s a start to loving each other again.

that’s all beomgyu could’ve hoped for and he’s got it.

a moment passes and now you’re curled up in his arms, resting your heads on one end of the sofa with your legs intertwined to the opposing end. beomgyu feels your heartbeat thumping against his chest as you rest on one of his arms, curled up slightly so he can play with your hair as he looks at you.

the redness in your eyes has subsided, your nose no longer blocked and you can breathe right. he feels freer, lighter, as if all is right now that he has you in his arms like this. without anything being hidden from you; the truth bare as his eyes gaze into yours.

"if you hide anything like this from me again, i’m going to strangle you myself,” your voice is soft and calm, in total contrast with your words that it makes him chuckle. for the first time in a while, he laughs as it comes from his gut; pure happiness bubbling from within and escaping in the beautiful sounds of his laughter. he nods and leans in, lightly brushing his forehead on yours, “i think i’d die first before you get the chance.”

that makes you laugh with him; quietly, at ease. feeling the security like you did before the rocky bump ever occurred. you let your eyes close as you scoot closer to him. he welcomes the way your arms sneak beneath the sofa to curl around his waist so you can snuggle him.

“can i stay the night?” he murmurs into your ear, and he doesn’t need to look to know you feel offended when he feels the way your body tenses for a split second. “you’re asking?”

he snorts, shifting his arms around you so he’s able to cocoon you in as he kisses the side of your head, refusing to look at you as he slowly succumbs to sleep with his announced decision of: “i’m staying the night.”

you smile against his neck and he feels it. more so when he hears the confirmation echoing into his ears softly.

“much better.”

as the night treads along, two steady heartbeats beating as one, beomgyu feels his heart resting at ease in the presence of yours. not all is rainbow and sunshines, nor will the scars mask over easily over the course of the coming days but... but–”goodnight, beomie.”

good nights are ahead of him as long as he had you in them.

((the boys wake up to a small commotion, ushering them out of their rooms to see what it’s all about. it was nearing midday and most of them were about to wake up anyway, but this... this definitely beats any morning call whatsoever.

they stand a distance away, four boys watching how you and beomgyu are trying to set up the dining table with takeaway food, an array of balloons that get none of the work done since you two keep swatting it at each other and a cake that takes the centrefold.

“well what do you know,” taehyun muses quietly, shaking his head as he leans against yeonjun, “guess you’ll never let this die, huh?”

yeonjun holds his hands out to receive the soft high-fives, “i’ll take all the credit.”

the surprise might’ve been ruined considering the four of them quite literally watched the two of you set it up but it was well-received (as it always does with the boys and food–). it feels like things were back in place; as if the boys had gained a friend again after being cut off for a couple of months. the pieces reconnected itself and stories upon sparks of memories fill in over a rerun on the television and all of you huddled up on the sofa, on the floor, circling the coffee table.

as you have your feet over beomgyu’s lap, you’re immersed in a conversation with taehyun (who the rest berated for not seeing you but he’s quick to defend himself saying he just wanted to give you some space and put a fucking sock it in, huening!) about what he found fascinating throughout the tour.

with beomgyu’s directly in front of yeonjun who sits on the sofa behind him, it gives the older a perfect clear in to hover over beomgyu’s shoulder with a poke to the cheek, "beoms,”

“hm?” the latter nonchalantly glances over.

“i mean this in the nicest way possible,” he murmurs, ”if you breakup with y/n again, i will never, never forgive you.”

beomgyu snorts and shoves him away playfully, eliciting a laugh from the older... but he doesn’t miss the way the younger whispers i won’t ever forgive myself, either. while yeonjun made it his mission statement to make sure beomgyu never forgets this, it feels like he succeeded with what he was intending when he sees how beomgyu looks at you adoringly; the light has returned in his eyes and it... it was nice.

fine, yeonjun won’t tease beomgyu about it... yet.))

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