#it was good to take a break and think through these
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Hiiii I love your lestappen stories, they are so good!!🥰🥰 I was wondering if you could write one where the reader is studying really hard for her final exams (she's so so stressed about it) and her boys help her relax a little 💗💗
gwen’s message. this is so me because i’m studying reaaaally hard for some exams i have to take next week and i just want lestappen to give me kisses and massages. 🥺
“Baby, you should take a break.” Charles says as he leans against the door.
You take your glasses off and rub the sleep from your eyes. “I can’t. I have all these papers to read and a lot of classes to catch up on.”
Max, who has been keeping you company since you started studying early this morning, scrolling through his phone, looks at you. “You can take at least fifteen minutes, it’ll do you good.”
“Max is right,” Charles walks into the room, stopping right behind you. “You need breaks between all the studying, or you’re going to fry your brains.”
You know they are right, but you also know that you need a good grade to pass the exams or you’re going to have to take them again; and you don’t want that.
“Just fifteen minutes.” You sigh, resting the back of your head against Charles’ chest.
His hands immediately find your shoulders and starts massaging all the stress off your body.
“Now, come here,” Max opens his arms, while getting comfortable against the pillows, and you don’t even need to think about it to climb on the bed. “Just lie down and relax.” He says as he makes way for you to lie down between his legs, your back to his chest.
“I’m gonna grab some oil and I’ll be right back.”
You barely have time to process your boyfriend’s words because your brain shuts off the moment you feel Max’s lips on yours. It’s barely a kiss, definitely not enough, and it leaves you wanting for more.
Max laughs when you chase after his lips and he just places a little peck on your cheek, making you groan.
Charles sits at the foot of the bed and gets rid of your socks. “You should try to sleep.” He whispers as his oily hands start giving you the best foot massage of your life.
You close your eyes, feeling one pair of hands on your temples and the other rubbing your feet and legs. It’s relaxing and definitely what you needed.
You wouldn’t have taken a break if it weren’t for your favorite boys. Always making sure you’re taking care of yourself. And taking care of you.
“Could — ” You swallow, feeling all the blood in your body rushing to your cheeks because you’re about to admit something you swore you wouldn’t in front of them. “Could you talk about racing, please? I know it’s weird but it relaxes me.”
They’re silent for far too long. But then, just as you’re about to apologise and run away, you hear them giggling; your favorite sound in the world.
“It’s not weird at all, schatje.” Max kisses the top of your head and you feel a little silly for ever thinking that they would make fun of you.
You can hear Charles’ smirk when he speaks, “You want us to talk about something specific?”
You think for a second.
“About Austria 2022.”
#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#charles leclerc x reader#max verstappen x reader#lestappen x reader#f1 imagine#charles leclerc fluff#max verstappen fluff#f1 fanfic#lestappen x you#f1 x reader
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Dogs II
Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle x Child!Reader
Summary: You don't like Ona
Mum and Mummy break up.
That's what they tell you anyway.
They say they're not in love with each other anymore.
You ask if that means they don't love you anymore.
They say no.
You ask if that means they don't love Narla anymore.
They say no.
You tell them that as long as you and Narla can stay together then it's fine.
Mum and Mummy call it a custody schedule. It means that you spend two week sleeping at Mum's house and then two weeks sleeping at Mummy's house.
Narla comes with you too.
You have the same custody schedule as her.
Things are different now that you don't all live together. Most of the different things are at Mum's house.
Like Ona.
She's from the bad Manchester and she's been hanging around the house a lot. You don't know what to make of her but you don't like the way she's taken Mummy's old seat at the table or the way that she's been sleeping on Mummy's side of the bed.
She sits in the front seat of the car too when Mum drives to training and does other things like the laundry or the hoovering in the house.
It's weird because none of Mum's other friends do that.
You stare at the food in front of you, poking at it with your fork.
Mum sits opposite you and Ona sits next to her, both of them digging into the meal that Ona made after practice was finished.
You sniff it.
It doesn't smell like food Mummy would normally cook and you look down at the floor, where Narla is waiting.
You dump your food onto the floor for her.
"Hey!" Mum catches you doing it and you wilt a little at her stern voice. "That's not very nice. Ona cooked for us."
You wrinkle your nose. "No."
"Yes, she did."
You shake your head.
"Sorry," She says to Ona," She's not usually like this." She turns back to you just as you dump another forkful of food onto the floor for Narla. "Hey! Stop it! Eat your food!"
"No." You stick your tongue out.
"It's not a question."
You dump more food on the floor. Narla's having a lot of fun eating it.
You're glad she's having fun because Mum very quickly puts you on the naughty step to 'think about your actions' before she returns to the table to eat.
"I swear she's not usually like this," Lucy says," I've no idea why she's acting like this."
"It's okay," Ona says, though the pit in her stomach at not getting you to like her is deep," She'll come around."
Ona's not quite sure what she's doing wrong. She's good with kids. She knows she's good with kids. Everyone's told her she's good with kids.
She just isn't sure why she isn't good with you.
She's tried everything. Toys. Food. Tv time.
But you just don't seem very happy with any of it.
You shuffle away when she sits next to you. You don't play with the toys she buys. You feed her food to Narla.
Ona's unsure how she's meant to win you over.
She stews on it on the sofa as Lucy gives you your bath. She forces herself to take her mind of it by scrolling through her phone, stopping on a picture of Coco she took just last night.
"Pup," Ona hears Lucy say," Say goodnight to Ona, please."
"No."
"Pup," Lucy's voice is firmer than before," Say goodnight to Ona or I'll call Mummy and tell her about how bad you're being."
That gets you moving and you shuffle over to the sofa.
"Goodnight, Ona," You say begrudgingly. You make a move to leave before you catch sight of the picture on her phone. "Is puppy."
"Er...yes," Ona says.
You shuffle closer, hands resting on Ona's leg as you lean to get a closer look.
"Is not my puppy. Is it yours?"
"This is Coco," Ona says," He's mine, yeah."
"Is he friendly?"
"Very."
"He likes dogs too?"
"Yeah."
You turn to Lucy with a disgruntled face. "Why you not say Ona has a puppy? I want to see her puppy!"
Your sudden turnaround shocks a laugh out of Lucy.
"Sorry, pup," She says," I didn't know you'd want to see Ona's dog."
You turn back to Ona. "I love puppies," You tell her," Why you not bring your puppy to see me and Narla?"
"I can bring him next time."
You nod. "Good." You grab Ona's hand. "Got a story about puppies. For my bedtime story. Read to me please?"
Ona grins, tightening her grip on your hand. "I'd love to."
#woso x reader#lucy bronze x reader#lucy bronze#ona batlle x reader#ona batlle#woso community#woso imagine#woso fanfics#woso
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Animal Instinct
18+ 3.5k ghoul x f!reader. graphic depictions of violence, wound tending, hurt/comfort, established relationship, feral/protective cooper, cannibalism, blood, dirty talk, vaginal fingering. gif credit. read on AO3.
written as part of the Saddle Up, Sweetheart verse, but can be read as a stand-alone.
When you're both ambushed by raiders, Cooper comes to understand the lengths he'll go to keep you safe.
This never would have happened if Cooper was still traveling alone. He would have been more aware of his surroundings, he would have seen the signs of an ambush long before he stepped into it, and he wouldn’t have been so focused on you instead.
It’s lazy to blame you, though. The fault is his. Without preamble or flourish he draws his revolver and starts emptying shots into the spill of sorry sons of bitches that decided they would ruin his evening.
Out of the corner of his eye he sees you move forward, weapon drawn. His lip twitches. Your grip is good, but your stance is horse-shit. If this is going to become a thing–you taggin’ along like this–he’ll have to show you how to properly fire a gun.
He refocuses quickly, stepping forward to keep himself angled between them and you. The ambush isn’t anything special: just a bunch of jumpy junkies with twitchy trigger fingers looking for their next score. He takes a shot to the shoulder, another to the sternum. He doesn’t feel anything but the impact and pressure of irradiated flesh being forced apart around the bullets. There’s no pain, not so long his system is flooded with chemicals.
It’s your cry of pain that sets his nerves ablaze. He fires two more shots–dropping the men who hit him–before he whirls around, a hot rush of fire rolling through him at the sight of you with a man pressed up against your back, one arm fitted around your throat while he crushes your wrist in his other hand, squeezing hard, keeping your gun pointed at the ground as he chokes you out.
That’s when he sees the knife sunk into your thigh, blood soaking a wide crimson circle into your clothing around the knife’s hilt. In this infinitely long and horrible instant that your gaze meets his. The pain and fear in your eyes trigger something in him, and the whole world becomes both brighter and slower all at once.
Cooper aims, fires, but his revolver clicks emptily. He doesn’t reach to reload. Instead, he moves on pure animal instinct, bearing his teeth and charging with a guttural snarl.
Adrenaline mixes with the chemical cocktail in his veins and he moves faster than the man reacts, ripping his hands from you and throwing both himself and the man to the ground with such incredible force it dazes the man beneath him, his eyes glazing over. He roars in the raider’s face, spittle and yellow flecks coating his dirty skin, before he lunges, sinking his teeth into the pulsing jugular below.
He lends no thought to how natural it feels to bite into warm, living flesh.
Rearing up, mouth bloodied and full of viscera, Cooper winds his fist back and strikes the man in the face. His first blow hits his jaw. The next strikes his temple.
Straddling him, he doesn’t stop hitting. One fist after the other. He aims for the jaw, the temple, the high of his cheek. He misses and shatters his nose with a satisfying crunch, blood spewing from his nostrils to coat his knuckles. His jaw breaks with a pop. Broken teeth and bone slice flesh, mixing with gore and falling to the dirt in wet chunks.
The violence feels raw and good, like the first deep inhale of a vial or a hot wet fuck. He swallows the blood and meat lingering in his mouth and lets out a rough breath. Gritting his teeth he hits harder, driven on by the scent of blood and dirt. The gurgle of choked breaths. The slip of split flesh against his fists. It's all gasoline on the flames your peril sparked.
Cooper thinks of him stabbing you. Choking you. He thinks of your watery eyes, bright and terrified. He thinks of everyone he’s ever let down, ever failed to save, and he keeps hitting. Even when the man beneath him seizes. Even when he drowns in his blood.
Even when he dies.
Cooper is beating on a hunk of ruined flesh when he finally stops, drenched in the blowback of it.
Wheezing breaths saw from his lungs as he places one hand on the dirt road, lifting himself off of the mess of battered meat. He stares down at his knuckles where pain throbs with every heartbeat. It's a welcome sensation. Not because he deserves it, but because the raider did, and because he delivered. Destruction with his bare hands. Suffering where it’s meant to be found. He drags his tongue along the soaked leather of his glove and greedily swallows what collects on his tongue.
Heart thundering in his ears, Cooper stands, dipping briefly to pick up his gun. The grip slides around in his bloodied hand before he holsters it, cloudy eyes scanning for movement until his gaze lands on you. Down on the ground, clutching your wound, you look like a doe with a bum leg, your eyes blown wide and afraid. You look… irresistible. Not just as a woman, not just as his woman, but as an easy meal.
He takes a step forward, lips parted. The edges of you are blurry to his addled mind. The only part of you that’s in focus is the bright red of your wound seeping into your clothes. His memories of lapping the salt from your skin cross wires in his brain and all he can imagine is holding you safe and sound as he devours you.
“Cooper?”
The sound of your voice acts like a shock to his system that drags him back from the sweet coppery tang of warm, fresh blood in his mouth. He’s standing above you, closer than he realized he got. The sweetness in his mouth sours into putrid rot and he takes a step backwards, rasping out a cuss under his breath. He turns his head and spits, aggressively wiping at his mouth with his sleeve, smearing away blood and little chunks of flesh, abruptly and horribly aware of himself.
Shame blooms in his gut, unfurling all the way up to a tightness in his chest. He looks down at the mutilated body on the ground. There’s no head left, just wet gore soaking into the hungry dry earth below.
He completely lost control of himself. He spits, wipes, spits, wipes, rubs his mouth raw against his sleeve in an attempt to scrub away the taste and feel of it before he dares look at you again. He contemplates shoving a handful of dirt into his mouth just to chase away the lingering tang. He never wants to see you–to think of you–like that again. Like you’re just another hunk of meat.
Your touch makes him jerk away. He looks at you sharply, furious that you would come so close after what he’s done. What he could have done to you.
“Cooper–”
“M’not right,” he says roughly, taking hold of your wrist. You flinch and he realizes that he’s snatched the same wrist the motherfucker he beat into a paste had been crushing. He softens his grip, throat tight like there’s a hand squeezing it. “Fuck, would y’just–m’not right,” he says again, an edge of desperation in his emphasis.
“I know,” you say, voice tender, as if somehow he’s the one in need of gentleness. “I know. So come back. Don’t shut me out.” There’s more authority in your voice than you have any right to have in your position, shaking like a leaf while you touch his face, hushing him with such tenderness it fractures something in him that he thought long dead and buried under the weight of the last two hundred years.
Wish I could, he thinks, wiping his hand on his thigh. That you would look at him like that even now, as if he’s somehow still a man, eats at the very core of him. Makes him want to shy away, prove you wrong, and disappear into you all at once. He takes in a steadying breath before he clutches both of your arms, moving you to the ground.
“Easy,” he says, voice barely above a rasp. “Y’bleedin’.”
You’re holding onto his elbows as he lowers you, gritting your teeth against the pain. He focuses on your discomfort, on the risk you face, fragile thing that you are, to keep his mind far away from the abyss he walked the edge of while maiming the body behind him.
His first priority is to stanch the bleeding. His movements become practiced, hands that of a soldier. He uses a strap from his pack to create a makeshift tourniquet, twisting it around a scrap rod. All the while he’s hyper aware of your gaze on him and the shallow huffs of your breath, the way it catches when he pulls the binding tight.
“Hurts,” you say tightly.
“I know,” he says, drawing his knife. He lifts your blood soaked pant leg–don’t pause, don’t think, don’t breathe it in–and slices open the fabric. “S’about t’hurt a whole lot more. Gimme a count, I’ll pull it on three,” he tells you, bracing one hand on your thigh, the other gripping the hilt of the knife.
“Okay, okay,” you say, sucking in a deep breath. “One–”
Cooper yanks the blade free, startling a yelp out of you that carries into a pained groan.
“What happened to three?!” You ask sharply, fingers digging into the dirt.
He hurriedly smothers the wound with the cleanest cloth he has before he works on tightly wrapping the wound. “S’better when y’don’t know it’s comin’.”
“Asshole,” you breathe.
The faint twitch at the corner of his mouth is reluctant, as if there’s an invisible string tugging at it against his will. “Can’t be that bad if y’still mouthin’ off.”
“It’ll take more than a measly stab wound to keep my mouth shut,” you say, familiar playfulness slipping in alongside the strain in your voice.
“Don’t I know it,” he grouses, glancing up at you. There’s nothing reluctant about your smile. It’s the opposite of his, earnest in a way he’s long forgotten how to be. You’re making an attempt at comforting him, he realizes, looking back down to finish his work, removing the tourniquet once he’s satisfied with the dressing. “It’ll do for now. Y’need stitches.”
“I’ll be fine,” you say dismissively, shifting onto your knees.
He makes a skeptical noise in the back of his throat, sheathing his knife. “Would it kill y’not to be so damn contrary?”
“It might,” you say, catching the lapel of his jacket and pulling at him, bringing his attention back to you. He looks down at your hand, stained now with the crimson wetness spattered all over his coat. His clothes are soaked heavy with misery and blood, but it doesn’t dissuade you any. You touch his jaw with your other hand and lift his eyes to meet yours.
“Hey,” you whisper. You’re close enough that he should feel the ghost of your breath on his lips, but he can’t. Most of the subtleties of life are lost on a man so close to death. The only ghosts he knows now are those of his past. “You okay?”
Holding your gaze, he doesn’t answer you. Sometimes you feel like one of them, like another specter haunting him. The only difference is that you haven’t died yet.
Yet.
“Come back to me,” you murmur. His vision refocuses, finding you closer than you had been a second ago. The warm pressure of your lips grazing his cheek makes him falter, wanting the tenderness of your touch so viscerally it feels dangerous to admit even to himself. “Stay with me.”
Your hand lightly cups the back of his neck, holding him without caging him. You move closer, settling in his lap, grounding him with the weight of your body against his. He moves at that, grasping your hips and squeezing.
“Stay with me,” you say again, the words as fervent as prayer. His own lips parted, he can taste the breath of each word, sweet and warm, the way a distant part of him remembers things like love could be.
Why? He nearly asks. You won’t.
He had thought himself immune to this sickly feeling. This sense of grief for someone who isn’t yet gone, but you rip it out of him. The truth of the matter is that the Ghoul should never have entertained your company. He should have left you where he found you and been on his way without ever casting a backwards glance. The Ghoul would have.
It’s Cooper who didn’t. It’s Cooper’s hands sliding up your sides, squeezing your ribs and pulling you closer, deeper. He kisses you hungrily, craving you the way the Ghoul can’t. The way a man craves.
I ain’t dead yet.
And neither are you.
Two hundred years of surviving for tomorrow has eroded his ability to exist in the here and now, but your touches demand it of him. Your lips against his bring him into the moment as he lives it. As you live it with him.
“I ever look at you like that again,” he says gruffly, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip, catching yours in the process. He moves you back enough to lock eyes with you. “You put a bullet between my eyes.”
Your lips curve in a bittersweet kind of anguish. “Like you’re gonna eat me? Because right now–”
He gives you a sharp little shake. “Y’know what I mean,” he says, startling the smile off your face. From day one he’s liked your wit, the cavalier way you face life, but on this matter he needs you to hear him. “You ever look at me, and I’m not there, you promise you’ll put me down.”
The set of your mouth turns to a flat line, your gaze somber, and you nod. “I promise.”
Some of the tension in his haggard lungs eases and he kisses you again, need shooting up his spine like a hot geyser. “That’s my girl,” he breathes, leaning back and bringing you with him, saddling you properly astride his lap, his long legs stretched out behind you.
You kiss him back just as hungrily, heedless of the blood and gristle between your melding bodies, and he’s forced to remind himself that this is the only world you’ve ever known. There’s no time before this, not for you. Your life has always been full of horrors, and for reasons he’ll never fully comprehend, you’ve decided he’s one that you want close.
He slips his hands under your thighs and squeezes, hiking your legs around his waist until you’re seated closely enough to feel the growing ache between his legs. You don’t miss a beat, grinding down against him so fervently his breath breaks into a low groan. Not even he can deny his humanity in this. You turn his blood hot and shock the deadened thump of his heart into thunder. You make him feel alive.
He’ll return the favor. He’ll turn his spit to wine on your tongue and make your whole body fucking sing.
Breaking from your lips, he uses his teeth to tug his glove free, letting it fall to the ground. His mouth feels sandpaper dry, but your lips are plenty wet.
“Open up for me, sweetheart,” he rumbles, parting your lips with the tips of his middle and index fingers. Your eager tongue slips molten wet between his fingers, your eyes hazy on his. He pumps his fingers slowly, cups the back of your head to keep you still while plunging all the way to his last knuckles before drawing them back. “That’s it… Get ‘em good and wet.”
It’s agonizing how easily you fall apart under his touch, and even more so how good you look doing it. Somewhat reluctantly, he withdraws his fingers from your mouth and with practiced ease maneuvers his hand down the front of your pants, curving his fingers to follow the contour of your pelvis until his fingertips slide through hot, wet arousal.
“Cooper,” you exhale, the pitch of your voice canary-sweet. If you have any care regarding the death that surrounds you or the blood between his body and yours, you don’t show it, nor pay it any heed. You’re focused entirely on him, lips parted on shallow breaths of pleasure. He strokes your clit in slow, deliberate circles, the rest of the world falling away the longer he watches your euphoria build.
Fuck, you’re goddamn beautiful. Why the hell you let a creature like him have you is beyond him, but he won’t let go. Not now. Not so long as you still look at him like this.
He swallows dryly, finally slipping his fingers into the welcoming heat of your pretty cunt. You’re soaked, his own personal oasis in the Wastes, velvet walls quivering around his toughened fingers. He angles the pad of his thumb against your clit and starts to finger fuck you in earnest, his cock throbbing beneath you.
“Fuck,” you keen softly. Your hands braced on his shoulders, you meet every thrust of his hand, huffing divine little sounds while he fucks you with his fingers, crooking them until he feels you shudder.
“Yeah,” he breathes, enraptured. “That’s it. Got y’now, don’t I? Ah ah, don’t get shy on me,” he tsks when your eyes fall shut. “Eyes on me, darlin’. Eyes on me,” he says, voice frayed. You pry your eyes back open and hold his gaze, your own heavily lidded. “Good, s’good. Y’close now, ain’t’cha, sweetie?”
You nod fervently, moans bubbling up instead of words, your sweet features twisted in the exquisite agony that comes just before climax. You roll your palms against his shoulders, fingers digging into the thick fabric of his coat. He wishes he could feel the bite of your nails on his bare skin, wishes it were his cock sinking into you, but all that wistfulness is erased the second you cry out, your back arching, your cunt squeezing his fingers as you’re pitched forward into the throes of release.
Cooper grits his teeth, baring them like an animal as he fucks you through the tremors, grabbing hold of your jaw to keep you from collapsing, to keep your eyes on him. You slide your hands up and cup either side of his face, yanking him into a messy kiss. He falls into it easily, slowing the thrust of his fingers as the aftershocks of your orgasm settle until his hand is still against you, fingers pressed in deep, savoring the feel of you.
You kiss him leisurely with tongue, teeth and barely sated hunger. Your bliss slows you, and Cooper is content to simply feel. Even the lingering ache of his own need is a welcome sensation in a world he so often walks through feeling numb.
After a time, he slides his fingers from your pants, wiping them absently on his own before wrapping his arms around you. You sink into him in turn, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. The sun has almost disappeared completely, and the chill of night is beginning to nip the air. All of this carnage will attract predators soon, but he finds himself unable to rush the matter. His embrace tightens.
“I love you,” you murmur.
There was a time long before his heart became an open grave that he would have been eager to return the sentiment, but hearing those three little words turns his tongue to lead. They flood him with memories of an era where love came naturally–the way only violence does now–and shooting a man in the head was the most abhorrent act he could fathom for himself.
These days, a headshot is a kindness.
His stomach is tight, a bile-like burn creeping up his throat. He screws his eyes shut, swallowing it back. To his relief, you aren’t tense with anticipation. Instead, you pepper butterfly light kisses along the scarred column of his throat, paying special attention to the nicks and scars along the way to his jaw.
You kiss him. He takes your face in his hands and deepens it, pushing into you until your back arches.
“I’ll keep you safe,” he whispers against your lips, the words both a promise and a prayer. Not to God–He gave up on God a long time ago–this prayer is for you. It’s what he knows. It’s what he is. No matter the monster that threatens you, you’ll always have one of your own to bite back. You’ll always have him.
Strained, quieter yet, he says, “I swear.”
Or so help me, I’ll swallow the bullet myself.
“I know,” you say, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. There’s a blissful kind of sorrow in your expression, but so too is there understanding. He kisses you, closing his eyes against the dry burn of them. He’s not sure he’s even capable of tears anymore. He’s been worn down to the bone by sandstorms and bloodshed. Nothing goes untouched by the misery of the Wastes. No one goes through it unscathed.
What he does know is that he will do everything in his power to see that you’re never broken by it.
#the ghoul#cooper howard#the ghoul x reader#cooper howard x reader#the ghoul x you#cooper howard x you#fallout fanfic#fallout#x reader#x reader smut#fem reader
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“My favourite student.” The teacher remarks with a touch of sarcasm. “…You asked me to stay after class?” Nervously fidgeting on the other side of the desk, the student stands at attention in the empty classroom. “This isn’t the first time you’ve fallen asleep in my class. You always seem so interested in the subject, but lately I can tell your mind is wandering.”
The girl nods sheepishly. He continues; “I just wanted to check in with you, see if there’s anything I can do to help.” She bites her lower lip. A long pause, punctuated by a shake of the head. What’s she thinking of… The teacher tries to read the mind of his student. He sits her down at his desk to finish the work she missed during her nap.
They work in silence together. Occasionally, he looks over at her. Mindful of his student’s wellbeing, he tries to think of other ways to help.
It’s so warm in here. The fans aren’t enough. Maybe if I was a little more lax on the dress code... He stares at her chest. Let her unbutton her shirt some more, or even take it off. A shorter skirt. She doesn't need panties. What if she didn’t wear a bra, either? I could call her up to the front of the class, let the breeze waft through her legs. I could see her pussy through her thigh gap. He catches himself, pushing his inappropriate thoughts out of his mind.
Maybe she’s just undisciplined. Perhaps I’ve been too soft on her. An old-school punishment might help… She gets up for a drink of water. The teacher watches her bum sway back and forth as she walks. A firm spanking. Turn her ass pink. Bend her over my desk and tell her how naughty she is for misbehaving. Have her pull her skirt up. Show everyone what happens to bad girls. Slap her asscheeks raw. Pull her panties down and force my fingers into her little cunt. Snapping back from his fantasy, he rubs his eyes as she sits down at his desk again.
Does she respect me? Authority is important. Can’t have some brat getting out of line. His eyes roam over her small, light body. I should put her in her place. Push my cock deep in her throat, face-fuck her. That would show her who’s in charge. Grab her pigtails and pull her onto my dick. Use her little pussy as my cum dump. If I fuck her whenever I want, however I want, that should keep her in line. She won’t be so proud once I break her pussy on my cock.
“Sir? I finished my work…” His eyes shoot up from her body to her face. She smiles meekly as she pushes the schoolwork across the desk. “I really hope I did good… I do like your class a lot, and I’m sorry for causing trouble.” The girl apologizes bashfully. “I really appreciate the extra attention…”
“Yes, ahem, uh… anything I can do to help my students…” The teacher desperately tries to collect his thoughts. “Anything?” She chirps. “Can I have some tutoring? My family is out of town for a bit, so I have lots of time… and I think something more in depth would help.”
#kxsalt short#kxsalt teacher#kxsalt ap#bd/sm kink#bd/sm community#bd/sm daddy#bd/sm blog#bd/sm relationship#bd/sm brat#cnc free use#submisive and breedable#daddy's good girl#needy pussy#fr33use#spank me daddy#free use slvt#corruption kink#soft cnc#r4p3b4it#attention wh0r3#needy wh0re#older daddy#free use toy#dumb slvt#spank my ass#older man younger woman#older men do it better#1cky thoughts#age pl4y#objectify me
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Realizing your true feelings for Gojo after he stands up for you
Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader
Word Count: 1,4k
Synopsis: You told yourself countless times that you aren't able to like Gojo Satoru, that he is nothing but a jerk. Until he stands up for you, until he shows you what he really thinks of you...
Warnings: literally wrote this in my break at work so don't come for me lol, fluff fluff fluff, reader getting insulted
Oh, how much you hate the way basically everyone looks at you. Well, not technically you, to be exact. It’s rather the person walking next to you who drowns in attention every time you are forced to go out together.
Not that you’d understand the hype. Gojo Satoru, the blessed one, the honored one, the strongest fucking jujutsu sorcerer of your lifetime.
“What’s wrong? Feeling left out, (y/n)?”
And probably the biggest pain in your ass.
“You’re such a whore for attention it hurts”, you bite back while rolling your shaded eyes the way you always do the second he opens his mouth.
His laughter vibrates through your body, annoys you to the core. When will this madness finally come to an end? When will they finally begin to send you onto missions with Geto, Yu or fuck, even Nanami? Why on earth does it always have to be him?
“Caught me there I guess. But it’s not my fault that I’m easy to look at. Not like you.”
You force yourself to take a deep breath in and out, to calm your tingling nerves and stop your fist from twitching. That fucker has some really good nerves. Only the sound of his name next to you simply drives you insane, let alone his stupid comments and oh too annoying voice. Is there really anything good on Gojo Satoru, something you might like?
“I hate you”, you hiss through gritted teeth.
“Aww, don’t be like that, (y/n). We both know that isn’t true”, he purrs, ready to grab your shoulder when you yank away.
“I’ll break your fucking nose if you touch me, jerk.”
“I’d love to see you try, princess.”
“I’ve never seen you around here.”
The sudden soft female voice that interrupts your rambling catches you off guard.
There she stands, an undeniable beauty with curves in just the right places and blonde hair that looks like strands of gold. The bluest eyes, the most breathtaking smile. And of course, her gaze is fixated on Satoru.
“That’s because it’s my first time here. After all, my eyes definitely wouldn’t have miss someone like you”, he replies with that cheeky grin you know oh too well, the cheeky grin that makes your blood boil in an instant.
Really? This is probably the worst time to start a flirty conversation. You were sent here to detect a special grade curse, to save this damned city from getting scorched. But he? He has nothing but her blonde hair and delicate smile in his pea brain
“Don’t you think that this isn’t the right time for a conversation like that?”, you mumble irritably.
“We’re just having a little talk. Who are you, his girlfriend? I highly doubt that. A girl like you would never have a chance with a guy like him.”
You have to blink a few times when her sugary voice spits at you with pure venom.
It shouldn’t bother you. Why would it? Gojo is the last person walking on earth you’d be in a relationship with, the last person who would ever want you. You, with your average looks. You, being a grade 2 sorcerer who has nothing special to offer. You, who never actually allowed herself to like Gojo. You, who is nothing compared to the woman standing in front of you.
Then why do her words feel like a knife in your heart? Why are you standing there like an idiot, sunglasses barely covering your pain? Why does his presence next to you suddenly sting so badly?
“Pretty disgusting words for someone with that face. Do you really think the world belongs to you because you look good? Let me tell you something: Apart from being hot, (y/n) is also unremarkable smart, astute and sarcastic. Someone as simple-minded as you should better avoid me. Now get lost, will you?”
What.
On.
Earth.
Did Gojo Satoru really stand up for you? No, did Gojo Satoru just call you “hot, unremarkable smart, astute and sarcastic”? Your heart almost beats out of your chest, pounding so roughly against your ribcage that you feel like fainting any given minute. A cruel storm of butterflies almost causes your guts to turn, makes you see stars. Are you dreaming, maybe? This can’t be reality. It’s impossible that-
“Hey, are you okay? I hope you don’t trust that stinky girl”, Gojo speaks out softly.
You can sense the way he eyes you up and down through his sunglasses, the little pout on his face revealing that he’s truly worried. Is that really the boy who teases you until you lose your mind completely? God, how much you hate him, how much you want to punch him into his stupid perfect face.
You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. But what is that little part of your brain that almost dies in excitement, then? What are those strange butterflies that never invaded you since you joined Jujutsu High?
“Hey, look at me.”
Your eyes dart upwards, get greeted by his bright blue orbs that look down at you in a seriousness you’ve never seen before.
“Tell me you don’t believe her.”
“She said nothing I don’t already know”, you reply dryly.
He shakes his head, still staring down at you with furrowed eyebrows. Who is this guy? What are those feelings? Why aren’t you able to look away like you always do? Gojo is only playing with you the way he does constantly. His bright blue orbs aren’t to be trust and you know it.
“I would choose you a hundred times before someone like her, (y/n).”
It’s like all life drained from your body, blank eyes staring at him in shock. This really has to be a dream. When was the last time Gojo has been nice to you? Probably never. He constantly teases you, drives you inane, makes you mad, makes you regret your decision to come to Jujutsu High and also…
Makes you feel save, makes you feel good about yourself, makes you feel affection.
Affection? For Gojo?
“I…I have to go”, you blurt out so abruptly that you almost trip over your own feet while trying to haste away.
He’s only picking on you like he always does. Gojo Satoru, considering a romantic relationship with you? You huff out loud, cheeks redden by the sheer thought of the dumb look you gave him. You aren’t better than the girls you despise so much, after all. He truly managed to wrap you around his finger like everyone else, even though you told yourself over and over to hate him.
What a pathetic jerk you are.
You spin around so fast you almost fall over, only to get caught in a pair of strong arms.
“You don’t believe me”, Gojo notes while keeping you in place.
“Why would I?”, you press out, not daring to look at him once again.
You need to get away from this cursed place, away from the honored one. It’s time to go back to normal, back to hating him with all your heart. Because this is all he is, right? Gojo Satoru is nothing but your rival…right?
“Maybe I can convince you with something else.”
Just when you’re about to protest and freeing yourself, he pulls you even closer and presses his lips against yours.
Time stands still, the lenses of your sunglasses pressing so violently against Gojo’s skin that they crack.
This.
This is the stuff your wildest dreams are made of, a dream you didn’t even allow yourself to think about. If there’s one thing that always seemed impossible to you, it was this. Why would you ever be more than Gojo’s rival, what is the purpose of seeing anything apart from a pain in the ass in him?
This right here.
Out of instinct, you wrap your arms around him as well, pull him closer and closer, take in his delicious scent. The sheer feeling of his lips collapsing into yours leaves you breathless, makes your lungs ache in the urge for air.
Until he lets go of you while panting hard, now glowing eyes fixated on you so intimidating that you feel yourself blushing.
“Believing me know?”
“You stained my sunglasses”, you breathe out mindlessly.
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#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#jjk gojo#gojo saturo#gojou satoru x reader#jujutsu gojo#gojo satoru#gojo fluff#jjk fluff#husband gojo#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jujutsu kaisen satoru#jjk satoru#satorugojo#jujutsu satoru
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nsfw, anakin skywalker
anakin never went for virgins, they were just too much work, but something about you had him jacking off in the middle of the night, furiously fucking his fist as he spilled all over it, your name on his tongue.
that’s when he knew he wasn’t going to rest until he got his share of you, the thoughts of how tight you are plaguing his mind until then. he couldnt believe he was going to find you at such an hour, wake you up just to potentially beg you to let him fuck you, his cock already hardening again.
he thankfully didnt have to look far, knocking on your room door a few times before you opened it, your eyes widening when you saw him standing there.
"anakin, what's wrong? why are you here?" you looked around, checking if he was alone. he sighed, asking you if you could let him in and you quickly did. "are you okay?"
he shook his head, not knowing how to tell you that he wanted to pound into you until neither of you could formulate any other thoughts. but with a deep breath he spoke up, "let me fuck you- just once i promise, no more. i wont even cum inside you- i could do just the tip if you want that. just- fuck, just let me do it"
he watched as your eyes widened, jaw dropping, absolutely flabbergasted at his request. he was rambling, he knew that, but he couldnt think of anything other than the aching between his legs, his cock twitching against his pants when he finally took in your sleeping gown. he expected you to kick him out, call him a freak, yell at him for waking you up over a matter so miniscule, anything other than the nod you gave him. he couldnt believe his plan worked, a smile gracing his features before he smashed his lips against yours, pushing you until you hit the couch.
he was licking into your mouth like his life depended on it, now settled between your thighs, your gown pushed to your waist so he could slip your panties off. his fingers ran through your slit, shivering when he felt how wet you already were. you moaned against his lips, his fingers working you open faster than he shouldve probably done it. he knew that he should take his time with you, take it slow and steady, but he was selfish when it came to you, always was.
you were so tight around his fingers, your gummy walls working on pushing him out, and he couldnt wait to bury himself inside you. you threw your head back when he curled his fingers, teasing that one spot that had you cumming in no time. he marveled at how quickly you came, his cock harder than it has ever been.
"shit, baby, you mustve been so worked up" he cooed, feeling slightly dizzy at the sight. he made sure to keep his eyes glued to your clenching hole when he pulled his fingers out, going to pull out his cock. he gave himself a few strokes before you sat up, eyes wide open as you shook your head.
"just the tip" you whispered, making him groan, remembering then why he never went for virgins. sure it was his idea, but he didnt actually mean it.
"come on, baby. the tip isnt going to make you feel good" he tried, kissing your earlobe in an attempt to convince you.
"its gonna hurt" you whispered, breaking off into a sigh as he kissed down your neck, his hand gripping his base tightly at the sounds you were making.
"but itll feel so good for the both of us. do you want me to feel good?" he whispered against your skin, laying you back down before sitting back himself. you nodded in response and he smiled at you, "oh, sweetest girl with the sweetest little pussy" he laid a kiss over your hole with that before sitting back, his hand working over his cock again before he finally pushed himself into you.
you were struggling, he could see it on your screwed up face, and he could no longer take it, suddenly feeling guilty. he let his eyes drop to where he was slowly sinking into you, his thumbs holding your folds apart, thumb rubbing your stretched hole once he was fully sheathed.
he looked back up only to find you fighting back tears, and he quickly kissed away the stray ones, forcing his hips to stay still as he waited for you to give him the go ahead. "such a good girl, did so well for me, baby. thank you"
he could tell you just wanted to please him when you told him to move despite your trembling lips, but he had never been able to deny you a single request. he sat back on his haunches, thumbs once again holding your folds apart as he slowly pulled back, and he nearly came when saw the way your hole held onto him so tightly, your warm, velvet walls already gripping his tip like a vice.
#ꨄ lanita writes#anakin skywalker#star wars anakin#anakin smut#anakin skywalker imagine#anakin x reader#anakin x you#anakin skywalker x you#anakin skywalker smut#hayden christensen#hayden christensen x reader#hayden christensen smut#star wars smut#smut#x reader
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Fresh Out The Slammer
pairing: oscar piastri x norris reader; lando norris x sister reader; talks about carlos sainz x norris reader (past relationship)
series: the tortured poets department
synopsis: 'fresh out the slammer,' slammer meaning jail. y/n looks back at her old relationship with carlos sainz as if it was like being in prison. she's finally escaped and found love with oscar piastri.
warnings: ptsd; the media being horrible
author's note: I'M IN LOVE WITH THIS!!! hope y'all like it 🥺
Another summer taking cover, rolling thunder
He don't understand me
Splintered back in winter, silent dinners, bitter
He was with her in dreams
You wake up distraught and sweaty in the middle of a hot Australian summer night. It was because of a dream you had about Carlos with the whores you would see him with.
"Are you okay honey?" Oscar mumbles. He notices the state that you were in, it was like you were struck by thunder. "Let me get you water."
Oscar turns on the lamp by his bedside to then go to the kitchen you get you a glass of water. Once Oscar comes back to give you the water, he gives you a minute before asking the question. "What's wrong honey?"
"I ... had a dream about Carlos," you take a deep breath and continue talking. "It felt so real. I felt like I was back with Carlos and seeing him with whores while I was alone splintered back in winter. I remember I would eat my dinners in silence and be bitter that Carlos was with girls while I was alone."
Oscar can tell it was still hard for you to talk about your past relationship with Carlos, you did spend 3 years with him. "I don't think I will fully understand or feel what you went through with your relationship with Carlos. My past relationships have been short term. But I will always be here to listen and comfort you." He hugs you so that you two can cuddle back in bed.
"Thank you for always being there even when you don't understand." You lightly kiss him and fall back to sleep. Slowly you were breaking free from the slammer of the trauma you had with your past relationship and healing with the love of your life.
Years of labor, locks and ceilings
In the shade of how he was feeling
But it's gonna be alright, I did my time
The 2024 season started back up at the beginning of March at the Bahrain Grand Prix. You were excited to be back in paddock to support your brother and your boyfriend. They had both left early in the morning to start practicing for qualifying.
Once you got into the paddock, you see the Ferrari garage and remember the years of labor, locks, and ceilings you went through with Carlos and Ferrari. It was always in the shade of how Carlos was feeling, Ferrari red.
As you walk past the Ferrari garage to get to McLaren garage, you hear a voice that was familiar to you. "Y/N!" It was Alexandra.
"Oh my god! Hi, Alex." You both hug. One of the things you actually miss from Ferrari was your friendship with Alex.
"How are you? It's been so long!" She exclaimed. "The last time we saw each other, it was a bad time." Last time you saw Alex was at your failed wedding with Carlos.
"I've genuinely been doing good." You smile sympathetic to Alex. "I'm happier than the last time we saw each other. How are you and Charles?"
"We're doing amazing!" She says happily. "We're having a baby boy soon."
Your eyes widen at what Alex had spilled. "You're having a baby!"
"Oh not an actual baby," she giggles. "We're getting our baby dachshund in a few weeks."
"Oh my god! That's so exciting! You need to post pictures of him as soon as you get him." You exclaim to Alex about the puppy her and Charles were getting soon.
Speaking about Charles, he comes up and Alex with none other than Carlos with him. This will be the first time seeing each other physically. "Hi, Y/N. How are you?" Charles asks.
"I'm doing very well. Alex was telling me you guys are getting baby dachshund in a few weeks." You notice that Carlos was staring at you while you were talking to Charles. You just ignore him and pay attention to your conversation with Alex and Charles.
Alex tells Charles about what she said about the baby dachshund. "We're excited about starting our family by adding Leo." Charles smiles while talking about his baby dachshund. "But one day, we'll start our own human family."
'I'm happy for you guys for starting a family." You smile at them. "I've always wanted to start a family of my own. Right Carlos?" You ask him since he was listen to the conversation as well. He was too stunned to speak.
While you were waiting for Carlos to respond, two drivers wearing papaya colored race suits join the conversation. "What are we talking about?" Lando asks.
"We were talking about Charles and Alexandra starting a family by them getting a dog." Carlos says completely ignoring your question. He notices Oscar back hugging you while you're listening to the conversation.
"I'm getting a nephew! I thought Y/N would give me on before you Charles." Lando says jokingly to the group. Everyone except for Carlos laughs at Lando's joke.
"One day we'll give you a nephew or niece mate." Oscar says to the group then looks at you. "Let me put a ring on her finger and get tied to her first before that." You smile at what Oscar says.
Even though you did your time, it was going to be alright for you. You found the one.
Camera flashes, welcome bashes
Get the matches, toss the ashes off the ledge
As I said in my letters, now that I know better
I will never lose my baby again
Tonight was the race of Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. News got out that Carlos would not be racing since he had to get his appendix removed. You and the rest of the McLaren team sent your sympathies to the Sainz family by sending them flowers and letters wishing him to get better.
As you scan your vip paddock pass through the gates, a bunch of cameras flashed at you with reporters asking you questions. "Y/N is it true that you were happy that Carlos wouldn't be able to race tonight? That he was finally getting his karma for the way he treated you."
"That's a ridiculous and disgusting question ma'am." You says to her in disgust as she points the mic to you. "What type of person would wish evil on a person? Even though Mr. Sainz and I aren't in a relationship, I would never wish evil on him. Earlier today, the McLaren team members and I wrote letters and sent flowers wishing Mr. Sainz and his family to have a smooth and speedy recovery. Get your facts straight next time and have a good rest of your night ma'am." You say your final thoughts and leave to go to the McLaren garage.
You see Oscar waiting for you, "You were really strong out there honey. You spoke nothing but the truth." He says and kisses your temple.
"You're not mad at me for speaking about him, baby?" You ask him.
"No because I know who you are and what your intentions are. That's what I love about you." He smiles at you and you both go into the garage so he can get ready for the night race.
If you were in your previous relationship, he would've got mad at you for speaking to the media. But now you know that you'll never lose your baby again.
****
f1news Carlos Sainz’s ex fiancé, Y/N Norris, speaks out to a interviewer about her feelings towards Sainz getting his appendix removed. Norris, silencing the rumors that she's happy her ex fiancé isn't racing at the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix, states "Even though Mr. Sainz and I aren't in a relationship, I would never wish evil on him. Earlier today, the McLaren team members and I wrote letters and sent flowers wishing Mr. Sainz and his family to have a smooth and speedy recovery."
Oscar Piastri, Norris' current boyfriend and brother's McLaren teammate, states in an interview after receiving 4th place at the race, "Y/N is the strongest and most compassionate woman I've ever known. It's disgusting that the media asked her if she was happy Carlos was in the hospital. She would never wish evil on him even though she went through the slammer in her relationship with him."
user1 @yourinstagram is so classy. i would’ve wished evil for the man who put me through hell
user2 THE AUDACITY THE INTERVIEWER HAD TO ASK Y/N THAT QUESTION
user3 @oscarpiastri is a keeper @yourinstagram 🥹
user4 @oscarpiastri speaks so highly of @yourinstagram HE’S SO IN LOVE 😭🥺
****
Now, pretty baby, I'm running
To the house where you still wait up, and that porch light gleams
To the one who says I'm the girl of his American dreams
After the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix, you and Oscar decided to take a small vacation at Oscar's family home the week before his home race. From there you finally got to meet his parents and his three sisters.
You guys were outside on the porch with the light gleams roasting marshmallows at the camp fire. "Oscar, you need to stop hanging out with Logan because his American traditions are rubbing off on you." One of Oscar's sisters jokingly says in front of the family.
"Well isn't this what American families do? Roast marshmallows in the summer on the pouch. It's a plus that I have the girl of my American dreams." Oscar looks at you smiling.
"You're not even American baby." You laugh at what Oscar said in front of everyone.
And no matter what I've done, it wouldn't matter anyway
Ain't no way I'm gonna screw up now that I know what's at stake
Here, at the park where we used to sit on children's swings
Wearing imaginary rings
But it's gonna be alright, I did my time
Once the rest of Oscar's family went inside the house, Oscar decided to take you to the park near his house. You guys sit down on children's swings talking about the past and future.
"Thank you baby for loving me." You say grateful that you found love again. "Even if I went through a lot."
"Loving you is easy honey. I know you've been through a lot but what matters now is us and our future." He gets off of his swing and drops one knee down in front of you. Your eyes start tearing up. "Y/N these past few months have been nothing but bliss. There's no way I'm screwing up now that I know what's at stake. You have my whole heart."
"Y/N will you marry me?"
You stand up and say happily, "Yes baby. Forever and always."
After years of going through the slammer, you were going to be alright at the end.
Now, pretty baby, I'm running back home to you
Fresh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to
(Fresh out the slammer, oh)
yourinstagram now, pretty baby, i'm running back home to you @oscarpiastri 💍🩵
oscarpiastri i'll always be by your side no matter what 🩶
liked by author
landonorris THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! MY FAVS ARE GETTING MARRIED!!!
liked by author and oscarpiastri
oscarpiastri you're stuck with me forever @landonorris
landonorris i like that
yourinstagram excuse me @landonorris he's my FIANCÉ not yours 😒
mclaren congrats @yourinstagram and @oscarpiastri happy for you guys 🥹🧡
liked by author and oscarpiastri
yourinstagram papaya by blood, now papaya through marriage 💍🧡
liked by mclaren
*comments have been limited*
f1news FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER: Oscar Piastri and Y/N Norris arrive at the Australian Grand Prix after announcing engagement on social media. Congratulations @yourinstagram and @oscarpiastri
user1 I BET CARLOS IS CRYING IN HIS ROOM RN
user2 I'm so happy for my parents 🥹
user3 After years of Y/N being unhappy in her relationship with Carlos, she's finally out of the slammer. She's thriving and now engaged with Oscar!!! 😆
user4 thank you carlos for breaking my girl's heart so that she can be happier without you
tagged: @omgsuperstarg @splaterparty0-0 @2pagenumb @c-losur3
#f1#lando norris x reader#carlos sainz x reader#taylor swift#the tortured poets department#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri#lando norris#carlos sainz#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader
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TEN'S A GOOD NUMBER
Aaron Hotchner x psychiatrist!reader
Sypnosis: After Aaron's traumatizing encounter with Peter Lewis, he's sent to you, but who knew a profiler is the worst patient you'll ever have?
Warning: enemies to lovers— ish(?) angst. a dash of fluff. light mentions of death and trauma. a few curses. went ballistic— it's lengthy, so pace yourself.
A/N: loosely follows Mr. Scratch timeline for three seasons.
Monday, May 4, 8:34 AM
Aaron Hotchner sits across from you.
He studies you in every detail like he's about to take an exam, and you're the topic.
The weight of your scribbles—light, almost featherlike. Ink leaves a soft trail of words, a map of your thoughts, your perception of him.
The speed of your hand. Swift and elegant. Each movement portrays a scene in a movie. As if they're telling a quiet story, your story he is yet to unravel.
The way you deprive him of eye contact.
What are you hiding?
Why can't you look him in the eye?
The occasional nod to remind him that you're listening—not like anything's coming out from his end.
In conclusion, just about everything you do, really.
To Aaron, you're a cheat sheet. His way back to the field, to work—the part of his life that cannot be halted despite the need for a break.
"Your hand is heavier," Aaron vaguely goads.
You silently stare at him, waiting for the rest of his thoughts to spill out of his mouth.
"Usually, you write like you're afraid to puncture the paper, but just right now, your strikes are deeper. Your grip on your pen is also tighter. Am I annoying you?"
Creative.
You think to yourself as he rakes his eyes down the canvas of your face, blank and land of nothing but mirroring eyes.
Although you prefer Aaron's comment about your new lipstick and how it makes your skin glow—something about your prospect of finding a lover—fifteen minutes into your session. You didn't peg him as a man who knows his lipstick shades, but you stand corrected as he says coral with the utmost confidence for a man who wears his tie like a choker.
Aaron does it all the time. Every five minutes, he says one thing he's noticed about you and then proceeds to zip his mouth, denying you details about him like you're some hired criminal paid to torture the King's hidden fortune out of him.
And as per your entertainment, you'd do something out of your character to throw him off. If you can laugh at his gullibility, you would.
His goal is to intimidate you. Pressure you. Make you tick like every other serial killer he's encountered. Because he'd really rather be across an unsub than you. Aaron would rather be the one to ask questions and not you. In his eyes, you're no better than a small-town detective ignorantly interrogating a serial killer for a cheap gas station robbery, unaware of the skeletons in his closet.
At this moment, Aaron ponders why he agreed to meet with you once a week only to sit in almost absolute silence for about an hour, then go about his day like he hadn't just wasted minutes of his—and your—life.
It's always the same.
He arrives, flaunts his profiling skills for an accumulated total of twelve minutes, and then sits across you like a rock for the remaining forty minutes.
Aaron could've talked more, but...
He despises you.
Well, not you, per se. He despises the profession, and you just happen to choose it as your career. Nonetheless, Aaron generalizes and includes you on his list.
He finds it unnecessary and a waste of one's valuable time. Presenting a series of well-thought-out facts that he's sure Spencer Reid will enjoy. A list of reasons why talking to a psychiatrist isn't as helpful as people perceive it to be.
Aaron spits the words 'family' and 'friends' for the sake of ease and comfort as if he doesn't flinch at the words 'your father' and his face hasn't been frozen into a permanent stern. Because why talk to someone who doesn't know you when there are people who know you best? He lies through his teeth. He lies to himself.
Then, there's you.
You don't know him enough to trust his lies.
"Profiling me won't get you cleared," you state out of the blue. "This is our seventh session, and you haven't said anything." You add, finally lifting your gaze.
Aaron feels taken aback. He'd never encountered a shrink with such pride at their job—they managed to infuriate him. You infuriate him.
Now that you've granted him the wish—your eyes meeting his—it's having an effect on him instead. One that he wishes he didn't feel creep under his skin, stimulating the anxiety he's worked hard to ignore.
Still, Aaron squares his shoulder, "Nothing is wrong with me," He claims like he's not feeling the pit of his stomach churn with every word. "I'm only here for the formalities." He says.
"Ahh," You deadpan, pulling your eyes down on your clipboard. Hushed scribbles echo in the room. "Is that what you told, Dr. Briar? Or Dr. McCormick? Stiles doesn't seem to remember you at all—"
"They deemed me fit to go back to work, which you don't seem to realize." Aaron cuts you off. He doesn't notice the slight lilt of his voice. How a vein peeked on his forehead as he furrows his brows.
You have an effect on him, and Aaron's in strong denial.
"How?" You lean a bit, propping against your lap. It's the first time he's ever let himself tear out of his 'I don't break' shell. You consider it a crumb of a breakthrough and a laughable stain on your pride.
Challenging his stability—you raise your brows—makes him tick.
A faux frown draws on your face—patronizing, "Did you play a staring contest, and they lost against you?" You notice the little twitch of his eye masked as a blink.
It's a little unprofessional to provoke your patient, but you do, anyway.
This one's been particularly adamant about manipulating you into permitting him back to work like you were born yesterday. You think it hilarious how smug he's been for the past six sessions. It is as if you didn't spend almost half of your life devoted to the study of behavior. Like you hadn't figured out his plans from the get-go.
Profilers. They catch a criminal out of idea of sorts, and they think they can read everyone. It makes you want to laugh while pointing at him.
Aaron stares at you with his usual stoic expression, intimidating eyes filled with unforeseen horrors, and a straight mouth that's no use in your four walls.
He decides then that he hates you with a passion.
You feel a vibration on your wrist, "Would you look at that? Your time's up, Hotchner." You withdraw, straightening your back as you scribble yet another word Aaron is curious to know.
If he only knew you're not really writing anything new about the nature of his mental state or anything legible at all, you imagine Aaron exploding like a stack of case files blown by harsh wind.
But can he blame you when he's given you nothing to write?
"Agent Hotchner," He corrects with gritted teeth. Aaron's jaw clenches as he pierces his gaze through you. His hands intertwined with each other as if he's preventing himself from clawing at you.
You smile at him, "In this room, you're just Aaron Hotchner. A patient. A case." You know the specific word will piss him off, much less the motherly tone you paired it with.
A tactic. Unlike him, you don't need a team of agents to get a rise out of a culprit. The bare idea of you, a stranger who has access to his life on a piece of paper, is enough a stimuli to get an individual aiming at your neck.
"So, between you and me, I think you should start talking if you ever want to fly to wherever city your team wanders in. The longer you take, the less progress we make, and the less progress you make, the more possible that the bureau will assign a new psychiatrist for you." You say nonchalantly, letting his anger lead him right into your trap.
The words float like small fire specks of dust, both dazzling and dangerous to the eyes. Getting assigned to a new psychiatrist is like getting an easy case directly handed to Aaron. However, it also means he'll have to restart his psych evaluation process, and he knows firsthand how time-consuming that is.
"But, then again, who knows? Maybe the next fella will let you slide like the others did. Or you'll have to attend a series of sessions again for a lengthy psych evaluation. I've got friends too, you know? They might do me a favor and make your life more… difficult." You're bluffing. In no way, shape, or form will you jeopardize his health, even if Aaron's the most stubborn patient you have ever met in your lifetime.
His nose flares as he stands up. You know that he's done and murdered you in his mind at the way he's glaring at you with invisible daggers, but you play it well and act blameless.
Aaron marches out of your office with blazing hatred. You watch as he dulls every vicinity he's stepped into like death taking a stroll. A part of you is apologetic to his colleagues. They'll be having one hell of a day.
Retreating back inside your office, you plop on your chair behind your desk as a heavy sigh escapes your lips.
You stare at Aaron Hotchner's patient chart.
"What am I going to do with you?" You ask rhetorically in the air.
Aaron Hotchner is—for you at least—a special case. A case so intricate you had to be careful how you'd tread the water, wary of its fragile ripples.
When Aaron's chart landed on your desk, you immediately knew that he'd be toilsome. He'd make it his goal to skip the talk and jump back onto another case. The same routine he did with his old therapists and psychologist, anyone that was able to write a note and say he's fine when he's really not—never have been for a long time.
You already had enough patients on your plate, but you just couldn't say no to your favorite Italian patient; you only had one. You're the best bureau-mandated psychiatrist. His words, not yours.
Then, again, you never fail to mentally brag about how easily you read Aaron just from his chart, his image, and the first step he took to get inside your office. You read him like an open toddler's book, a piece of cake.
During the first session, you learn how badly Aaron's last case had affected him. The intonation of his voice. The way he'd shake his hand, your hand. His scorn. His fiddling fingers.
It's amazing how he's managed to divert his anger towards you instead of the man who traumatized him.
Melodic ringing snaps you out of your trance.
Aaron Hotchner might just get what he wants.
Sunday, May 10, 11:51 PM
A sniffle tickles your nose as you lay flat on the carpet floor of your apartment.
Your face stings from tear stains, and you muse how horrid you must look after your makeup runs dry. Your chunky heels were still on. In a minute or two, you expect one of your feet to cramp.
The day has been hostile towards you.
The mind, which used to be an oasis of positive thoughts, has gone draught. Sleep begins to blur your vision, and you don't hesitate to let it take over.
Until a bombarding knock jolts you up.
"I'm here! I'm here! Calm down!" You shout as you swing the door open. A familiar man stands in front of you with a dour face. Your eyebrows narrow tightly, "Mr. Hotchner—"
"What did you write?!" Aaron badgers as he storms inside your apartment like he owns the place. He pivots on the balls of his feet once he's reached your living room, glowering at you with scalding fury. "I was relieved to know that you released me from your care and looked forward to my clearance. So, tell me why a random therapist called me this morning to confirm an appointment I didn't even know I had. What did you write on my report that I have to go through this again for the second time? Is dealing with your sick games not enough? I'm fine. I know I'm fine. I'm straight in the head to go back in the field. I aced the psych evaluation questions. Your sessions are the problem. You're the problem." His ears, face, and neck are burning red. If he's a cartoon character, you imagine he'd be steaming with smoke by now.
Quite surprised; you're standing speechless. You're watching Aaron like he's a crazy old hag yapping about the Revolutionary War and how she hates not having the power to shoot every redcoat for the sake of rage.
You head towards your sofa, taking a seat.
Aaron examines you in confusion, furrowing his brows.
After a moment, you look at him expectantly. "Don't be shy, Mr. Hotchner. By any means—" you nod towards the armchair across you, glancing back and forth between him and the empty space "—continue with your thoughts. You already started. Might as well let it all out."
He only clenches his hands inside his pockets as he bores holes into your head.
What a sad little man.
You scoff in your mind.
You lean against the back of the sofa, tilting your head to meet dagger-like brown eyes aiming at you. "No? Suit yourself, then." You shrug, feeling the soft cushions under your palms.
"Let me remind you that I'm a federal agent, and I can make your life a living hell if I want to." He threatens, glaring at you as if the twitch of his eye is enough to make you combust into thin air.
But all you see is a child on a tantrum, deprived of getting what he wants.
"Answer my question. What. Did. You. Write?" He growls.
Silence coats the two of you.
His heavy breathing fills the deafening air. Your nonchalance fuels his hatred more than ever and the sentiment is beginning to emit from both ends. It takes a lot out of you to think of multiple ways to sprinkle some salty sense onto him without stinging his wounds.
One thing you learned well enough in time is how good Aaron is when pushing someone's buttons. A perk of his prosecutor days and seasoned by his bureau career.
He's just troubled.
He's just in denial of his own pain.
You chant the words in your head—uncertain of its purpose. Detachment ironically detaches from your senses like old velcro.
"You're not the first agent in my office, Mr. Hotchner. And frankly, you should be thanking me for taking you in. Unlike your old therapists, I actually read through your chart and took the time to understand you to the best of my ability. I cared—" Shocked as he is, your eyes subtly widen.
Before you can continue Aaron speaks over you, "I do not care about your pity. What I wanted was for you to do your damn job and clear me back to work. But that's just little to no pay for a shrink, isn't it? You need messed up people to stay messed up so they can continue knocking on your door." A clear hint of a demeaning smirk flashes across his face.
The sheer irreverence makes you dizzy. The calm snaps, banishing kindness and composure out the window. And rage knocks on your door.
"That's the problem. You don't care. You don't care about yourself." Your tone is sharp—stern.
You knew. You knew from the moment his file thudded on your wooden desk. The moment SSA David Rossi charmed his way to get your favor. You know that Aaron Hotchner does what he believes is right. Not because the unit chief title has gotten in his head. No. Not the slightest. But because he only cares about his values and people.
And you're neither.
It's not you to hold grudges. So, you had it down and set before you accepted Rossi's request. You had it tattooed in your mind that no matter how sharp-tongued and insensitive the man before you might be, he's still just a man under the weight of the world's greatest horrors.
You cannot break. You're not allowed to break.
Pieces of you shatter at the realization that some patients under your care inevitably slip away from your fingers. How your promised oath to do no harm did nothing—not enough to stop the monsters that haunt the world. Not enough to stop you, Aaron's psychiatrist, from dumping your own frustration onto him the same way he's currently doing to you.
But you're not Aaron's psychiatrist today. You're not anything today. You're not on the clock. And no one except Aaron—to your demise—will ever witness such an ugly sight. If ever he shuts up about his dilemma, that is.
"I did my job exactly as I should." You declare, licking the bottom of your lips. Damned the Hippocratic Oath. You wonder if the healing gods will forgive you.
You really shouldn't say the words that are about to leave your mouth, but you've been taking whatever hostility he's got for the last two months; the capacity has reached its limit. A little bit of harshness wouldn't hurt, would it?
"When are you going to admit that the reason you can't sleep at night is not because of all the serial killers you claim I prevent you from catching?" You finally stand. You are a few inches shorter, yet you have never felt taller than you do right now.
You grit your teeth as you move closer to Aaron, almost a breath away, tiptoeing. "When will you admit that the mighty SSA Aaron Hotchner, unit chief, doesn't blink, not once, because he's afraid he'd become the very thing he promised to put away." You raise your brows, challenging him.
Aaron's face morphs into bewilderment and perturbation. His brows are sewn shut. His jawline pops out as he grinds his teeth.
Resentment. Fury. Vexation. Chagrin.
All Aaron felt was anger.
Antagonized.
A walking tower of pure acrimony, finger-pointing towards the innocent.
"Don't you dare compare me to those— I'm anything but." He towers over you, losing his words through the stream of lividity flooding all over his senses.
"Do you really believe that?"
Aaron studies your face. It's different. It's raw and maimed. A squeeze of guilt whispers, but he shoves it quickly.
"What did you write?" He asks once more, earning a scoff out of you.
You step back, staring straight into his glare. Crossed arms tight against your chest. Brows rest over your deadpan eyes.
"While SSA Aaron Hotchner is proficient at his skills and rather placid in physically and mentally challenging situations, I strongly recommend further evaluation in psychotherapy as his emotional capacity is at its limits. The stress accumulated from the job itself has given him little to no time to allow himself the indulgence to properly process certain impacts of the stimulus he encounters on the job. Will update after further observation. Is what I wrote… so far."
You pause.
"Aaron Hotchner is an insufferable, pompous idiot who's afraid of nothing but himself. He is incapable of stepping off his pedestal and refuses to cooperate while complaining about the consequences he himself caused. He has been through enormous trauma. It will be torture to try and help him cope properly. I do not want him in my care as he is a danger to his own progress, and I don't want any part of it. Is what I wanted to write."
Silence.
For him to reflect.
For you to breathe.
Aaron's frozen before you. A pale statue bleached under the moon's harsh reality. Words that used to be superficial insecurities float in the wind of truth, forming into a cage he's sentenced for life.
Your fuse still runs—a long time coming from two months of his deliberate disrespect. The silence annoys you, so you break it. "Excuse my hostility. No one's invaded my privacy and barged into my household at such an unreasonable hour before." The impassive smile on your lips can haunt anyone.
Maybe you've gone too far.
Maybe it's evil to say such blunt things to someone fragile.
But Aaron started the countdown. He lit the fuse. Now, you're exploding right before his eyes, reaping what he sowed. And he's forced to eat up all the debris.
His eyes twitch, scanning your face for any sign of bluff, any sign of fallacy. Any sign that he successfully pissed you off and your words were nothing but overwhelmed impulse.
"I—" he closes his mouth, then agape. Any sign. Aaron will take anything besides the forthright expression on your face. He inhales, "I'm sorry." The sound dies before it can roll off his tongue.
It's like watching a bully shrink into the tiniest man who's ever lived.
Okay, maybe you were a little bit brutal.
You gulp as guilt creeps along your veins, wishing that someone out there would just do you both a favor and snipe you out before the embarrassment settles.
Drawing in a gentle breath, you take another step back from Aaron with a delicate voice, "You're not starting a new evaluation, but you're not done either. I transferred you under someone else's care because of personal reasons. My life doesn't revolve around you, Mr. Hotchner. So, if you have nothing else to say, go home." Your eyes drift to the vast selection of objects in your living room to diffuse the growing pity you can't help but harbor.
Only then does Aaron discern his impulsivity. Internally arguing with himself as he allows himself to look at you. One thing he's never done since the moment he met you with screwed brows and unwavering bias. His gaze instantly softens like a thick fog around him finally dissipates. Like he's achieved a clearer vision.
The first thing he notices is the state of your face. The dry mascara that drew faded stripes down your cheeks. Your puffy eyes are now faint pink, but he recalls them being red when he arrived.
Then Aaron brings his attention to your black dress. It's a simple formal, mesh midi dress, but he admits how it elegantly fits you. But he doesn't say it aloud because there's only one reason why you'd wear such an article of depressing clothing.
As if your words and his own realizations aren't enough, he gets a glimpse of the clock on your wall that reads 12:03 AM.
His blood suddenly stops flowing—skin clammy and pale. Aaron's lightheaded from guilt and penitence.
Without another word, you lead him towards the door, swinging it open. The past 24 hours already drained you, and Aaron just about made it fifty times worse. All you wanted was to get a shuteye.
Aaron swallows the shame and makes his way out. Before he leaves, though, he turns to face you once more. Genuine curiosity pinches his brows.
"Why didn't you just clear me out like the others did if I was such a difficult case?" The word tastes bitter in his mouth. What used to be a desired flavor turned rotten on his palette.
He asks with utter softness, leaving you skeptical to respond.
"Same reason why you kept attending my sessions even though you clearly hated it." You slightly close the door, only leaving enough space for the two of you to see each other.
He looks at you like the answer's all over your face but written in some foreign language he's not familiar with. Aaron barely opens his mouth when you answer the question in his mind.
"You needed a place where you can just be."
The door shuts.
Friday, June 19, 11:02 PM
"I didn't know where to go."
You pore at Aaron Hotchner with nothing but a flimsy robe to prevent his imagination from going rampant—and dirty.
It's eleven in the evening. It's been one month since you last saw him. It's been a month since he barged into your apartment like an entitled brat. It's been a month since you let your emotions take over. It's been a month since the two of you revealed parts of yourselves either of you don't dare think of.
A month and no contact.
You didn't wonder; just hoped and prayed that Aaron finally finds it in him to let go of the emotional turmoil that's torturing the soul out of his body.
Sighing, you step aside and let him in, closing the door behind you like it's normal to stop by one's ex-psychiatrist's apartment in the middle of the night without prior notice and, most importantly, without meter to run the minutes he's inconveniencing you.
Aaron walks in, and the heavy humidity of arousal immediately hits him.
Oh.
Well...
If he had something to say, Aaron kept his mouth shut. He is at fault for driving straight to your place like he's your bestest friend. So, he doesn't mention it, ignoring the fact that you're barely clothed.
Besides, after your last interaction with him, Aaron's certain he didn't have any prerogative in how you'd like to spend your Friday evening.
"Take a seat. I'll be with you in a minute." Your steps are light behind him—feet nimbly grazing the wooden floor.
He turns to face you but quickly averts his gaze to avoid the glistening sight of your thighs. "Thank you..." He does his best to sound normal, choking in between syllables.
Aaron begins to regret his decision. Though, not enough to leave your place.
You disappear in the corner of the hallway. Allowing Aaron to finally release the breath he didn't know he was holding.
With you out of sight, his mind deliberately wanders...
What were you doing?
Aaron shakes his head vigorously like a worm under a storm of salt. The thought is undiscovered—untouched territory, forbidden to be exact. Should he form such thoughts, he'll do it somewhere else or rather about someone else.
Just as he caters to the sudden dizziness caused by his action, a man, half-dressed, walks past him, cursing under his breath and buttoning his shirt. Aaron's eyes widen a little, keeping his stoic face.
Oh, that's what you were doing.
Ick—as Aaron would like to call your visitor—had brown and curly, unruly hair. He was tall and definitely had a face, which, Aaron assumes, is nothing like the one he envisioned you're attracted to.
Somehow not a pleasant discovery compared to what he attempted to imagine—you, alone.
Ick looks at Aaron with a scoff echoing out of his throat, "Oh, what a surprise! She's a slut." He states smugly.
"Or she just wants someone better." The words spill out without hesitation, fired on sight. Aaron doesn't know where the boldness came from as he leans against the seat with a cocky smirk on his face. Definitely no more perplexed than the uncertainty of anger boiling inside of him. He glares at the man either way.
The man scoffs again before leaving with a couple more insults that Aaron thinks he's lucky to whisper, or your visitor would've left your apartment in an ambulance.
Ick slams the door, shaking the vase on the accent chest by the entrance.
Where did that come from?
He's questionably not as big of a hater as he was before, but Aaron can't determine the motivation that made him act the way he just did with a person who has business with you, which he should have no interest in.
Moments later, you come back, fully clothed, in an oversized hoodie and a pair of wide-leg linen pants. Comfy and a 180 contrast on how you dress at work, plus the garments you had on minutes ago.
You make a beeline to your kitchen, "Water or scotch?" You holler out, opening cabinets with a creek on their hinges.
The question is rhetorical. You place a glass with brown liquid glinting under the warm ambient light on the coffee table in front of Aaron, then plop on the armchair across from him, catering your own glass.
He stares between you and the glass while you kiss yours, never breaking your gaze. You hum in delight, making a popping sound with your lips.
Aaron opens his mouth and then closes it, falling into a cycle like a fish underwater. How should he explain himself? How does one explain why they're bothering their ex-psychiatrist past working hours? After making a scene a month ago? He swallows the thick void in his throat.
"Don't talk, just drink. Sit here for an hour. Then, go home." You say, opening up a book that's been sitting on the table since he arrived.
Aaron feels a surge of relief. He reaches for the drink and lets the smoky taste trail down his throat without hesitation. He wouldn't have guessed you as a fan of scotch—or anything not clear or fruity. This is the first he's seen you without some sort of filter he can't read through, and the observation prints you under a new light.
The silence comforts him. The occasional scrape of paper against paper with each flip of a page provides him reassurance. The company he finds within your presence gives him solace.
You let him be. Asked no questions, reading in peace like he was just any other friend who needed company.
He does as you said. Indulging in the hour of tranquility and stillness. His nerves tame. And he forgets why he went to you in the first place.
Why did he go to you?
Of all people. Of all the friends he brags about. The family he cherishes. His feet dragged—drove him to you.
The onerous unit chief chose to wander to your front door, sipping scotch as he enjoyed the silence and absence of others' guilting worry and constant craving to make him feel better when all he wanted was peace and letting the ache pass in gradual acceptance.
By the end of the hour, you call him a cab with the instructions for him to pick up his car the next day.
Aaron slept effortlessly that night.
Saturday, October 24, 9:24 PM
Aaron expected some sort of rejection or for you to slam the door close, or worse, ignore him as soon as you see his face through the peephole.
One can only tolerate a couple of unannounced visits from an insufferable ex-patient, right? He's surprised you haven't called the cops on him.
He skims your face for any sign of irritation or annoyance as soon as you reveal yourself behind your door, standing next to it to give him way. Aaron saw nothing but impatience.
You knit your brows, slightly tilting your head at his frozen build outside the frame of your door. "Well? Are you stuck or something? Get in, Hotchner—" You turn before you can even finish talking, disappearing down the small entryway.
He turns deaf for a moment. Your voice rings in his ears as if a bomb had just popped the only working drum he had left.
Hotchner.
Agent.
Mister—
Just Hotchner.
One simple change, and the light above your head suddenly looks brighter.
Like he's found something good. Something he can say he knows. Something he can trust(?)
"Don't forget to take your shoes off and shut the door!" You holler from the living room—unfazed.
Aaron flinches, snapping out of his trance. He wonders where you'd gone to, furrowing his brows, and yet enters your apartment with the permission you'd given him. He closes the door, pivoting on the soles of his dress shoes as he tentatively takes them off per your instructions.
He emerges back in your peripheral while you stare at the screen on your laptop, blue-filtered glasses back on. Your fingers hammer on the keys, soft sighs slipping past your lips every once in a while.
You glance at Aaron when his figure stays at the corner of your eye, cupping a coffee mug between your hands. "There's fresh coffee if you'd like. Are you hungry? I don't usually eat dinner, so I have nothing ready to eat, but I can whip something up." You blow over the surface of caffeine, and steam wafts on the tip of your nose.
"No—" He shakes his head, scoffing in confusion, "I'm sorry—"
"Apology accepted," You muffle into the mug.
Aaron's brows connect tighter, and his forehead creases. He looks at you like he's under an illusion, a hypnotic dream he can't quite distinguish.
"Hold on," He hoists his hand up as if to pause a scene in the movie. "I'm very confused. What is going on? Why are you being… casual and nice?"
"You say it like I'm incapable of human decency." Your back makes contact with the cushion of your sofa, pulling your legs close to your chest while one hand holds the handle of your mug. You roll your eyes when Aaron only stares at you, "Are you uncomfortable? Do you want to leave?"
Aaron shakes his head.
"Problem solved, then?" Confusion is still fresh on his blank face. You mentally smack your forehead. "There are patients who lack temporal sense, but turning them away when they clearly need immediate tending to would be a form of negligence on my part. So, feel at home." You theatrically stretch your arms, offering every corner of your space as his own.
"But I'm not your patient anymore. I've been back on duty for weeks." Aaron informs. Although he finds a place for his go bag on your floor.
If you didn't know any better, you'd assume he's about to stay for a sleepover—coming to your apartment late at night.
You wrinkle your nose, "Okay?" You look around as if someone else is in the room with you two. "Is that why you went here? You wanted to brag?"
Three months.
Aaron's been back to his usual routine for the past three months. And it's been four since he drank scotch on the very couch you're comfortably in.
A chuckle.
The sound tickles your ears, filling you with unexpected pride.
"No," Aaron shakes his head as the chuckle resonates through his chest. "I… I don't really know why I came here, if I'm being honest." He swallows air.
You nod, setting your laptop back on your lap. "Like I said, you're free to feel at home. Scotch is in the third cupboard. Coffee's in the pot. I've got some stuff to take care of, so help yourself." Your eyes are already fixed on the screen, hands jumping from one key to the other.
With your permission, Aaron ventures into your kitchen. Neat. Clean. Cozy. He somehow imagines you cooking as a hobby.
He settles for coffee. Asking you from the kitchen island if you'd like a refill—which you took without a thought, hoisting your cup up—and taking out a couple of his files to get a head start on his paperwork. He wasn't allowed to bring them outside the bureau's building, but it didn't matter at the moment.
Your apartment becomes a haven.
Aaron, for the first time in years, feels comfortable to slouch. He had no collection of when and how, but turns out he'd changed into a quarter-zip and one of his pajamas tucked in his go bag through the hours.
The two of you silently took care of your own thing until 1 AM strikes, and a yawn pulls you back into the earth.
You turn your head towards the kitchen to find Aaron scribbling over your kitchen island. He's sipping coffee—a fresh batch he made not long ago.
Stretching, you make your way past him. After placing the mug into the sink, you lean against it, crossing your arms as you stare at him. "Ten."
"What's that?" Aaron halts on his seat, lifting his head to look at you.
"I'm granting you ten visits," You announce.
"And that means?.."
Your face deadpans, and he does well at stifling a smile. "You can come here whenever you want—need, but only for ten free visits. It doesn't matter if it's late, too early, or unreasonable. I'm allowing you to knock on my door whenever you need. Any more than that, you have to attend my sessions in my office, where I get paid."
"What's the catch?" Aaron entwines his eyebrows, straightening his back as he props on the edge of the counter.
"No catch. Just one condition," You shift your weight on your other leg, "Don't come empty-handed. Food, drink, things, a person, anything. Bring something." Your brows hang on your forehead, anticipating any type of response.
Aaron weighs his choices. Calculated every possible outcome and benefit. He meets your eyes again. Index and thumb rubbing the growing stubble on his chin.
"Ten's a good number," He says as he nods.
Wednesday, March 2, 7:31 PM
Eleven months pass by in the blink of an eye.
It's the seventh time Aaron showed up without warning, and by this point in whatever acquaintance you two had, you aren't fazed or surprised anymore.
The fourth time he knocked on your door, he was carrying a hefty price of whiskey. An odd reason for a psychiatrist and a former patient to bond with, but you had no qualms about sipping neat whiskey that night.
At first, he stayed for an hour. Then, an hour turned into three. One time, a case hit too deep, and three became seven, but that only happened once—all you remember was a Wednesday night.
"Are you okay?"
Gentle sighs escape shivering lips. Tears pooling deep inside sockets.
One sharp sniff breaks it all.
You sob under Aaron's worried eyes as your grip on the knob almost snaps it off the door.
His brows twists and he reflexively yanks you by the back of your head into his chest, bringing you out of your apartment and into the complex's hallway.
"What happened?" He carefully inquires while he rests his chin atop your head.
You're a mess in his arms. Uncontrollable whimpers muffled in his soaked chest.
Aaron suggested that you two step inside for more privacy and heat, but he didn't complain when you two stayed frozen in the end of winter evening.
When it stops. The suffocating ache. You lightly push yourself off him, wiping the leftover tears off your cheeks—half of it already dampened his shirt.
Fifty-three minutes and seventeen seconds.
You cried to the point of dehydration.
"Sorry," you mutter, eyes down. "We should go inside if we don't want to catch hypothermia." You sniffle.
"Oh, we don't want that," Aaron attempts to joke, closely observing whether you'd react to it.
You didn't.
He closes the door behind him, following your figure as you practically drag yourself to your unofficial designated spot on the sofa.
"I know I'm the last person you'd want to hear this from, but would you like to talk about it?" He bites his inner cheek.
Nothing.
You only mold yourself into a ball.
Aaron hesitates whether to stay or leave you alone. It's true that you said he's welcome anytime, but you're definitely in no condition to entertain his own problems when you can't even look him in the eye the way you would, no matter how insufferable he is.
But he can't just leave you by yourself either. Nothing is stopping him, but he's not cold-blooded enough.
"It's not easy," Aaron fractures out of his trance at the sound of your small voice. You look at him with a tight-lipped smile. "This job, I mean."
You inhale a sharp breath, tucking your lower lip between your teeth. "I can be hopeful, positive, supportive… Everything to prove that a better life is possible, but at the end of the day, it's not my choice." You wryly chuckle. "It's the patient's. It's your decision to want to feel better. To want to change. To want to live—" You choke, and the tears flow once more.
"It's not about me, but I can't help feeling like a failure." Sobs spill off your lips, gasping for air. "I was supposed to make everything better. I was supposed to heal everyone and save everyone from whatever monster was hurting them. She said she's never felt so much better. She said it's the first time she felt so peaceful for years, Hotchner. She said she was looking forward to our next session. But she just… I didn't—" You gulp—struggling. "I didn't catch it. I didn't catch her lie. And hours later, I get a call from her mother telling me she— she died." Your hands shakily clasp your mouth to push the sobs back, but you fail.
Aaron doesn't know what to say.
But he knows what to feel.
He knows it well.
The guilt. The shame of never living up to your own promise. The pain of losing someone you swore to keep safe.
Then, it hits him like a wrecking ball.
How difficult of a patient was he before?
Has he ever made you cry before?
It's a stretch that you'd ever shed a tear over his stubbornness, but Aaron hopes you never did.
Because he's never seen anyone care so much despite getting all the hate. Despite taking all the blame. You stood your ground and became other people's foundation. You became their comfort.
You became the only thing that gave him serenity.
With the little time he's known you—a total of 43 genuine friendly hours—Aaron can testify in heaven that they had mistakenly dropped you into the earth. And he's never felt blessed to have someone like you. Never felt lucky enough to find someone with who he could feel broken as much as he could but never needed to save face.
So, he's heartbroken for you. And guilty that more than half of the time you'd known him, he made your passion a miserable experience.
And also guilty of developing feelings for you.
Saturday, August 13, 4:16 PM
"I'm not playing favorites, but your tech analyst definitely deserves better than being cooped up in the bureau's building." You say, plopping on the sofa with a soft bounce and a squeak from the coil spring.
Aaron hands you a glass of bourbon while sipping his own. Eyes fixated on the board on your coffee table. "I have no other choice. It's the only way to keep her safe. Unless you're willing to adopt her, I don't want to hear it." He chuckles, connecting his brows at the sight of your winning streak.
You two are playing Scrabble. It was Monopoly twenty minutes ago, but along the lines, you learned how butt-hurt a six-foot and two-inch man can get. Not an enlightening experience. It would have been two stars if you had to rate it.
So, you switched to Scrabble.
And Aaron is losing again.
Boy, were you so entertained.
He just came back from a fairly short case from Los Angeles. The case is not heavy or mentally draining—according to Aaron, but Jack's at a two-day sleepover, and Aaron has no idea how to spend the rest of his day—turning down Derek Morgan's and David Rossi's invitation to grab a drink at O'Keefe's with you in mind.
Aaron leans on the back of his seat. You don't know when your reclining armchair became his designated seat, but you noticed how lax he is in it and didn't question it further.
Months and months of relaxing stillness in your home—only ever full of bizarre surprises and irresistible joy whenever Aaron knocks at your door. With no means of communication or ever seeing each other at either workplace, Aaron's visits are welcomed but never fully anticipated. Thrilling.
Spelling the word 'loser' on the board with triple points, you bite the tissue inside your lower lip. "Maybe you can play Scrabble with her. Who knows, maybe you'll get lucky and win." You grin smugly at him.
Aaron gapes at you with a mixture of disbelief and merriment. He looks down on the flat entertainment, then back to you as he blinks. "You're cheating." He declares, pointing an accusatory finger at you.
A hearty laugh Aaron's never heard before roars out of you, and it's melodic to his ears. The meringue light spills through the forgotten open blinds of your window, painting your face with a dreamy filter. Aaron feels dizzy at the sight.
Your smile is contagious, and out of nowhere, his heart starts to pick up as if he'd caught whatever illness your radiant lips had by only staring at it. The loose hair over your forehead frames your face differently—different good. Like you'd been glowing, and the watts in your core mysteriously increased, so you're as bright as the sun and as warm as its light.
"You're just a sore loser. Suck it up, Hotchner." You shake with mirth, casually running dainty fingers along the curve of your ear.
"Aaron," He blurts too fast, too soon—too late to take back.
With a nonchalant shrug, you rephrase, "Suck. It. Up. Aaron." Much more emphasis and friskiness.
You tease him more about his lack of greatness in board games compared to his undeniable talent in every case the BAU encountered. But Aaron's already dazed by your lips calling his name.
Without either of you realizing it, 4 PM became AM.
Talk about abusing one's privileges. Aaron's moderately good at that. You conclude he's simply a strutting opportunist.
After the longest winning streak you've ever had in your life, you and Aaron decided to take a much-needed break and fell into silent reading—or, in your case, grooming your schedule for the next five months.
Midnight strikes along the grumble of Aaron's stomach. You two were too quiet. It echoed all over your apartment. Both of you fell into an obstreperous fit of laughter for another hour, stopping for a minute in between only to laugh some more as soon as you met each other's eyes.
Now, it's four in the morning. You're busy munching on Chinese takeout from a 24-hour restaurant Aaron called in. He claims he has handsome privilege courtesy of the owner, which you mockingly laughed at, to his dismay.
"I'm still terrified." He blurts.
The case must've been very difficult, then. He lied yesterday. However, at this point in your friendship, you expect him to do so, even if it's obvious.
You'd long given up on coaxing Aaron to talk about the case that brought him to your office. Or any other cases that got him knocking on your door at the most unreasonable hour. You thought that the best you could offer him was the comfort that no matter how beaten up he looked, you'd ask no questions and let him sort his boggled mind until he was ready to talk about it.
Looks like tonight's the moment. It only took more than a year, so it is not a big deal—to either of you, at least.
He looks at you when you remain quiet, silently asking for your permission. You nod, and he continues, "What Peter Lewis did to me was terrorizing. I always wonder whether I'm making the right decision or sending my agents straight to their deaths. I second guess. I'm scared that a part of him is still in my head, driving me to make a fatal mistake." Aaron starts playing with his food, poking an orange chicken with his chopsticks.
The memory brings a tangy taste to his tongue, and Aaron can't help but cringe. It's the first time he's ever talked about Peter Lewis. Granted, Aaron spoke about the event numerous times but never about how it made him feel. Never how it broke him.
Is it weird to say you're a little proud of Aaron?
Of course, you don't tell him that. Not out loud. You know he knows you're proud of him. And that's enough said.
With a few audible chews—caused by a carrot bit stuck between your teeth—that somehow doesn't piss Aaron off, you swallow the food and draw your lips into a thin line. You place the chopsticks on the side, wiping the rim of your mouth.
You know he's watching you. Anticipatingly waiting for a response for anything other than the silence he's accustomed to.
"Breathe," You gently instruct, clear enough for him to hear but not too loud for Aaron to jump in shock.
And he does.
His shoulder blades rise and fall into a soft rhythm. Aaron was holding his breath, and you knew. Of course, you knew.
"Do you know the purpose of defense mechanisms?" You quiz him, earning a nod from Aaron, and yet no following answer. "You were already mad at me even before we met. And for what? Nothing concrete, I'm sure."
Aaron was about to object, but you raised your hand to stop him, "I'm not trying to attack you. All I'm saying is that rather than being in denial, you displaced your frustration on someone else less threatening—me."
Silence.
"I'm sorry—"
"I'm not done, shush!" You close your fist to mute him, cutting him off.
Aaron subtly rolls his eyes. He started doing so on his fifth visit when Aaron brought Jack and a few video games.
He told you that Jack's heard about your interest in a couple of games and wanted to play with you, but you know damn well Aaron bought the game for himself. Nonetheless, you entertained them by teaming up with Jack and obliterating Aaron. He vowed never to play against you ever again, at least not to your face.
"I would never know the pain and suffering that you went through. And somehow, even with that fact, a part of your life was in the palm of my hand. You had no control, but I did. So, instead of understanding the why, you hated the wrong who. And it's okay."
You take a sip from your straw, and a bubbly sensation fills you. Your tongue glides over your lips as you lean against the counter. "In short, for a man who's been through a lot, you know how to cope." A shrug ends your sentence, grabbing another bite of chow mein on your plate.
"Yeah, right," Aaron scoffs. The sincerity in your voice sparks something in him. It's giddy and tempting. But he can't possibly show the smile that's itching to spread his lips.
But his nonchalance may have triggered something in you because Aaron doesn't expect your next move. His neck felt like a snapped glow stick after you manually turned his head to face you—grabbing him by the space between his neck and chin. Aaron widens his eyes in the process.
"Listen here, you stubborn poopy head." You start, forehead creasing.
Aaron badly wanted to poke fun at your poor, intimidating skills, but he realized you didn't need any pointers just by the glare in your eyes.
"Peter Lewis got to your head, but that doesn't mean you were weak to let him. Yes, you fought through the influence of the drug heroically. Yes, you saved your agents and, most importantly, yourself. But it's still okay to be scared. It's okay that you feel broken. Who says broken things aren't great?"
It might be the sleep deprivation that's hitting Aaron, but he's very much enjoying your little fuse. How your words meant nothing like how you sound.
"That silver watch of yours—" you glance at his wrist "—has been broken for years, but I bet if you pawn it, it'll be more valuable than me. Antiques are expensive because they have unique histories. They survived beaten up, scratched, damaged, but still as beautiful as ever."
You're rambling, explaining more than you need to. Felt obligated to drill in his mind that despite the bad things, Aaron remains good. You're uncertain—clueless—as to why you felt the need to prove his praiseworthy, almost as if you're trying to convince yourself rather than him.
"From my observation, you're a sharper profiler despite all the things you went through. A part of you suffered and died in that house and many houses before. Of course, you'll be broken. You're a human being, Aaron. Act like one for Pete's sake!"
"I don't know whether you're being nice or mean." He chuckles with a mischievous grin, marveling at the way your eyes narrow as you look at him.
"I liked you better when you didn't talk." You tut, rolling your eyes.
For a moment, your senses heighten, and the simple brush of his hand against the skin over your wrist, as he takes your hold off him, sends billions of electricity throughout your body.
Aaron smiles—genuinely. "Thank you," He says softly, clearing his throat. His hand is still tight around your wrist. "You simply could've slammed the door the first time I knocked, but you always let me in. I appreciate you tolerating me."
You laugh, retracting your hands off his skin before you melt in his grasp. "I did not let you in the first time. You barged in like I'm some fugitive." You fix your posture on the stool beneath you, looking away.
His chuckle wakes the butterflies in your stomach, and you shove them right back down by stuffing your mouth with food.
Your eyes catch a glimpse of the time, "Y-you better go home and change before your son wonders why his father smells like Chinese food for Sunday brunch. Jack's a big fan of good 'ole syrupy pancakes, there's a good one by the bureau's building. Better hurry up and pick him up." It's amazing how much you almost choked and stuttered as you spoke, hoping that Aaron wouldn't question the way your demeanor changed.
Aaron takes one last bite before towering next to you, "Let me clean up. It's the least I can do for imposing half of your weekend." He insists, swiping the styrofoam off your hands.
"Glad you got manners," You nod approvingly, earning another chuckle from him, making sure you gave him enough space to move around without brushing any part of your body, or you wouldn't know what the brewing feeling in your chest would make you do.
You mindlessly peer at Aaron's broad shoulders and dark hair that looks so soft you wonder if it'll melt with your touch. You blink, catching yourself mid-swoon.
After a few minutes, Aaron bids you goodbye and you wish him well, asking to relay a short message to Jack.
"I think you're only nice to me because of Jack," He jokes, pivoting on the heel of his shoes to get one last glimpse of you.
You give him a tight smile, raising your brows as you shrug.
One visit left.
Thursday, May 5, 12:51 PM
The news said Mr. Scratch escaped prison. Peter Lewis is out and about, no doubt, planning serious harm against Aaron. You turn the TV off. The image shrinks into a small diamond spark 'til it leaves a dark screen.
Ninety-eight beats per minute are your normal, but you surmise it's about a hundred and twelve at the moment as your mind anxiously ruminates your not-so-favorite-unofficial patient's well-being.
You glance at your phone, debating whether to give him a call, but even if you gain the guts to do so, you don't have his number. Who knew that refusing personal contacts would backfire? Aaron can knock anytime, you said. It doesn't matter whether he texts or calls before, you said.
Now, you have no means of contacting him, and you refuse to resort to his ways—going through his file like he went through yours.
It's a shitty feeling.
You keep your fingers as far away from your mouth as possible, afraid you'll bite your nails to its quick. If Aaron was with you, he'd say something annoyingly witty about how your anxiety's too easy to read, and you'd be bantering back a remark about his tells that not many notice but sure slightly pisses him off that you know him like the back of your hand.
Eyes dart in the direction of your entryway, waiting for any distinctive sound only Aaron makes whenever he closes the door like a teenager coming home past curfew.
"This is driving me crazy!" You ruffle your own hair, rubbing your face in frustration.
Tempted to wait outside your door for Aaron to arrive, in need of a company. A once-in-a-lifetime bone-crushing hug, given by yours truly. Or open up the 1997 Old Forester bourbon on top of your shelf that Aaron's been eyeing for a year.
You need to know if he's okay. You need to see that he's okay. Physically, mentally, and emotionally okay.
No one ever knocked.
Friday, November 18, 2:33 PM
"Aren't you curious?"
You look at Rossi, "About?" Your eyebrows pinch together. You backtrack the entire session in your mind, trying to remember if there is anything you are supposed to be curious about.
There's none.
Rossi turns to face you, a hand emerging out of his pocket. "You're not curious where he's been? I've known him for years, and I've never been more curious about his whereabouts 'til now." The hand waves around as each syllable flows, and slices the air every emphasis he makes like a conductor of his emotions.
He usually talks with his hand whenever he's emotionally troubled, attempting to make a point to himself, justifying that his feelings are reasonable.
David Rossi has been your patient for years; you can write any and everything about him into a best-selling book.
"You said it yourself, Dave," You shrugged with your arms. "You've known him for years. He and I saw each other a couple of times during our physician-patient interaction. Any interaction we had after is just the two of us drowning in silence."
Aaron never knocked that day.
He hasn't redeemed his last visit for the past five months. While it isn't the longest time he's never stopped by, you're bitter about it.
You couldn't sleep for a week after Peter Lewis escaped prison. You were afraid that Aaron's name would flash across any type of screen or mark a headline on every article and newspaper. You had to take anxiety medication to stop your body from trembling whenever the thought of him crossed your mind.
It was hell.
The utter hopelessness and lack of courage teared you apart. The strangeness. The nonexistence. You don't reckon a conversation with Aaron that involves you and him. Only you or him or whatever depressing topic comes up. You're not even sure if you had actual conversations. Always wallowing in silence while sipping either scotch or coffee.
But you two had a deal. No catch. Not even feelings. Developing one for Aaron did not cross your mind when you granted him the power to bother you at any running time.
All of it is to say you wish you had known Aaron's last visit was, in fact, the last.
Rossi squints, "You're telling me the quietness you shared didn't matter? That his company didn't benefit you the same way it did for him?" He stands tall, pleased with his words.
It did.
Of course, it did.
And you loved every second of it.
Even if you realize it too late.
But you won't say that to Rossi. Or to anyone ever.
A sigh drops your shoulders. You give him a blank stare, letting his question hover for a moment. "What do you want me to say?" You continue packing up your things on your desk, breaking eye contact.
If you knew David Rossi like the back of your hand, David Rossi knew you like every family of the victims he managed to save.
Worried.
Heartbroken.
Hurt.
Aaron never told Rossi about any interactions with you after he was released from your care. It's information Rossi's only ever heard a confirmation from you. But he knew it from the moment Aaron came to work after his first session with you and couldn't seem to get the specific idea of you out of his head.
"We're doing everything we can to catch Peter Lewis. Aaron will be back, I promise."
Pause.
You fight your every single sense to remain composed. Hearing Aaron's name instantly made you crumble. The sound of it hitting your chest with such force you had to bite the tissue behind your closed lip. You badly wanted—needed to cry and throw a tantrum.
The inner ends of your brows lift up as you nod, "Good for you... and for him. I'll see you in two weeks, Dave." You dismiss, walking around your desk to push him out of your office.
"Wait, wait! Just listen!" You retract your hands off his back and let him face you. "He's okay. He and Jack are safe somewhere I, unfortunately, don't know." He tries to meet your gaze—successful. "But! But that's a good thing. Not knowing where he is while in protective custody is good. Safe. I just thought you'd want to know."
You nod, "Certainly a good information, Dave. But not really necessary." Your tongue subtly swipes the bottom of your lips. "Aa—Agent Hotchner was a patient. Anything outside of that is not my business." Liar.
Rossi tucks his mouth into a thin line, nodding. "See you in two weeks, kid."
Tuesday, March 27, 6:12 PM
It's a nice Spring.
Your hair dances like the breeze is music as you trudge back to your apartment against the rush hour sidewalk traffic.
A year and a half.
You moved to a different place since then.
Moved on— from something that never existed, but really, your old complex just ran out of business.
You couldn't possibly move on, even if you wanted to.
"Good evening, Mrs. Willows," You smile at the old lady as she steps on the base of the stairs.
Mrs. Willows was old, close to ninety. And she's the best landlady you've ever met.
She smiles back, "Oh, just in time!" She waddles towards you, scraping the soles of her flats against the creaky floorboards.
"Did you need anything, Mrs—"
The old lady doesn't let you finish when she yanks you back up the stairs. Confusion fills you, but if you are being honest, you're more amazed by her speed. You didn't know it was possible for her to have that much energy.
"There's this handsome boy knocking at your door earlier. So, I let him in."
You dig your feet on one of the steps, halting her. "Mrs. Willows, you let a stranger in my house?" Your brows knit.
She looks at you, "Well, I figured it's one of your patients." She shrugs.
"I wasn't expecting any home visit today." You announce, peeking at the top of the stairs. "And I would've been home if there was…"
You excuse yourself, cautiously walking towards your door. The floor plan is different from your old apartment. But everything still felt the same.
The anxiety of a random stranger going through your place left you rushing to the living room. You don't exactly let any random patient inside your home. It's usually the profilers that seem to have a liking to you that lucked the privilege to visit your home at any given time.
"I'm sorry, but you're gonna have to set an appointment at the clinic—" you abruptly stop, blinking.
Aaron Hotchner.
He's sat on the armchair, only lifting his gaze after he'd closed the book you were reading before you decided to step out to run some errands.
He is wearing a navy blue quarter zip sweater and a white shirt, peeking from under. It's paired with loose-fitting gray casual pants. Like his closet had an upset stomach and threw up all over him.
The bags under his eyes are almost invisible. It used to be a tint of greenish purple. A proof of his late nights and stressful days. He's caught up with sleep for a while now.
His hair, a little longer than you're accustomed to, somehow made him look young and boyish. Probably why Mrs. Willows referred to him as a boy.
It's quite an image. Not one you'd expect to see upon opening your front door, but you mentally admit liking it.
He looks refreshing and well-rested.
"I heard you started your own practice?" He didn't mean to form it as a question, tongue-tied by nervousness. He flashes an awkward, subtle smile, dipping his hands into his pockets.
Your lashes flutter like butterflies gliding through the soft wind of Spring, except you're struggling to go against the breeze, winded by the city pollution.
"H-have you eaten?" You ask, snapping out of your trance as you head to the kitchen. Great. A question for a question. You're as nervous as he is, and you don't feel the need to hide it, though you aren't inclined to admit it.
He chuckles, and it still makes you melt after a year of trying to remember how it sounds, "That's your first question? Not 'What are you doing here?' or 'How did you find me?'" He follows you to the kitchen, it's a lot smaller than the one at your old place but you had a dinner table now, which still feels like an upgrade.
You turn and face him, leaning against the counter, "I'll just charge the entire team on their next visit. But I have a feeling David's the culprit." You blurt, earning raised brows from Aaron. "Oh? They didn't tell you? Your team unofficially designated me as their psychiatrist. I guess they also kept an important information from you." You twist on your feet to focus on the produce you carefully picked in hopes someone would join you for dinner.
But you didn't expect Aaron to be that person.
"Are you mad at me?"
"No!" You almost stumble as you spin back to face him. "I'm in no position to be mad. If a patient doesn't need my services, then I have no say." You lick the lower of your lip, biting it as soon as your tongue glides past. Heat pooling in the back of your eyes.
Aaron steps closer, "I didn't mean to—"
"I told you I'm not mad."
"You're really going to lie to an FBI profiler?"
"Former," You correct him, sniffing as you fight the tears from rolling down your cheeks. Your head's tilted up, almost facing the ceiling. Anger and frustration hammer into your chest.
He rolls his eyes, trying to catch yours. "Former, right." He parrots with a little more sarcasm. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you anything... I needed to make sure Jack's safe." He softly speaks, making sure you understand every syllable.
It's your turn to roll your eyes, blinking and letting a tear fall in the process. "You don't have to apologize for protecting your son. I'm not evil, Hotchner. I'll do the same thing for my family. I'm completely indifferent about your disappearance, and i-it's allergy season. I'm fine." You wipe the tear stain off your face.
"I missed hearing you say my name like it's a foul word." Aaron smiles so brightly you thought you were dead and some divine was just using his image to guide you across.
"Seriously? That's what you took from it?" You shake your head, turning your back to him once more. "I feel bad for Jack now that you're a full-time father."
Aaron laughs, and by definition. "Oh, he's had enough of me." His eyebrows jump on his forehead, drifting his eyes aside as if he's replaying every instance Jack's complained to him.
You laugh, too. A full hearty laugh that seems to source from the casualty between the two of you despite the irritation you felt.
It's still the same. The ease. The effortless flow and connection despite anxious nerves. It felt like talking to an old friend you've known longer than you are alive.
You nibble on your lips, "So? You're off protective custody, or do I have to call you Brad?" You quiz airily, back still facing him to hide any form of amusement that's forming on your facial features.
"Brad?" He scoffs, crossing his arms and knitting his brows. He sounds about offended as if you'd disrespected his entire bloodline.
"Yeah, you look like a Brad to me." You remember a story from the women in the BAU. One that they happily shared one evening at Rossi's before they all begged to be added to your list of patients once you start your private practice.
Aaron lets out another scoff. "No, I'm just Aaron. Aaron to everyone. Aaron to you." He grumbles something under his breath that you don't hear, but a clear indication of his disapproval regarding the name.
You stifle a giggle, "Well, just Aaron. Consider yourself lucky that I got a free slot. I would've been with a patient by now." You state.
"Am I really just a patient to you?" Aaron inquires from behind you. He attentively observes for any subtle movement or expression in your voice. There's a longing look in his eyes that you aren't aware of. A frown drops his lips as he adds, "I at least thought we were friends."
"Mm," You hum a chuckle, "More like my stalker. But sure, we'll go with yours... friends—"
He spins you by the waist, and you're not sure if your initial thought of dreaming is ending anytime soon as your body tenses under his hold.
A small yelp squeaks out of you, hands flying behind you on the counter as if to hold yourself up from your wobbly feet. And you're certain both of you can hear the loud pulse on your carotid.
"Hotchner, what the hell?!" You chastise, pulling back, but to no avail. Caged and pinned by his strength, and you're too baffled to react accordingly.
"I'd like to redeem my tenth visit." Aaron smiles from ear to ear. You never thought it possible for a stern-faced man to ever grin this wide. To ever be this bright and bubbly.
Aaron keeps the two of you that way for a few minutes. His face is a few inches from yours. You can hear him calculating in his head.
Only the busy street outside and one of your neighbor's loud TV fills the silence.
"Your pupils are dilated." Aaron grins mischievously. He further scans your face, the same way he did when he used to be your patient, reading you like it's his job to know every micro-movement and expression you make.
Your eyes widen, "Stop—" Your voice barely comes out, breath hitching halfway through your throat. "—profiling me." The space between you and his body feels suffocatingly good. It's making you dizzy.
"Usually, you're composed, but you can barely look me in the eyes." His hands remain on your hips, and every twitch of it makes you stiff like a statue. "Am I making you nervous?" He quips wittily.
Like a switch, your heart rate steadies, and his image becomes clear.
It's Aaron Hotchner.
Just Aaron, he said.
Warmth surges through your veins. You stare at the grin on his face.
Your head tilts, and you blink excruciatingly slow. "Are you trying to ask me out, Hotchner?" You mirror the trail of his eyes like a map.
Aaron beams like he'd won the lottery. Sending you impulsive thoughts such as kissing the smile off his face.
It's tempting and nauseating.
And if he doesn't stop, you just might.
"Ten."
Your eyebrows merge in confusion, "What?"
"Ten dates," He breathes as he looks you in the eye. "Let me take you out on ten dates. Then you can decide if I'm just one of your many stubborn patients or if I can be more. Let me make it up to you in ten dates. Please." He implores, hopeful, or rather knowing that you'd say yes.
And he'd be right.
All you want at that moment is to say yes.
But teasing him won't hurt, at least not you.
"And what's in it for me?" You try your best not to smile as you taunt him.
Aaron rolls his eyes, but his grin tugs the corner of his lips up. "You get unlimited access to me?"
"Wow, that's... very compelling." And you burst out laughing, folding on your stomach as you lean against his chest. You inhale, "Sorry, I expected better negotiation. Uh, any catch?" You say between chuckles.
He shakes his head, "Just one condition," He's chuckling now, too. Not immune from your contagious giggles. "I spend most of my days with you. Even if it's just sitting in silence. I want it to be with you." He lets go of one of your hips and tucks a strand behind your ear.
The giggles die down a bit, gazing at him with reverie. You nod after a few seconds, squeezing his arms. You lift yourself, tiptoeing, closing the gap.
You leave a quick, soft peck on his lips, smiling as you get back on your feet.
Aaron smiles, and you're as ecstatic as he is.
Another nod fills your chest with utter joy as you breathe in euphoria.
"Ten's a good number."
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Pick-a-card : Wholesome June 2024 monthly Reading for you !
𐙚 Here's my masterlist for more !
𐙚 Make sure you like/follow/reblogg for more pacs like these!
Pile 1. Pile 2. Pile 3.
𐙚 Pile 1.
Namaste pile 1 ! Let's get with your reading :-
The first phase of june will result of completion and new start of something very good , you will be in flow and stability with yourself in all aspects , also , you will be focused and aligned with your destiny's path . Any increment in income , promotion and a god time to buy a house can be seen .
The second phase, is about meeting your friends , some other collaboration and celebration of any kind of milestone , you may travel from your home to somewhere . There's a possibility to make new friends or you may get people of your kind and needs . Very harmonious vibes are coming from the second phase .
The third phase of your june may lead you to meet your soulmate or you may connect with someone from your past , a good time for business partnership and implementations of new plans can be seen .
This month you people will be able to break your chains off from negativity inside and outside you , there maybe a break of something which you didn't want to happen but everything that will be happening this month will be for your good only .
𐙚❀˖° Monthly Advice : worrying to much will attract more things to worry sbout .
have you been overly critical ?An apology may be in order.
stop second-guessing yourself .
raise your karma by doing something good for someone else.
Declutter your life and prioritise what needs to be , start to oragnise first and then start .
𐙚❀˖°Prominent placements and planets : and Pisces, jupiter , saggitaurus, aries , scorpio , cancer , 3rd house , 4th house , moon in virgo .
𐙚 Pile 2.
Namaste pile 2 ! Let's get with your reading :-
The first phase of june for you may start with over-thinking , confusion and fear but you can and will get out through this for sure , don't take take a lot of stress on yourself also that you are being advised to sleep properly or we say be mindful about your mental health .
The second phase , you will enjoying a lot don't worry also that the things you were fearing will actually start to favour you or we say things will be turning in your favour . The only thongs you need to proceed is with faith within yourself and do what needs to be .
The Third phase , you may face some sort of disappointment or you will start to become defensive and protective about yourself both at the same time ,you may come across some obstacles- a test from universe which you will pass . One thing that do not always belive that you are right listen to other's side also .
𐙚❀˖° Monthly Advice : Heal yourself by loving your life more .
Stop worrying and start believing more.
Start doing things with proper intention and mindset .
Start loving your enviorment more .
You will get love when you will give love .
𐙚❀˖° Prominent zodiacs and placements: moon in capricorn, mars in aquarius, scorpio ,Pisces, taurus ,virgo , moon in 3rd/4th house .
𐙚 Pile 3.
Namaste pile 3 ! Let's get with your reading :-
The first phase of june may continue with some same common problems you had later where you will be hopeful again by leaving it behind . I see people healing or connecting with their emotional aspects like you are understanding yourself and situation around you because of which you will grow emotionally .
The second phase of june Be aware of any traitor around your circle or known , also i see that you are able to get best mental clarity and are able to leave rooted toxic system behind , you are getting rid from the things you always wanted . You are facing and making the move rather running away from it .
The third phase of june you may get into into some confusion and inner conflicts again as you are diving deep inside you , you are meeting your shadow self by provoking it through doing those things which triggers it . You are using your intuition and are solving your problem in a flow .
𐙚❀˖° Monthly Advice:Be bold and make the first move .
Follow your heart and your emotions.
Avoid recklessness or moving too fast .
Come into your power; the time for action is now!
Bappa mourya is with you !
Have some good time with your friends .
𐙚❀˖° Prominent placements and planets: Pisces, scorpio , cancer , gemini , libra , aquarius , moon , 8th house , 12th house , mars and saturn .
──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──
©️ @theladybrownstarot 2023 all rights reserved. Any stealing Or copying of work will be a punishable offence.
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Little Drop of Starlight
Azriel x Reader
Synopsis: A story of Azriel and you raising your daughter through the years, Azriels little drop of starlight.
Warnings: Fluff
A/N: The timeline of this is a bit wonky because I don't think I fully understand how they age but oh well. Also in this world, C-Sections exist.
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“Where the fuck is she?!”
“Would you please calm down I'm sure she's a very busy Azriel” You smiled gently at the pacing Illyrian.
“Well she should be busy with us YN we should be top priority! I'm going to go find her!"
“Az the healer will get here when she gets here, please calm down your rising blood pressure is causing my blood pressure to rise which isn't good for the baby” he went from pacing to collapsing to your bedside, clutching your hand to almost bone-crushing.
“Do you need something honey?! Water? A pillow? A blanket? My jacket? That male in the waiting room’s jacket?” You laughed at your panicked mate, giving him some ease at the sound.
“What I need is for you to please calm down!” you turned your hand so you could rub the back of his instead, his eyes wild.
“You're right, it'll be fine, it's just with what happened with Feyre and Rhy-”
“-Az, it'll be okay, you're here with me”
“You're right again my gorgeous mate, we're in this together...now where the fuck is the healer?!” He jumped again from your side and you rolled your eyes, collapsing back on the plush off-white pillow.
“There are probably other babies she's seeing to first Az”
“Well, there isn't another baby as important as ours!” You smiled sweetly at your already proud mate and then watched him take off out the door, you failing to call him back.
After another hour or so Azriel had practically hauled a healer off the road by the throat, with you apologising the whole time.
“Hmm you seem to be at 10cm but the baby isn't coming? We need to cut!” the healer called out to her assistant.
“What what what?! Where are you taking my mate!” The medical team unlocked the bed from the wall and began wheeling you through the corridor with Azriel still clutching your weakening hand.
You lay splayed out on the surgical table, a team of surgical personnel like ants around you, plying you with a tonic to take the growing pain away. A tarp was placed in front of both you and Azriel to shield the operation. Azriel almost turning the same green as the tarp.
“The baby is almost here honey”
“Oh great, we should go camping sometime or we could all go to Spring Court on holiday, I’m sure that overgrown dog is over his tiff by now” he laughed at your drug-induced words. Through the healers scurrying and Azriel’s gentle encouragement your baby was soon screeching into life.
“Congratulations, it's a female” they carefully handed her to her father. Azriel looked at the little drop of starlight in his arms, almost afraid he'd break her.
“She's so beautiful Az”
“You're so beautiful YNN, I'm so lucky” Tears came to his eyes as the healer took her from him to be cleaned. He turned his attention back to you, rubbing your hand gently and kissing the top of your head as you were sewn back together.
“Thank you YN, thank you so much for our little drop of starlight”
5 years later.
“Come here, you little terror!” Sweet Pea playfully chased your daughter around the island unit of your kitchen.
“Hey, be careful!” You laughed from the kitchen table. Azriel collapsed on the seat next to you, totally out of breath.
“We should have another ynn”
“Emm, can we focus on the two we have first?” You smiled down at the 6-month-old son asleep in your arms.
“Play!”
“In a second Luna, your old father needs a rest” he put a large hand to his quickened heart and you laughed at him.
“Can I play with Sol?”
“Not yet sweetie he's still too small and you're too strong” She seemed sad at first by your answer but then decided to take it as a good thing and continued running around.
Finally with the kids asleep in bed, Luna content with the two books Azriel had read, the two of you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, exhausted but content.
“Yn I love you so much” You rolled into his side.
“Really? Even after two kids?” You teased.
“Especially after two kids, Mothers are hot” he kissed the top of your head smiling.
“Not as hot as Fathers"
“Oh talk Mother to me” he laughed, kissing your cheek.
“We-need-to-babyproof-the-sitting-room” you managed between kisses.
“Keep going” he hummed with a goofy smile.
“Cut-the-grass-tomorrow- or I'm- leaving you” You smiled back before meeting ferociously, Azriel’s leg just began to tangle with yours as a small voice came to the door.
“I'm scared” You broke apart and rolled your eyes at each other before Azriel sat up and called Luna over to the bed.
“It's okay little drop of starlight, I will always protect you” he pulled her into his chest. You had tried time and time again to get Azriel to stop leaving her sleep between you both but he really couldn't help it. He was putty in Luna’s hands. She laid between you both but of course, faced Azriel.
11 years later.
“Luna! I said no!"
“I'm 16! I'm old enough to fly alone! Why can't I go away with my friends camping for the weekend!”
“Because I said so! And take off the fighting leathers!”
“Ugh!!!!” She shrieked, ripping her jacket from her shoulders to reveal her cropped top and stomping upstairs.
“And put on a tarp for Gods sake!” Azriel shouted after her.
“You should just let her go, it'd be easier on all of our eardrums if your screeching starlight is appeased” Sol collapsed on the couch in the den alongside you.
“Don't you have reading to do?”
“Oh yeah, annoyed with the favourite so we're all punished” he pushed himself off the couch and sauntered into the kitchen.
“We don't have favourites Sol” you called after him laughing.
“Az sit down” he sat as close as possible, cupping your hand in his.
“I think we should let her go”
“Absolutely not”
“Why not though? We went camping together when we were 16”
“Exactly, reason number one why she's not going, how we spent our camping trips” You smiled at your husband while his eyes were fixed on the stairs.
“And about the Illyrian leathers…”
“She's not joining them, I want her to be proud of her blood but that doesn't mean I want her to live it! She trains with Cass, hones her skills and never has to use them, that's the goal”
“You have to let her make that decision herself Az”
“So you want her to die”
“Of course not!-” you hit him with the pillow “-but I know we've raised her strong and smart so I know she'll make the right decisions”
“I'm going to go talk to her” You nodded in agreement and he took off up the stairs. You snuggled down onto the couch, enjoying the peace and quiet before-
“YN!!!! LUNA IS GONE! OH SHE IS SO GROUNDED!” he came flying down the stairs taking two steps at a time, shadows darting in every which direction, Sol running back into the room.
“I get her bedroom after you kill her!”
“We are not going to kill her ... .okay you can have it” you winked before tying up your coat and helping Azriel with his, his rage preventing him from buttoning it correctly.
2 years later
“I get your room now you're leaving”
“Oh wow Sol I'll miss you too” Luna ruffled her brother's hair, her suitcase in hand, standing in the kitchen doorway.
“Your travels are going to be great sweetie”
“I know I’m so excited” You hugged her, Azriel stood behind you almost afraid to look. The doorbell went off behind him.
“Wait wait, that's Wells, I'll get it!” She ran past Azriel, ripped open the door and leapt into the tall male's arms. You could hear Azriel growl so you tentatively took his hand.
“So, you're the male who thinks he's seeing my daughter”
“Emm em ye-yes sir” he put out his hand to shake Azriels and you immediately thought what a mistake. Azriel’s strength had Wells biting back tears.
“Well come on Wells! We better go. Bye everyone!” She hugged you and Sol quickly before standing in front of Azriel, Wells having run away with the bags.
“Bye, I love you, I'll be back at Starfall”
“I love you too, my little drop of starlight ” She kissed his cheek before leaving the porch for her new life.
3 years later
“Wells cheated on me!” Luna was sobbing on the doorstep of your home. You felt so terrible for her and yet you were secretly happy, the whole family having never liked Wells in the first place.
“It's okay Luna, you'll be okay sweetie”
“Is that my drop of starlight?” He looked at your worried face, the smile dropping from his face immediately.
“Oh Gods what's wrong?!” you separated from your weeping daughter, Azriel immediately closing the space to envelop her in a deep hug.
“Wells cheated on me!” Ariel's eyes grew wide before separating again from her and almost handing a hysterical Luna back to you.
“Wait Azriel where are you going?!”
“I need to handle something, Sol! We have business to attend to son!”
6 years later
“Seriously, please make him stop crying”
“Leave him alone sweetie, his daughter just got married”
“Oh please stop talking about it I'll be sobbing...again” he put his hand up to you, forcing his eyes off his little girl in a big white dress. You kissed your teary mate tenderly before persuading him to look at his gorgeous daughter.
“You look so lovely my little drop of starlight”
“Az! We're related now, can you believe it!”
“No Cass, I really can't” his voice was dry and his tears were gone upon seeing Luna’s father in law.
4 years later
“Do you need anything my little drop of starlight? Water? A pillow? A blanket?”
“I need you to calm down please, it won't make the baby come any faster” You sat by your daughter and laughed at her reply, Azriel hadn't changed much in this regard.
“I have to go find the healer, it's time to get this baby out!” He paced, almost to the point he was wearing a hole in the floor. Cassian arrived shortly and quickly joined Azriels erratic behaviour.
“Sol sends his love and will be home from the continent as soon as he can” You stroked your daughter's hair as she ended another contraction.
“Excuse me but only the father can be in here for the birth” The small healer's assistant was more than half the size of Azriel but almost as tough in her approach.
“You have to let me stay! That's my daughter!”
“Come on Az” you kissed your daughter's head before having to physically haul your mate and Cass by the ears out of the room.
The three of you stayed out in that bright hall for more than 5 hours. Both you and Cass taking the opportunity to nap on Azriels shoulders, Azriel wired awake.
Finally, the healer came out and granted you access, Azriel hurdling himself at the door.
You got to hold your granddaughter first, Cassian cooing over your shoulder, his son doing the same.
“I'm so proud of you little drop of starlight" he rubbed her hand before hugging his daughter. “Thanks, for everything….you want to hold your granddaughter?” he nodded gently in reply. The minuscule baby was pried from your hands and gently settled in her grandfather's arms.
“Hello there my little drop of starlight”
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Let me know what you think!
#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acosf#acomaf#acowar#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel x oc#azriel acotar#azriel fanfic#azriel fluff#azriel fic#cassian#acotar x reader#acotar x you#acotar x y/n#acotar fanfiction#acotar fic#acotar fluff#azriel shadowsinger#shadowsinger x reader#sarah j maas#fanfic#cassian acotar#azrielxreader#azriel spymaster
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three a.m.
TLOU AU - priest!joel miller x fem!reader
[18+] | wc: ~2.4k
summary: You seek guidance from Father Miller after you find your fiancé cheating.
masterlist | AO3
warnings: NSFW, joel can speak spanish, pre/no outbreak, some proofreading, reader can sit on Joel's lap (he's a big, strong man), no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance, fingering, oral (f! receiving), squirting, unprotected sex, creampie, slight power imbalance (joel is a priest), all consensual
a/n: my first joel miller fic 🤠🫣
The incessant knocking wakes him up from his sleep. Joel swipes at his eyes, turning his head to peer at the digital clock on his nightstand.
“Three in the mornin’?” he groans. “¿Quién será?” [who could it be?]
He throws off the blanket and stands from the bed, walking through the hallway towards the side door. The rain hits the windows hard, echoing throughout the empty church.
Joel takes a look through the peephole and swallows hard once he sees who stands on the other side. He watches as you lift your hand and knock on the door again. You’re shivering, only wearing a short dress that's soaked in rain water.
“Sweetheart, what’re you doin’ out here at this time of night?” he asks in shock once he swings open the door.
Joel catches you before you can fall as you stumble inside, wrapping his arms around you at the sound of your cries.
“Father Miller, I just–I didn’t know where to go or what to do,” you stammer, “Nicolas cheated again! He said–he said I was failing him as a woman.”
Joel can barely understand the last sentence. Your voice cracks, fat tears rolling down your face and mixing with the rain drops. Joel gently shushes you and brings you to his bedroom.
He knows he shouldn’t. It crosses a boundary that can get him excommunicated from the church if anyone were to find out. But it’s the only room with a functioning heater and towels to get you warm.
His heart hammers against his chest and his hands shake slightly as he sits you down on the couch. He’s angry, feeling a surge of violence that he hasn’t felt in years.
That idiot fiance of yours has been more trouble than he’s worth. Having you move across the country, away from all your friends and family, and keeping you isolated in this tiny town.
You’ve tried to build a community here. Every Sunday you sit in the second pew towards the far left and attend every bible session to bake sale the church has to offer.
Nicolas is more interested in sleeping with half the town while his beautiful fiance tries to build a home and a future.
It’s not Joel’s place to tell you to leave him. If anything, he should be offering his services to make you a better, more understanding future wife. At least that’s what the church would want. The very idea makes his stomach churn.
He gave an oath to the priesthood. This would be his life until his last breath. But the moment he laid eyes on you, Joel wondered if God had sent him a test.
“What am I supposed to do?” your small voice breaks through his thoughts. “I left everything for him. I’m making this place my home–our home. And he’s more interested in chasing girls than building a life with me.”
Joel sits next to you, bringing up a towel to wipe at your wet face. The scent of fresh rain and your perfume makes him dizzy.
“Do you remember the first time you told me about the problems you two were havin’?”
You give a jerky nod. “Five months ago, Father.”
“Five months ago,” Joel repeats. “Your wedding is 3 months away, mi niña. Do you think he has any plans on changing?” [my girl]
Tears well up in your eyes. It hurts Joel to hurt you like this. Fuck this place, fuck this oath, he thinks. Joel will not allow this man to ruin your life. Even if it means you return back home and he loses your presence in this church forever.
“N–no, I don’t think he’s going to change,” you whisper.
“I think it's time for you to take a good look at what the future might bring. Do you want to raise a family with this man? Do you want this man as the father of your children?”
Joel wraps his arms around your trembling frame as you begin to cry again. Your body shakes from the sobs and your tears wet his sleep shirt. His hands glide up and down your shoulders, warming your body.
He’s not sure how much time passes, but eventually your tears cease. You pull back slightly and look up at him. He takes a quick glance at your glassy eyes and down to your puffy lips.
“I haven’t been completely honest,” you whisper. “There–there’s another reason why Nicolas is angry all the time.”
“What’s that, sweetheart?”
“He thinks… he thinks I spend too much time with you–with the church,” you stammer. “He’s got this idea that I–that I have some sort of… infatuation with you.”
“It’s normal for men to feel jealousy. That’s why we must work to–”
“He’s not wrong.”
You interrupt Joel, taking the opportunity to glance at his lips. Joel realizes just how close you two are on the couch. You’re at his side, his arms still wrapped around you and your faces only inches away from one another.
“Mi…” Joel whispers, “mi niña, you’re confused. You’re hurt. You don’t know what you’re saying–”
You're quick to stand from the couch and throw off the towel. Joel thinks you’re going to agree, that you’re going to grab your things and walk out from his bedroom before he decides to do something stupid.
But you simply kick off your shoes and straddle his lap. Your tiny dress rides up the moment you sit down. His body jolts from the shock but you’re quick at grabbing his hands to place them on your thighs.
“I made up my mind, Father,” you murmur, “I’m breaking up with Nicolas. And I’m moving back home.”
His heart pinches at your words. You’re leaving.
“I think that’s a good idea–”
You slide your hips forward, placing your pussy right over his cock. Joel chokes on the rest of his words, suddenly aware of the clothes he’s wearing. Only his pajama pants and your panties stand in the way.
Joel tries to say your name in a stern tone, but you bring your face closer to his and he forgets why he wanted to push you away in the first place. Your lips touch his in a soft kiss.
He’s gentle at first, cradling your head to keep you in place while he presses his lips on yours. Joel licks at your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue then plunges it inside your mouth the moment you gasp.
He licks at you, grasping your chin as he tastes you, bites your bottom lip, gives you his tongue to suck on. Your cunt grinds down on his cock in desperate circles and your fingers tug at his hair.
His cock swells in his pants but he does his best to control himself. Joel can’t remember the last time he came, probably right before he joined the priesthood many years ago.
Joel yanks down the straps of your dress and latches onto your nipple the moment your tits are bare. Your chest is still slightly cold from the rain but he uses his mouth to warm you up.
You throw your head back and whimper as he bites and sucks at your tits. He’s ravenous, wishing he could eat you alive from how soft and plump you are in his mouth.
Joel keeps one hand on your hips to keep you steady in his lap but uses the other to slide into your panties. He’s not sure who moans first. You, at the feel of his fingers swiping through the heat of your cunt, or him at how slick you are.
“Oh God,” you whimper.
He lands a quick slap to your ass with his other hand.
“No blasfemes, niña,” he growls. [Don’t blaspheme, girl]
“I’m so–sorry,” you whimper, grinding down on his hand that continues to tease your slit.
“Stand up,” he orders.
You quickly follow his command, shivering slightly from the excitement.
“I want you,” he whispers, “since the first– fuck, I–I won’t do anything more unless you say you want this.”
“I do, Father–”
“Joel, just Joel,” he corrects you, wanting to hear you say his name.
“I want this, Joel,” you whisper. “Whatever you give me.”
He tries not to show any reaction to how you whisper his name, choosing instead to watch as you strip. He drinks in the sight of your naked body. You're beautiful, way too perfect for any man.
“Hermosa,” he murmurs, gliding his hand from over your breasts to your tummy. “Get on the bed, I want a taste of that pretty pussy.”
You follow his orders and wait, ass up face down on the bed. He yanks off his pajamas and before he can get on his knees to worship your cunt, Joel glances at the bible on his nightstand.
Perdóname, Señor. I can’t–I won’t stop this, he prays silently. Have I not given my entire life to this church? Do I not deserve this? [Forgive me, Lord]
Your cunt glistens in the dim light. Your slick trails down your thighs, making a sticky mess. Joel’s mouth waters at the sight and before he knows it, he’s licking through your folds.
“Aren’t you a pretty thing,” Joel murmurs as he runs a finger up your thigh. “Wet little cunt just f’me, ain’t it?”
“Just for you, Joel,” you whimper, voice muffled by the blanket.
He buries his mouth into your pussy. Joel drinks, licks and consumes the essence that drips from you. It’s everything he imagined and more.
In his years of devotion, he’s never come close to breaking. There’s been countless women–single, married, widowed–who throw themselves at him.
But he’s never been interested. He’s been loyal to the cause and to his word. You’re someone he wasn’t expecting. A temptation wrapped in silk dresses and pretty smiles.
Joel doesn’t know what this means, what will happen now that he’s broken his oath. He can’t find it in him to care that much. Not when you're screaming his name as he sucks your clit and pushes his finger into your tight cunt.
Your slick covers his face, practically drowning him from how much he devours you. Joel brings a hand down to squeeze at his erection, trying his best to calm the blood coursing hot through his body.
“Joel, please,” you cry into the blankets, “I’m so close!”
He writes his name with the tip of his tongue on your clit, over and over again. He slips a second finger in your cunt and slowly fucks them inside of you.
You stiffen, then scream out his name as you cum. A rush of sweet wetness gushes from your pussy and covers his face. Joel attacks, drinking and tasting every drop that he can get.
Your hips grind in small circles on his face until you drop down in a tired heap. Joel doesn’t let you go, following your cunt with his mouth and licking up the slick from between your thighs. It's not until you give him a slight nudge to his head that he stops.
“Joel," you whimper, almost out of breath, "fuck me, please?”
How can he say no when you ask so nicely? He stands on shaky legs and tugs at his cock as you flip over onto your back.
“Need me to fuck you, niña? Need me to fill up that tiny hole?”
“Please, please, please,” you chant.
Joel brings your knee up to your chest and positions that angry, red tip of his cock at your entrance. He swipes it through your folds a few times, gathering up the slick and teasing your hole.
Just when he knows you’re about to pout for more, he plunges in. You gasp, your hands immediately gripping the blankets and your mouth dropping open. Joel stays still, consumed by the tight heat that grips him.
This is probably the closest thing there is to heaven on earth, he thinks.
“F–fuck, Joel,” you whine, “you’re–you're stretching me.”
He leans over, pressing soft kisses on your nose and cheeks while you adjust to his size. With enough strength back in his body, Joel slowly pulls out. When he’s halfway, he thrusts right back in.
“So perfect,” Joel groans as he picks up the pace, “such a sweet little cunt.”
He reaches somewhere deep inside of you that has you shaking and whimpering in his hold. You can barely form a sentence, only chanting more and please. He fucks you into the mattress, using you thigh as leverage while he pistons in and out of your cunt.
You grind down, matching his thrusts and using your inner muscles to grip him tight. Your cockdrunk face and the mess between your thighs makes it difficult for him to focus.
“¿Te gusta, mi niña?” Joel groans, “Should I finish inside of you? Make you mine?” [you like that, my girl?]
“Yes, yes–oh God, please,” you cry, “please cum inside of me!”
Joel moves faster, clumsy and harsh in how he fucks you. He folds you practically in half as he meets your mouth in a rough kiss. You're cumming again, tugging at his hair until it stings while your pussy squeezes his length in a bruising grip.
His orgasm catches him by surprise. White heat licks at his spine until it spreads like wildfire through each cell in his body. Joel drops his head into the crook of your neck and repeats your name over and over again.
He spills deep inside of you, marking every inch of your cunt in his seed. Years of celibacy make this moment so intense that he has no choice but to fill you up with every drop.
He drops in a sweaty heap right next to you. No words are spoken for the next few moments, only the sound of your breathing and the pitter patter of rain on the glass windows echoes through the room.
“I guess I should get going–”
“No,” he interrupts in a rush, “stay. For the night. I’ll take you home in the morning.”
“What if someone sees?”
“They won’t,” Joel says, knowing full well there’s a church meeting in just a few hours. “I’ll make sure they don’t.”
“Okay. I'll stay,” you whisper, already falling asleep.
He's careful in how he cleans you, not wanting to move you around too much and wake you. He throws the washcloth in the hamper and stretches out next to you. Joel doesn't fall asleep, more content in watching you in his bed.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x female reader#joel miller smut#joel miller tlou
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Hi, I really like ur page and i was wondering if i could request a beach day with dad gojo?? I think this would be wholesome😭💕
₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥minors / ageless / blank blogs dni
⥽ notes: some tooth rotting fluff for you nonnie! cw children; reader and gojo are parents of two; alternate au where things are only happy; satoru is a retired sorcerer; I mention that satoru's hair is a bit long but that's because I actually hc him growing it out slightly after retiring - requests for dad gojo prompts are still open.
love consumes your daily life. it comes in the form of good morning kisses, in messy rooms, in vibrant chatter that never seems to end, in tears, in a stack of dirty dishes, in folding clothes for a family of four. it manifests itself in various ways - and no matter where the pendulum swings between how good or bad it can feel, you go to sleep every night eternally grateful.
today's sky is clear and vibrant, saturated in a blue that mirrors the expanding horizon. waves crash along the shore, the subtle breeze whipping back and forth.
a morning at the beach was just what you needed. a nice break away from the demands of your day to day life. the heat teasingly kisses your exposed skin, despite you being hidden under the giant umbrella.
you inhale with gratitude, breathing the salt in the air.
by your side is your daughter, whose now a year and half. her white hair is pulled into two pigtails, her cheeks a rosy pink. she's sitting upright, her big eyes focusing on her toy tools as she shovels the grains of sand by your side.
you mindlessly lean forward to kiss the top of her head, pushing your sunglasses away from your face to glance toward the horizon.
your heart flutters at the sight of your husband whose tall, muscular body stands firm like a marble statue in the distance. your son is on his shoulders, his hands lightly gripping his father's hair, as satoru trails a path back and forth along the sea bed.
no one would be able to tell that your son is actually quite tall for his age, not when he looks so small next to his father.
your daughter noises out "dada" as she follows your gaze, pointing her shovel towards them and flicking tiny granulates of sand up ahead.
once upon a time your life wasn't quite like this, so you absorb the seconds like a sponge.
you spend some time building sand castles with your daughter, who rejects the concept of dimensional shapes and prefers the art of rustic mounds instead. you're both so engrossed in your little activity, that you barely hear satoru and your son walk towards you.
"mama!" your son squeals, his hands clutched tight into two fists as he nearly kicks the mound that you've both been carefully crafting together.
"easy, my love!" you giggle, glancing up at him with affection.
he looks so much like satoru, you think. his eyes may be yours, but satoru's genes fought hard for that claim with a streak of blue piercing through his left iris. he has the same cute little nose, and a massive grin that brightens up his whole face.
the only stark difference is with his hair color, which was simply a lighter shade of yours.
"m'sorry!" he politely replies, adjusting his position as you circle one arm around him. "I gotta show you!" he opens both fists, where he holds two beautiful shells. "one's for you, mama. and the other is for akemi!"
"oh, these are beautiful, jun!" you coo, taking each shell from his hand. you already know exactly where you'll keep them, one sitting on your vanity and the other you'll attach onto the decorative mobile in akemi's room.
you place both shells carefully into the beach bag and pick up jun's thermos. he plops down right beside you and happily takes it from your hand.
meanwhile, satoru finds his place on the towel, his long arms scooping up akemi into the contours of chest.
you run your fingers through jun's wet hair, pushing it away from his face as you watch him drink water. akemi babbles by your side while satoru continues whispering the sweetest words into her ear.
"how's my pretty girl? you having fun making sand castles with mama?" he coos, rubbing the tip of his red rose against hers. their blushed faces mirroring one another.
akemi giggles and kisses her father in return.
"we should be heading back soon," you state, not wanting to be the bearer of bad news but knowing full well that the afternoon heat will be far too much for young daughter.
satoru and jun both turn to look at you, tiny pouts forming on their mouths as their shoulders slump.
"do we have'ta, mama?" jun mumbles.
"yes, but how about we get some ice cream first before we go?"
"oh! I could do with some ice cream!" satoru replies, too busy making a silly face at akemi to pull another laugh out of her.
jun moves closer to them, practically crawling on his father's lap as he raises the thermos victoriously like he won an epic battle.
"I want ice cream too!"
satoru gathers him in his arms as well, placing him on his lap to cradle his two babies together.
another burst of love runs through you, one that settles deep within your soul.
you allow father, son and daughter to bond while you carefully pack up all your things. by the time satoru puts them down, you're almost finished.
you stand up to stretch your legs, your husband following your footsteps and slipping his arms around your waist to spin you in his direction while jun and akemi take a second to destroy the sand castle that you were building earlier.
"hey, hot stuff," he teases under his breath, greeting you like it's the first time he's seen you all day. "missed you out in the water"
"nu-uh, mister," you playfully scold, "your smooth talking isn't going to excuse you from the near heart attack you gave me when you dunked jun in earlier..."
satoru arches forward to kiss your cheek, "lighten up, mama. you know our babies are in perfectly safe hands with me,"
you shake your head, a musing smile making your cheeks feel tight. you bring one hand up to twirl a strand of satoru's hair, while the pads of your other fingers lightly grazes over the blades of his undercut.
you scratch the back of his head lovingly, "I know they are"
two arms wrap around your leg, and you look down to find jun resting his chin on your thigh while looking up at you with curiosity. "mama, can we get the ice cream now?"
you shift your gaze to satoru, the tiny moment of privacy fleeting as love makes it's presence known once again.
"you guys head over to the shop, while I pack up the stuff. I'll meet you there."
with that, you carry akemi in your arms while you hold jun's hand. the three of you stroll away from your space of sanctuary towards the ice cream shop.
you greet the owner, his familiar face clocking your own. the last time you saw him was on your honeymoon with satoru. the man's face beams with pride as he looks at your children, witnessing how much has bloomed around you since.
you order everyone's ice cream, and he graciously offered akemi's tiny scoop free of charge.
you're seated at the booth, watching jun devour his chocolate soft serve while akemi's lips turn orange nibbling at her peach sorbet. satoru finally walks in, clad in a unbuttoned short sleeve shirt that he wears over his swim trunks. he runs his fingers through his hair, pushing the longer layers back and away from his face to reveal his handsome features.
"papa, hurry up! you're ice cream will melt!" jun calls out, and you kindly shush him as to not disturb the other customers.
thankfully, it was a young couple and two older women who simply laugh at the interaction.
satoru slips into the booth right next you, his arm automatically curling around your waist while his free hand lifts the cone that you've been holding for him.
he dramatically licks around the swirl of vanilla, making jun and akemi laugh with his animated reaction.
you both find one another then, the root of your love at the forefront.
suddenly, everything else disappears, and it's just the four of you suspended in time. satoru leans down to steal a kiss, his sugary lips slightly cold, and you return the gesture tenderly.
"ewwwwww" jun interrupts, scrunching his nose in disgust.
the spark fizzles, but that's alright. you know full well that you and your husband have the night to make up for it.
satoru looks at his son with cheeky astonishment. "eww?! really, jun? how do you think you got here in the first place?"
you playfully slap your husband's chest, while your son shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly with his innocence brushing over satoru's comment.
"dunno, ask mama"
satoru's jaw goes slack, a disapproving expression overcoming him. "ask mama? as if your papa had nothing to do with it, huh?"
"well, I came from her tummy not yours" your son answers quite matter of factly, giving your husband a sassy look as if he knows better.
you bring your fingers to your mouth to stop yourself from laughing at his wild comment and rest your cheek against satoru's shoulders, listening to father and son banter while the exhaustion from the day trickles in slowly.
you close your eyes for only a moment when the silence settles in.
satoru leans you both back against the plush surface of the sofa.
"tired, angel?"
"mhmm," you agree, "but today was perfect."
he smiles, his cerulean eyes shifting to jun and akemi finishing up their treats.
you're not the only one who finds themselves thankful.
"yeah," he murmurs, squeezing your waist in confirmation, "yeah, it really was."
note: I am not accepting any new requests. if you're interested in seeing what kind of requests I am accepting - please check the "rules" and "upcoming" links on my pinned.
#gojo x reader#gojo x y/n#gojo x you#gojo fluff#Satoru Gojo x reader#Satoru Gojo x y/n#Satoru Gojo x you#Satoru Gojo fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk fluff#gojo satoru#Satoru Gojo
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agent(s) of chaos
✱ boyfriend!bc x gn!reader
— there's a reason why you love game nights with your boyfriend's second family.
w.count → 1.1k
genre → fluff, a dash of comedy
warning → mild cussing (i think? it's just hints), the chaos that is ot8 stray kids, one time jump, and reader is referred to as baby! no gender specific attributes mentioned aside from reader's hair being soft, heh
a.n → based on this request! not gonna lie, i actually got a slight headache from imagining the chaos throughout the fic lol even in my head they're /that/ loudㅠ heh
game nights with your boyfriend and his friends might not happen often; but once they all come together and get the event date set?
oh, a (good) chaos will definitely ensue.
“goddamit—chan hyung! get your eyes on the game!”
“yeah! go get it, seungmin!”
“felix you bronze—step on it! catch up!”
a collective of cheers and disappointed groans were imminent as soon as yoshi, seungmin’s character of the night, crosses the finish line; leaving dry bowser and baby mario—which respectively belongs to han and chan, in second and third place. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought the boys were just competing in some major mario kart competition.
“wah chan hyung—you’re seriously so bad at this!” changbin loudly protests—to which you genuinely thank yourself for pushing through with the rented villa agenda—while throwing his head back against the sofa in desperation. lee know, their other unfortunate teammate on the other hand, is busy pretending to box against your cackling boyfriend, having a string of ‘sorry’s falling from his lips.
“argh!” switching his target in desperation, changbin immediately puts his hands together and faces you with his attempt of salvation. “please switch teams with me! i can’t do this any longer! he’s so bad!” he pleaded, nearly earning himself a thrown nintendo controller on the head from chan if it wasn’t for your swift hands, snatching the heavy plastic from your pouting boyfriend. Well, not that you mind though, considering how adorable your boyfriend looked while he sulks.
“yah yah yah—changbin hyung!” seungmin intercepted—and if you know something about the kim seungmin, then his iconic multiple-hit comment is about to pop off. “no one told you to be so bad with rock paper scissors anyway!” the younger pointed out, a smug grin etched across the span of his face, “that’s why you ended up with chan hyung!”
“hey!” your boyfriend was the first to react, pointing at the smug younger one—and of course, it’s not changbin if he didn’t follow suit.
“yah! you prick!” huffing and puffing, changbin was quick on his feet as soon as seungmin stuck out his tongue, further provoking the curly haired male while he ran away—only to fish more of changbin’s loud shouts after the younger. “yah kim seungmin! come back here!”
series of laughter follows the disappearance of the two; to which everyone know by heart now, is also the best time for the rest of the kids to take their water and bathroom break—and alongside that, also became the best time for chan to finally take a proper look at you.
“you’re still good, baby?” the switch in his demeanor made you giggle as you lean into chan’s warm touch on your cheek. despite having witnessed the shift countless of times, the way chan’s voice became very soft when he spoke with you never fails to make your heart flutter. “it’s almost 1 am, aren’t you sleepy yet?”
“i’m good,” a smile follows your simple answer whilst your arms found their home around your boyfriend’s waist, snuggling closer to his warmth while chan lifts your legs to cross over his lap. “can last at least 2 more games, i think. besides, i drank some of the coffee jeongin brewed earlier, remember?”
chan’s exaggerated sigh along with his usual disapproving head shake ignites another set of laugh within you, fishing another pout to appear on his plump lips. “knew i shouldn’t have trusted jeongin,” he dramatically piched his nose bridge, trying to look as disappointed as he could. “he’s part of the bad peaches club after all.”
“i heard that!”
jeongin’s resounding shout from the kitchen startles both you and chan—causing your laughter and chan’s to grow in volume. “not sorry!” chan’s reply simply earned a grunt from the younger, not wanting to further continue the discourse while he’s busy arguing with hyunjin about who can get their hands on the last can of beer in the fridge.
“but anyway,” chan’s gaze softened as they returned to you, running his fingers mindlessly in your soft hair, “tell me whenever you feel sleepy, okay? we’ll go to bed right away.”
“i know,” an exaggerated sigh left your lips as you immitate your boyfriend’s previous antics, “this isn’t my first rodeo, you know?” you snickered as you playfully stuck out your tongue—which in turn only further cause the adoration in his chest to bubble.
oh, how he wish you’re all alone right now. he’d immediately tackle you into a cuddle and plant several dozens of light kisses across your face and neck—but he must resist. after all, he wouldn’t want the kids to tease you over something like that.
“gosh, you’re so annoying,” he hummed, lips betraying him as it formed into a massive grin across his lightly flushed cheeks, “think you’ve been hanging around the kids too much. i should keep a schedule for your visits from now on.”
“nooo!”
4 round of games and 20 minutes later, another wave of commotion returns as the race for second place—since first place has again been coveted by the representative agent of chaos, the kim seungmin—ensues between lee know and han.
“han jisung! step on it step on it!”
“lee know hyung! shi—why are you getting as bad as chan hyung!”
“yah! baby, tell—“
chan’s words immediately died down in his throat as soon as his gaze landed on your peacefully sleeping face—plea to defend himself from his kids vaporized and replaced with a soft thump in his chest. You looked so peaceful with your head resting against his shoulder—a massive contrast to the chaos surrounding you—and chan could feel his heart swell. you looked so cute; especially with your fingers wrapped tightly around the controller seungmin had just handed you a few moments prior.
had you been fighting off the drowsiness all along?
carefully pulling you into his lap, chan smiled as he gently peeled the controller off of your hand before dropping it directly onto hyunjin’s unsuspecting lap, startling the younger.
“ya—“
“shut it,” chan hissed between gritted teeth, easily pulling hyunjin’s focus from the chaos happening on screen and to you—who immediately nodded his head knowingly when he realized what’s happening.
“yah lee min—ow! what was th—oh.”
chan’s next target was changbin—who immediately received a slap on the back instead of chan’s quiet warning. it’s rather effective, however, considering outside of the two current players, everyone now has their eyes on you.
“keep it quiet—if my baby wakes up because of any of you,” chan eyed every single one of his kids, not even caring how severe the teasing he’ll receive by the daylight will be for whatever he’ll be saying next,
“i’m not gonna let it slide.”
©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡
#stray kids fluff#skz fluff#bang chan fluff#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#bang chan imagines#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#bang chan scenarios#stray kids fanfic#skz fanfic#bang chan fanfic#stray kids au#skz au#bang chan au#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#bang chan x reader#stray kids x you#skz x you#bang chan x you#stray kids#skz#bang chan#isa's fics
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'tis the damn season
Genre: exes baggage; pseudo-relationship
Pairing: SEVENTEEN Kim Mingyu x Reader
Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content
Notes: 23k words - I got carried away, song prompt was 'tis the damn season by Taylor Swift.
Synopsis: Taking your boyfriend—with whom you recently broke up with—to your family home for the holidays and pretend you're still happily in love? Doesn't sound like the best idea but what could go wrong?
The weather forecast sure wasn't lying when it said this winter would be the coldest in the last decade. As soon as you step outside, the chill has cut through your layers of clothing. It's a cold that feels even more piercing than the void in your soul right now.
The last few days, you've been trying to convince yourself that the chill you're feeling is just the season, nothing more. You were just being in denial, of course. As you walk to meet your sister in a cafe near your apartment, you can't help but think back to warmer times. Days when the sun seemed to shine a little brighter, when laughter was easy, and the world felt kinder to you and your heart. It's clear now that the warmth you miss isn't just from the absence of the sun. It's the absence of something, someone, who made everything feel less cold, less harsh.
“Blair!” you called out when you spotted your sister outside the cafe, her bundles of clothing unable to hide the massive baby bump. She looked warm and pretty, waving happily at you when she saw you.
“Hi!” she greeted pitchily when you approached her.
“Did you wait too long? Where’s your husband?”
“Oh, he went to get the gifts wrapped up,” she said, ushering you into the building.
“Their hot chocolate here is really good. You should try it.”
“Really? Good because I’m craving some chocolate right now.”
You found a table, ordered food, and started talking about the Christmas party in your family home this year. She laid down the plans and the segments which are the same as every year but you just had to talk about it. The discussion was going well until your sister reminded you of something important that totally slipped your mind.
“Mingyu's coming too right?”
“I’m sorry, what?” you asked stupidly, blinking rapidly at her.
“Mingyu. Duh,” she scoffed, chuckling.
Of course, Mingyu. “I'm not sure he can make it this year.”
Your sister's face contorted into a frown upon hearing that. She asked, “Why? What's wrong? Did you two break up?”
Yes, you did. But hearing the worry in her voice made you swallow the words. "He probably has other plans. I don't know, he might go home for the holidays this year."
She visibly relaxed, patting her chest and sighing. “Good lord, I thought you two broke up. That’s okay. He should spend time with his family if he can. I just asked because he’s been spending Christmas with us ever since you got together.”
Right, he has. Ever since you started dating, Mingyu has spent every Christmas with your family. The first time he did, it was because you found out his family lived abroad so you invited him over. He quickly got close with your family and soon became a regular presence during holidays and important family functions. Including last year, Mingyu has spent three Christmases in your family home. This year would have been his fourth if you didn't break up.
It hasn't been that long; only three weeks have passed since. You kept count because a four-year relationship is obviously not something you forget overnight. Not to mention the regrets you have about the breakup that would often leave you to wonder if it was the right thing to do.
"The kids will miss him, for sure," your sister commented to which you only replied with a hum of agreement. She didn't bring him up again and continued relaying the holiday plans to you. When it was all over and she'd had her third cup of hot chocolate, you walked out of the cafe with your sister promising to drive you back to your apartment.
The universe probably has it out for you though, because as soon as you step out of the cafe, the first person you bumped into was Mingyu.
"Mingyu!" your sister exclaimed, gasping behind the scarf that was covering half her face. "Good to see you. How are you?"
Mingyu looked surprised but he was quick to give your sister a hug. "I've been well. How are you?"
"Oh, I'm fine. Still alive and very pregnant."
"So, I see," Mingyu smiled sweetly, eyeing your sister's growing bump. "He should be coming out this month, right?"
"He is," your sister chimed. "Hopefully before or after the Christmas weekend, but, I'll leave it up to him to decide."
A smile crept up on your lips, touched by the fact that he remembered that bit. As the two of them had a quick catching up, you stood there awkwardly, looking around and refusing to meet Mingyu's gaze.
"Will you be joining us for Christmas this year?" your sister asked, making you glance at Mingyu at once. He was looking at you too, confusion written over his face. "She said you're going home to your family. That's good, but if you change your mind about it, you're welcome to the chateau, okay?"
"Uh," Mingyu chuckled awkwardly, tilting his head. "Yeah, I will. I mean... I might. I'll let you know."
"Good," your sister beamed just as her husband was pulling over at the side of the road. She turned to you. "Since Mingyu's here, I guess I won't have to drive you back anymore?" she said, nodding at you.
You grabbed her hands and gave her a pleading look. "But you promised!"
"I did, but your boyfriend's here now so I don't have to," she scoffed. To Mingyu, she said, "See you around, Gyu."
"Yes. See you around. Take care," Mingyu replied, waving at your sister as she got into the car.
The two of you stood there in silence, watching them drive away and disappear into the sea of cars on the road. You sighed when you couldn't see their car anymore, turning on your heel to walk away. Mingyu's voice called for you, making you stop to look at him.
He seemed hesitant at first, but he still spoke. "You haven't told them yet?"
"No," you replied, shaking your head. "I was going to, the timing was just off when the topic came up a while ago. Don't worry though, I'll sort this out."
"It's fine. No big deal," he said, nodding.
You evened your breathing, nodding at him. "Okay," you replied before turning to walk away.
The air was cold against your cheeks and your mouth was bitter from the cold exchange you just had with Mingyu. It was brief and hurried like neither of you wanted it. It was fleeting, almost as if it never happened at all. Now here you are, freezing and broken, wanting so bad to whine about the encounter but you can’t because that would be pathetic and completely out of line. In fact, you’re the last person who should complain about Mingyu being cold and distant. It was you who decided to break up with him in the first place.
“Y/N, wait!” came Mingyu’s voice, huffing as he ran after you down the sidewalk. You halted, your heart suddenly beating wildly, replacing your frustration with anxiousness. He stopped just a few feet from you. “Let me drive you home.”
What home? “I’m fine. It’s not that far.”
“Please, I insist,” he replied, reaching for you but not touching you. “You look cold.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat, along with the voice in your head telling you not to get into his car. "If you don't mind, then... okay."
With a heavy step and your mind screaming about how stupid you are, you towed behind Mingyu all the way to where his car was parked by the sidewalk.
The ride was quiet; not that you were expecting any conversation. What would you talk about anyway? It shouldn’t feel weird since you haven’t spoken to him in weeks. But then again, it did feel weird to be together and not utter a word to each other. You used to have a lot to talk about; random topics, important stuff, petty fighting, and whatever it was that crossed your minds. Now you haven’t heard from him for three weeks until today. Funny how someone can be a huge part of your life today and become a stranger the next day. The chill on your hands and cheeks was gone but the cold in your heart was enough to make your soul shiver.
Mingyu took a deep breath as he pulled over at the side of the road right in front of your apartment complex. The car came to a stop but you sat there frozen in place, unable to open the door on your side or say anything to thank him for the ride. Mingyu can probably feel your discomfort and it felt awkward knowing that.
“For what it’s worth,” he began, breaking the ice. “I haven’t told anyone either.”
You cautiously glanced his way, smiling timidly when you saw that he was looking at you. His expression was difficult to discern. There was a smile on his lips but it didn’t reach his eyes.
You looked away and chuckled awkwardly. “I guess it’s not something that just randomly comes up in conversations, is it?”
“You’re right, it isn’t,” he agreed, nodding.
You were both quiet after that, unsure of what to say next. You’re thinking about getting off but it doesn’t feel right to leave just yet. It was as if something in the atmosphere was telling you the conversation was not over yet. Was it the atmosphere or was it your delusional brain fooling you into thinking there's something there when the truth is there isn't?
“You know, if you want…” he started again. You can tell he was hesitating because he wouldn’t even look at you. “I can go to the chateau with you.”
“The chateau?” you repeated, genuinely surprised. “With me? You mean for Christmas?”
“Yeah."
“Are you serious?” you asked incredulously, genuinely amazed at the sudden turn of events.
“Is that a ‘no’?” he probed. He seemed serious about his offer but you weren’t sure how to react to it. “I was thinking we could just go there for old times’ sake. I don’t have anything planned for Christmas anyway, and I would love to see them again one last time.”
One last time? This really is the end for you, isn’t it? “Wouldn’t it be weird?”
Mingyu chuckled sheepishly, scratching his nape. “Yeah, I guess it would. Sorry. Was it too much? Did I overstep?”
You shook your head in response but in your mind, you do agree that it was out of bounds. What kind of ex was he to ask if he could spend Christmas with your family after you two have broken up? And what kind of woman would you be if you said it was alright and he could come? Sure, he’s close to your family and has built a good relationship with them. Even so, it’s still awkward to have him come over for the holidays knowing the relationship you two had-- which was the reason he met your family in the first place, has come to an end.
“We broke up, Gyu. I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you replied and you meant it. Everyone in your family adored Mingyu, especially your parents. Now that you think about it, if they find out that you’ve broken up, it would break their hearts too. “I haven’t told them yet and it would upset them. Especially mom.”
Mingyu appeared to think for a moment, then his face contorted with hesitation. It baffled you how much you knew him; his cues, his expressions, and even his mannerisms. You knew exactly what they signified and how to respond to them. Right now, you know he has an idea that you may or may not like.
“What if…” he began, glancing at you tentatively. “What if we don’t tell them yet?”
“What?”
“What if we don’t tell them that we broke up? Telling them now would probably ruin the festive mood. Let’s just let the holidays pass. We could do that and spend Christmas together this year.”
Together... you pondered but you steeled your resolve. It was tempting, and you could shout to the world how much you miss him right now, but you wouldn't take your chances on something so risky.
“You’re not serious,” you deadpanned, imagining a whole lot of scenarios where his plan backfires terribly. It would be easier to just get back together than to pretend you’re still together in front of your whole family. “It’s stupid and they’ll see right through it.”
“So, you’re up for it as long as they don’t figure it out?” he grinned mischievously. God, you hate it when he makes that face. He does that when he knows he’s up to no good and he’s trying to rope you into it. But dear God, don’t you love it too; the fun that follows after he finally convinces you, the euphoria of being involved in some misconduct, and the thrill of doing something you never thought you would ever do.
“No.” You crossed your arms over your chest, looking away from him. “I get that you loved hanging out with them, but it’s risky and unnecessary. Besides, you don’t really have to be there. I already told my sister you’ll be spending Christmas with your family.”
“Alright, I'm sorry. Let’s not do it,” he gave up, raising his hands. “It was worth a shot though.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a no.” You forced a smile as you reached for the door and got ready to leave. “Thanks for the ride.”
“You’re welcome. Stay warm,” he replied with a small wave. You smiled again just as you were closing the door. Then you watched him drive away, sighing as soon as he was far enough.
"Stay warm? What is he a weatherman?" you muttered, shaking your head.
You were right; the universe has it out for you. After that one unexpected encounter with Mingyu, you started seeing him everywhere—in the grocery store, at your favorite café, even just walking down the street. For such a big city, it seemed absurd how often you bumped into him lately, especially since you hadn't seen him once since the breakup. At first, you exchanged quick, polite greetings, but soon these random meetings became so frequent that even looking at each other felt awkward. That’s the tricky part about an amicable breakup: there’s no real reason to ignore each other. It would have been easier if he had been a jerk, or if you had done something unforgivable, but there was not enough reason to act like strangers.
“Hello, stranger. Good morning,” Mingyu greeted you as he saw you at the café counter. The sound of his voice made your heart skip a beat, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes at his goofy grin.
“Good morning to you too,” you replied, nodding in acknowledgment. Mingyu didn’t say anything else and quietly waited his turn.
He stood behind you in the queue, out of sight, but you could easily imagine him with his hands shoved into his coat pockets. Or maybe he was scrolling through his phone. Perhaps he was staring at the menu. Whatever he was doing, you hoped he wasn’t looking at you—observing the back of your neck, checking you out, or anything like that.
“Thank you,” you told the barista as she handed you the buzzer after you paid for your coffee. When you turned on your heel, you caught a glance of Mingyu who smiled at you when your eyes met. As you walked away, you heard him tell the barista his order.
Your feet hurriedly carried you to a four-seater table. Originally, you weren’t planning to linger in the café and ordered a takeout, but curiosity got the best of you after hearing Mingyu order for two people. Who was he having coffee with this early? Your eyes scanned the occupied tables, searching for any hint of Mingyu’s company. Anxiety began to build up in your chest as you considered the possibility that he might be here with another girl.
It could be anyone, you reassured yourself. Mingyu, being the social butterfly that he is, has friends everywhere. Throughout your relationship, you had lost count of the times you met Mingyu’s acquaintances. Most of these meetings happened in the streets or the hallways of the university, where he would bump into someone he knew and have quick small talks—not forgetting to introduce you as his girlfriend to those you were meeting for the first time. But still, in your opinion, it was a little too early to be meeting a friend for coffee.
As expected, Mingyu had a quick chat with the barista before leaving the counter. Hoping he wouldn’t notice you watching him, you feigned interest in your phone as he strolled across the room. The table he sat at wasl vacant, leading you to presume that the person he’s meeting hasn’t arrived yet. But barely a minute later, the chime of the door opening echoed through the café. The way Mingyu’s face lit up with a smile at the sight of the newcomer made you scowl. Glancing over your shoulder toward the entrance, you saw a woman walking in.
You held your breath, observing the tall, alluring figure approach your ex-boyfriend. Mingyu greeted her with a hug that lingered longer than you would have preferred. Recognizing the jealousy bubbling up inside you, you scoffed incredulously, shaking your head and tearing your gaze away from them. So what if he’s meeting a woman? What does it matter to you? So what if there’s a chance they’re involved romantically? It’s none of your business! He’s free to do whatever he wants!
“Isn’t it a little too soon to start seeing someone new, though?“ you muttered, a scowl knitting your brows together.
The buzzer startled you, prompting a sharp exhale as you rose to fetch your order. But when the barista called out your name in a voice louder than necessary, a flush of embarrassment tinged your cheeks. Mingyu must have heard that you were still around.
But really, why feel embarrassed? This is a public space, and you have every right to be here. Now that you think about it, you may be way in over your head to think your presence there is affecting him at all. You chided yourself internally for overthinking.
“Thanks,“ you said to the barista, sliding the buzzer back across the counter. “But seriously, what's the point of the buzzer if you're going to call out names anyway?“
The barista grinned sheepishly. “Honestly, I've wondered the same thing myself.“
If you want to know who Mingyu was hanging out with or if he's already moved on, you could simply ask. Not Mingyu, of course. Maybe inquire with mutual friends or someone close to him. Granted, easier said than done, but definitely less humiliating than the slightly awkward and borderline stalker-ish behavior you're exhibiting now.
Your phone started ringing as soon as you stepped out of the cafe. It was your father calling so you punched the answer button and pressed the device on your ear. “Hi Dad, what’s up?”
“Hi, sweetheart. Is Mingyu there?” was the first thing he said.
You glanced back inside the cafe where you could see Mingyu happily chatting with his ‘date’. “No. Why?”
“Mommy wants to know if he’s coming this weekend. Your sister was here a while ago and told us she met Mingyu last week. Your mom’s making final arrangements for the weekend so she wants the RSVP. You know how it goes.”
“Yeah, I know,” you exhaled, your eyes twitching at the sight of the girl’s hand around Mingyu’s arm. They have left their table and are now making their way out of the cafe with all smiles.
“Right, you do. Let us know once he made up his mind, alright? Or call your mom, whatever works for you.” your dad said.
You turned in the direction of your apartment before Mingyu could see you loitering outside the cafe. “I should just call her. I gotta tell her as soon as possible anyway,” you replied as you trekked back to your apartment.
“Good. It shouldn’t be so hard to ask him. I mean,” your father chuckled. “He’s been a regular presence in our home for three Christmases. At this point, he’s basically family.”
If they only knew the truth, they would never even mention his name around you. “Right. I gotta go, Dad. I’ll call mom later.”
“Alright, Bean. Love you.”
“Love you too, Dad,” you replied, briskly hanging up and tucking your phone back into your purse. You have made up your mind, so you turned on your heel and walked back to the cafe. Mingyu was standing by the sidewalk, waving a hand at the girl who he had just sent away in a taxi. The voices in your head were screeching and cursing at you for an impulsive decision that you were actively trying to execute. But there was no turning back.
“Kim Mingyu,” you blurted as soon as you reached your ex. Mingyu, who was just about to press his phone to his ear, turned to you in surprise. “Christmas at the chateau. Is it still on the table?”
Confusion flickered on his face. “Mom, let me call you back. I need a sec. Yeah, it’s her… I will. Bye, mom. Talk later.”
You took a deep breath, watching him put his phone away and walk closer to you. He then said, “It depends on you, y/n. Just say the word.”
You exhaled sharply, blowing steam from the warmth of your mouth. “Come with me, then. Spend Christmas with me–us. The family… My uh, family wants you there.”
Mingyu shrugged, lips lifting into a boyish smile. “What about you? Do you want me there?”
“Absolutely!” you replied so quickly, it was embarrassing. “Everyone would be delighted to see you so… That makes me want you to be there.”
There’s no way he didn’t notice how defensive you were. Mingyu’s grin didn’t falter, nodding cheekily as he said, “Okay then. If you insist.”
You couldn’t help the smile that tore through your lips, both annoyed and shy because you knew he was teasing you on purpose. “Stop that.”
“What?” he grinned. “You want me there. I guess I’ll be there then.”
“Shut up,” you gloated, shaking your head despite being unable to erase your smile. You started walking back to your apartment while Mingyu followed behind you. “Go away!”
He chuckled heartily, reaching for your elbow. “Come, y/n. I’ll take you home.”
“Fine,” you grumbled, letting him drag you back. Your heart has stopped raging and you are feeling much calmer now. “I have rules.”
“Okay.”
“And I have a condition.”
“Sure, sure. Let’s hear it in the car.”
“What could go wrong?” you questioned, looking at your friend Daphne through the reflection in the mirror.
Daphne stared back at you with a dumbfounded expression, as if she had just heard the most ridiculous thing ever. “Those four words are harmless on their own. But if you put them together, you get the most dangerous sentence in the history of humanity.”
You scoffed, shaking your head as you turned to face her. “You’re so dramatic.”
“And you’re an idiot.”
“Thank you very much,” you quipped, then stood with your back facing her. “Now, would you please help me out of this dress? I don’t like it.”
“Me neither,” Daphne agreed before unzipping the dress at once.
“How about that one?” You pointed at a nice maroon cashmere dress.
Daphne looked over it and nodded. “It’s cute. Try it on.”
You hurried back into the fitting room with the dress. It’s the morning before you leave for the chateau and you invited Daphne for a last-minute shopping. You wanted a dress for the Christmas dinner and you initially thought you’d find a decent one in your closet but there wasn’t any. That was not to say you didn’t have any nice dress–in fact, you had plenty. You just didn’t want to wear them for the occasion. It was as if everything in your closet was suddenly tacky, plain, or unattractive. You wanted new ones.
“You look amazing,” Daphne said as soon as you stepped out, although she had a deadpan expression.
“Thank you. I like it too.”
“Be honest. Are you shopping because you wanted to look cute for Mingyu?”
You laughed awkwardly. “No, I’m not.”
Daphne narrowed her eyes at you. “I can see right through you.”
You knew that but you were still adamant about denying it. “I don’t dress to impress, Daph. Especially not for a man.”
“You don’t, but this is Mingyu we're talking about so…” she retorted, raising an eyebrow at you.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to say. This dress is not for him,” you insisted, examining yourself in the mirror.
“It’s okay, girl. You can be honest with me.”
“I can?” you lilted, taking the bait Daphne threw to catch you.
“See, I knew it!” she snickered, rolling her eyes. “You want to impress your ex.”
You just pouted, not responding to her at all and just looking through your dress selections for more options. So what if you want to impress Mingyu? You’re not trying to get back with him. You just didn’t want him to think you were any less pretty after the breakup.
“y/n, I told you. Bringing him to the chateau is a bad idea.”
“It’s just one weekend,” you murmured, embarrassed but determined not to back out.
Daphne stood from the couch and crossed her arms over her chest. “One weekend where your heart and dignity is on the line. I don’t think it’s worth it.”
Daphne was right and you know it. But you had made up your mind–you are going to the chateau with Mingyu. You’ve made the preparations and told your parents he was coming. You’ve talked to Mingyu and put up clear boundaries. Plus you are driving up there in four hours. You can’t just back out at the last minute!
You can, you just didn’t have the intention to do so. Although it shamed you to admit it, a part of you wanted this. For old-time’s sake.
“I know you mean well but,” you paused, faced your friend, and sighed, “I’m sorry, Daph.”
Daphne sighed, shaking her head sternly as he approached you to tenderly squeeze your shoulders. “I guess I can’t change your mind, then?”
You responded by shaking your head, and Daphne pulled you into a hug.
“Just don’t go breaking your heart. It hasn’t even healed yet.”
“I’ll try my best.”
Your friend grumbled as she pulled away. Pouting, she pointed at the dress with a deep olive green shade. “Get this one too. Green looks majestic on you. And hurry. This place is getting too crowded.”
Grinning, you heeded her suggestion and grabbed said dress before disappearing into the fitting room once again. After shopping, you sat down for brunch with your friend and spent the morning chatting away. By the time you arrived back at your apartment, it was half past noon and you only had a couple minutes left before Mingyu would come to pick you up. You stuffed your new clothes in your luggage, inspected your boxes of presents for your family, and did your routine inspection of your flat to make sure everything was clean and tidy before you left.
Your doorbell rang right on time, signaling the arrival of Kim Mingyu. Part of you wanted to roll your eyes and say he can just come in like he used to. It’s not like you changed your passcode or anything. But then again, Mingyu is a gentleman. Even if he could, he wouldn’t just waltz in like he owns the place.
“Hi,” he beamed as soon as you pushed your door open. “You ready to go?”
“Yes, I just need help with these,” you replied, motioning to the huge bag of presents in your hands. Mingyu was quick to take it out of your hands, and then hold the door open for you while you went back in to take your luggage out. He even took that one out of your hand too.
“Is this all your stuff?” he asked as you closed your apartment door.
You nodded in response and so you both boarded the elevator. At the parking lot, his car was right outside the exit, waiting for the two of you. As soon as everything was loaded, he opened the car door for you with no hesitation. Dumbfounded, you quietly slipped through the door and sat on the shotgun. Mingyu then rounded the car to get inside the driver’s seat.
“Ready?” he asked, beaming. You looked away from him, pretending to be busy with the seatbelt as you responded to his question with a quiet nod.
The first few minutes of the car ride were spent with Mingyu talking to his mother on the phone. It was a pure and adorable conversation about the weather, meals, and their plans for the weekend. Mingyu’s mom was a kind woman who spoke in a stern but gentle manner. You don’t have that many memories with her mom, except for the time two years ago when Mingyu took you on a trip to his hometown. At the time, and in the few occasions that you did talk to her, she has shown nothing but adoration for you.
“Mmhmm, don’t worry. I will take good care of myself, Mom,” he said affectionately after his mom reminded him to keep himself warm and never get sick.
“But wait, if you’re on your way to their house, does that mean y/n is with you?” she asked from the other line. Your eyes widened at his phone that was hanging on the dashboard holder. Then you glanced at Mingyu who just scrunched his nose cutely at you.
“Yes, she’s here. Say, ‘hi’.”
His mother started laughing heartily before saying, “Hi, dear. How are you?”
“Hello, Moth…er…” your speech trailed off, awkwardly glancing at Mingyu.
He just chuckled and gave you an encouraging nod before mouthing, “It’s okay.”
“Um… I’ve been well–” you stammered, clearing your throat before finishing, “–mother.”
“You’ve been well? Great. That’s great,” she chimed, her voice sweet and endearing. “I haven’t heard from you for a while. I thought you finally got sick of my son and left him for good.”
A hiccup escaped your throat, caught off-guard by her sudden comment. Mingyu on the other hand, started whining and said, “Mom! Why would you even say that?”
“Why not? She has every reason to dump you,” she replied. Mingyu grabbed the phone from the holder and tapped the loudspeaker button so he could talk to his mother in private.
“I’ll call you later. Stop worrying about me and take care of yourself, alright? Good. Let’s talk soon. Okay. Bye, love you!” He then tossed the device into a compartment and mumbled under his breath. You might not speak his language, but you knew he just cursed in his mother tongue.
“Sorry about her,” he said awkwardly. “You see, I haven’t told them either.”
“Hmm, I see.”
“She asks about you all the time, you know,” he added, eyes fixed on the road. “Even after we broke up.”
“What do you tell her?” you probed, genuinely curious. If she did ask about you all the time, how come he couldn’t tell her about the breakup?
“Nothing much. Just that you’re fine and doing stuff,” he said, to which you hummed in response and then turned your gaze to the road.
“Are you?” he questioned, making you look at him. He glanced at you briefly. “Are you fine and doing stuff?”
“Who, me?” you chuckled nervously. “Yeah, I’m fine and doing stuff.”
“Really? What have you been up to these days?”
“Oh, you know. Small gigs for family or friends. Nothing official or permanent yet. I’m still on a break.”
You and Mingyu met in college as sophomores. He took up accounting, while you were an art student majoring in interior design. After college, he applied for jobs in major firms and got accepted immediately. Then for the next six months, he worked as an assistant for an executive–which served as his training before he signed a full contract. You, on the other hand, didn’t have to worry about getting a job and securing a good salary. So you took your time, not making big decisions and enjoying your free time.
“So you’re freelancing?” Mingyu asked.
“I wouldn’t consider it freelancing since I’m not really available for hire any time. I just picked up some small projects for Allan’s house. The other is for Daphne’s department store. And I decorated for Sue as well. Remember her?”
“Yeah, I remember Sue. She was your new neighbor before I…” he stopped to clear his throat and finished, “Before I moved out.”
The sudden change of subject made your stomach turn. Looking back, you and Mingyu started living together in your fourth year of college. As spacious as it was, before he moved in, you had never eaten or cooked there. It was tidy, not because you purposely kept it clean, but because barely anyone stayed there who would make any mess– not even you who spent most of your time outside and only came home to sleep and bathe. Mingyu made it homely and warm.
At one point in your relationship, you told him you could never live there without him anymore. You could not imagine waking up without him on the bed, eating there without the food he made himself, or sitting in the living room without him to snuggle with. You told him that once and although he laughed about it, he also promised he would never leave you there alone.
Long story short, he lied. Sure, you were the one who broke things off, but he was the one who left. That was the part that hurt most— the fact that he just agreed to break up without putting up a fight. You can only hope the best for him, you knew he was hoping the same for you anyway.
Attempting to dissolve the awkwardness, you decided to ask him about his job. “How was your job at the firm?”
“Oh, it’s great. I got regularized about two weeks ago,” he replied, looking pleased.
You knew that, one of your friends told you about it when it happened. “That’s amazing. I knew you would get the job.”
“Thanks. That’s immensely reassuring.”
You agree that it was such a reassuring thing to say, and you also regret not saying it when you were still together— when he needed to hear it the most.
“Good to know. You’ve always been easy to reassure,” you said as a passing comment. “I wish Blair was like that. I mean, honestly, how can she ask me to reassure her all the damn time but still remain pessimistic about everything?”
Mingyu chuckled heartily. “I guess the pregnancy is making her anxious, huh?”
You shook your head. “Not the pregnancy itself. It’s giving birth that she’s so scared of. Now that her due is near, everyone has been trying to give her pep talks.”
“It must be nerve-wracking.”
“I can’t say I know how it feels,” you chuckled derisively. “You wanna know what she’s naming the baby?”
“She picked one already?” he asked, glancing at you with an amazed smile.
“It’s Alfred.”
“Alfred?” Mingyu frowned, dismayed. The face he made was funny to you because you had the same negative reaction when you first heard it.
“Yes. Alfred,” you snickered. "Tacky, isn't it?"
“No. I think it’s um…” He tilted his head a little. “It’s okay. Cool name. Alfred. Has a nice classy ring to it.”
You rolled your eyes, knowing he was just trying to patronize your sister. “She’s hell-bent on following our parents’ legacy by naming her children chronologically. We barely talked her out of naming the child Allan after my older brother.”
Mingyu hummed. “So if she had it her way, there would have been a ‘y/n Jr.’ in a couple of years.”
You giggled, leaning your head on the backrest as you started feeling drowsy. “I know, right? That would have been nice, and kinda weird too if you think about it.”
“So I almost became a godfather to an Allan Jr.?” he asked, bewildered. “Now that you mentioned it, it does sound a little strange for an Allan Jr. to exist as someone else’s child, not Allan’s himself.”
“Do you still want to be Alfred’s godfather?” you asked, remembering that Blair had requested Mingyu to be her son’s godfather when she first found out that she was pregnant. “I mean, would you still be up for it after we tell everyone that we’ve broken up?”
You saw Mingyu shrug. “As long as you’re okay with it.”
That was such a play-safe answer, and also a ridiculous one especially since it was between him and Blair as friends; you had nothing to do with it. But you also recognized why it would depend on your opinion. To begin with, it was because of you that he made friends with your family. He would want you to be comfortable with it more than anything. And of course, regardless of how great their relationship was, you knew your family would take your side no matter what. Each time you remember this fact, you are reminded of the disappointment and pain that your breakup would bring upon your loved ones.
Something about the yuletide season tugs at your heartstrings each year. Everywhere you go, twinkling lights adorned the homes, business establishments, and the streets. Christmas brings a festive mood to the atmosphere and a unique blend of warmth, nostalgia, and anticipation that fills you with warmth despite the cold season. Your hometown is no different; each Christmas, it transforms into a wonderland of lights and decorations from house to house. In your own home, there is a warm sense of togetherness as your family gathers to share laughter, stories, and meals.
You loved this mood, but this year is a little different. The festivity is still there, but the warmth of the familiar embrace has disappeared. The once-sweet scent of gingerbread in the air now had a bitter aftertaste to it that you knew was caused by the massive hole in your heart. And it didn’t help that the reason for this void was smiling next to you.
“Here we are,” he breathed, glancing sideways at you. It’s nightfall. The drive took four hours and you slept for most of it.
“The rules,” you reminded, making him nod. “Don’t forget them.”
“Alright, babe.”
“Babe?” you scowled, making Mingyu chuckle.
“Yes, ‘babe’,” he repeated, reaching for your hand on your thigh. “Come on, It’s only for the weekend.”
“Right. Only for the weekend,” you echoed, glancing at your joined hands.
Approaching the chateau, you marveled at the Christmas trees lined up along the driveway, and the glowing ornaments hanging on them. As you reach the entrance of the house, you can hear the low hum of amazement from Mingyu. Coming to the chateau always amazed him. Not that you can blame him. The chateau is magnificent— preserved and passed down through generations, it sits on a large estate and exudes grandeur and sophistication at every turn.
“Hello, sweetheart!” your mother greeted cheerfully, walking towards you with open arms.
You greeted her back with a smile, giving her a tight hug. As she approached Mingyu, you embraced the other members of your family who came out to greet you.
“You arrived right on time for dinner,” your father stated, giving you a one-armed hug and a gentle squeeze on your shoulder. “I made your favorite.”
“You did?” you exclaimed, gleaming in delight. Your father puffed his chest proudly. “Aw, thank you!”
“You’re welcome, Bean,” he replied, evidently pleased to have elicited a good reaction from you. He patted your shoulder before greeting Mingyu. “Mingyu, my boy! Welcome back.”
“Good evening, sir,” Mingyu beamed, shaking hands with your father but the latter pulled him into a hug.
“It’s been a while,” said your father, smiling contently. “How have you been, son?”
“Very well, sir,” your ex-boyfriend replied as he let your father lead him into the house. As they went, you could hear some of their conversation.
“Not as well as I have,” your father chuckled cockily. “Did you know I’ve been hitting the gym these days? Putting in some literal leg work.”
“Nice. Although I already know. Dave told me you were there once every week.”
“Of course. And what an excellent PT he was, Dave. You have my thanks for introducing me to him.”
You caught your mother by the arm as she was passing by you. “Dad’s been going to the gym?”
“Don’t get me started, y/n,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. She leans closer to speak in a quieter voice. “I’m glad that he’s exercising because it’s good for his health, but this thing which he calls ‘gains’ is making him vain and more annoying than usual.”
You snorted, unable to stifle your laughter. Your mother sighed with exasperation before turning to walk away from you. At that moment, you spotted Mingyu with your cousins, making you assume he was snatched away from your father’s grasp. They laughed as they chatted, contributing to the warmth permeating the atmosphere of the entire house. You couldn’t help admiring Mingyu, completely taken by his natural charm and charisma that make it easy for him to be friends with everyone.
Oh, to be Kim Mingyu— outstanding, endearing, compassionate; loved by all who meet him. Visually, he’s remarkably handsome, with his tan skin and prominent features, brilliant eyes that gleam with kindness, and a beautiful smile that lights up his face. He’s quick-witted and intelligent, capable of holding conversations about various subjects at different levels of seriousness. His sense of humor is the cherry on top, bringing laughter and joy to every gathering. He’s incredibly thoughtful too, not to mention caring. Whether it's helping out with chores, lending a listening ear, or surprising them with thoughtful gestures, Mingyu loved your family as much as he loved you. This is why he was able to build a strong connection with them, something you would hate to break if you were to reveal that you two have broken up.
In your family’s eyes, Mingyu is more than just your boyfriend; he's a part of the family, someone they wholeheartedly embrace and admire. Sometimes you’d think you fumbled when you broke up with him but then you get a flashback of the events leading up to the breakup and you realize nobody is perfect; not even the Golden Boy, Kim Mingyu.
“Everything alright?” he asked upon approaching you. He had caught you staring from across the hall while he was catching up with your cousins.
“Yeah. Mom said we should all head to the dining hall for dinner.”
“Sure. Let’s go,” he beamed, placing a hand on your waist as you led the way.
You headed straight to the dining area for dinner, where you got to meet the rest of your family who will be joining you for the weekend. Most of your relatives hold their own Christmas celebrations, the others who don’t get invited for a holiday break by those who want to host. Your mother is an excellent host, and she always sends Christmas invitations to your extended family, regardless of whether they can make it or not. As a matter of fact, Christmas at the Chateau is quite a popular recurring event in your family. That being said, there are always unfamiliar faces each year, as well as regulars who are more tight-knit with your immediate family.
“Dear lord, if it isn’t y/n,” said Aunt Lydia, a distant aunt whom you’ve only met a handful of times because she lived halfway across the globe and only showed up for important family functions. “Last time I saw you, you were wearing braces and corrective glasses. Now you’re a beautiful lady. Isn’t that right, Lena?”
Lena, her daughter, gave you a smile and a quick peck on the cheek. “It’s been a while, y/n.”
“You returned her sweet smile and let her hold your hand. 'Good to see you, Auntie. It’s been a long time. Good to see you too, Lena.' Their eyes were fixed behind you, making you glance back only to realize they were looking at Mingyu. He was chatting with some of your cousins, laughing about things you couldn’t comprehend from where you were standing.
“Is that your boyfriend? Mingyu, was it?” your aunt asked.
Your brows lifted, mildly surprised. “You know about Mingyu?”
“Oh, I heard about him. All good things,” she giggled. “I heard you’ve been together a long time?”
“I guess you could say that,” you chuckled awkwardly. At that same moment, Mingyu caught you looking so he smiled at you and then excused himself from your cousins. “I should introduce you to him.”
As soon as Mingyu was within reach, he snaked an arm around your waist, and you placed a hand on his shoulder as you motioned to your relatives.
“Auntie, this is Mingyu. Mingyu, this is my aunt from Europe. You haven’t met her before because she rarely comes here.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Mingyu beamed, leaning towards the elder lady for a brief hug.
“And this is my cousin, Lena.”
“Lena. Nice to meet you,” Mingyu recited, shaking hands with your cousin. The reluctance on Lena’s face when Mingyu didn’t greet her the same way he greeted your aunt did not go unnoticed by you.
“Hi, Mingyu. Pleased to meet you,” she replied, chuckling nervously before backing away and fiddling with the ends of her blonde hair.
As observant as you were, you knew right then and there that Lena was attracted to your boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend, although no one knows that yet. Nonetheless, you didn’t think much about it. It’s Kim Mingyu after all, loved by all who meet him. You couldn’t blame anyone who fell for him at first sight as it was the case for you when you first met him all those years ago.
It was at a college party, your third party in a week because everyone was trying to hold one to welcome the new semester. You had just transferred from another campus, and your friends were showing you around. Mingyu was by the poolside of that big house, dunking students into the water as a penalty for losing against him in arm wrestling. He seemed to enjoy the attention too, not shying away from it but not being cocky about it either. Both boys and girls surrounded him, all of them wanting to be friends with the most popular sophomore on campus.
Boys think he is cool, and girls, well, they’re girls—enamored by the handsome specimen, just like you were at that very moment. Daphne was the one who told you his name and added in his reputation for turning down girls without batting an eye. Not that you had any plans of confessing to him anyway. He was cute, yes, but that’s all. In no time, he’ll become nothing but a passing crush.
You were wrong, of course. He talked to you that night, asking for your name. The rest was history.
“So, Mingyu, how was work? I heard you got promoted to regular. Is that true?”
“It is. And work is wonderful. The firm really does live up to its name.”
“As they should,” an uncle of yours chuckled. “The family has been doing business with them for the longest time. We wouldn’t trust them if they weren’t any good.”
“Oh, so you're in business with them?” Mingyu glanced at you, and you shrugged as if to say you had no idea.
Your father hummed in response. “That firm oversees the estate's accounts, as well as the company’s books. You didn’t know, did you?”
'No, sir. I had no idea,' Mingyu responded, astonished.
“The founder, Mr. Harrington, happened to be a family friend,” interjected your eldest brother, Allan, a hint of amusement in his voice. “There were talks about exploring partnerships elsewhere, but when we heard you were working there, Dad seemed to have a change of heart.”
Your father chuckled warmly, eyes twinkling as he waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “That’s enough, Al. Don't put pressure on the young man.”
“Oh, right. Speaking of that, is anyone going to the wedding?”
“Whose wedding?”
“Mr. Harrington’s daughter’s wedding. You did receive the invitations, didn’t you?”
Dinner table conversations are often like this; topics that span from individual career pursuits to the latest news in business or finance. As you go through the food, the conversations also transition to mundane topics or updates on family members, such as children’s school performances or how your cousin’s car broke down in the middle of nowhere on their way to the chateau. And then it would circle back to more profound or intellectual subjects.
Mingyu blends in effortlessly in your bunch, almost as if he belonged there to begin with. Given a chance, Mingyu would become the most welcome member of your family if you married him.
“Pathetic,” you mumbled to yourself, ridiculing your line of thought. Marriage with Mingyu? Are you serious? How could you possibly entertain the idea of marrying someone who let you leave without so much as a fight?
Your mood soured in an instant, so you stood up from your seat and excused yourself from the table as they all chatted away. The dinner was over but everyone was too immersed in their conversations to leave the table. Your feet brought you to a balcony overlooking the back garden and the pool area of the estate. It was cold but the tea was warm. Just when you thought you were alone to wallow in self-pity and overthinking, Mingyu's endearing voice called out your name, and his warm jacket settled on your shoulders.
“Everything alright?” he asked, standing behind you as he held your arms. “You left so suddenly.“
“I’m fine. Just a little stuffed,“ you told him, looking far beyond the dark horizon. The night sky was clear, with stars twinkling faintly above. As you took a deep breath, you pondered about the farce you and Mingyu were attempting to pull off this weekend. Is it worth the risk? Like hell, is it even necessary? You should have just told them the truth long ago and got it over with.
“Hey,“ Mingyu prompted, noticing your gloomy disposition. “What’s going on in your pretty little mind?“
You loved it when Mingyu talked to you like this, but not this time though. Given the situation you are in, the only thing he’s making you feel right now is annoyance and frustration.
“Stop that, Gyu,“ you grumbled, pulling away from his embrace. “There’s no need to act all lovey-dovey and sweet.“
Mingyu chuckled and looked around. “And make them wonder why we’re distant? That’s totally gonna convince them that we’re happily in love.“
Happily in-love? How can he say these things so carelessly? “We’re fine. No one’s suspicious.“
“We’ve been here three hours,“ he countered. “Back there, your mom was asking me if you were okay. If we’re going to make this work, shouldn’t we act like we usually do?“
“Fine.“ You rolled your eyes. “Just stick to the rules.“
The rules were simple: stay in character, respect boundaries, don't tell anyone, and end it once you leave the chateau. That’s it. You can’t just walk into this without precautions, can you? So you and Mingyu agreed on these rules, which are more your rules than his. Either way, you intend to be faithful to these rules as it is the only way to prevent this whole thing from spiraling out of control.
You went up first to freshen up and get ready for bed. You scanned the room to see how you’d share it with your ex. Considering Mingyu’s height, the long couch by the balcony would be cramped for him. Sure, he’d fit just fine but he’s the kind of sleeper who likes to sprawl on the bed and take up a lot of space. The floor would be cruel, but it has more space for sure.
“It’s better than the couch, right?” you mused aloud, making your way to the door to request an extra mattress. But hesitating, you withdrew your hand from the doorknob. The floor option suddenly seemed unwise because asking for an extra mattress would surely raise suspicions about the state of your relationship. Opting instead for the balcony couch, you arranged a pillow and sheets for Mingyu. Then after discreetly taking a sleeping pill, you passed out for the day.
Waking up and seeing Mingyu in the morning felt normal, that was until you realized he was across the room instead of right next to you in bed. You took a deep breath as you pushed yourself up, your eyes still fixed on Mingyu’s sleeping figure.
“Must’ve been uncomfortable,” you mumbled to yourself.
The bed you used to share was warm, familiar, and comforting. His arms were strong, providing security as you awoke to his scent and the enveloping warmth of his presence each morning. Sometimes he'd be up and out of bed before you were, and you'd wake up to the nice aroma of coffee waiting for you in the kitchen. Other times, you'd wake him with a simple breakfast of eggs and pancakes, your culinary expertise may have been limited, but your affection was boundless.
There were also times when you'd both wake too early, your passion spurred in the hush of early morning hours. He'd be gentle and quick, but you liked those kinds of mornings. You used to think the mornings you shared with Mingyu were mundane, uneventful, and slow, but looking back, those mornings now shimmer with newfound appreciation. Now that it's gone and you're missing it, you couldn't help but acknowledge the possibility that you might have taken it all for granted.
As you sat on the edge of your bed pondering, Mingyu stirred, taking a deep breath and letting out a long raspy exhale. He blinked at you several times, smiling once his vision became clearer.
“Good morning,” he sang. If you were still together, you’d immediately jump on him for a cuddle. Now that you’re not, it’s difficult to keep a straight face. You don't even know how to properly respond to that simple greeting.
“Morning,” you greeted back. Then again, if you were still together, he wouldn’t be sleeping on the couch to begin with.
The land where the chateau sat is only a small part of the vast estate that your family owns. If one were to take a quick drive or a ten-minute hike up, they would find a meadow and a lake further ahead. As a child, you had picnics there often, especially in spring. In the winter, a white blanket of snow covers what used to be lush greenery, making it a perfect place for sledding. As such, it became a family activity every Christmas.
You stepped out of Mingyu’s car, blinking at the beautiful white canvas before you. Mingyu uttered a low “wow” as he approached you, smiling toothily while he tightened his padded jacket. You breathed the crisp air, exhaling through your mouth as you did. This wasn’t his first time sledding with your family, or experiencing the expansive landscape of your home. You had shared picnics with Mingyu in these areas, basking in the beauty of spring or summer. Those quiet moments are among your fondest memories with him.
“What do you think?” he asked, eyes gleaming.
You shrugged. “I like it here better in spring.”
Behind you, you could hear the soft thuds of car doors being closed as your family members emerged from their vehicles.
“Oh, look! It’s perfect!” Blair cheered with her hands clasped together in delight.
Your father chuckled heartily beside you and only then did you notice that he had caught up to you. He placed his arm over your shoulder, giving you a side hug as he said to your sister, “What did I tell you? That heavy snowfall last night will do us some good.”
Ecstatic, Blair dragged her husband towards the hill; the latter pulling a sled. Your cousins followed them, and your father too while you stood there pondering your choice to come here. Should you have just stayed with your mom and aunts back at home?
Allan approached Mingyu, giving him a nod. Mingyu smiled back, saying, “Hey, Al.”
“Hey. I don’t know how to say this but…” your brother paused, glanced over his shoulder at the excited children emerging from his car, and then shrugged at Mingyu. “Are you okay with a bunch of kids bothering you all day?”
“What does that even mean?” you interjected, although you weren’t part of the conversation.
“The boys want to go sledding with Mingyu,” Allan sighed, placing his hands on his waist. “Only with Mingyu.”
Mingyu chuckled. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.”
“Are you sure?” Allan probed, looking somewhat apologetic. Mingyu nodded in assurance. “Okay, man. Thanks a lot.”
You watched as Mingyu approached your brother’s truck with a big goofy grin. Your nephews cheered his name before jumping into his arms at the same time. Mingyu laughingly carried the boys off the truck and you found yourself impressed by how strong he was to be able to carry two big kids. Then again, he had always been strong. He works out a lot and his efforts show in his toned physique. You know damn well how ungodly gorgeous he looks underneath those thick layers of clothing.
You gasped, shocked by your lewd thought. Shaking your head in an attempt to clear your mind, you muttered, “What the fuck.”
“Come again?” Allan asked cluelessly.
“I was talking to myself,” you deadpanned. Allan said he’ll follow the others up the hill so you nodded at him and told him you’ll stay to take pictures. He didn’t object to that so you grabbed the camera in the car and went to find a good spot to take pictures of everyone.
For the next hour, everyone went up and down the hill in their sleds, their cheers and laughter echoing through the air. Your father was dragging your little niece in her bright pink sled. Daniel and your cousins are on the other side of the hill, having a snowball fight. They would sometimes include you by throwing snowballs at you but you would dodge and threaten to punch them if they didn’t stop– as if your tiny fist would inflict any real pain. Even Allan who was just grinning around got roped into the fight. Blair didn’t give sledding another go after her first time because she didn’t find it ‘as fun as it looked’; so she’s down the hill making a snowman with her husband.
You made sure to take pictures of everyone. As you did, you found your lenses being directed at Mingyu more often than you’d like to admit. You wanted to be pretentious and say it was because he and the kids were adorable, but you knew that you just couldn’t help yourself. He was just too close to your heart and of course, him with kids is impossibly adorable.
“y/n! Show me the pictures!” your sister called so you trekked the snow back to where the cars were parked.
You let them scan through the photos and left to go up and meet your niece and father halfway up the hill. Your father seemed tired so you thought it was best to let him rest and take the kid off his hands.
“I think she’s tired too,” your father said, chuckling as you climbed down. “She must have snoozed on her sled twice.”
“She did?” you asked, turning to your niece. “Did you snooze, baby? Are you tired? Do you wanna go home with Mom?”
The darling little girl just shook her head, her eyes focused on her parents. When they spotted you, your brother-in-law happily took her off your arms. There was a quick chat before they decided to go back to the chateau and call it a day. Everyone followed suit, running down the hill back to the cars after being called back—everyone, except for Mingyu who walked down the other side of the hill instead. You decided to follow him, stopping Allan on your way.
“Where is he going?” you asked your panting brother. He’s got one kid on his shoulders and the other on the sled he was dragging.
“Who?” he asked, following your gaze. “Oh, Mingyu? Charlie’s sled went missing. He said he'd go find it.”
You went after Mingyu, hiking up the hill and trekking down to the other side where you found him heading straight into the sparse woods. Surely the sled didn’t go as far as into the woods, right?
“Kim Mingyu!” you called out, running after him. Your feet sank into the snow as you did, making it a little hard to run fast. “Mingyu!”
Mingyu stopped upon hearing you, turning to look at you and wave. “Come here!”
You frowned when you noticed that he was holding a sled. “Where are you going?”
He didn’t respond but instead, waited for you to catch up to him. As soon as you did, you pointed to what he was holding. “Is that Charlie’s?”
“Yeah, it slid all the way to that tree over there,” he replied, pointing to the tree but you didn’t bother to look.
“And? Where else are you planning to go? Everyone’s leaving.”
Still grinning goofily, he grabbed your gloved hand and said, “Let’s go to the lake.”
“The lake?”
“Yeah. I saw it from up the hill. It looked awesome.”
You scoffed. “It’s probably frozen.”
“I know. Let’s check it out,” he chimed, dragging you but you didn’t budge. That made him stop and glance back at you with a pout.
You looked away, feigning indifference. “It’s this way.”
Mingyu trailed behind you, his hand still tight around yours. While you waded through the snowy path, you tried to remember if you had ever gone to the lake with Mingyu before. You have, a few times, but not in winter. Usually, there was nothing special or pretty about it in winter. As kids, you were forbidden from playing at the frozen lake in case the ice broke and you fell in, so you have never tried it before. There was just no reason to go there, except maybe to look around and pass the time.
“Oh, wow,” he exclaimed upon arriving at the spot.
As expected, it was frozen. It wasn't even the picturesque, crystal-clear kind of frozen, but rather a boring, unremarkable freeze.
Disappointed, you said, “Nothing to see here."
“Are you kidding me? It looks really cool,” he replied, but you knew he was just being polite.
“It’s really not,” you deadpanned.
Mingyu chuckled. “You’re right. It’s not.”
“Okay. Let’s go then,” you retorted, tugging him back to where you came from.
Mingyu resisted, pulling back with enough force to make you lose your balance and bump into him. He held you in place, his face close and his breathing warm against your cheek. With a goofy grin, he asked, “Ever ice-skated on a lake before?”
“No, and this is not that kind of lake.”
“You haven’t ice-skated on a lake before?” he asked incredulously. “But there’s a lake right here.”
“This is a dangerous lake.”
“Why?”
“Because...” you trailed off, searching for an explanation. “To be honest, I'm not even sure why.”
The massive grin on Mingyu’s lips made you roll your eyes. It was the kind of expression that said he wanted to go ice skating on the lake. You’re not even wearing the right shoes. You don’t know how deep the lake goes, and you have no idea how thick the ice has gotten.
“Don’t be stupid, Gyu.”
“Come on! It's gonna be fun!”
“I think you meant 'dangerous'.”
“I’ll keep you safe,” he promised.
That made you grumble and stomp your feet a few times. “Ugh, fine!”
It was like releasing a dog from its leash in a park. Hand in hand, Mingyu excitedly rushed to the edge of the lake, where he cautiously tested the ice, first one foot and then the other. He took a few steps around and one small jump– then a big one that caused a surge of panic to grip you.
“Stop! What if it falls through?”
Mingyu threw his head back laughing. “It’s alright, the ice is pretty thick. Come here.”
You stared at the hand he was offering and then shook your head. Mingyu let out a small tut, seizing your hand firmly and guiding you toward the ice. You trod carefully as you went, looking down below at the murky water and wondering if it was solid enough to hold the two of you.
As you approached the center of the lake, Mingyu released your hand momentarily to zip up your jacket snugly. You pouted as he cupped your cheeks, still protesting at his idea of 'fun'.
"Just relax. I've got you. You'll be fine," he reassured, adjusting your beanie to shield your ears from the biting cold. You nodded, gradually getting used to the icy ground beneath your feet.
Just as you began to ease into the moment, breathing freely and feeling the tension in your muscles dissipate, Mingyu suddenly rushed forward, dragging you along with him toward the center. Panic surged through your veins, your heart racing uncontrollably.
Your shrieks tore through the quiet air, overlapping with Mingyu’s ecstatic laughter. You clung to his hand tightly, scared for good reason. If the ice breaks and you fall in, at least you won’t die alone–that was what you were thinking as you closed your eyes and let Mingyu run around in circles. And while you grappled with the chaos in your head, his reassuring reverberated through your ears.
"It's okay," he consoled, intertwining his fingers with yours. "I've got you! Open your eyes, baby."
You did as he asked, reluctantly opening your eyes to be greeted by a broad, toothy grin from your charming companion. Was he really persuasive? Or were you simply taken aback by the endearment he just used on you? Yes, you know he had been calling you that ever since you got here so to avoid raising suspicions on your pretense, but why did it send a surge of nostalgia this time?
It almost felt like the relief of finally experiencing something you had missed so dearly.
“See? How fun is this?” he shouted, still running with you.
"Not fun at all!"
"Really?" he asked again, skeptical. "Not even a little?"
Of all the people you have met so far in your life, Mingyu had the most contagious smile which was why he had you smiling in no time. Before you knew it, you were running around the frozen lake, fear and anxiety long forgotten. Your cheeks were flushed from the cold, and sore from laughing too much. Your shrieks echoed across the icy surface as he took his turn chasing after you. You didn't even notice how your goofing around has turned into a spontaneous game of tag.
Lost in the moment, you lost track of time, the hours slipping away unnoticed as you enjoyed each other's company and indulged the children in you.
“Caught you!” he exclaimed triumphantly, tackling near the edge of the lake, and sending both of you tumbling onto the soft snow.
You lay there breathless and giggling, feeling both exhilarated and euphoric from your shenanigans. Glancing sideways at him, you found him already looking at you, and both of you burst into laughter at each other's flushed faces. The chill of the snow against your neck soon became unbearable, prompting you to sit up. With a playful tap on Mingyu's chest, you urged him to do the same.
“God, I’m so tired,” he complained but the smile on his face never left.
“Yeah. You’re crazy energetic,” you retorted, letting out a long exhale.
Mingyu scooted closer to you, wrapping a hand around your waist. “But you had fun.”
Rolling your eyes, you leaned on his chest, comfortable in his warmth. “Yeah. I did.”
“Good. Let’s do that.”
“Do what?” you hummed, closing your eyes to bask in the warmth that was engulfing you.
“Oh, you know. Loosen up and take things easy,” he replied and that made you pull away to look at him.
“Meaning…?”
“Meaning we should stop worrying about it.” He tapped your nose affectionately, a warm smile on his lips. “It’s Christmas. Let's have fun.”
You sighed, the weight of your concerns heavy in your mind. "But that's not why we came here."
"I know," he acknowledged with a groan. "We'll get there eventually. For now, let's just... you know... forget about it. Just for now."
He was staring at you intently and you couldn’t help but stare right back. Everything about this moment was overwhelming—the cold, his warmth, his gaze, the proximity—everything. You both sat there face to face, quietly staring and speaking with your eyes only. At one point, it seemed as if you had come to a mutual decision on something, but you sat there waiting for him to make the first move.
“God, you look so beautiful in this light.”
Your heart somersaulted in your chest, but you were so tensed that you tried to humor the nerves away. “Did you just quote Ed Sheeran?”
Mingyu’s brows furrowed slightly, but his affectionate gaze remained. “And you’re so adorable too.”
At this point, your soul has left your body out of sheer joy. Still, you couldn't resist teasing him in response. “Duh, Mingyu. Tell me something I don’t know?”
“I could kiss you right now.”
You exhaled sharply. “Well, don’t be shy now.”
As Mingyu leaned in for a kiss, you closed your eyes in anticipation. You could already feel his breath fanning your face but before his lips could meet yours, the sound of car horns honking nearby shattered the beautiful air enveloping you. Startled, a loud gasp escaped your lips while Mingyu swiftly withdrew.
“What the actual f–” You stood up and spun to see whoever it was and spotted a pickup truck from a distance. Daniel’s head popped out from the window of the driver’s seat, followed by his shouting.
“What are you guys doing out here?” your brother called out, pressing on the horns again. “Everyone’s looking for you back at the chateau!”
You grumbled, stomping your feet as you walked towards the vehicle looking annoyed. Mingyu grabbed the sled he was looking for earlier and followed behind you. When you reached the truck, you stood by Daniel’s window with a deep scowl.
“Everyone thought you guys were dead or something,” he quipped, rolling his windows up just before you started pounding on it irritably.
“What? Can’t I have some alone time with my boyfriend?” you huffed, kicking the tire when you failed to open the door.
Daniel was making faces at you from inside the car while Mingyu chuckled behind you. He gently squeezed your shoulder to calm you down, but you glared at him instead. Mingyu instinctively backed away, raising his hands in surrender.
"Surely you won't take it out on your boyfriend, will you?" he asked with a coy grin. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and seeing this, Mingyu puffed out his chest proudly and wiggled his eyebrows teasingly. "I am your boyfriend, right?"
“Gosh, men are so annoying,” you whined, reaching for the backseat door so you could climb into the car.
Making gingerbread houses is a serious activity in your house; it was a while competition between you, your sister, and everyone else who wants to challenge. As such, it has become your favorite activity since you were a child. You were amazing at it and would always come out on top with your intricate designs and sturdy outputs. That was when Mingyu wasn’t in the picture yet. Now, you’ve been on a lose streak for three Christmases in a row and this year doesn’t look promising either.
“Mingyu! Careful with that!” you warned as he placed the roofing for your house. Mingyu froze mid-air, glancing at you nervously.
“I think you should do it,” he pleaded, chuckling nervously.
You rolled your eyes, grumbling as you carefully took the piece from his hand. Mingyu is a good cook, but pastry? Definitely not his forte. His big hands are among your favorite features of his, but it’s useless in any activity that requires careful handling and finesse.
Blair rounded the counter and approached you. She took a big sniff and said, “Hmm, it smells like a loser over here.”
You scoffed, nudging her elbow. “Go away!”
With immense focus, you placed the roofing on your gingerbread house successfully, dusting your hands contently right after.
“You’re so good at this,” Mingyu whispered next to you, beaming. Proud, you scrunched your nose at him and opened your mouth when he offered a piece of bread for you to eat.
“Daniel, dear,” your mother called from the doorway, catching everyone’s attention. “Come help with the tree.”
Daniel skipped across the room to your mom, making your cousin Sydney sigh in relief of finally getting rid of the blackhole in her team.
“Mingyu, you too please.”
Mingyu nodded at her and turned to you to say, “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” you replied, not even glancing at him as he scooped your cheek for a kiss. “It’s okay if you don’t. I might have a bigger chance of winning if you don’t.”
“Where are they going?” Lena asked, eyeing the doorway.
“Mom’s probably setting up the Christmas tree for tonight,” you replied.
“Why? Isn’t there already a Christmas tree?” Lena questioned.
“It’s a chateau tradition,” Sydney explained. “Before Christmas Eve dinner, we decorate a tree as a whole family using special ornaments.”
“Special ornaments?”
Aunt Lydia, interjected, “Ornaments that hold sentimental value, Lena. This house has been in the family for generations and has seen over a hundred Christmases. Our family loves to look back and think about the history that has shaped this very family into who we are today.”
Lena hummed in amazement. “That’s so awesome and special.”
“It is.” You smiled, mirroring the fond looks on Blair and Sydney’s faces.
“It’s pompous if I do say so myself,” said a familiar voice entering the kitchen hall. You spun to see your Aunt Sylvie walk in with a charismatic air about her. She sauntered in, heels clicking on the floors. “It’s a reminder that we are high-born snobs. Trust fund babies who never have to work a day in our life and still live a life of luxury.”
“Oh, god,” Sydney muttered beside you, looking mortified. “She’s so late.”
“Hello, children,” she lilted, winking at you specifically when you met her gaze. Your heart felt full, forever in awe of your favorite relative.
“Sylvie?” your Aunt Lydia exclaimed.
Sylvie’s smile got redirected. “How nice of you to finally join us, Lydia. I couldn’t believe it when they told me.”
They both laughed as they embraced. Lena’s mom grinned playfully at aunt Sylvie. “Still living the high-born snobbish life?”
Sylvie tutted confidently. “It’s what I do best.”
At first glance, Aunt Sylvie is no different from the rest of the family, but she’s the wild card. In a family known for its polished manners and prestigious accomplishments, she stood out like a rose in a garden of daisies. She lives a privileged life while staying unapologetically herself. Her laugh was always loud and infectious, her stories filled with both gossip and adventures.
“Going for the win this year, huh?” Aunt Sylvie remarked as she examined your work.
“That’s the plan,” you replied with a grin.
“Well, good luck. You have my vote, no matter what,” she promised, reaching for the wine bottle on the counter.
Blair protested, “Hey, that’s cheating!”
“Playing favorites, that’s what it is,” Sydney pouted. Aunt Sylvie giggled, sauntering over to Sydney and planting a playful kiss on her cheek. Sydney just rolled her eyes.
“Don’t worry, sweetie. You’re still my favorite daughter,” Sylvie teased, tucking a strand of Sydney’s hair behind her ear before strolling away with her glass of red wine.
“That’s because I’m your only daughter!” Sydney shouted after her, a smile tugging at her lips as her mother exited the kitchen.
Mingyu, Daniel, and Sydney’s boyfriend, Luke, burst into the kitchen, their laughter and chatter filling the room. Everything was going smoothly until Mingyu bounded over to you, knocking over your intricately decorated gingerbread Christmas tree. The tree, which you had painstakingly adorned with candy ornaments and icing, was supposed to be the crowning jewel of your work. Now, it lay in a heap of crumbs on the kitchen floor.
“Oh my god,” you muttered, staring blankly at the mess. “Kim Mingyu…”
“Oh, damn, did I do that?” he asked, looking genuinely bewildered. Neither of you could figure out how it happened; one moment it was standing, and the next it was on the floor.
Allan’s wife looked over, her eyes widening at the sight. “Oh, no, Y/N,” she exclaimed sympathetically.
Everyone else hurried over to see what had happened, their faces mirroring the same look of pity for you.
“I knew it smelled like a loser over here,” Blair snickered, unable to resist the jab.
The room fell silent for a moment before you managed a rueful smile. “Well, there goes my masterpiece.”
Mingyu sheepishly picked up a piece of gingerbread. “I’ll help you rebuild it,” he offered, his tone earnest and apologetic.
Daniel couldn’t hide his grin. “And destroy it again for good measure.”
The room was soon filled with laughter and playful teasing, all at your expense. You just took it in stride, although you were a little disheartened. Amidst all that, Mingyu pulled you into a warm hug, even kissing the top of your head.
“That’s okay, baby. Winning is great, but it’s nothing if you didn’t have fun doing it together,” he consoled you, although you could tell he was just teasing you like everyone else.
“Go away,” you scolded playfully.
It was as if you had never broken up at all. You shared more than just the playful moments at the lake or sweet displays of affection in the kitchen. During the family tree decorating, you and Mingyu were wrapped in your own world, laughing and giggling as you both struggled to untangle a string of lights—only to end up getting scolded for not helping enough.
For the Christmas Eve dinner, you wore an elegant green dress that received a dramatic round of applause from Mingyu. He stood up, clapping with exaggerated enthusiasm and making everyone laugh. You joined your family at a beautifully set dinner table, sharing stories and laughter over the delicious meal. You sat opposite Mingyu, which gave you both the perfect excuse to exchange loving glances throughout the evening, basking in the warmth and acceptance from everyone around you.
After dinner where Blair won the gingerbread house contest for the second time in a row, everyone gathered in the movie room, snuggling together under warm blankets. Your head rested on Mingyu’s chest, his arm wrapped protectively around your shoulder. Both of you felt content and at home in each other’s embrace. As the movie ended, the younger kids were tucked into bed, and the older family members began to retire to their rooms. You and your cousins had other plans.
In the cozy warmth of the game room, where you and the other young adults gathered for some unchaperoned bonding time of your own, the game of charades became wildly competitive and chaotic. You and Sydney huddled together on a big sofa, guessing the answers that the boys were acting out, groaning and cheering with everyone else as the game progressed. Drinks flowed freely, light and festive, keeping spirits high.
At one point, when the game got boring, everyone settled in front of the fire, sharing stories and cracking jokes. The flickering flames cast a warm glow on your faces, and the room was filled with the comforting sounds of laughter and clinking glasses. Everything was perfect, beautiful new memories were being made.
And then Mingyu managed to convince you to go out for a walk. Bundled up in sweaters and padded jackets, you clung to his arm for support, letting the cool winter evening sober you up. Mingyu kept cracking jokes, and you laughed like you were in a stand-up comedy bar. This went on until both of you reached the pool and decided to turn back.
The weather was cold, but the atmosphere was warm and sweet. And the smell—strangely enough, you enjoyed the sweet, smoky scent coming from the chimneys, much like how some people find the earthy smell after a rain shower pleasant and refreshing.
“What are you thinking about?" Mingyu asked, slinging his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close.
“Nothing, I…” you took a deep breath as you started walking back to the main house. "I just love Christmas.”
“I can see why,” he chuckled lightly, pressing a quick peck on the side of your head.
You rolled your eyes and moved your head a few inches away from him. “Hey, that’s rule number one.”
“Actually, it’s rule number two,” he corrected, grinning. “And can I please break it?”
“You’re only asking me that now? Literally, after you were done breaking it?”
Mingyu nodded with exaggerated seriousness. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Gosh, you’re so…” you huffed incredulously, taking his arm off your shoulder and walking ahead of him.
“Wait. Let’s go together,” he called, chuckling.
When he caught up to you, he held your hand and intertwined your fingers. His smile was warm, and also very goofy. You scoffed and laughed, unable to hide how charmed you were by him. Quietly, you trekked back to the house, your breaths visible in the cold air.
“Hot tub?” he asked as soon as you were in front of your bedroom door.
You were taken aback by the offer. “What?”
Mingyu chuckled nervously, equally flustered. He then cleared his throat and tried to keep a straight face. “I don’t mean… that. I meant you should get a warm bath in the hot tub before… Ugh, fuck.”
Mingyu turned away, burying his face in his palms and muttering curses under his breath. You, on the other hand, were still processing the situation. You were shocked that he was offering the hot tub, only to find out he didn’t mean it the way you understood it.
“God, it’s in my head now.”
“What is?” you asked, belatedly realizing it was a bad question. You should have known what he was trying to say. The hot tub in the bathroom of your bedroom was a very intimate place for the two of you. A hiccup escaped your lips as you put two and two together.
Awkwardly, you pushed the door open and said, “I’m gonna go ahead.”
You walked briskly inside the bedroom, eager to avoid being in the same space as Mingyu. But then you turned around and saw that he had walked inside too. How did you even forget that you were sharing this room?
There was a moment of silence as you both stood there, tension wrapping the room. Mingyu finally broke the ice, his voice soft and hesitant. “Look, I’m sorry if I made things weird.”
You sighed, shaking your head. “No, it’s okay. I just… didn’t expect it.”
Mingyu took a step closer. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I didn’t even mean it that way.”
You smiled faintly, feeling the warmth of his sincerity. “I know. Thanks, Mingyu.”
He grinned, the awkwardness slowly melting away. “How about I start the bath for you?”
You nodded, appreciating the gesture. “That would be nice.”
Mingyu moved to the bathroom, and you heard the sound of water filling the tub. You took off your jacket and sat on the edge of the bed, your mind swirling with thoughts. Soon, Mingyu returned, his eyes gentle as he said, “It’s ready.”
You stood up and walked to the bathroom, pausing at the doorway. “Do you want to join me? I mean, it was cold out there.”
Mingyu’s eyes widened in surprise, but then he smiled softly. “You said that’s rule number two.”
You nodded. “I know.”
“Is it alright with you?”
You nodded again, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation. “It is.”
Both of you undressed and slipped into the hot tub, the warm water enveloping you in a soothing embrace. Mingyu sat across from you, his eyes never leaving yours. The intimacy of the moment was undeniable, the heat of the water matched by the growing warmth between you.
Mingyu reached out, his hand finding yours under the water. “I’ve missed this,” he murmured.
I’ve missed you, you screamed in your head. You could never say it out loud, so you just squeezed his hand gently and said, “Me too.”
The bath was a haven of warmth and quiet conversation, the water relaxing your muscles and easing the tension between you. After a while, you both got out and dried off, slipping into comfortable pajamas.
Back in the bedroom, you climbed into bed, tapping the space beside you when you saw Mingyu heading for the couch. He took your invitation and slid in beside you. You both lay there in the dark, the silence a total contrast to the chaos in your head. Finally, he turned towards you, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you close.
“Goodnight,” he whispered, his breath warm against your neck.
“Goodnight,” you replied, your voice soft and content.
As you drifted off to sleep in his arms, the awkwardness of the evening was replaced by a comforting sense of closeness. The warmth of his embrace and the sound of his breathing lulled you to sleep, both of you feeling at home in each other’s arms once more.
Waking up beside Mingyu felt like stepping back in time, the familiarity of his presence was bittersweet. He lay there, peaceful in the soft glow of the winter morning. You were just beginning to forget how it felt like to wake up next to him, now here he is, looking as breathtaking as you remembered him to be. This whole pseudo-relationship setup truly was a bad idea because you can already picture yourself resetting your moving-on process back to Day 1.
Or maybe, by the end of this, there will be no need to forget and move on, you pondered to yourself, feeling hopeful.
You fought with the urge to reach out and touch him, to let your fingers trace the lines of his face, reminding yourself that you were no longer in that kind of relationship. After all, you had made it clear that this was no longer that kind of relationship.
But wait… Why were you so hesitant about touching him? You were literally in the same hot tub the night before, bare and naked. Why would you be so wary about something as innocent as running your fingers through his hair? Hadn't you already crossed boundaries far more intimate than this?
Swallowing your pride and the lump in your throat, you slowly extended a hand to touch his face. Slowly, carefully, making sure you don’t wake him up. Just as you were feeling the warmth emanating from his skin, the ringing of your phone on the nightstand snapped you back into reality. Cursing under your breath, you snatched the phone from the nightstand, the name "Daphne" flashing insistently on the screen.
Your movements made Mingyu stir, groaning lowly as he stretched his legs out; sleepy eyes directed at you. With a raspy voice, he said, “Hi.”
“Hi. Sorry,” you mouthed, phone pressed on your ear. “Daph, hello. What’s up?”
“Sorry to bother you while you’re spending the holidays with your beau– oh, ex-beau,” she teased, snickering from the other line. “How is it? Have you got back together yet?”
“Please shut up,” you laughed nervously, eyeing Mingyu. You excused yourself and headed to the bathroom to speak with your friend in private.
“I guess it’s not going so well, huh?” she asked just as you were locking the bathroom door.
“Daph, the purpose of this trip is not to get back together,” you insisted, rolling your eyes although she could not see it. “Where did you even get that idea?”
Grumbling, you snatched your toothbrush and put toothpaste on it to clean your teeth with.
“I don’t know. Maybe from my exuberant interior designer who was just shopping with me the other day,” she retorted, poking fun at you. “Alright, I’m sorry. I was just teasing you. I actually called to let you know that I got called into the store because some materials came in that I don’t remember ordering. So, naturally, I assumed these are for the renovations?”
“What are they?” you asked back with the toothbrush still in your mouth.
“It says here that these are gold-plated clothing racks, premium quality.”
You hummed, confused. “I didn’t order anything like that.”
“Oh, is that so? Alright. Maybe I did. Or someone I know,” she sighed and tutted. “Anyway, I’ll sort this out. Sorry to bother you.”
“Call me anytime, Daph,” you told her, your eyes darting to the bathroom door when you heard a loud thud from outside.
“I will. Tell everyone I said ‘hi’. And don’t swoon over your ex too much.”
“Whatever,” you sighed, exasperated.
“Merry Christmas, sugar.”
“Merry Christmas.”
When you pushed through the door, you found Mingyu sitting on the edge of the bed, looking dazed with messy hair and a tired stare. He lifted his gaze when he noticed you, and flattened his lips into a sleepy smile.
“What happened?” you asked worriedly, taking notice of the blanket and pillow on the floor.
“Oh, nothing, I just…” Mingyu sighed, scratched his neck, and stretched it sideways. “I fell.”
You gawked at him. “You fell?”
He nodded, sheepish. You exhaled sharply, not even surprised. Mingyu, as big as he is, is by far the clumsiest person you’d ever met.
“Go wash up,” you instructed, walking towards the pile of beddings to pick them up. Instead of heeding your order, Mingyu snatched you by the waist, making you squeal as he swept you up and fell on the bed with you.
You tried to free yourself from his arms, but he was stronger than you by miles. “Let me go, Gyu.”
He hummed his disapproval and nuzzled on your neck. “Let’s stay in bed all day today, okay?”
“No,” you whined, squirming but he pinned you down. Despite your efforts to escape, he only seemed to take it as a challenge, launching into a relentless tickle attack.
“Kim Mingyu! No!” you warned sternly, pointing your index finger at him in an attempt to assert authority..
The grin that he gave you was menacing. “Kim Mingyu, yes.”
“Mingyu, I swear to God I will— aaaagh!” Shrieks and laughter filled your bedroom, along with Mingyu’s taunting and deep grunts each time you kicked his shins or punched his chest. He kept going until tears started streaming from your eyes from too much laughter. Only when your pleading voice began cracking did Mingyu stop.
“Gosh. You’re so annoying!” you sobbed, infuriated. He laid beside you on the bed, wrapping you back in his embrace.
“Sorry, baby,” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “I was just playing around with you.”
“Well, it was not fun! Playing is supposed to be fun!” you scolded, swatting his arm away.
“I know. I’m sorry,” he shushed.
But you continued whining. “No, you’re not!”
You managed to get away from him and leave the bed to slump on the sofa and sulk. Mingyu sighed, although he looked genuinely apologetic. He always teased you like this, knowing how ticklish you were. And you always responded this way too, sulking and whining as much as you want.
“Baby…” he called softly, making his way to you.
“Don’t you call me that!” you retorted sharply.
Mingyu chuckled. “Okay, sweetheart.”
You scoffed. “What are you, my mom?”
“Then, ‘honey’ maybe?” he chimed. You pushed him away with your foot, but he kept himself rooted in place, easily.
“Go away!”
"What about, 'darling'?" he continued, kneeling before you as he set your foot back down. He placed a gentle kiss on your knee, his lips lingering before trailing up your thigh. "My angel?"
The way he caressed your thigh tickled you in a way that was entirely different from what he did a while ago. This time was more sensitive, and pleasant… very pleasant.
“My love?” he sang, taking your hand and kissing the back of it.
You snatched your hand back, sighing as you scooted a little on the couch. “Stop it.”
Mingyu occupied the space next to you, touching your chin and lifting it so your eyes would meet his. “Why? I said I was sorry. Do you hate me for real?”
"No," you admitted with a pout, looking away. He gently redirected your gaze back to him.
You held his gaze, still scowling, but Mingyu's sweet smile softened your expression. He studied your face as if he didn’t already know it by heart, his eyes lingering on your lips. You flattened them together to discourage his advances, but he only chuckled and tapped your nose.
“You’re so cute,” he remarked.
You scoffed. “I know. Can’t say the same for you, though.”
Mingyu threw his head back in laughter before fixing his gaze on your lips again. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you, but before it could happen, loud knocks on your bedroom door interrupted the moment. Mingyu rose to open the door, revealing your oldest brother dressed as Santa Claus, complete with a fluffy white beard and a jolly laugh.
“Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas, children!” Allan greeted, drawing candies from his bag and throwing them in the air.
“Ha ha. It’s Santa,” you deadpanned, unamused.
Allan looked at Mingyu and then at you. “Good. You’re both decent. Let’s go open some gifts.”
He then walked away with his Santa laugh, while Mingyu beckoned you to the door. You said you’d wait for him, so he hurried to the bathroom to freshen up and while he was in there, you were scolding yourself for the way things are going. You kept reminding yourself that there is no getting back together, just making your family happy. That conversation with Daphne was a needed wake-up call.
“Are you ready?” Mingyu asked when he stepped out of the bathroom. You nodded and so you went to join your parents together.
Everyone’s gathered in the living room, some of them still yawning and out of it. The kids were excited, jumping around and rushing to Mingyu when they saw you two descending the stairs.
A younger kid, wide-eyed with excitement, piped up, "Your friend is not coming today, Mingyu?"
"Yeah, the Grinch friend!" another kid exclaimed.
“Grinch! Grinch! Grinch!”
You chuckled, knowing exactly who they were referring to. It was from last year when Daniel was Santa and Mingyu decided to come as The Grinch. But instead of ruining Christmas, he spoiled the kids with huge supplies of chocolates and sweets. You can still remember how the moms reacted to that— mad. But since he’s Mingyu, he got away with it.
As the family gathered around the Christmas tree, you all took turns opening presents. Santa, aka Allan, gleefully announced each gift, adding to the festive atmosphere. Then, amidst the wrapping paper and excitement, you heard Santa call out that Mingyu had something for you. You were surprised, considering you had agreed not to exchange gifts this year.
With a sheepish grin, Mingyu handed you a small box. Inside was a delicate necklace, simple yet elegant, just your style. You couldn't help but smile, touched by the gesture.
“Thank you,” you told him, examining the jewelry.
“You’re welcome,” he chimed, his hand pressed in the middle of your back.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” your father prompted after a few seconds. “Put it on her!”
“Yeah!”
For the amusement of your family, Mingyu put the necklace on you himself, his fingers deftly fastening the clasp as everyone watched with amusement. It was small moments of intimacies like this that will convince your family that everything is fine— that Mingyu is a part of you, of them.
The excitement of opening gifts soon subsided, and a long table of breakfast buffet was brought in for those who wanted to eat. While you sat to eat with some of your family members, the others went out to play in the snow. You watched them from the large windows, smiling absent-mindedly as Mingyu, in his element, was building a snowman with your niece while fending off the snowballs being thrown at him by the little boys. He was so good with the kids and they loved him so much for it.
“So, when did you two get back together?” your Aunt Sylvie prompted casually as she sliced through her waffles.
Caught off-guard, you blinked. “I’m sorry. What?”
“I thought you broke up with him?” she asked again and suddenly, the vivid memory of you drunk calling your aunt and wailing about how you broke up with Mingyu flashed in your mind.
You opened your mouth to speak but your other cousin Felicity cut you off. “You guys broke up?”
“What? When?” Blair chimed in, visibly confused.
Aunt Sylvie erupted into laughter, though a hint of awkwardness lingered beneath her merriment. “Sorry, y/n. I got you mixed up with your other cousin. She and Billy parted ways over the summer.”
“Right,” you acknowledged, a wave of relief washing over you as the memory of your tipsy phone call to Aunt Sylvie resurfaced.
“Oh, of course, Auntie Sylvie. Tricia was here with her new boyfriend.”
“Hmm. I know. I thought it was Billy, to be honest. She certainly has a type,” she told Sydney who just giggled.
Sydney's voice rang out with conviction. “There’s no way y/n and Mingyu would break up.”
"Of course." Aunt Sylvie's laughter gradually subsided as the misunderstanding was clarified. “Say, Blair, aren’t you due to give birth this month?”
“No. Seriously,” Sydney interjected, her tone firm. “I know people break up all the time, but y/n and Mingyu are just… different. They’re so in love, it’s actually enviable sometimes.”
“That’s true. They’re so compatible, it’s almost hard to believe such a relationship exists,” your cousin added, her words laced with admiration.
“Guys…” you chimed in, feeling a mix of embarrassment and guilt as all eyes turned to you.
“Have you seen Mingyu? That guy is down bad.”
“Agreed. So bad. He’s in deep,” Sydney chuckled, reminiscing. “Did you know he used to bring her flowers every day when we were in college? Every. Single. Day.”
“He even sang to her once,” Blair teased, shooting you a playful look. “Which was adorable, considering he’s not a singer.”
“Definitely not.”
“So he’s a simp?” one person quipped, prompting laughter from the group.
“But did you see the way he looked at her?” Lena interjected. “I’ve only met the guy this weekend, but I can tell by the way they look at each other.”
“Yeah, we’ve seen it, Len. You should see them when they’re playing or just hanging out by themselves. They are in love.”
“And even when we’re all gathered together, these two always have their own world. It's like they’re here, but they are also in their own separate bubble at the same time.”
“He’s so sweet too. He seemed to know exactly how to make y/n feel confident and pretty and loved… You know what I’m saying?”
“Honestly!” one of your older cousins affirmed. “One time my little girl asked me why her dad and I weren’t as sweet as you guys.”
Felicity snickered. “Yeah. I was there at the time, and when I tell you, I screamed!”
“She’s four, guys. Four. She doesn’t even know that my name is not ‘Mom’,” she added, eliciting laughter from the group.
“Well, my sister said she’ll find herself someone like Mingyu,” Sydney recounted, causing Aunt Sylvie to gasp.
“Rue? She said that?”
“Oh, yeah, she did. You better watch out, y/n. She might come for your man when she finds out how hard it is to find someone remotely close.”
The perception of a "perfect" couple often serves as a beacon of hope for others, a shining example of enduring love in a world filled with uncertainty. People hold onto these ideals, weaving fantasies of their own fairytale romance inspired by the ideal relationship they see before them. But what happens when that illusion is shattered?
If you and Mingyu were their definition of true love, the news of your breakup would undoubtedly come as a shock to those who idolized your relationship. It might even shake the foundation of their belief in lasting love, causing them to question if such a thing truly exists. Will it be your fault if little children like Sabrina’s daughter stop believing in true love?
But the truth is, you and Mingyu were never meant to be seen as perfect or ideal. Like any other couple, you had your flaws and imperfections, but you chose to keep them to yourselves. Your struggles were kept behind closed doors, known only to you and Mingyu as you worked through them together. No one ever witnessed your arguments or disagreements because you believed you must not involve other people in your private business. And perhaps it was this commitment to privacy that led others to believe that your breakup was impossible. But as much as they may have wanted to believe in the fairytale of your love story, the reality is that relationships are complex and sometimes, they don't end happily.
So no, it wouldn't be your fault if people stopped believing in love because of your breakup. Love is not defined by the length of a relationship or the perceived perfection of a couple. It's a journey filled with ups and downs, twists and turns, and sometimes, even endings. And while your breakup may have shattered the illusion of a fairytale romance for some, it doesn't change the fact that what you had was beautiful and the love that they witnessed was true.
Blair’s hand on your arm pulled you out of your musings. With a smile, she said, “I’m not trying to skip ahead or anything, but if you and Mingyu do end up getting married, it will probably be the best match I have ever seen in my entire life.”
“Amen!” Felicity cheered, raising her glass in the air. The others did the same, except you who gazed outside the window where you could see Mingyu.
As if aware that someone was watching him, Mingyu glanced back at you, waving happily when he spotted you.
The festivities continued in your home for the rest of the day, with everyone doing their own thing but in the same room. Kids were running around, and adults were chatting over wine and snacks. You joined your mother at the stairs as she watched the festivities with a fond look on her face.
“Look at them,” she told you when you approached her and wrapped your arms around her waist.
You hummed, looking at your family. “Yeah. They’re so noisy.”
Your mother chuckled heartily, rubbing your back. “But don’t you just love this sight? Everyone is smiling and laughing. Everyone is present to spend Christmas with us.”
“Yeah, well. I guess it’s nice,” you replied, feigning indifference despite understanding her sentiments. Like her, you breathed a contented sigh, watching your family.
“You know, I didn’t grow up with Christmas traditions. Unlike most families, mine didn’t care much for Christmas,” she began, making you glance at her. “Your grandparents divorced when I was little. They would send a gift and a card each year but I knew neither of them picked those for me. It was probably their assistants. There is no way my father would know I liked unicorns,” she laughed heartily.
“That’s terrible. I could never imagine a Christmas that’s different from what we have every year,” you confessed.
“I know. Marrying your father gave me the chance to celebrate something so beautiful with a family who may not be the most perfect but just as special.”
Your eyes were fixed on your father, dancing groovily in the middle of the room to an old tune your uncle had just put on. He pointed at your mother, beckoning her to join him. She did, happily so. Everyone cheered as they danced together, ever-loving and sweet to each other. It was a heartwarming sight, and you realized that if there’s a couple to look up to, it’s your parents—the most compatible pair. She was the calm to his storm, the peace to his chaos. He brought color to her monotonous life. While he spoke impulsively, she grounded him with thoughtful words. While he spoiled you and your siblings, she kept the household in check. They were the perfect balance, each complementing the other. When they said there was a woman behind every successful man, they must have been right.
You watched fondly as everyone cheered for your parents, the other couples eventually joining in. Your eyes met Mingyu’s in the crowd, and he gestured for you to join him on the dance floor. You shook your head briskly. If there’s one thing you’d never do, it’s dancing in front of other people.
“Come on, love!” he called out again.
“No way. I’ll pass. Have fun, though.”
He insisted, and soon your other relatives joined in, urging you to dance. But you stood your ground. When Mingyu started walking towards you, you bolted up the stairs, heading straight for your bedroom. Mingyu was hot on your tail, calling your name playfully while you shrieked. You fumbled with the door, trying to lock it as soon as you got inside, but Mingyu pushed through before you could bolt it shut.
“There is no parallel universe where you can outrun me, baby,” he breathed, pulling you by the waist so you’re flush against him.
“I’d still try, though,” you exclaimed, breathless and laughing, as Mingyu wrapped his arms around you, spinning you around the room. “You never give up, do you?”
“It depends on the fight, honestly,” he confessed, making you stop as you began overthinking again. However before you could form a coherent thought, Mingyu gave you a lift.
It made you laugh, and when your feet touched the floor again, you eased into the moment, staring at Mingyu as you swayed around the room. The music was faint and barely audible, coming all the way from the great hall downstairs. You had always known you were a terrible dancer, but Mingyu was good at it. It was easy to follow his lead, almost as easy as getting lost in the depths of his gaze. You were completely absorbed, totally entranced. How could you not be when he looked at you like his life depended on it?
“You're doing great,” he whispered, his voice low and reassuring. His hand on your waist guided you gently, and you felt a surge of confidence.
“I know I’m not good, Gyu,” you admitted, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “You don’t have to lie.”
"But you’re perfect now," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "Just follow me."
With each step, you fell into a rhythm, moving together in a seamless dance. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in until it felt like there was nothing but the two of you, swaying in the quiet of your bedroom and making a memory you probably would never forget.
“You make it easy,” you whispered, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the dance.
Mingyu's smile widened, and he spun you gently, bringing you back into his arms with a flourish. “You make everything better,” he said softly.
The sincerity in his voice made your heart skip a beat. Before you could respond, he dipped you low, his strong arms supporting you effortlessly. As he brought you back up, your faces were inches apart, his breath warm on your face.
The world around you blurred and the faint music from downstairs became a distant hum. All you could see, all you could feel, was Mingyu. The intensity of his gaze, the way his arms held you so securely, the way his lips hovered just a breath away from yours.
Unable to resist any longer, he closed the distance, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was soft at first, then deepened as the emotion between you surged. The kiss was a blend of longing, unspoken words, and unfulfilled promises, and it felt like coming home. It was like you lost something and only found it now. It felt like you belonged there; like this is the only thing you have and will ever know.
When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting together as you tried to steady your racing hearts.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” he said, making you scoff.
“Are you regretting it?”
“No!” he denied, throwing his head back as he laughed. “I just didn’t think you would let me.”
You playfully hit his arm, and he caught your hand, still chuckling. You rested your head on his chest, swaying gently with him. After a moment, Mingyu stopped and took a deep breath.
“So…“ he began, making you look up at him. “Do you wanna… make out or something?“
You laughed incredulously, both embarrassed and amused. “Why are you acting like we’re teenagers?“
“I haven’t really grown much after my teenage years,“ he said, shrugging. “So this has basically been my height since I was eighteen. You know, I was taller than my dad, which was crazy because—“
You cut him off with a kiss, frustrated by his nervous rambling. That's just another reason why he’s so endearing; he becomes a blabbering mess when he's nervous.
“You’re yapping,” you told him after parting from his lips. “Don’t be nervous. It’s just me.”
Mingyu laughed nervously. “That’s the thing. It’s you… I’m nervous because it’s you.”
You rolled your eyes, but you were grinning. “You think sweet talk will sweep me off my feet?”
He shrugged. “Not really, but I do know how to sweep you off your feet.”
“How?”
Without warning, Mingyu lifted you into his arms, literally sweeping you off your feet, and carried you over to the bed. You both fell onto the mattress, you giggling and him grinning mischievously. He lay next to you, staring at you for a second before cupping your cheek and pulling you in for another kiss.
“I’m not nervous anymore,” he boasted, grinning against your lips.
You just laughed, leaning to give him a peck on the lips. As you lay entwined with Mingyu, the winter afternoon light filtered by the curtains cast gentle shadows across the room. His fingers traced delicate patterns down the length of your arm, evoking a shiver of anticipation. His lips crashed into yours again, and this time you welcomed him with vigor; tugging at the back of his neck and grabbing a handful of his hair as he deepened the kiss.
His hand found your waist, squeezing firmly as your tongues melded together in the kiss. You pouted when he pulled away, only to let out a faint moan when his mouth moved to your neck.
“Is this okay?” he asked as he slowly tugged the sleeves off your shoulder and planted a soft kiss on the exposed skin.
“Yes,” you told him, ignoring the screams of protest in your head. “It’s more than okay.”
Mingyu exhaled sharply, your permission making him more ravenous. His mouth scaled your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin of your collarbone and shoulder blade. You didn’t even notice that he had stripped you off of your dress until you felt his hand roaming your bare torso.
“Mingyu…” you echoed. In the intimacy of the moment, you realized just how much you had missed his touch, how his every caress seemed to awaken a yearning that you didn’t realize was very strong until now. His lips found yours again in a tender kiss, a silent promise of the passion that lay ahead.
“I’ve missed you, y/n,” he breathed, caressing your cheek. “I was so lost without you.”
You held his gaze, tenderly and lovingly as you reached for his face and leaned to kiss him. “You’ve found me, Gyu. I’m right here.”
He kissed you again, only briefly before he sat up to discard his shirt far across the room. He then hovered over you, his gaze intense as he took in the view of your nakedness before him. Dipping low, he kissed your lips, then your neck, down to your collarbone, and then your chest where your heart is. His gentle hands cupped your clothed bosoms in a firm grasp as his lips moved further down to your belly.
And amidst the whirlwind of sensations, your mind is in a mess knowing that this moment will inevitably lead to something more. You knew all too well the consequences of surrendering to this desire, the inevitable pain that would follow. You should not. You must not. This is the worst that could happen. These thoughts, equipped with detailed explanations, swirled in your head in an attempt to drag you away from the lure of desire.
But in the heat of the moment, you stared into Mingyu’s eyes as he positioned his head between your legs, one finger stroking your moistened underwear. Right then, your rationality fell apart and you ignored its calls. Then again, when have you ever listened to reason?
A gasp escaped your lips as soon as Mingyu’s tongue did what it came to do. His every stroke sent ripples of pleasure throughout your body, numbing your mind. You grabbed a fistful of his hair, moaning and calling out his name. As if he wasn’t already doing too much, Mingyu pushed a finger inside for good measure. You could feel your body twitching as the tease of release neared, and your eyes blurred with too much stimulation.
Please don’t stop, you screamed, but only in your head. Mingyu, however, stopped at that very moment, sitting up on the bed and gazing at your fucked out expression. His grin was menacing, satisfied by the view before him.
“You love that, don’t you?” he lilted, licking his lips cockily. Watching him unbuckle his belt almost made you cry as every fiber of your being begged for him to touch you again, to be one with him in body and soul.
“Mingyu…” you pleaded, not even hiding your desperation. Mingyu hurriedly hovered over you, kissing your forehead and caressing your face.
“Don’t cry, baby,” he said sweetly, kissing your lips and laughing when you chased after it. “I’m right here.”
Mingyu would never make you wait; he could not. He’s weak against your pleas and his fervor is about fifty times more than yours. So he gave you what you both wanted, pushing into you languidly with one movement. You whimpered due to the agonizing pleasure, back arching towards him as your body responded. His thrusts and unrestrained grunts had you spiraling, your nails embedded in his skin as you held onto him for dear life.
Worried you were being too loud, you bit your lip to stifle your moans, giving Mingyu a pleading look as you stared at each other. He smirked at you and stopped moving for a second. Without a warning, he did a sudden, hard, heavy, and deep thrust that had you yelping in bliss.
“Bite your lips again, I dare you.”
You raised an eyebrow, clueless but only momentarily. Breathless and hoarse, you asked, “Why not?”
“I want to hear you.”
Did he really think you disliked his little ‘punishment’ in any way? Feeling mischievous, you challenged him by biting your lips once more, making him ram into you roughly again. You bit back your moans so he did it again. Once more, and twice, until he finally realized that you were doing it on purpose.
Laughing darkly, Mingyu ducked to kiss you, his lips moving to your cheek and then nibbling on your ear before whispering, “You naughty naughty little lady.”
And so you surrendered yourself to him completely, losing yourself in the sweet oblivion of his touch. His hand explored every inch of your body, tracing the outlines of your curves with a gentle touch that left you breathless. Your bodies danced to the rhythm of desire and you cried each other’s names in ecstasy brought by release. It was a moment of pure bliss, a fleeting glimpse of paradise in a world filled with chaos and uncertainty.
You’ve done it, y/n, you told yourself. You’ve passed the point of no return.
You lay nestled against Mingyu, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His arm wrapped around you securely, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your back. The warmth of his skin against yours was a stark contrast to the cold that loomed beyond the windows, and you sighed contentedly, feeling utterly at peace.
Mingyu shifted slightly, pulling the blanket up to cover you both more snugly. "Are you warm enough?" he asked softly, his voice low and gentle.
You nodded, nuzzling closer to him. "Perfectly warm," you whispered.
He tightened his hold on you, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. A comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by the soft sounds of your breathing. You felt his hand travel up to your hair, his fingers threading through the strands, soothing and calming.
"Do you remember your first Christmas up here? We were sledding all afternoon and got caught in a snowstorm?" you asked, a smile playing on your lips at the memory.
Mingyu chuckled, a deep, warm sound that vibrated through his chest. "Yeah. It snowed hard that time. We had to hide in the cabin across the estate."
You hummed. “It was so cold. And the fireplace wouldn’t work."
"We had to keep each other warm," he added, laughing softly. His eyes met yours, filled with the same warmth and affection you felt. "Best snowstorm ever."
You sighed, closing your eyes and letting yourself enjoy the moment. It felt so natural, so right, to be in his arms again.
As the minutes ticked by, the steady rise and fall of his chest lulled you into a state of near-sleep. His warmth, his scent, the feel of his skin against yours—it was all so familiar, yet achingly new. You knew this would end, that reality would creep back in, but for now, you allowed yourself to bask in the moment, to let yourself be wrapped up in him.
“I wish we could stay like this,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.
“We can, for a little while longer,” Mingyu replied, his voice equally soft. “Let's just enjoy this, okay?”
You nodded, a sense of calm washing over you. “Okay,” you agreed, snuggling closer.
But then your thoughts became too much to contain, one question repeatedly echoing in your head. “What about after this?”
“Hmm?” Mingyu inquired, opening his eyes slightly.
You pulled away from him, moving back a little so you could see his face properly. “What happens after this?”
Mingyu chuckled sleepily, pulling you back into his embrace. “Is that necessary? We’re having lots of fun. Let’s not spoil it with depressing conversations.”
His response stirred something in you—rage. A blind rage that made the veins on your forehead pulse. You exhaled sharply, pulling away again. “Why are we doing this?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbows.
“We came here to fool my family, Gyu. Not for...” you paused, looking at the cozy state of your bed. “...this. Whatever this is!”
You kicked the sheets off your legs and stood up at once, pacing the room as you massaged your aching temples.
“Baby, come on,” Mingyu sang, following after you to pull you into his arms. You let him hug you, pressing your cheek against his chest while he ran his fingers through your hair. “Don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what, Mingyu?” you groaned, pushing him with weakened arms while you tried your best not to sob. “Don’t do what? I don’t even know what we’re doing.”
His grip tightened around you, his voice a soothing whisper. “We’re just living in the moment, taking what we can get. Isn't that enough?”
You shook your head, tears finally spilling over. “No, it’s not. I can’t just pretend this doesn’t mean anything.”
Mingyu sighed, his own expression conflicted. “Babe—”
“Stop calling me that, please!“ you pleaded, crouching down on the floor as you felt your knees give out. You buried your face in your hands, hiding behind your hair as you sobbed. “I knew this was a bad idea. I fucking knew it!“
The room fell silent, the only sound being your sniffling. Your mind was a mess, and your heart throbbed painfully. After some time, you felt Mingyu’s hand on your back, the other on your knee.
“I’m sorry,” Mingyu whispered, his voice barely audible as he kissed the top of your head. “I’m so sorry.”
You lifted your head, meeting his apologetic gaze. “You don’t love me at all, do you?”
“Why would you even say that?”
“Because you wouldn’t be apologizing if you did.”
He uttered your name, the anguish on his face making your heart ache even more. You wished you could read his mind, wished he would open up and let you in on his deepest thoughts about your relationship.
“I love you, y/n... I loved you so much.”
“Then why did we break up?”
“Because it’s what you wanted.”
“You never fought me about it!” you cried, standing up and pacing away from him. You wiped the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand. “You just walked out the door, Mingyu! You left without so much as a fight. It was like you were waiting for it to happen!”
“That’s not true!” he protested, standing up as well, his voice rising in desperation.
“Then why didn’t you say so?“
“Because you wanted it! I was just giving you what you want.” He slumped back on the couch. “You didn’t want me anymore. I knew it, I saw it, I felt it.”
“Can you blame me?” you asked incredulously. “You were too busy, Gyu. You had no time for us!“
“I was a newbie at work. Of course, I was busy,“ he retorted, still in a low voice but you could hear the frustration in his voice. “I was swamped with work, but I made sure to come home to you. I made time for you. I tried my best not to neglect you.“
“You tried, huh? Well, if you really did, I would have noticed it but I didn’t! You were always tired. We could go on not speaking a word to each other for hours. And then out of nowhere, you’ll be in the mood to have sex,“ you scoffed, laughing derisively. “What makes you think you can ignore me all day and I would still open my legs for you when you ask for it?“
Mingyu sighed, shutting his eyes in frustration. “Oh my god, y/n. You stopped having sex with me, did you forget? Even on days when we’re getting along, you never let me touch you. You always had excuses and I respected them. Some of them are ridiculous by the way, but I respected them all the same!”
He was right, but you weren’t ready to give up yet. “Then why did you change so much? You even stopped trying to fix things whenever we fought. You just go to bed and sleep like nothing was wrong!”
“That’s because you kept picking a fight over the smallest things! I can’t keep having all these stupid arguments with you,” Mingyu groaned, gesturing wildly.
“Exactly!” you hollered, exasperated. “That’s exactly the problem. It didn’t matter how small it was before. We always, always made up before the day ended.”
“You mean me?” Mingyu smirked mockingly. “We? There was no ‘we’ when it came to fighting. You never tried to make up, y/n. It was always me. No matter whose fault it was, I was always the first to apologize because you could never lower your goddamned pride!”
“Are you saying—”
“Stop it. Please, just fucking stop!” he snarled, finally losing his patience. His aggression startled you, making you take a few steps back. Mingyu was scowling, his jaw clenched, eyes filled with pain and indignation. He looked away, muttering curses as he ran his hands through his already wild hair.
He let out a big sigh before saying, “You can’t tell me that I didn’t fight because I did! I was there; I never left. Even with the pressure of securing a regular position at work, I tried to be a good partner to you. Even during your unreasonable fits, I stayed. Even when it felt like there was no hope, I fucking stayed! Your decision to break up was the last straw, y/n! It was the last straw! I was…” Mingyu’s voice cracked as he struggled to hold back tears. He tightened his lips and placed his hands on his waist, sighing in frustration as he backed away, trying to calm down. When he glanced back at you, the pained look on his face was still there.
“I was tired, Y/N. I was fucking tired. You had no idea,” he confessed more gently, finally allowing himself to cry. “You had no idea.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands. With tired legs, you sank onto the couch opposite the bed, quietly immersing yourself in your thoughts. You gazed out the window to avoid seeing Mingyu, but his faint sobs and deep breaths kept him in your mind.
Before coming to the chateau, you had asked yourself, "What could go wrong?" So far, nothing major has gone wrong, but this trip has unleashed the deep-seated frustrations you and Mingyu had about your relationship. Four years of unresolved issues had surfaced because neither of you was brave enough to address them. You had both been worried about offending each other, of hurting one of you unintentionally or burdening one another with personal problems. Now, you realize that you hadn’t grown apart because your love had wavered. The things you chose to ignore out of consideration, the tiny mistakes you excused—all these issues had grown into an insurmountable wall that caused you to lose touch.
It wasn’t your fault, nor was it his, and you knew that. You had never blamed anyone for the breakup. But it felt so damning to discover that things could have gone differently—that breaking up wasn’t necessary.
You glanced at Mingyu, still sitting with his face in his hands. Standing up, you wiped your cheeks and took a deep breath before walking towards him. You reached for his shoulder, squeezing it firmly to let him know you were there. You were the one who held the knife that stabbed a hole through both of your hearts. You were also the one who pulled it out when you instigated this confrontation. It was only right for you to be the one to stop yourselves from bleeding out.
“I love you,” you murmured, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear.
Mingyu wiped his face with his hand before looking up at you. “What?”
“I love you, Mingyu,” you repeated, starting to sob again. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that—I… I’m so sorry.”
With a gentle tug, Mingyu pulled you into his arms, locking you in a tight hug. You sobbed uncontrollably, gripping his shirt for dear life. He comforted you with soft shushing sounds, rubbing his hand on your back, and planting a few kisses on the side of your head.
“I love you too, baby. I love you so much,” he whispered, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. “God, I love you so much.”
Still wrapped in his embrace, you heard footsteps thundering outside your door, followed by urgent, hurried knocks that made you jump.
“Guys! We gotta go!”
“Did something happen?” you called back, frantically wiping your face, hoping to hide the evidence of your tears. Mingyu, just as flustered, used his shirt to dry his own face. He even helped fix your messed-up hair with his big, panicky hands.
And then you pushed the door open, revealing a shaken Daniel who announced, “Clair’s water just broke.”
You stood outside the nursery, watching your niece behind the big glass window. There is a rush of emotions overwhelming you and it felt like your heart expanded with an intense, almost indescribable love. You gazed at the tiny, delicate features of the baby while Mingyu stood next to you, holding your hand and cooing at the sleeping child.
You can feel a sense of wonder and awe, marveling at the miracle of your niece’s arrival, Alyssa. Everyone thought she was Alfred the whole time. Turns out she was an Alyssa. Your sister said this baby is this year’s plot twist, a Christmas miracle. This was good to know because you had initially thought the plot twist that would shock your entire family was the fact that you and Mingyu were no longer dating.
“I don’t think I would ever have kids,” you told Mingyu on the drive back to the chateau.
He seemed surprised by your admission. “Why not?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a feeling. I don’t see motherhood as something I would be doing in the future. I think the closest I can be to being one is as an aunt. I have enough nieces and nephews anyway.”
“Motherhood seemed like a huge responsibility too,” Mingyu affirmed, smiling.
“It does. I mean, I might change my mind in the future, but right now? No, not for me,” you added, glancing at Mingyu in the driver’s seat. “What about you?”
“Well, I love kids.”
You smiled fondly. “I can see that.”
“Yeah. And I would love to have one of my own in the future. Maybe more.”
Mingyu’s smile lingered, his eyes gleaming at the thought of having his own children. You found yourself drifting into a daydream, imagining a future where the two of you ended up together, married, and living in a home filled with love and happiness. You painted a picture of a beautiful family, mirroring some of your own family values, and traditions. You would spend holidays at the chateau, celebrate your wins as a family, treat each other with respect and consideration. He’d be a loving husband, and you a supportive wife.
Children? Yes, there were children in this picture. But when you thought about yourself, you still couldn’t find the desire to have kids. Maybe you’d change your mind someday; maybe you wouldn’t. The thought of motherhood felt so distant. As much as you adored your nieces and nephews, you couldn’t see yourself stepping into a maternal role. Then again, there is no guarantee that you’d end up marrying Mingyu in the first place. This is all just wishful thinking.
You were pulled out of your daydream by the sound of Mingyu’s phone ringing. Reaching into the compartment, you carefully handed it to him.
“Can you answer it for me?” he asked, keeping his hands on the steering wheel.
The caller ID read ‘Mina,’ accompanied by a photo of the woman you’d seen him meet at a cafe. Your mind raced with questions, but you tapped the answer button and held the phone to his ear.
“Mingyu! Merry Christmas! How are you?” Her voice was bright and melodic.
“I’m well, Mina. Merry Christmas to you too,” Mingyu replied, glancing at you briefly.
“I have some good news!” she exclaimed.
A flicker of hesitation crossed Mingyu’s face. “Uh… Now’s not a good time.”
“Oh, this won’t take long. I just had to share this with you!” she persisted, followed by the sound of shuffling papers. “Welcome to XYZ Corporation!”
The sound of party poppers and Mina’s cheerful laughter filled the car. Mingyu smiled, though he still seemed a bit uneasy.
“That’s amazing. Thank you, Mina,” he said.
“You did great. They’ll email you after the holidays to confirm your employment and discuss your relocation. Just stay tuned for that, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Great. I won’t take up too much of your time then. I’ll see you soon. Happy holidays!”
The car was quiet after that call; painfully quiet. Mingyu is not saying anything, and you’re stuck trying to process the new information you got from that phone call. Even after the car has stopped, neither of you made a move to get off.
“Babe,” Mingyu prompted, reaching for your hand that was sitting on your lap.
“What was that?” was the first thing you asked.
“It was Mina Choi. She works at XYZ.”
“No. Not her,” you insisted, shaking your head. “XYZ Corporation? That’s in Seoul, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“And you’re gonna be working there?”
Mingyu took a deep breath before responding. “Not yet. I got recruited last month so I applied and apparently, I got the job.”
“Oh,” you blurted, feeling lost so you just stared at your lap. “That’s great. XYZ is a big company. I’ve heard of them.”
He smiled contently, sighing. “Yeah, it is. I got a full contract too.”
“So you’re moving back to Korea?”
Mingyu’s silence spoke volumes. You let out a deep sigh, trying to muster a supportive smile, even though your heart felt heavy. “Congratulations, Gyu.”
“Baby—”
You pushed the car door open and walked briskly towards the chateau. You walked faster, almost running, eager to reach your bedroom as soon as possible and hide. But Mingyu was following closely behind, chasing you quietly. You passed by the halls, eyes blurring as your mind raced faster. You passed by your family members gathered at the great hall, their attentions immediately pointing at you the moment you walked in.
“Oh, you’re back! How’s Blair?” Sydney asked but you ignored her, going straight up the staircase without looking back, your heavy and urgent footsteps echoing through the entire hall.
Mingyu answered for you, his voice calm despite the tension. “Blair is doing great, Syd. They’ll be home in the morning.”
Your bedroom was quiet and cozy, and you could see the evidences of the warmth that engulfed this entire space just a few hours ago. Realizing that you’re about to lose it for the second time, your chest tightened with heartache while you ignored the stinging on your eyelids. Mingyu arrived sooner, shutting the door gently behind him.
You spun around to face him, arms crossed over your chest. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Mingyu took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t want to ruin our weekend.”
“Ruin it? Mingyu, you’re leaving for Seoul! How is that not a big deal?” you said, voice trembling with a mix of frustration and sorrow.
“Baby, let’s calm down for a second, alright,” he replied softly, reaching to hold your shoulders.
His gentle squeezes and the comforting look in his eyes steadied your heartbeat. You let him lock you in his embrace as you swallowed the lump in your throat.
“I didn’t hear from them for a while so I didn’t think I’d get the job,” he confessed as he rubbed soothing circles on your back. “I only found out today.”
“But we’ve only just got back together,” you moped, sobbing against his shirt.
“I know. It sucks for me too.”
You couldn’t even begin to describe how much you regret everything. Instead of breaking up, you should have just tried to fix things. You should have just talked about it. That way, you wouldn’t have lost those last few weeks with him. You would have made the most out of your time together. Now, it feels like you’re right back where you started, but worse.
Mingyu lifted your chin, the pain on his face evident upon seeing the tears streaming down your face. "I’m so sorry.”
Even if you wanted him to, Mingyu would never offer to stay. He would never pass up such a big career opportunity, and you wouldn’t have the heart to ask him to give it up. He had studied hard for years and worked tirelessly to deserve the opportunities that are coming his way. Not to mention this will be his chance to return home after being away for so long. You couldn’t take that from him; you wouldn’t be the one to hold him back.
“I’m genuinely happy for you, Mingyu. Really, I am. But this all just feels so… unfair.”
“I know,” he whispered, his own tears finally falling. “I know, and I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”
As you stood there, your mind raced through all the moments you'd shared. The laughter, the intimate conversations, the quiet moments of simply being together. All of it seemed so cruelly short-lived now, overshadowed by the inevitable. Despite your newly rediscovered love, you knew you weren’t prepared to move across the world for someone you weren’t sure you’d end up marrying. The internal conflict weighed heavily on you, a mix of pride for his achievements and sadness for the distance that would soon separate you.
Your thoughts wandered to the future, a future you had briefly allowed yourself to imagine with him. A home filled with love and happiness, the possibility of children, growing old together. It all seemed like a beautiful dream that was slipping away. It’s probably for the best. The picture you tried to paint was blurry anyway, so maybe it wasn’t meant to be.
Silence enveloped the room as you both stood there, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between you. Finally, Mingyu spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you, y/n.”
You looked up at him, your heart breaking all over again. “I love you too, Gyu.”
He took a deep breath, hesitating before gently cupping your face in his hands. “We’ll figure it out. Somehow, we will.”
“I know.”
As you watched Mingyu kiss your forehead, lingering for a moment as if trying to memorize the feel of you, your mind screamed at the unfairness of it all. You wondered how many more times you’d have to say goodbye to someone you loved, and how many more pieces your heart could break into before it was beyond repair.
On Tuesday morning, you drove out of the chateau after saying goodbye to your family. In the end, you never got to fulfill the deal you made with Mingyu which was to tell everyone the truth before you head back to the city. You felt that it would be unnecessary; you got back together after all.
The drive was filled with a comfortable silence, occasional glances, and small smiles. You slept most of the ride like you always did. Then you spent the next few days with Mingyu, doing everything and anything together. You went on dates to your favorite spots—the little café where you had your first date, the park where you spent lazy afternoons, and all the places you loved to go to that he wouldn’t be able to see for a long time. Each outing was a surge of nostalgia and making new memories.
He also moved out of his apartment early to spend his last week with you, so not only did you see him every day, but you were with him every second of the day. Two days before his departure, you headed up to the chateau so he could say goodbye to everyone properly. Then you held a small party with your closest friends to celebrate a milestone in Mingyu’s career and wish him good luck.
It was needless to say neither of you held yourselves back, especially when it came to your desires. You lost more than a month together, and it would stretch back far longer if one were to consider the time when your relationship was rocky. You had a lot of conversations with Mingyu, opening up to each other more than you’ve ever done in the last four years together. He told you about his aspirations, and you told him about your plans from here on out.
“I really wish we could have more time,” he told you while you lay in your bed, warm and cozy under the sheets. Your bodies were flushed against each other, and you could tell you still smelled like him.
“Me too,” you confessed, nuzzling on his chest like you’re not already glued to him. “I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow.”
Mingyu sighed heavily. “That’s okay. If it’s ours, it will find its way back to us.”
You chuckled, propping yourself so you could frown at him. “That’s just another way of saying: if it’s meant to be, it will be.”
“I know,” he grinned and then kissed the tip of your nose.
“You’re silly.”
You spent the past days laughing and making each other happy. Neither of you has shown any sadness or shed a tear for the inevitable, although that did not mean it wasn’t sad. It was painful, but it was a familiar kind of pain, one you had been bracing yourself for since the moment he received that phone call from Mina. Yet, no amount of preparation could fully shield you from the reality of that moment.
There was a raw, undeniable hurt in knowing that someone you loved so deeply was leaving. The countless memories you had built together played like a silent movie in your mind—each scene was a reminder of what you were about to lose. Your laughter, the quiet moments of comfort, the shared dreams, and even the setbacks that made you stronger—all of it now leaves a bittersweet taste in your mouth.
“You know, this is the warmest bed I’ve ever known,” you confessed, laying back down.
“Like, literally or?”
You giggled, closing your eyes as you melted into his warmth. “You made it warm.”
“Well, you did give me a bed to lie on. I did my best to make it warm.”
You opened your eyes and scowled, confused. “Like, literally?”
“No,” he laughed, his chest vibrating. And the night stretched on with more of your laughter and conversations.
The morning of Mingyu’s departure arrived too quickly. You both sat in the living room, your head on his chest while he hugged you tightly. Neither of you was speaking, just quietly passing the time in each other’s arms. His suitcase was by the door, and every tick of the clock seemed louder than usual.
“Are you ready to go?” Mingyu asked gently, his eyes searching yours.
You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I said I’m not going.”
“I know. I was just trying to see if you changed your mind,” he chimed, his thumb rubbing your shoulder.
You buried your face in his chest and tightened your arms around his torso. “I don’t like it. It’s too sad.”
He hummed in understanding. “I get it. It’s hard for me too.” He stood up and hugged you tightly, his warmth enveloping you. “I’ll call you as soon as I land, okay?”
You nodded against his chest, feeling the tears welling up. “Okay.”
Mingyu kissed the top of your head, holding you for a few more seconds before pulling away. “Take care of yourself,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
“You too,” you replied, watching as he picked up his suitcase and walked out the door. The sound of the door closing felt like a heartbreaking note.
For a few minutes, you stood there in the deafening silence, your heart aching with the weight of the goodbye. The thought of not seeing him off began to gnaw at you, each moment passing making you feel worse. You knew that if you didn’t go, you would regret it forever.
Without giving yourself time to second-guess, you grabbed your phone and ran out the door, not bothering to lock it behind you.
“Taxi!” you yelled at the first taxi you saw on the street, your hand flapping wildly in the air as you beckoned for it. “Airport. And please be quick!”
The traffic was mercifully light, but every red light felt like an eternity. You tapped your fingers nervously on your knee, willing the lights to change faster.
“Late for a flight?” the taxi driver asked but you were too immersed in your thoughts to hear it clearly.
“Sorry?” you asked stupidly.
“No luggage,” he noted. “Chasing a lover, I see.”
You chuckled nervously, eyes darting from the driver to the red light flashing up ahead. “Does it happen a lot?”
“No, not really. It’s rarer than you would expect,” the man replied spiritedly. “And it’s beautiful each time you see one.”
He didn’t chat much, and it was like he could also feel the urgency of your situation because as soon as he could, he sped through the highways and assured you that everything would be alright. When you finally reached the airport, you hastily paid your fare and ran towards the terminal, your heart pounding in your chest.
You scanned the crowds frantically, hoping you weren’t too late. Then, you spotted him at the security checkpoint, just about to hand over his boarding pass.
"Kim Mingyu!" you shouted, your voice echoing in the bustling terminal.
He turned around, eyes wide with surprise. You pushed through the crowd, running up to him while waving your hand. Mingyu left the queue immediately, meeting you halfway. When you reached him, you were breathless, both from the run and the emotions. He didn’t waste any time and pulled you into a tight embrace.
When you parted, you laughed shyly, not looking him in the eyes out of embarrassment.
“Wow, I almost didn’t catch you,” you told him, looking at the queue of people boarding the gate.
Mingyu’s expression was soft and loving as he tucked a few strands of your hair to the back of your ear. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Yeah. I’m so glad I did,” you chuckled, moving closer to hug him again. You stared at his face, trying to memorize it before he leaves and your vision of him becomes limited to a phone’s screen only.
“I thought you don’t like it?” he asked, arms wrapped around your waist and enjoying the way you were staring at him with loving eyes.
“I don’t,” you admitted, rolling your eyes. “But I’ll make an exception for you.”
“Just tell me you’re gonna miss me and be done with it.”
“I’m gonna miss you, Mingyu.”
Mingyu laughed heartily, pleasantly surprised by your admission. “See. How hard was that?”
“Not hard at all because it’s true,” you shrugged.
He cupped your face in his hands, his eyes sparkling with affection. “I’m gonna miss you too, baby. A lot.”
“You better,” you said nonchalantly, masking the yearning in your heart. “I love you, okay?”
He nodded. “I love you.”
The announcement for his flight boarding echoed through the terminal, and Mingyu sighed, knowing it was time to go. He kissed you deeply, pouring all his love and emotion into that one kiss. Then he pulled you into a tight embrace again, neither of you wanting to let go.
“Take care of yourself,” he murmured into your hair.
“You too,” you replied, tears streaming down your face. You couldn’t help it. When Mingyu saw that, you recognized the slight flicker of hesitation on his face. “Go, before I change my mind and chain you to my bedpost.”
“See you soon, y/n.”
“See you soon, Mingyu.”
With one last kiss, he turned and walked towards the gate, pausing to look back at you one more time. You watched as he disappeared from sight, a mix of sadness and hope filling your heart. You took a deep breath, letting the cool air of the terminal fill your lungs. As you exhaled, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. You can’t control the future, but you can choose how to face it.
Acceptance was not about letting go of the pain but about understanding that it was part of the journey. You allowed yourself to feel every emotion, knowing that it was okay to hurt, okay to miss him, and okay to hope for a future where your paths would cross again.
Days passed in the blink of an eye. You got busy working on the establishment of your interior design office. You haven’t even officially established your office yet but inquiries are already pouring in thanks to your work on Daphne’s boutique. Sure, you had help from your trust fund and your first investor was your father, but why would you shy away from the privilege you were born with when you can flourish with it?
“Ma'am, where do you want this couch to be?” asked the helpers as they hauled a long couch into the office space.
“Over there by that corner, please. And the rest of it will be placed there too,” you instructed just as you were fishing your phone from your bag.
You opened the message from Mingyu and saw that he had sent you a picture. It was of him and an abstract painting hanging on the wall of his Seoul apartment– the one you sent him a few days ago.
MG: Rate my interior design capability.
you: 7/10. Nice spot but it’s upside down, Mr Kim.
MG: LOL okay will fix it when i get back. i'm at work now. i miss you! xx
A smile crept up your lips as you typed a reply.
you: Miss you! Good luck!
Not everyone has to end up with the greatest love of their life. But you do wish you would end up with yours— that somehow, despite the massive population of the earth, Mingyu is your greatest love; your end game. Maybe he is, or perhaps he’s not. Who knows? Right now, you're both content living your days, doing what makes you happy. You no longer ache for him too much, although you miss him a lot every day. You were pretty convinced that you missed it only because you were used to it. Then again, who knows for sure?
As you set your phone down, you felt hopeful and optimistic. Your story with Mingyu wasn’t over; it was simply evolving. And in that evolution, you found strength, hope, and a future full of possibilities.
[fin]
#mingyu x reader#mingyu fluff#mingyu fanfic#mingyu x y/n#mingyu x you#seventeen fluff#mingyu smut#seventeen au#seventeen fanfic#seventeen imagines#seventeen smut#svt fluff#svt fanfic#svt fic#svt au#svt#svt mingyu smut#seventeen x reader#seventeen x you#calcali
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BREAK HIS COMPOSURE — NANAMI KENTO.
SYNOPSIS. gaining the title 'duke' not only came with the prestige, but came along the lonely days you spent yearning for your husband as he toggled the new duties and responsibilities he had to face. it was only a matter of time before you decided that you could only have so much patience, deciding that it wouldn't hurt if you played around a little – watching as your husband who held himself in great temperance and sangfroid fall into pieces the more you attempt to break his composure.
DETAILS. duke!nanami kento x reader
TAGS. 18+ content mdni. breeding kink, explicit language, rough sex, cunnilingus
WC. 4.1k
SORA'S NOTE. reposted another one of my works from my old writing blog. please enjoy! <3
© CHOSAI — do not copy, modify, or translate any of my works.
NANAMI KENTO, no doubt, was a powerful young man who earned himself the title Duke from the royal king after his contribution and victory in the most recent war. Of course, now that he was given the new title, he was given a whole lot of responsibilities and duties that he’s got to fulfill now that he had plenty more people to protect. Nowadays, the young duke would either be found training his lot of knights, hunting, or cooped up in his grand office busying himself with myriads of documents. Despite being incredibly proud of his achievements, you still couldn’t help but yearn for the affection of your beloved husband.
Many nights were spent alone, staring up at the tall dark ceiling while you silently counted sheep – hoping that once you had reached a hundred, he would arrive and join you in bed (he’d often fall asleep on the sofa in his office). And, many nights were spent with you fending for yourself when you longed for his touch, arching your back when you’d climax on your fingers – however, you never felt fully satisfied. Your fingers could never compare to his larger and thicker fingers, nor his…
You shake your head rapidly, feeling your cheeks growing redder by the lewd thoughts of your husband swimming through your mind. The last time you had intercourse with the male was when you both consummated the marriage, which was almost half a year ago, and then a month after that, the war happened – and two months later, he’d come back with a new title, Duke. Everything else after that was a blur. He was just within your reach — residing in the same manor and all, could almost reach for him but always got farther and farther away. You miss your husband, desperately.
You stroll through the hallways of the manor, taking small strides towards the familiar giant door with a board of your freshly baked bread balanced in your hands. You continue to hum a gentle tune as you got closer and closer to the door. Although, it may appear to other people that his wife was innocently barging into his office thus surprising him with baked goods made with love – However, unknowingly for them, you had other plans hidden up your sleeves.
“Kento,” your voice gentle as you call out his name, “I brought you something that I think you’d love!”
You open the door further, revealing your husband — as per usual — busying himself with his documents. Fatigue was plastered all across his face, though he tried his best to mask it, but the dark circles underneath his hazel eyes were of no help. You could tell that even his muscles had gotten sore from training and staying seated for long periods of time. You placed the bread tray in front of him, and you walked around the desk to stand next to your husband.
“Thank you, honey,” He quickly thanks you, sending you a quick nod of acknowledgement. Your husband was in pure autopilot mode, his hand continuously signing the documents despite him slowly losing focus — desperately trying to keep them open rather than succumbing to slumber.
“You should take a moment to relax, Kento.” You say. Just as he is about to come up with some type of excuse as to why he shouldn’t take a break, you lean in closer to his ear. “Let me help you.”
Your hands travel up to his back, and you applied some pressure on his shoulders while you massaged him. Your husband releases a low groan when you apply even more pressure on a stubborn muscle knot on his shoulders. You smile when he relaxes into your touch, closing his eyes while he leaned closer into you as you massaged into his sore muscles until those pesky knots disappeared. “How do you feel now?”
“I feel much better,” Kento sighs, humming pleasantly, “ Thank you for the bread, too. I’ll make sure to finish it while I continue working.”
“Can’t your break be a little longer?” You probe at him, pouting softly. “I missed you.”
A sudden wave of boldness and confidence overtakes your consciousness, and you bring yourself down on his lap, your arms snaking around your husband’s muscular shoulders. Kento looks completely taken aback, and you eat that expression up as if it is candy.
“Kento,” you begin, “can’t you see that your cute and loving wife misses you?”
You press your lips against his ear, before whispering: “I’ve been thinking about you so much, putting a baby inside of me.”
Slowly, you thrust your hips against his thigh, watching your husband in pure amusement as he attempts to keep his composure; his hand tightening on his pen, knuckles white. Almost immediately, you can feel him hardening underneath you, and you grin almost immediately. Something about his reaction swells your heart with pride, knowing that despite being busy you still, somewhat, had an effect on him. Even more, Kento is taken aback, completely speechless (and undeniably turned on) from his wife’s bold ministrations.
“B-baby inside..?” His voice comes out as a dry rasp, his eyes wide .
Before your husband can process anything else, he felt the weight on his lap disappearing, and he quickly stares up to watch you getting ready to leave. You fixed the wrinkles on the hem of your dress, trying to fight back the grin on your face after having just teased your usually stoic husband. He had always appeared so cool and composed, so watching him try so hard to keep his composure undeniably gives you some type of thrill.
“Y/N?” He calls out your name, looking visibly confused. Your eyes travel down to your husband’s trousers, smiling innocently as you caught sight of the large tent growing between his legs.
“I almost forgot to mention, but the marchioness invited me to her manor for a tea party.” You say, attempting to stifle the giggle bubbling in your throat while your husband appears flustered. “I won’t be back until tonight.”
You lean in to give him a quick kiss on his lips, not before licking his bottom lip as you pull away. You are being far too mean with your husband, but you can’t help it — watching him slowly crack beneath your manipulation sends a shock of arousal straight between your legs. “Until then, promise me that you’ll finish the bread and take breaks when you need it, okay?”
Before the man can even muster a single response, you walked out of his office. Only two could play at this game, you think to yourself as you close the office door behind you.
Hours have already passed and you finish catching up with the noble ladies, exchanging your goodbyes and letters before parting ways. It has truly been a while since you had last caught up with your friends. Nevertheless, the time spent at your friend’s manor is enjoyable, listening to all the spicy gossip while enjoying desserts and tea.
The ride back home in the carriage is silent — the only sound present were the continuous patters from the horses’ steps. You stare outside the window, quietly watching the manor eventually disappearing as the carriage goes further away in distance. It is already a quarter past nine, perhaps the latest you have ever stayed out, and it is safe to assume that your beloved husband is probably resting on the sofa in his office again.
You lean your back against the seat, pressing the side of your head against the window as your eyes begin to grow heavy, the distant sounds of the horses’ steps gradually lulling you into a short slumber.
“My lady, we’ve arrived.”
“Oh my, we’re already here?” You ponder to yourself out loud, groggily opening your eyes. You place your hands atop the coachman’s guiding you down the carriage, and you stare at the tall manor before you. Once you enter inside, you are automatically greeted with your maids ushering you to the bathroom with a change of clothes. Undeniably, you felt a little disappointed, as you believe that your husband had unknowingly proved your point from earlier — you, at least, hoped that he’d stay awake a little longer. You sink lower into the tub, blowing bubbles as you scrunch your brows together, the water hiding pouting lips. The maid had left you alone earlier, telling you that she’d return with a towel soon, but it’s been moments.
You glance around the bathroom, trying to decipher the exact location of your nightgown. Ah, it was on the stool, next to the door. If anyone had walked in on you grabbing your nightgown from the stool, the only thing they’d see is your wet and bare body. It shouldn’t be too bad, though —after all, it’s always been your maids coming in. Slowly, you stand up from the large tub, and you immediately shiver from the wave of cold air rushing to you,, cool beads of water dripping down your body. With careful steps, you make your way across the room, your hand reaching out towards your nightgown.
You suddenly hear a knock on the door, and you instinctively grab the gown to cover the front of your body. It must be the maid, you think to yourself and you try to mimic that of a stern face — however, you can’t bring yourself to be too harsh on a new maid, after all. You watch the door open slowly, and you tap your fingers against your elbows. “Hana, where were you all this… Oh.”
Almost immediately, your face is sent aflame and you scurry away from the door, your failed attempt of a stern persona pathetically crumbling away as the space revealed no one other than your husband standing in front of the doorway with a towel in his hand. Hazel eyes travel up and down your frame, his jaw tensing at the sight of your bunched up nightgown barely covering your body — hell, it didn’t cover anything, he stares longingly at your left breast deciding to slip out of the covers. He steps into the room and closes the door shut immediately, his eyes still locked into your frame and he stays silent.
You press the nightgown against your body even more and you look away from his gaze, as if it could help hide your insecurities that are growing the more he stared and stayed silent. However, all that stops when you glance back at your husband and he gives you a come hither motion with his index finger. “Kento,” you say his name softly, “I thought you were asleep—”
“Come here,” is all he says to you, his voice low and baritone. You easily comply with his words, taking small strides to get closer to the male. “Hand me your nightgown.”
“I thought it was Hana that knocked,” you say quietly as you hand your husband your nightgown, further revealing your naked body. You can hear Kento’s breath hitch for a mere moment before he quickly regains his composure — however, it is already so fragile. He swiftly wraps the towel around your body before pulling you closer to him, his hands resting on your hips while he leans closer to your face with stern eyes. “You’re lucky that it was me, then. What were you thinking about going out of the bath like that? What if it wasn’t Hana or I that walked in?”
“I didn't want to stay in the bath anymore, and I genuinely believed that my maids would be the only ones to walk in. Because of that, I didn’t feel too worried.” You answer your husband softly, squeezing his shoulder ever so slightly. “Despite you giving me a bit of a surprise, I can’t say that I’d rather have Hana come here instead of you.”
“Is that so? That’s a relief, then. I did tell her that I’d take care of the rest and she could rest for the night.” He hummed, before lifting you up in his arms without any warning, immediately eliciting a surprised gasp from your lips.
“W-what are you doing?” You question your husband, stammering as you instinctively place your hand onto his chest.
“You know, after you played your little game earlier, I wasn’t able to do my work properly.” says Kento, opening the bathroom door. “I believe you should bear some sort of responsibility, no?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter under your breath, masking a soft grin as you nuzzle your face into your husband’s neck.
“Putting a baby inside you,” he says, a slight strain present in his baritone voice as he continues walking down the hall with your towel-covered body in his arms. The walk down to your shared bedroom feels like an eternity has passed, the sounds of his footsteps resonating across the quiet hall. You want to question him where the rest of maids and butlers had gone but you relented, your body tense under the man’s carnal gaze.
“If fucking a baby inside of you is what you want, then it’s what you’ll get. It’s what my sweet wife asked for, after all.”
“H-Honey, what are you—?”
With one hand, Kento swiftly opens the bedroom door. You let out a small shriek when he throws you on the soft mattress of your king-sized bed, his large hands pinning your hands above your head. He has this carnal glint in his amber eyes as he stares deeply into yours, it was as if all his self-control was beginning to crumble right before your eyes — you’ve never seen him like this; a cool, composed and reserved man looking so disheveled above you—his dress shirt buttoned loosely, revealing his collarbones and the evident incarnadine flush radiating onto his cheeks. Truly, it is a delicious sight to behold, and the wetness dwelling between your legs only seems to grow the longer you stare at the man.
“What a lewd woman, you are.” He mutters, his grip on your wrists tightening while his other hand trails down your chest, slowly pulling the towel down. “Was my sweet wife having fun playing teatime after leaving me to take care of this?”
Before you can even utter a word, a sudden gasp leaves your lips when Kento grinds his hips against yours; the delightful friction of the erection growing in his trousers rubbing against your clit, your back arching in hopes to get more. “I missed you,” you say between heavy breaths, “I missed you so much—Ah! Y-You’ve been so cooped up in your o-office lately and ngh..”
Your words were cut abruptly by his lips, teeths clashed and tongues intertwined while his rough and calloused fingers trail up your torso, towards your bare chest in a teasingly slow pace. A muffled moan leaves your lips, only to be covered by your husband’s lips, as he teases your already erect nipples.
“Tell me more,” said your husband, his lips leaving yours.
With heavy eyes, you watch Kento’s lips trail to where his hands once rested. His tongue swirls around the mound before sucking on your skin harshly, and you rest your fingers tangled in his blond locks as he continues to elicit those cute sounds coming from your swollen lips.
“You’ve been so busy with your duties as the duke, and—Mhhm..!—I-I’ve been feeling so alone these many nights while I longed for you, so so desperately. I love you so much Kento—Ah!” You mewl out those words in unadulterated wanton, your voice all shakey, it almost sounds embarrassingly pathetic when your husband is doing nothing more than teasing your breasts rather than fucking you relentlessly in the mattress. You can barely care less about how you sound though, because his lips and touch alone are enough to send you into ecstasy. You want him to touch you more. The needy ache between your legs continuously grows more intense the longer he teases you.
“H-Honey, ‘want more. Please.” You beg your husband, your fingers desperately trying to unbutton his wrinkled dress shirt. “I need more of you.”
Kento doesn’t reply back, continuing his little ministrations on your neglected mound. It is adorable seeing him so focused on pleasuring you, but the heat you feel in your pussy feels too overwhelming. You push your husband’s head away from your mound, his lips leaving your skin with a soft ‘pop!’ He glances at you questioningly.
It was a bold and sudden decision that you had made on a whim out of sheer desperation, but his reaction made it all the more worth it. As soon as your fingers leave his half-buttoned dress shirt, you hook your arms underneath your knees and spread your legs open, revealing your cunt drenched in your desperate juices. “Kento, I mean it when I told you that I wanted you to put a baby in me.”
His mouth is left agape at your sudden boldness, his eyes fixated on the juices slowly dripping out of your hole — his breath gets stuck in his throat as he watches your small fingers spread your pussy lips apart. “Kento, touch me. Please.”
“Shit.”
It is almost as if the string has finally snapped inside of him, because before his mind can even start to think properly, his hands are on your thighs, keeping your legs spread apart as he begins the merciless assault on your dripping folds; his tongue lapping at all your wetness as if he was animal thirsty for water. Kento almost groans at the way his finger stretches your pussy, his finger sliding in almost immediately due to your juices. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath, “you’re so wet for me.”
He slides his index finger in and out before adding a second finger to the mix. He starts off slow, but his pace gradually quickens to that of which is considered merciless. The sounds of your wet cunt getting demolished by his fingers echoes in the grand room, along with your cries of pleasure. Your hips thrash against his fingers, and you can feel the sensation of pressure that was building up in your abdomen intensifying the more that he pleases you with his large fingers. Within less than a second, you cum intensely around his fingers, a loud moan erupting from your throat as your body slumps against Kento.
‘His fingers feel so much better compared to my fingers,’ you think to yourself as you try to recover from your first orgasm.
While you attempt to catch your breath, you glance back to Kento only to watch him undress with your mouth salivating. It’s already a given that your husband would be incredibly fit as he often trains with the knights and hunts (while not forgetting the night you had consummated with him in the dark the past few months ago — you felt every crevice of his muscles) — but now, seeing it up close and so clearly — he is truly a sight to behold. You reach your arm towards his chiseled abdomen, your fingers drawing hearts across his skin, and your eyes travel lower past his abdomen; staring intently at the huge tent growing beneath his underwear. You want to get fucked by this man already, so so bad.
“Kento,” you say his name softly, tracing your fingers along the outline of your husband’s clothed erection before trailing back up to the waistband, tugging it down slightly to expose more of his v-line. He tugs his boxers down completely, and your mouth immediately waters at the exquisite sight. He is a lot bigger than you had remembered.
When he slowly rubs the tip of his dick against your folds, shivers trickle down your spine as you raise your hips to meet his, attempting to get him inside.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He mumbles, his voice hoarse. “Look at you all spread open for me, desperate to get a taste of my cock.”
He slips his tip in, eliciting a sharp breath past your trembling lips, and then he pulls out. You whine out his name in a bated breath, your cheeks flushed in an incarnadine hue. Kento spares you a soft smile, almost as if it was mocking you, before he fills your hole up to the very brim — splitting your pussy open.
“Oh fuck—Kento!” A scream slips past your lips, your eyes scrunched shut as a huge wave of pleasure rushes through your veins, sending goosebumps on your skin. Your husband is relentless with his movements, your legs spread apart by his strong grip. The sounds of his skin slapping against yours along with cries of his name resonates across the bedroom, coupled with the intense squeaking from the mattress. “F-Feels so good—Ahn! Please—Please don’t stop—Oh!”
“You dirty woman,” Kento sneers, “we’ve just started and your pussy’s already so greedy for my cum by how tight you’re squeezing me. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to get my sweet wife pregnant—filled with all my cum.”
With that, he spreads your legs even wider and leans his torso closer to yours; his face merely centimeters away from yours. “I can feel you getting tighter,” He says, his hot breath fanning against your skin, “you’re getting real close, hm?”
He doesn’t give you a chance to properly reply though, as he trails his one hand down to your clit and rubs rough circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves, eliciting a silent scream—your mouth agape and eyes rolled back as you ride out your orgasm, arching your back against his chest.
You are barely given enough time to recover when Kento returns to work, his lips instantly connecting to yours while he thrusts his cock inside your sopping hole with a stuttering pace. His hands travel up to your breasts and gives them a harsh squeeze, the pace of his thrusts quickening. Your husband looks utterly delectable, his face scrunched up as he focuses on your pleasure, small beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. Pleasure fills your veins, and your cries only increase in volume the closer you are to reaching your second orgasm.
Thoughts of you being all plumped up and pregnant play repeatedly in his mind, and it merely ignites his desire to pump all his cum into you. Breaths ragged, he stuffs his head into the crook of your neck, nails gripping into your hips as he continues to plummet into you. “K-Kento—!” You wantonly whine out his name, wrapping your legs tightly around your husband’s hips. “Cum inside me—please. Want your kids so bad.”
How can he not cum? Especially when the sight of his sweet wife being drunk on his dick is right before his eyes. With a groan (combined with a growl) of your name along with a string of curses leaving his lips, he stiffens up inside you; warm ropes of his cum coating your walls white.
Upon pulling out, he watches large beads of white leaking out of your hole and he sticks his finger inside, pushing his cum back inside. You released a soft sigh in pleasure, your legs slightly twitching at your husband’s touch.
“How are you feeling now?” Questions your husband, Kento. You reach your arm out to his face, your thumb tracing light circles on his cheekbones.
“I’m a happy, happy wife,” you reply to him, laughing softly before leaning into his lips, giving him a soft peck. Kento chuckles lightly into the kiss. “Was I too rough with you?” He asks you once more, and you shake your head immediately.
“I think I’ve realized just now how much I enjoy being manhandled by you,” you reply back to him, giggling. “Rather, I enjoy seeing this new side of you.”
Your giggles quickly gets replaced by a slight gasp when your husband suddenly adjusts your position, your face and chest now pressed against the mattress with your husband behind you, his hand lightly rubbing his erect cock. Swiftly, you turn your head to Kento, your mouth agape as you are just about to question him but the sting of his hand on your ass immediately erases all rational thoughts in your mind. Heat immediately rushes to your face once more at the foreign, yet pleasurable sensation.
“K-Kento,” you are able to utter your husband’s name, your arms already feeling weak from holding yourself up from the mattress. A shaky breath leaves your lips when he slowly rubs his cock against you from behind, your ears picking up a hoarse chuckle.
“I never said I was done with you,” Kento tells you, “not until I’m sure that you’ll get pregnant with all my cum.”
interactions + reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! thank you for reading <3
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Text
Love At First Sight
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Princess!Reader
Word Count: ~1.6k
Warnings: fluff
Summary: It's your first time in America, and you do your best to blend in. No one needs to know who you really are, and you're really good at playing pretend.
Play Pretend Masterlist
Square Filled: "stop. just stop." for @mfbingo
Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3
x
You look out the window of the plane in thought. The decision to leave everything you’ve ever known wasn’t rash but it didn’t make it any easier. Nineteen hours on a plane really gives you time to think about the new life you’re stepping into. Someone in the States is waiting for you, to take care of you and help you through this difficult time.
What is America like? You’ve never been there but have always wanted to go. You only know what you’ve heard from stories and other people’s experiences. It’s so big that there are more than five different time zones. You were never able to travel to different countries for your protection but America seemed like the dream to be.
Now it’s reality.
When the plane lands, you watch everyone get out of their seats and grab their bags from the compartments above. Just follow what they do. No one is out to get you. You’re safe here. You grab your bag and hold it close as you wait for your turn to get off the plane. People get off like sheep in herds. You’re not sure what to do or where you’re going so you follow the flow of traffic. Some people break off to grab something to eat or use the bathroom but the majority of people head down to the baggage claim to gather their bags.
You wait patiently as the conveyor belt brings out the bags. You tried to be as inconspicuous as possible so you had gotten a plain black one. That was a mistake as most of the bags are black. You put a pink princess sticker on the top so you’ll look for that. You grab the right bag and haul it to your side before looking around the busy airport.
People pass by you in a hurry to get on with their lives but you’re not sure what to do. There are two police officers with dogs near the sliding doors, so you head over there while being careful not to run into anyone or get in anyone’s way.
“Excuse me?” Both offices turn to you as the dog sniffs your leg and bag. “Do you know where pick up and drop off is?”
“Yes. Right through these doors and to the right.”
“Thank you.”
You leave and head right where the officers directed you. The only thing you know about the person meeting you is his name, Don Stockwell. Someone very close to you trusts the man you’re meeting, and you trust your friend with your life. If he says this man is good then he is good. Some of the crowd clears out as people get picked up, and you see a sign with your last name on it. Thank God.
“Don?” you ask as you approach him.
“Y/N?”
“Yes.”
“Wow, it’s nice to finally meet you. Come here.” He pulls you in for a hug which you return. When you pull away, you notice a scar running across his face starting from his forehead down to the opposite cheek. He’s not ashamed of it or anything because his hair is slicked back when it’s long enough to cover most of the scar. “Let me get your bags.”
He places them into the trunk of the car before the two of you get in. He waits for the road to clear before pulling onto it.
“You look terrified, my dear. Don’t worry. Ben told me everything before you arrived. I’m going to take good care of you.”
“Okay,” you chuckle nervously.
Don drives you into the city of Quantico where there is a line of small houses. These houses don’t have driveways so people are forced to parallel park on the street. The house is small length-wise but has what looks to be three stories high. It’s white with three steps leading up to the front door. It’s small, quaint, and quiet. Everything you’ve wanted for the past year. Only recently were you able to actually go after what you wanted. Don takes your bags inside, and the inside is even more beautiful than the outside. Right off the bat, there is a slim staircase on the left side by the wall. The front door opens to the living room and behind that is the kitchen. The only thing separating the kitchen from the living room is a half-wall. It keeps the floor plan open while still separating the distinctive rooms. There is a door presumably to a basement underneath the staircase but with a padlock on the door.
“So, here’s what’s going to happen now.” Don sits on the staircase at eye level with you. “You’ll introduce me as your uncle who you’re staying with. Your parents are out of town and won’t be back for a while due to work.” You nod in understanding. “I’m working on getting your documents ready like a new birth certificate and a driver’s license.”
“I don’t know how to drive a car.”
“You don’t need to. Everyone carries a license here.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I also got you a job at the new coffee house down the street. It’s within walking distance so you don’t have to worry about using public transport or driving. It doesn’t pay well but it’s not meant to. I’ll pay all the bills here. This job is just meant for you to blend in for a while.”
“When do I start?”
“Monday.”
“Thank you for everything you’re doing for me. I know it can’t be easy.”
“Don’t mention it,” he waves you off. “I’m going to make it an early night but feel free to make this place like home.”
He gets off the stairs and heads to the second floor where the bedrooms are. This is nothing like what home is like. This entire house is the size of your bedroom back home but you’re going to make the most of this situation. After all, you asked for this. You take both suitcases upstairs to your bedroom which is also small. There is a small book corner where the window juts outward. A small bench rests below the window, making the room appear bigger than it normally is.
You start to unpack your things and see some of the items you took from home. Your parents must be worried sick about you but you needed this change for yourself. Both your parents were arranged to be married back then like tradition, but you didn't want that for yourself. You love them with all your heart but they didn’t understand when you told them you wanted more from life than luxury and marrying for politics.
Your past will come knocking eventually, so you’ll get as much as you can from this new life as you can before you’re sucked back into it.
Come Monday and you’re standing outside the sleek and modern coffee shop named “The Coffee Shop”. The place is already busy but you hear that’s normal for this type of establishment. You walk inside and feel slightly overwhelmed by the amount of people. The only way you could be around this many people back home is if your mom or dad and your bodyguard were in the room.
“Can I help you?” a woman asks.
“Um, I’m looking for Cindy?”
“That’s me. How can I help you?”
“My uncle, Don, said to come in for work on Monday. Is that right?”
“Yeah, he said you’d stop by.”
“Thank you for this opportunity.”
“Don’t mention it. Follow me.”
Cindy takes you behind the counter and to her office to give a bit of training. Since The Coffee Shop is slammed, she can’t give you proper training. For now, you’ll be stocking stuff and cleaning what you can until it starts slowing down. You wrap the black apron around your waist and immediately get to work. You watch everyone work like a well-oiled machine. Everyone has a part to do and a place to be in. You’re kind of in the middle of everyone’s way.
“Sorry,” you mutter when someone knocks into you.
That work is becoming your new favorite since you must have said it at least twenty times in the first hour alone. You try not to be in anyone’s way as you restock the items and clean the countertops. You pass by one of the machines that has a drink set up to it but no one is around to take care of it. How hard could this be? You press a button on the front of it and thick fluffy cream comes squirting out the machine.
“No!” You press some more buttons to make the machine stop. “Stop. Just stop.”
“Push the button on the side to turn it off.”
You look at the man who spoke to you. Your hand slips off the machine and into the pile of cream on the counter. You quickly turn the machine off and give the stranger a shy smile.
“Can you tell it’s my first day?” One of your coworkers gives you a scowl when she realizes the mess you made. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. I get feeling overwhelmed,” the man says.
“Spencer?”
The man gets up and walks to the pickup counter to grab his order. Instead of leaving, he walks right back over to you.
“I’m Spencer Reid,” he smiles.
“Y/N.”
“I have to go but will I see you here tomorrow?” You can’t find the words so you nod. “Good.”
You watch Spencer go with a slight smile on your face. Something clicked for you when you first looked into his honey-brown eyes. You felt something that you have never felt before. Not even when you were forced to be with Henry. What’s the saying? Love at first sight? You’re not sure if it’s real but you definitely felt something for Spencer.
You just hope you don’t ruin it before it has a chance to be something real.
x
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#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid angst#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds angst
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