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tan1shere · 2 days ago

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My Winner

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: This is how we cope ladies and no gentlemen. Enjoy my loves <3

Summary: after the grammys, Billie finds a way to forget. But you find it hard. Knowing that nothings truly ok. (You'll see.)

Warnings: angst, but heavy on the comfort I promise <3 reader has anxiety so mentions of that

Tags: @trulyy-yourzz @eilishslut @chrissv4mp @n0vabug @dollyvuu @dollarbils @sweetcherriexs

^comment if you want to be added^

Masterlist

What an anxiety filled night. It was nearing the end. The grammys. You know, the big event that always either turns someone's life around or ruins it. You had been anxious all day, surprisingly Billie wasn't. She was so excited to just be there. Happy to be with you especially. But you knew as soon as you took your seats she was masking how anxious she was.

The red carpet was full of stars, full of heaps of people you didn't know either. There was always something about your anxiety, and ever since you had the hunch that your anxiety could always tell you if somethings up, you've been listening to that hunch heavily. Billie also knew of this, but you tried keeping extra quiet currently. If she knew you were anxious that'd set her into a complete state of worry. Knowing you seem to get this way when something is up later on. You couldn't let her get anxious about the night. You hold her hand, walking along as photographers took your photos.

You were next to Finneas and Claudia also, Finn spotting your anxiousness in seconds. You really thought you were hiding it better. He pokes your arm as an interviewer talks to Billie. "Hey whats up?" You look up at him. "What do you mean?" His brow raises. "I've known you for how many years now? Don't bullshit me what's up?" His hand rubs your arm, you grab it softly removing it. "I-" You sigh. "Ok, I'm really anxious for today, I have this odd feeling. I don't want her to see me like this though. She's enjoying herself and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Y/n." - "Please don't say anything." He's now the one to sigh. "Fine, but if she notices something is up, tell her. You know she always worries about you." You nod. "I know I know, just want her happy." He gives you a soft smile, kissing the top of your head. It was nice, he was always so brotherly towards you, you always wanted an older brother. "Like I told her, if we don't win anything it'll be ok." He pipes up. You were about to say, everything about the fact she deserves this though, she has a great right to earn this achievement. But you stay quiet, knowing he is right. You just want what's best for her. Knowing she's always so gracious.

She walks back over to you guys. "Hey, it's almost time to go, you ready?" You nod at her, giving her a smile. As she leads you out with such excitement, you look back at Finneas. He gives you a reassuring nod. Settling some nerves within you. Your mind talks as you get there, finding your seat and such. Telling yourself that this will all be ok. If it doesn't turn out good, you can be there for her. Give her encouragement, telling her she did amazing regardless- "Hello, earth to Y/n." She says standing infront of you. You snap out of your trance. "Hm?" She giggles at you. "Silly cutie." The name eases everything within you, looking into her eyes.

"I said here are our seats." She beams. You sit down, watching everyone else do so. "You excited to perform baby?" You smile sweetly at her. She smiles back. "Hell yeah. I mean a little bit nervous but this is honestly second nature to me now. I'm pumped." You could see how genuinely happy she was. It sooths everything you had previously been worried about.

But not for long, when they were up there singing your chest feels heavy, ignoring it like usual, even not in this situation you enjoy your girlfriends performance. But it doesn't go unnoticed by Claudia. "Babe, you alright?" You turn to her. Her comforting tone makes you let go for a moment. "Im still worried, I don't even know why I said in my mind whatever happens it'll be ok." She places her hand on your shoulder. "I think you're more worried about this than her." You lower your head. "I know." Sighing, but Claudia gets you to look at her. "And that's fine I hope you know, you care so much about her. It's really sweet." You felt teary. "I just want her growing more, this place can be a bit.. stingy." She laughs.

"Yep, don't we all know it." She goes to wipe one tear, but you stop her. "It's best if I get then out now so I won't- just in case of anything." The two if you share a laugh, it felt nice. Considering you usually talk to Billie about your anxiety. But that was off limits right now. You pay attention to her again, feeling calmer after your talk with Claud. Vibing to the music, less stressed. But now the roles were reversed. As the categories she was nominated for go on she seemingly is off, not as bubbly as before. But she puts up a front. "That's ok there's heaps more." You reassure her. She turns to you and smiles, wrapping an arm around you. "I'm so glad you're here." Your eyes flutter shut. "Glad I could be here baby." Her grip on you tightens a bit. And it makes you worried.

Nonetheless you push that down, you wanted to be strong for her. Be there for her. You rub her back going to sit back up as more people come to perform.

Billie was off taking some photos, you spotted her loosening up again, enjoying herself. You just thank whatever. Happy she's not as worried. You though, your anxiety was starting to come back. Little did you know it was all for a different reason. Because as soon as that last nomination comes round you didn't feel as worried, your anxiety was still present but it was for something you couldn't put your finger on. The last one was called and as they spoke, you immediately look at Billie, not hearing her name. Feeling devastated but ready to comfort. Your hand lands on her shoulder.

Noticing her eyes glaze over. You weren't expecting that to be quite honest. I mean sure upset, but it catches you off guard. You gently kiss her cheek. "You're amazing. You're my winner." And it's like she flips some sort of switch, smiling at you. But not saying a word. Odd. She claps like the rest, standing up, randomly seeming different from her state a few seconds ago. You saw it though, you knew she wasn't ok. The flip so fast, it couldn't possibly be all alright. The night ends and you all leave, getting in her car in silence. It was worrying you more. You go to speak but she does before you. "Let's go to Paris."

Your head turns towards her faster than anything. "Billie- what?" You were struck with confusion. "Let's go, get away. I know you've been talking about wanting to go for months, years even. Let's do it." You were at a loss of words. "Baby, you have tour this month, not to mention it's going to take us half a day to fly over there." She shrugs. "Yeah, but tours not until the 18th we have plenty of time." You had zero clue on what to say. "Billie-" You say concerned. She knew you were going to say something so she speaks. "Come onnn let's be spontaneous. Let's get out of here. We can go home and pack or I can just buy you whatever when we are there."

To say the least you were overwhelmed. Turning your head, looking infront of you as she drives. You tossed with the decision. Maybe it would be cool to get away. You suspected she didn't want to talk about anything tonight, so you'd leave it for a few days. "What do you say huh?" She seemed too pumped, it made your worries linger. "Yeah, sure. Let's do it." - "Yes! That's what I like to hear."

You had packed things that you'd need. But it wasn't distracting you from the events of tonight. Not like it is seeming to do with Billie. "Have you told Finn or Maggie and such yet?" She shakes her head. "Nope, it'll be fineee." That set your stomach on edge. No it wouldn't, you always kept in contact. "Better yet as soon as we get there lets put our phones on flight mode!" She goes to grab your zipped up suitcase. You let out a sigh. "Letsgooo." She says, heading for the door. "Baby." You then say, and she freezes. "Leave something?" She looks at you avoiding everything that leads to tonight. Talking, comforting. Crying.

Maybe she needed this, needed to forget, you keep to your word of doing so in a few days. "Nope, just wanted to say I love you." You smile. She comes over to kiss you. "I, love. You. Right to Paris we go!" This could potentially be fun now the moments sinked in, and you had been wanting to go for quite some time. You follow her out the door heading onto your travels.

Sitting and waiting for the flight, in a silence. Again. But it truthfully didn't last long, almost as if she didn't want to be left with her thoughts. "Ok, let's turn our phones off." You were a bit hesitant. But maybe that'll also make the trip more fun. Just with one another, enjoying the moment. You grab your phone going to do so, noticing she had posted a photo on her story of the airport. You decide to keep quiet, thinking on if this whole thing really was a good idea. You hand her your phone. "It's off." She smiles. "So is mine." You tap your your foot, moving your knee feeling that anxiety coming back. Oh. This is what your body was telling you earlier...

This.

It was 20 minutes away. You had taken a nap, had some food. Billie? None of that, they brought food around but she insisted on you having it. Making your heart tighten. Feeling so wrong still. Nor had she been asleep for all of those nearly 15 hours, staying up all day and night. It wasn't good. "Hey look at the sunshine." She points out the window. You turn your head, seeing it. Then everything floats past you. "Wow." You say amazed. You had always dreamed of coming here. It's just now set in that it's a reality. "That's, the Eiffel Tower!" You beam with excitement. "Sure is." It was beautiful. All the buildings. You smile contently.

When you land and get out, you're greeted by people with their beautiful accents. "bonjour!" Someone greets. You smile, having had practiced a tiny bit of French. "Salut!" They smile at you. "Wait you can speak French?" You nod. "Just a little. Told you this was my dream." You both smile at one another. "You're going to love our hotel room then! Looking right at the Eiffel Tower." You open your mouth. "A- wha- are you serious?" She nods, smiling more. "Oh my god!" And her plan was slowly working, not for too much longer when you figure it out though.

You arrive at the hotel, settling in. "This is breathtaking." You go out on the balcony. "Is this even real I feel like I'm in a movie." She comes out with you. "Very real my love." Then it strikes you on why she's doing this- But her mind was quicker than your own. "You see the tower there?" She points, making your mind distract as you look. "Got us a table at the restaurant there." You're shocked. "What?! How?" She smirks. "I have my ways." You laugh at her. "Say, why dont we go shopping just in time for tonight?" You nod, going to go for a pee.

She sighs a little. "Back on track." Her eyes wander off to the scenery, taking it all in.

Shopping was heaps of fun, all the pretty clothes, all the beautiful sights. But almost all of these were too expensive. "Maybe we could just-" Billie grabs the handful you were about to put back, putting it near the till. "Why don't you get those shoes you liked!" You stood there for a moment. "Billie.. Those are so much I-" "Nonsense, go go!" It took you a second to snap you out of, well honestly. None of this felt real. Then that heaviness returns to your chest. When you go to protest she had already paid for it. Shoes and all. "Baby I-" Her finger waves in your face.

The reality truly hit you. She was distracting you, she was avoiding everything. She goes to pick up the shoes heading out. You trot after her. "Can we-" "Oou let's go find a cute Cafe!" Your brows lift upwards, sewing together. Your worries were starting to fly right back. But she takes your hand as you go off to do whatever.

This was far from normal. You were getting ready, doing your makeup but you can't shake the feeling of the past 24+ hours. You felt like your mind was going to explode. You had to talk to her, you couldn't wait another day. You walk out of the bathroom, dress on and everything noticing she was dressed up to. You had nearly forgotten the topic that you wanted to discuss. "Uhm, babe?" You say, she turns around, jaw dropping. "Woah." You swallow. "Are you ready? You sure look it oh my god." You walk over to her. "Can we talk for a second?" She knew exactly what was about to come. "We don't want to be late, I made the reservation for 7." She goes to leave but you grab her arm.

"Baby-" She sighs. "I'm getting a bit peckish, are you?" She was avoiding it like the plague. You wait a moment. "Yeah, sure." She smiles, kissing your cheek. "Sweet!" And so it went on, you get to the beautiful and iconic tower, mesmerized. "Oh wow it's beautiful." She grabs your hand. "Not as beautiful as you." You stare lovingly in her eyes, such a romantic city, a forgetful one too apparently. Because just like that you were focusing on it more, finding yourself getting hungry.

The night goes on, it was peaceful. But your mind was not. There was a voice in the back telling you to just say something, but the other is battling it, saying you should enjoy this moment and the fact it doesn't happen very often. The food was delicious the view was unbelievable. Just for tonight.

It's now two days later. You cursed yourself at the fact you haven't tried talking about it. But that ends today, she needs to just let it out. You know it's hurting her deep down. The way she's handling it wasn't healthy. You were currently out getting a massage, 'her treat' which is basically been the moto this whole trip. You didn't want to waste it or seem ungrateful. But you had snatched your phone from her bag, you had to see if anyone texted. And surprise surprise they had. Maggie blowing up your calls. Finneas texting you non stop. Fuck. You regret it getting this far. You wanted to tell them but not until you talked to her first. Your finger moves to tiktok, watching all that was going down.

People saying that we've gone missing and that no ones heard from us. "Jesus." You whisper. "You alright my love?" The sweet French lady asks. How the hell did anyone even know so quick. "You're very tense." - "Yeah just- just some stuff going on right now. Sorry." She chuckles. "No need to apologize my dear. That's why you're here, to relax and be calm." You take in a deep breath, feeling her massage you further. You wish Billie was here with you, but she had been off for a run when you had woken up, seeing the little note and directions to come here. Then your eyes flutter shut and you soon fell into a peaceful slumber. One you hadn't had the night before. Due to all the tossing and turning.

Billie wasn't facing you but you knew she wasn't asleep. Fuck sake. You just can't not talk about this anymore. "Thank you, for the lovely massage." She nods gently. "Look after yourself mon amour." You give her a smile. "Merci." You reply politely. You head back, opening the hotel room to see her sitting there. "Oh you're back! How was it?" You plop your bag down. "Good but can we-" "On my run I saw this cute little wine tasting Vinyard ad, we can get a taxi and head out to it tonight! We could also stay-" You breathe slightly. "Billie-" "Or maybe that'd be too much we could stay there for the rest I know they can do-" "BILLIE!" You finally snap.

Silence.

Dead, fucking silence.

You stare at one another, and you go to speak. "Talk to me please." She averts your gaze. "I dunno what you want me to talk about." Your eyes look up, hating this weird behavior. "Billie you're frightening me. You've never done such a thing before." - "May want to elaborate." You just wanted her to let you in. "Stop shutting me out then and maybe I will!" More silence. "Please, I'm begging you lets just tal-" "I don't want to talk." She gets up but your body moves in her way. "No, you are. I'm done trying to forget, you need to let whatever this is out and this time you will not distract me." She had no. Emotion on her face. "Baby please." Your eyes were teary. "Let me help. Please." You start to sob quietly.

That's all you wanted to do, ever since that night. And there it is, her own sobs cascading down her cheeks. You nod. Proud to see it. She goes to you, hugging you, putting her head in your neck. You kiss her head over and over, trying to calm your heart down. "Its ok, I'm here. I promise." You hold her tight. "Let it in, it'll feel better afterwards." She sobs uncontrollably, having had it built up for days. "I'm so fucking sorry." You shake your head, getting her to look at you. "Don't, you didn't do anythin-" "I did, I went all fucking weird, took you here to forget, just move on. And that look on your face before fuck I'm so s-" This time you cut her off. Putting your hand over her mouth.

"Can I say something?" She nods. You go to wipe her tears. "Theres no need to apologize. If anything I'm sorry for not just doing this sooner, I thought you needed time then you'd come round. But I couldn't anymore. You were hurting and that was hurting me. I couldn't bear it any longer." She swallows. "Since I didn't get to say it then. I'll say it now. I am so fucking proud of you. You don't need some silly shiny award that honestly means nothing in the long run. You are amazing regardless." She hugs you tight. "I don't want to loose you." Your brows furrow. Confused. Then you realize why she's done all of this. She could've resulted to drinking but it was this cold outburst instead.

She was afraid she'd loose you over some silly award. You get her to look at you. "Is this why you took me here? To the place I always wanted to go buying me all this stuff?" She nods sheepishly. "Baby.." Your head shakes. "When did we meet." Now she was confused. "2015 ofcourse." You nod. "When did you first get recognized?" ... "2017 ish.." You hold her face. "I've loved you, as a friend, a partner way before any of this even happened. If that's what you're worried about, think again. Because you could loose all those trophys and I'd still be here. You matter more to me." You smile softly. "You're the only trophy I need." She says. You kiss her sweetly. "Soo, are you calling me a whore?" Her face panics making you giggle. "I'm teasing you baby." Her eyes roll.

"You're a doofus." "I'm your doofus and you're stuck with me." She smiles. "I can certainly live with that."

Everything felt clear. You two did stay in Paris for a few more days, this time with no worry in the world. Truly enjoying yourselves. That is after she texted her family back.

You sat out on the balcony, drinking your whine and her some bubbly water. The night air, cool but refreshing. "You know." She began. "There was a category I was nominated for that they didn't mention." You turn your head, utterly confused. "Having the best girlfriend." Your smile creeps on your face.

"And I fucking won."

:,) ugh cuteness.

#billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish imagine #billie #billie eilish fandom #billie eilish oneshot #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish comfort

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imsofreakingtired · 2 days ago

Note

sevika gets drunk and ends up forgetting about her own wife and ends up in the brothel, and reader end up knowing all, but dont have courage enough to confront her, but she noticed the changes on your behavior like, dont wanting kisses often, dont wanting to cudlle at nigh or worried when she tells you that she have to work and etc.

(I am obsseeeed how you write angst, mwah mwah)

- 🧸

ohh absolutely. i love that idea<3 also tysmm!

leave you with nothing

content warning(s): idiot lesbians (slight angst) (not too bad i swear)

"are you sick of me? would you like to be? i'm trying to tell you something something that i've already said"

~~~

i think she would get drunk only when work was really stressing her out. or if her sense of self-worth is just at an all-time low (i’m thinking of the time silco dead up ordered her to help with a dead body, which was shocking even to renni, who was literally the mother of the victim.) when she feels trapped, hopeless, powerless, like the enterprise isn’t getting zaun anywhere closer to its ultimate goal. she doesn’t want to confide in you about this, she wants to keep up a front of stoic confidence to you, because she’s afraid if she reveals herself to be vulnerable you will leave her.

so she drinks her troubles away and tells herself she’ll clear everything up to you in the morning if you ask why she came home late, she tells herself she’ll just play a round of cards or two with her drinking mates, that you’ll never know the difference (never thinks she’s more sober than when she’s stinking drunk.)

one drink leads to another and she’s vaguely aware of her desire for something else that night - a woman’s touch, a woman’s voice, someone to hold her and tell her she is doing alright. she’s too drunk to remember where she’s felt this before, who has held her like this, and all she is aware of is an all-consuming loneliness that threatens to devour her alive. she’s thrown back into the old days before she met you, when all that awaited her after a hard day’s work was an empty apartment strewn with emptier liquor bottles. she doesn’t want to go back to this home.

so she makes her way to babette’s, incredibly calm and collected—she’s good at playing sober when she wants to, and babette is surprised to see her check in— isn’t she married? — but she asks no questions and Sevika sees a woman who kind of looks like you. the eyes. the shape of the face. the hips, the way she moves in the dusky light. she picks her immediately.

she’s too drunk to care about how it might look, asking the woman if it’s alright if she just lay with her head in the woman’s lap. telling her to stroke her hair and let her sleep for a while. even on the walk here she was hot with desire, but now she just wants to rest and hear the pretty words you would whisper in her ear when you thought she was asleep.

she comes home at around 4 in the morning and promptly passes out on the couch, not even bothering to change. smelling of someone else’s perfume. you find her there in the morning and she doesn’t remember a single thing except that the coins in her pocket are gone.

you know the signs; you’re not stupid, but you don’t want to think the worst. until you overhear Chuck talking to some of the patrons at the last drop.

“yeah, Sevika was here, swept the table and then left in the middle of the round talking about Babette’s.” “Babette’s?? doesn’t she have a wife?”

you wander through the rooms in a daze for the rest of the day as you wait for Sevika to come home. you’re furious at first, then you’re cold with dread. was it you? had you done something wrong to make her want something else, someone else?

you don’t want to confront her, you’ve convinced yourself by now that whatever it was, it must have been something you did wrong, and even though you can’t think of a single time Sevika seemed angry or even unhappy with you, you can’t bring yourself to start the conversation.

she comes home tired and her eyes light up when she sees you. when she tries to kiss you, you turn your face away. her hand reaches for your waist, you dodge her touch.

“baby, what’s with you?” she asks. “i smell funny or what?”

yeah, you smell of babette’s. you smell of liquor. you smell of lies.

“nothing. i’m tired. you want dinner?”

“i ate already,” she says. “i’m going to bed.”

okay, so we’re playing ignorant, you think. two can play at that game.

as the days go on you avoid her more and more. you still clean up after her in the apartment, cook her meals, wash and mend her clothes as usual. but you don’t stay up waiting for her to come home, and you don’t let her kiss you in bed. Sevika’s at a complete loss—she’s never seen you this way before. unlike you, she’d never wonder if maybe she were at fault. if she feels she hasn’t done wrong, she’d stick to that conviction to the bitter end. but it exasperates her, the way you elude her touches, answer her with monosyllables, stare at her with a strange apprehension in your eyes when you think she isn’t looking.

“i’m working late tonight,” she tells you one day. “don’t wait up.”

you feel your heart drop. she’s already a regular for someone at babette’s, you know it.

“what time do you think you’ll be back?” you ask, a little too quickly.

she looks at you oddly. you’ve never asked her this before. “i’ll be back when i’m back.” her brows furrow in concern. “why, is something wrong?”

“no,” you say.

after she leaves you pace the apartment for about an hour before making up your mind and running out into the street. hood over your face so you won’t be recognized, you run straight to Babette’s and burst through the doors, ignoring the strange looks you receive. no one deters you—you were also a frequent patron before you met Sevika, but you see the workers look at you and whisper to one another. it only confirms your suspicions. you reach Babette’s office and she looks up at you in surprise.

“can i help you, hon?”

“Sevika,” you say breathlessly. “how many times has she checked in here?”

her brows lift. she checks her records. “i don’t do this for anyone, you know - confidential information. but since you’re her wife…”

“how many times, please?”

she looks up at you. “just once. a month ago. she seemed inebriated. stayed only for two hours.”

just once? and drunk? Sevika, drunk? you couldn’t imagine it if you tried.

you walk back out of the brothel, barely thinking of where you’re going, barely thinking at all, when you hear a familiar voice call out your name.

Sevika’s walking swiftly down the street towards you, her eyes dark.

“what are you doing here?” she asks, grabbing your wrist.

“what am I doing here?” you shoot back. “i’m here finding out what you were doing here!”

she looks up at the sign of Babette’s place, as if she can’t understand what you mean. “i haven’t stepped foot in this place,” she growls.

“Babette’s records say otherwise.” your voice is cold.

then it all comes back to her at once. Sevika’s lips part slightly as she recalls that night, the desperation, the way she had lain in another woman’s lap.

“baby,” she says. “listen.”

“i’m done listening,” you snap, and turn on your heel. you walk away from her, leaving her behind on the street outside Babette’s.

~~~

note: idk why this idea struck me as so funny i think i'm sleep deprived lol. obviously she will explain herself as best as she can and you'll forgive her. she sleeps on the couch tonight though.

~~~

taglist~ @notlores @demothers-empty-blog @theyluvbix @archangeldyke-all @prettyinpink69 @beatdariceee @sevikaaaalover @intrnetrbl @00valentina-writes00 @zelluna @mamas-evil-hag @sevikassluttywaist @justhereforsubsevika

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika fanfic #sevika headcanon #sevika angst #sevika x you #sevika x female reader #song: lovers rock by tv girl

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minorlyatfault · 3 days ago

Text

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 ! j. todd x f!reader

𝒮ypnosis: after a rough(er than usual) night, jason peter todd seeks comfort in your arms.

𝒲arnings: ooc jason todd (?) grammatical errors (?) (my poor attempt at being poetic & my writing while half asleep.)

𝒩ote: reader is slightly(too) girly(im sorry), reader has a bunny named mr. bugs bunny. the pastel color of reader's bed was not specified, so you decide which shade of pastel reader 's bed is.

jason's already spent by the time he opens your apartment door. his body is lead, bruised, scraped, & he has no idea what the hell else he beat himself up over tonight. his leather jacket weighs him down more than it should, his boots drag along the floor, & all he wants to do is collapse into something soft and forget the world exists.

& that's just what he does.

&, for some reason, the moment he catches sight of you curled up in bed, wrapped in your cocoon of pastel blankets & surrounded by stuffed animals, something about him just… melts.

your(that is now 'ours') room is ridiculously cute. like, embarrassingly so. fairy lights dangle in the walls. everything is surrounded in this gorgeous warm pink light. there is a bookshelf full of novels, tiny knick-knacks, & far too many candles. scattered around on the floor, there are pastel pillows, &, of course, mr. bugs bunny—the oldest stuffed rabbit there is, right next to jason, chilling away.

it was nothing like anything jason had known. nothing he was familiar with. nothing he's used to.

he would feel out of place in your room—big, scarred, forever covered in blood & gunpowder. but somehow it doesn't. it couldn't.

it just feels like home.

he exhales, running his hand through his hair before shedding his jacket, letting it flop over the back of the chair. his boots land on the floor with a thud; he rubs a tired hand down his face. normally he would try to shake off the weight of the night before getting into bed. and normally, he'd have to take a shower. he refuses to be close to you by the end of the day, & he, having the scent of smoke.

but tonight he just doesn't have it in him.

the mattress dips as he climbs in beside you, & you stir, blinking up at him sleepily.

"jay?"

your voice is groggy, soft, & he feels his chest tighten just hearing it. you barely open your eyes, just enough to see him, & instead of saying anything, you just lift the blanket in silent invitation. an invitation for him to get closer.

& jason doesn't think twice.

he slides under the covers, the blanket's & your(mostly yours)warmth immediately surrounding him, & instead of pulling you to him like usual, he does something he rarely does—he rests his head on your chest.

usually, it's you who rests on his chest, as it makes him feel like he's protecting you, even when unconscious. it allows you to feel vulnerable while he guards you (in the most non-sexist way, this man KNOWS not to underestimate a woman).

but this time, he lets himself be the one who is protected, the one who is vulnerable. & you never felt prouder than when he does this, trusting you—not that he already doesn't—to witness a side of him where it's him who is asking for protection.

it's quiet for a moment. the only sound is your heartbeat, steady & slow beneath his ear.

& holy hell, jason almost melts on the spot as your arms wrap around him, fingers threading into his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp.

it's ridiculous how good this feels.

"you okay?" you murmur sleepily.

jason just hums, nuzzling further into you, like he can bury himself in your warmth & stay there forever.

your fingers continue tracing lines through his hair, slow and gentle, & every once in a while, you press a soft kiss to the top of his head. he shudders a shaky breath, some of the tension in his muscles; disburden.

rough nights are normal for him. he's used to them. but this? this—you, your warmth, your heartbeat steady against his ear—this is not normal. it's… something else. something better. and gods, he loves it.

"bad night?" you ask after a while.

jason sighs against your skin. "something like that."

you hum softly, rubbing slow circles into his back. "wanna talk about it?"

"not really."

you nod, "fine." you don't push, don't ask for details. you just keep holding him, keep running your fingers through his hair, & somehow, that's better than anything else you could say.

& jason?

jason lets himself sink into it.

because he doesn't get this often. he doesn't do this often. letting someone hold him, letting himself be held—it makes him feel vulnerable in a way that still freaks him out. but right now, he just doesn't care.

right now, he just wants you.

& you want him to realize that he can experience this as much as he wants. you will make him realize that he's always welcome.

"you know," you murmur, voice teasing now, "for someone so big & "scary", you make a pretty good teddy bear."

jason groans, tucking his face further into your chest. "don't start."

you laugh, & he can feel your laugh vibrate beneath his cheek.

"just saying," you say, your fingers brushing through his hair again. "the red hood, gotham's biggest badass, currently snuggled up in a pastel colored bed, cuddling a stuffed rabbit—"

"i am not cuddling the damn rabbit."

you tilt your head a little, gazing down at him with a smug little grin. "jay. you literally are."

jason scowls, shifting slightly, &—goddammit. sure enough, mr. bugs bunny is half-squished beneath his arm. he glares at it like it personally offended him.

you snicker. "guess that makes him your new best friend."

jason lets out the heaviest sigh of his life. "i hate this."

"you love this."

"no."

"you love me," you sing-song, dragging your fingers through his hair again, making him shiver.

jason groans dramatically. "yeah, yeah. that, i do."

you giggle, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "then you’re just gonna have to accept the fact that you & mr. bugs bunny are besties now."

jason huffs, but instead of responding, he just pulls you even closer, tucking his face into your neck.

you smile & wrap your arms tighter around him.

& then neither of you say anything.

gotham is cold & dark & loud. so dull. with so many bloodshed. so many crime. but in this ridiculously pastel bed, in the fairy lights & pastel blankets, all pressed against the one person that makes him feel like he has a place—everything's warm.

everything's quiet.

he is safe. you are safe.

& jason, for once in his goddamn life—

lets himself rest. in the arms of the woman he cherishes.

call it what you want, but at long last, the knight who has silently stood watch over his beloved princess falls onto his sword, surrendering himself into the softness of sleep. he allows her warmth to be the one protecting him. trusting her to guard him as well. & she, his guardian, holds him with such care, in safety, & one day, the norm will be reversed.

#꒰꒰ lottie's diary ‹𝟹⭑ ֩ ⸳#jason todd x reader #jason todd #dcu #red hood x reader #red hood #dc x reader #dc universe

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prettyfilmz · 16 hours ago

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SWEET LIKE CANDY • JEY USO

author’s note: did someone say new mini series ? 👀 well yes! although writing is gonna be quite slow due to school starting backup, I wanted to leave you guys with something cute starring our 2025 royal rumble winner jey uso🤭 forgive me for not giving you smut in this first part but trust me when I say it’ll be worth it in the long run. I hope you enjoy this my loves, and happy reading💗 (p.s. I made a playlist to go along with it, you can shuffle it up too🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ you can find it here)

synopsis: in which a celebration at the strip club leads to the beginning of a love affair between a wrestler and a dancer.

pairing: jey uso x black fem oc!cherise aka candy

tags: 18+ (there’s no smut but still has suggestive themes), slow burn, drinking, lap dances, lewd conversations, teasing, lots of touching, kissing, pet names (baby, mama, pretty girl. baby girl), flirty banter, jey falls for her at first glance.

word count: 2k words (somethin’ short n sweet😌)

The bass reverbs through the strip club, rattling the walls like a second heartbeat. The air was thick with marijuana smoke, spilled drinks, and anticipation. It was the kind of place that dared you to loosen up, a melting pot of the desperate, the indulgent, and those just looking to forget about the realities of their day to day lives.

Jey, sitting on the edge of a low velvet couch, nursed a glass of hennessy, his dark brown eyes surveying the scene with feigned disinterest. Jimmy, on the other hand, leaned back beside him, grinning like the damn Cheshire cat, a few shots in and already loving every second of the night.

“This the spot, Uce,” Jimmy drawled, gesturing at the stage. “Told you. Ain’t no better way to celebrate your Rumble win than seeing a few bad ones tearing it up on the stage.”

Jey wasn’t convinced. He leaned forward, elbows on his jean covered knees, his silver chain glinting in the low light. “Man, you know this ain’t my scene. I only came ‘cause y’all don’t shut up. Coulda stayed home, kicked my feet up, and played my game.”

Jimmy clicked his tongue. “Nah, Uce. This is a night of celebration. Tonight’s the night we get you to let loose.” He raised his glass in a mock toast.

Across the room, Trinity —or her stage name called her—Naomi. The long-legged, dark skinned goddess with waist-length black & neon green braids and thighs to die for worked her magic. She straddled some middle-aged white guy in a button-down, grinding with a confidence that made her the club’s crown jewel. She caught Jimmy’s eye and gave a sly smile with a wink for good measure.

“Yo, there she go!” Jimmy grinned, practically bouncing in his seat. “My girl, Trin. You see that, Jey? That’s art. Respect the glow.”

Jey rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smirking. “Bruh, you actin’ like she your girl for real.”

“She is though,” Jimmy shot back, the grin never leaving his face. And it wasn’t a joke. He wasn’t even subtle about it. Whenever Jimmy showed up, Trinity made a beeline for him, and they always disappeared into the VIP section.

Jey chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “You wild.”

But his attention shifted when the next dancer strolled onto the stage.

“Alright fellas, hold onto your Benjamin’s ‘cause it’s about to get sweet up in here! Coming to the stage, she’s sugar, spice and everything nice, with curves so delicious you’ll forget your own name. Be careful though, she might leave you with some cavities by the end of the night. Give it up for the lovely Candy!”

The second she stepped out, the crowd of men leaned forward, like hungry sharks. She wasn’t like the others though. She was new, fresh-faced, and a bundle of nerves. But that didn’t matter right this second. She played the part, masking her shyness behind a seductive smile that could melt anyone with a pulse.

Candy was beyond gorgeous. Her smooth, brown skin shimmered under the stage lights, and the crimson two-piece she wore clung to every dip and swell of her body. Her hips swayed to the R&B song, deliberate, teasing.

“Goddamn,” Jimmy whistled low. “New girl got somethin’ fierce, huh?”

Jey was speechless, he couldn’t look away. Her curly hair was pulled into a updo, soft coils framing her soft, heart-shaped face. Full lips painted glossy pink parted into a playful pout as she ran her hands down her figure, playing to the crowd. But her eyes. Those big, dark, and doe-like eyes held a hint of innocence she couldn’t quite shake.

“Yeah, somethin’ for sure,” Jey muttered under his breath, heat pooling low in his groin.

Candy noticed him immediately. She was used to clients ogling her—most of them practically drooled or disgustingly grabbed their crotch in front of her—but he was different. He had this calm, magnetic energy, like he was letting her come to him. It made her stomach flip, even as she forced her most sultry grin.

When her set ended, and the applause faded, Candy slipped off the stage. But not before glancing over her shoulder and locking eyes with Jey.

♡

"You heard who's out there tonight, right?" Trinity grinned, her deep brown eyes glinting with mischief as she adjusted the thin straps of her bra. "You about to be real blessed, baby girl."

Cherise arched a perfectly sculpted brow, feigning disinterest. "Oh yeah? Who?"

Trinity sucked her teeth, nudging her shoulder. "Don’t act cute, Cher. The man of the damn hour is in VIP. Your VIP, might I add."

Cherise played coy, but her stomach did a little flip. She’d already heard that Jey Uso was here tonight. And apparently, he was her very first private dance.

Her pulse raced.

"He cute or whateva,” she said, glossing over the fact that she was a fan. She’d watched him claw his way to being a singles star. And now he was here, in her club, about to have her in his lap.

Trinity laughed, low and knowing. "Oh, he real cute, baby. And he got that mouth on him. Knows how to talk to a woman, make her feel good." She winked, nudging her shoulder with her own.

Cherise rolled her eyes but smiled. "You sound like you speaking from experience."

"Nah, Jimmy got my full attention," Trinity purred, licking her lips. "Speaking of which, you know that man is gonna be deep in this pussy before the night over. So if you hear me any noise, mind your business."

Cherise giggled, shaking her head. "Y’all so damn nasty."

Trinity flipped her braids over her shoulder. "Mmhmm, and you 'bout to be nasty too. Just don’t let Jey have you falling, mama. These wrestlers? They dangerous."

Cherise smirked. "I can handle myself."

Trinity just laughed, giving her ass a playful slap before strutting off toward VIP.

Cherise exhaled slowly, fixing the sheer, sparkly robe draped over her curvy figure.

Showtime.

♡

The VIP room was warm, lit with soft purple lights that shined against the dark leather couch and mirrored walls. Private, sensual. The kind of space that invited sin.

Jey sat in the middle of it, legs spread, shades still covering his eyes, hands resting on his thick thighs.

He looked too good, too comfortable, like he belonged there with his chains glinting under the dim lighting. And he was waiting for her.

Cherise stepped inside, hips swaying slow, the confidence she wore so well settling around her like perfume. She was used to this, knew the game, knew how to keep them entertained just enough to keep ‘em hungry. But this was Jey.

And she already knew—he was different.

Jey’s gaze dragged up her body, slow like drizzling honey, lingering on her thick thighs, the way her curves filled out the soft red lace she had on. He smirked, licking his lips. "Damn, mama… that’s what they lettin’ you walk around in back here?"

Cherise stopped in front of him, rolling her hips to the bass-heavy R&B music vibrating through the walls. "You like it, baby?”

"Shit…" Jey let his head tilt back against the couch, eyes dark, hooded. "I love it."

Cherise bit back a grin. "Flatterin’ me ain’t gon’ get you nothin’ extra, baby."

"Who said I was tryna get somethin’ extra?" He grinned. "I’m just speakin’ my truth.”

She let her hands trail over chest, feeling the solid warmth of him and the occasional thump of his heartbeat. "Mmm…I bet you be runnin’ game on every girl in here.”

"Nah." Jey licked his lips. "I’on even be in places like this, baby. My brother dragged me."

"Mmhm." She slid onto his lap, her thighs bracketing his, their faces inches apart. "So if I ask the bouncers how many girls you pulled back here, they gon’ say none?"

Jey exhaled a laugh, fingers flexing on her hips. "They gon’ tell you I been sittin’ in that VIP all night, mindin’ my business."

Cherise hummed, her fingers playing at the chain around his neck. "So what makes me special then?"

Jey tilted his head, watching her close. "You tell me, baby girl." His voice was deep, lazy, smooth as melted honey. "I ain’t the one who picked this dance. You did."

She smirked. "That’s cute."

"Ain’t it?" His grip on her hips tightened, dragging her a little closer. "Nah, for real, I can tell. You move different. You one of them girls that don’t let just anybody dude here, huh?"

"Mm-mm." Cherise dragged her nails lightly over soft curls on the back of his neck. "I’m picky."

"Yeah?" His fingers slid up her back, teasing at the base of her spine. "How I make the cut then?"

"I dunno…” She let her lips brush his jaw, just barely. "Maybe I got a thing for wrestlers."

Jey chuckled, low and deep, squeezing her waist. "You watch me, huh?"

"I keep up."

"Ain’t that somethin’." He leaned in, pressing his nose against her cheek. "And here I was thinkin’ I had to make you a fan."

"Mmm, you still might have to work for it." She pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, slow and teasing, right before she rolled her hips against his.

Jey sucked in a breath, his grip turning just a little rougher. “Aye, don’t play wit’ me, pretty girl.”

"Who’s playin’?" She dragged her lips down his throat, slow and deliberate, her hands traveling up his body, feeling the soft tonedness of his stomach. "You like that, Joshua?"

Jey froze.

His hands tensed on her ass, and she felt the shift, the way his whole body reacted to the way his real name left her lips.

"Damn…" He exhaled a quiet laugh, pressing his forehead to hers. "That’s how we doin’ it, huh?”

"Mmm…" She kissed the corner of his mouth. "That’s how I’m doin’ it."

"You somethin’ else, Candy…” His lips grazed hers, barely there, his breath warm against her mouth. "You gon’ drive me crazy, ain’t you?"

"Guess you’ll have to wait and see."

Jey groaned, squeezing her thigh. "You know what’s wild?"

“Enlighten me.”

"You sittin’ on me, talkin’ shit, got me damn near ready to risk everything in this bitch… and you still ain’t tell me your name."

Cherise laughed, slow and sweet, sliding a hand up his throat to his jaw. “You ain’t ask right."

"Oh, so I gotta ask nice?" His lips ghosted over hers again, teasing, taunting, barely touching but still driving her crazy. "That what you want, baby girl?"

"Mmm… maybe…" She let her tongue flick out, just barely tasting his lower lip.

Jey growled, deep in his throat, and finally…finally closed the space, his mouth capturing hers in a kiss that was slow, deep, and damn near dangerous.

Cherise melted into it, letting herself enjoy the way he tasted—Hennessy, something minty, something just Jey. His grip on her waist turned possessive, fingers digging in the flesh of her ass, rolling her just right against him.

His tongue slid against hers, slow and deliberate, like he was trying to memorize her taste.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Time’s up!"

They both froze.

Jey groaned, pulling back, licking his lips like he was pissed about the interruption. "Damn…"

Cherise smirked, slipping off his lap, dragging her fingers down his chest as she stood. "Guess you’ll have to come back if you wanna finish."

Jey leaned back, legs still spread, watching her. "You somethin’ else, girl."

She paused at the door, hesitated then turned back, biting her lip. "Cherise."

"Huh?"

"That’s my name."

Jey exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he watched her walk to the door. She gave him one last look with a small smile perched on her kiss-swollen lips, “Get home safe, Joshua.” and finally exited the room.

"Cherise…" he repeated under his breath, the taste of her cherry flavored lip gloss still plaguing his taste buds in the most amazing way. "Yeah, I’ma see you again, baby girl.”

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#jey uso x reader #wwe smut #wwe imagines #the bloodline x reader #jey uso #jey uso smut #jey uso fic #jey uso one shot #jey uso fluff #jey uso imagine #jey uso fanfic #jey uso fanfiction

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xoxolilixx · 3 days ago

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★𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙣𝙚★

𝙀𝙠𝙠𝙤 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

✩𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 - you help Ekko relax a little

✩𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨 - Smut with plot, fingering, oral(reader receiving)

✩𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - heyyyy😅 ik it's been a while, I kinda disappeared off the face of the earth, MY BADDDDD😁 I figured since I've been gone for a good second, I should come back with a treat, so here you are lovebugs❤️ I hope you guys like it🩷🌺

Sweat trickled down his forehead as he worked. He was hunched over his desk, hands aching and mind clouded as he continued his repairs to his hoverboard. It was late –3 am to be exact– and Ekko’s been sleepless since the battle on the bridge with Jinx. You were worried about him. You knew how stressful this was for him; between failing to save his former best friend and making sure everything stays afloat with the firelights, he was basically drowning in his work and stress. Ekko was a relatively calm person, but whenever you tried to talk to him about everything, he would just shut down and push you away, so you learned to give him space, but tonight you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m surprised you haven’t frozen to stone like that,” you spoke softly, not wanting to startle him. His workshop door was cracked open and all the lights except for the one that sat right above his desk were dimmed. “...you should be asleep,” he whispered, not looking up from his work. His voice was weary and tired, you could hear the stress in his voice, it made your heart crack. “So should you, love,” your voice stayed soft, calming. The last thing you wanted was to be another harsh thing in his life right now. “The bed misses you,” you joked softly as you came up behind him, your soft hands landing on his shoulders. They were tense, his whole body was, and the tenseness didn’t falter when you touched him like how it usually did. “I’ll be there soon,” he uttered. “How soon? By the end of the month? Because I haven’t seen you in bed in 3 weeks,” you were sincere with a half joking tone as your hands gently ran down his body as you hugged him from behind, “I miss you baby…just…come on for tonight, get some rest. It’ll be here in the morning- I’ll even come in and help you with it,” you pleaded softly, your lips against his neck as you eyed his work from his shoulder. You didn’t want him to open up before he was ready, you didn’t want to push his limits, and you didn’t want to bitch to him about how closed off he’s been, you just wanted him to get some rest.

He sighed at your words, his hands pausing their movements for just a small moment, “Just-...let me finish this up, okay?” he uttered, his tone slightly softer than before. You huffed as you felt him lean into your arm, planting a small kiss on your upper arm as he started working again. You knew him, he wasn’t going to come to bed any time soon, he would just magically find something else that needed his attention and forget all about getting rest. “You’re helpless, you know that?” you huffed out against the shell of his ear, “your whole workshop is gonna be renovated before you come to bed.” He could hear the slight irritation in your words as you removed your touch from him, it made him tense up more. He knew you were being patient with him, and knowing that he was making it harder for you somehow made him feel worse than the stress did.

“Wait,” he uttered out before you got too close to the door. You immediately turn around, as if it was a reflex, “yes Ekko?” “...c’here,” he uttered, his hands abandoning his work as he looked over his shoulder. You didn’t fight the urge to walk back over to him. Soon, you were standing in between his legs and his hands were on your hips. “I’m sorry baby,” he sighed, his hands giving a loving squeeze to your body. His stress seemed to melt away the more you were around him, and you loved that, but constantly trying to get him to melt was frustrating, so you wanted to milk this as much as you could.

“Prove it,” you huffed, feigning irritation as you crossed your arms. For the first time in a while, he cracked a smile, chuckling as he immediately picked up on your game. “You want me to prove that I’m sorry?” he chuckled, his hands running up your waist, pushing up your (his) shirt as he did so. “Yea,” you huffed, your act almost breaking as he tugged you down on his lap, making you straddle him. “And tell me princess, how do you want me to do that?” he smirked as your hands rested on his shoulders as his hand gently grabbed your chin, running his thumb across your bottom lip. “Surprise me,” you smiled, finally breaking your act. It felt like he was a magnet, slowly pulling you closer, the space in between you closing at a steady pace. “Surprise you, huh? I got you~” he uttered before pressing his lips into yours.

This was the quickest you’ve ever seen Ekko forget about a project. Your lips danced with his as his hands roamed your body, running from your waist to your hip down to your thighs before finally resting on your ass, his hands giving it a soft squeeze. Your hands weren't much different; running from his shoulders down his chest to his abs and then back up to his blonde locs. It didn't take long for all restraint to disappear once his tongue slipped into your mouth, a soft whine escaping your throat as he explored your mouth. You felt him smile into the kiss, making your heart melt. If this was all it took to get him to loosen up, you would’ve been tried this.

You felt him remove one of his hands off your body, reaching behind you to tug his hoverboard off the table and onto the floor, giving him space to grab your hips and lift you up onto the table. You stayed connected in a messy kiss as he gripped your thighs and toyed with the waistband of your night shorts. You finally broke away, strings of saliva connecting you both as you panted softly, trying to catch your breath as you smiled down at him as he tugged at your waistband, a smile on his face as while. “There we go~” you cooed, your soft hands cupping his cheeks, “Finally got you to smile f’me,” you giggled, his smile only growing bigger. “Who wouldn’t for you, baby?” he chuckled as he tugged down your waistband, silently signalling to you to lift your hips, which you happily obliged.

He pressed soft, wet kisses all along your jaw and neck as he tossed your shorts somewhere behind him, pushing your thick thighs apart, revealing the damp spot on your orange, lacy panties, bringing a smirk on his face. “All that for me?” he smirked slyly, gripping you by your thighs and tugging you closer to the edge of the table. “No one else but you,” you giggled. “You must have really missed me,” he chuckled before pressing a kiss into your lips, swallowing the soft moan you let out when the pad of his thumb pushed into your clit through the flimsy fabric. The pretty sounds continued to spill out as he drew tight circles into the little bud.

At some point, he slowly stood up, his lips still locked with yours and his fingers still moving. “Lay back f’me baby,” he muttered against your lips lowly, but you weren't giving much of a choice when he placed a hand on your stomach and gently pushed you back. A shiver went down your spine as he placed soft, wet kisses down your body, making his way between your thighs, sucking hickeys over top of the stretch marks on your inner thighs. You leaned up on your elbows, looking down your body and watching him work on your body, allowing your eyes to lock with his. God damn it, he was fucking gorgeous like this; in between your legs, looking up with hooded but loving eyes, blonde locs falling in his face just a little. A gasped escaped your lips as he kissed your clothed cunt before he tugged the messy fabric to the side. Ekko bit back a groan as he watched strings of your arousal fall from the fabric as your pussy shimmered under the dim lighting. His dick leaked in his pants a little at the sight. “You’re so fucking pretty~” he cooed softly, making your heart melt and your cheeks flush, but before you could even respond, his mouth was on your cunt, coaxing struggled whines and moans from you as the sound of him slurping and licking your core filled the room. Your fingers tangled in his locs, tugging his head deeper between your legs as your head lulled back, your hips grinding against his face as he gripped your thigh with one hand, tugging you impossibly closer to him as he slipped one of his long, thick fingers into your tight hole.

He ate you like a starved man, but honestly the way he’s been locked up in his workshop, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was one. He now had two fingers pumping in and out of you, curling perfectly against that one gummy spot inside of you as he slurped and sucked at your clit, the juices from your previous orgasm pooling in the palm of his hand and on his desk under you.

He reluctantly detached from your cunt after your third orgasm leaving you a panting and shaking mess in front of him as he smirked down at you. “How’s that for proof?” he smirked, earning a breathless giggle from you as he licked your juices off his now dripping hand. “Ya know, I came in here to try and help you un-stress~” you giggled. “Hm, then you did a amazing fucking job baby,” he chuckled lowly, leaning down to lock lips with you, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips.

“Lets go to bed~” he uttered, scooping you off his table, leaving a mess for him to clean up later.

#ekko arcane #arcane #ekko #ekko x reader #black!fem!reader #black!reader #lilixoxo writes #arcane smut #ekko smut #lilixoxo smut #ekko x fem!reader #Ekko smut

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ekkkkey · 2 days ago

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there will be games! (chapter III)

…in which we learn that Caracalla doesn’t share his toys

summary: Cassandra, a quiet and loyal wife to the much older Senator Tiberius, accidentally attracts the unsettling attention of Emperor Caracalla at a lavish feast hosted by Senator Thraex...

warnings: 18+ minors dni, noncon, dub-con, insanity + hard drugs is not the best combo

word count: 3k words

chapter I

chapter II

«No woman could feel safe if her beauty or name aroused the emperor's curiosity.»

-Suetonius, The Twelve Caesars (Caligula, Chapter 36)

⋆ ⋆ ☼ ⋆ ⋆

She had become gaunt, nervous, and irritable. Anxiety and fear had taken over her completely.

Seeing his wife in such a state, Tiberius allowed her to skip the next day of the games, leaving her alone to pace her chambers like a trapped mouse.

Her mind was spinning with questions and panic. Who knew that the emperor had dishonored her? The Praetorians? The servants? Had that slave girl told them why exactly Emperor Caracalla had locked himself in the family altar with her?

But above all, she feared the possibility that the emperor’s seed might take root. If it did, the child she bore would be a constant reminder of her disgrace, tormenting her soul with every passing moment.

Her relief was overwhelming when, the next morning, she woke to a sharp pain in her stomach and saw a bloodstain on the sheets.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Cassandra felt joy—a foolish joy, but joy nonetheless! No matter what the emperor had done to her, the gods had spared her.

The following week passed in solitude. No one bothered her, no one forced her to leave her chambers, attend the games, or endure the feasts. Soon, she’d go home and forget about Caracalla’s wild blue eyes, his hot hands, and the scent of his oils and powders.

But all good things come to an end. As soon as she felt better, Tiberius expected her to play the role of the dutiful wife again. She could still refuse him in bed, but attending the feast was non-negotiable.

"Half the games have already passed. You can’t spend the rest of the time hidden away like a recluse!" His frustration was clear. "Rumors are already spreading about your illness—and about my failure as a husband!"

The anger that flared up inside her at his words was something new.

"Oh, you’ve failed, believe me" she thought furiously. "If you hadn’t, you’d have noticed the bruises on my body or the way another man’s eyes were devouring your wife."

But she said nothing, simply pressed her lips together and let the servants dress her. Now, knowing whose clothes she was wearing, Cassandra felt a strange dread. Why did the emperor insist she wear his late mother’s clothes? Why had he taken her by his father’s ashes? The only answer she could come up with was madness—a madness that seemed to be eating away at the young emperor’s mind.

She wasn’t used to the noise of the crowd anymore. She had forgotten how oppressive it felt, surrounded by the finely dressed nobles.

"Ah, my dear, you look as pale as a ghost. How are you feeling?"

Lucilla was the only one who seemed genuinely concerned for her.

Tiberius had left them alone to join the other senators, and Lucilla gently stroked her cheek, looking into her eyes with concern.

"Has your husband been treating you poorly?" she asked, her voice soft with worry.

For a moment, Cassandra wanted to tell her everything—about the pain, the violence, the fear. But instead, she shook her head.

"It’s fine, I’m just tired. All of this…" She waved her hand toward the noisy crowd in the throne room. "It’s exhausting."

"It really is exhausting," Lucilla agreed with a soft smile. "The palace isn’t what it used to be… I envy you. At least you can leave once the games are over."

Her heart skipped a beat. What if she didn’t leave the palace? What if Emperor Caracalla wouldn’t let her go? What if he dressed her like one of his slaves in sheer silk, seated her at his feet, and put a golden collar on her?

Cassandra shook her head. That couldn’t happen! Even he wouldn’t dare insult a senator and the entire Senate like that. She held on to that hope.

The hall grew noticeably quieter as the crowd dispersed, making way for the emperors. Instantly, she lowered her head, stepping behind Lucilla, not wanting to meet Caracalla’s gaze. Still, there was an undeniable temptation to glance at him from beneath her lashes, not raising her head or showing any interest. And she couldn’t help it—she watched as they entered the hall.

Geta walked to the right, closer to Cassandra. His stride was broad, his lips pressed tightly together, and he nervously licked them from time to time. Dressed in black from head to toe, pale with dark-lined eyes, he looked both sickly and focused. His laurel-crowned hair was the only bright spot in his appearance.

Swallowing a bitter lump in her throat, she turned her gaze to the other emperor. Oh, he was always different—nothing like his brother!

Cassandra held her breath. Purple and gold. Oh, how she despised that gold! His clothes were embroidered with it, his cloak shimmered with changing shades—lavender, blue, and deep crimson—as though it held the twilight itself. His rings gleamed, catching the light with every movement, and a large earring swayed with the rhythm of his slow steps. Unlike his brother, he moved with a leisurely, almost lazy pace, smiling as he looked through the crowd, knowing all eyes were on him.

And though Emperor Geta was serious, much more thoughtful and responsible, what did it matter if everyone had come just to gawk at a spectacle? Caracalla had given them that spectacle. Cassandra overheard a group of girls nearby whispering in admiration. Oh, he knew he was liked by many, that much she was certain. But she didn’t like him. She hated him with every fiber of her being, and all she wished for him was death.

Both emperors took their seats. A young slave boy brought Caracalla his pet—a little dressed-up monkey, who immediately climbed onto the emperor’s shoulder, burying its tiny hands in his red hair. Caracalla laughed, a thin, piercing laugh, giving the pet a grape and removing his laurels, leaving his hair in fiery disarray. The monkey squealed, tossing the bitten grape aside and turning back to play with its master’s hair. Nearby, Emperor Geta grimaced, clearly displeased by the noise.

The hall buzzed with life again, half the guests fawning over the emperors, while the other half entertained themselves, waiting for their turn to approach the rulers of Rome.

Her husband finally returned to her, flustered and silent. He barely paid attention to her, making her follow him like a shadow as they moved from one important guest to another.

While he was talking to another elderly senator she didn’t know, Cassandra lazily scanned the hall.

And there it was, what she feared and secretly longed to see. Pale blue eyes, veiled in gold and pink, met hers. She forgot how to breathe. Caracalla was still sitting on the throne, lazily leaning back with his legs wide apart, his foot rocking gently from side to side, as he stroked the monkey on his shoulder. Cassandra had expected him to break into a cruel smirk, his eyes narrowing to remind her of the shame he had made her endure… But no, he looked away, completely uninterested, as though he hadn’t even recognized her.

It felt like she had been struck, her body trembling uncontrollably. This wasn’t a game—he wasn’t sly or far-sighted enough to torment her like this. He truly barely remembered her. The foolish little bird hadn’t been in his sight for days, and he had forgotten her like some useless trash. And this was far worse than if he had continued his game of being the caring emperor, pretending to be the dutiful husband.

Here she was, standing before him in his mother’s clothes, her body marked with dark bruises he had left, her pride trampled into the dust. She hated him, and he didn’t even care, continuing to listlessly scan the hall.

Tiberius kept talking, and she kept staring at the emperor, wishing she could kill him at that very moment. Then, once again, she caught his gaze, now sharper, more deliberate. It was the same look he had given her before he took her on the altar. Her palms went clammy. She didn’t know what was worse: the indifference or the recognition. What would he do? Would he take her to a private place and talk once more about forgiveness? About the gifts he could give her?

A white hand, adorned with rings and bracelets, rose, and he motioned with his finger. Cassandra froze. Publicly? He was calling her in front of everyone?

She hesitated, unsure of what to do, but then, from behind her, a tall, slender girl in a silk blue dress stepped forward. Caracalla grinned wider, showing his gold tooth.

He wasn’t calling her. Her cheeks burned as she clenched her hands, digging her nails into her palms. Cassandra knew that girl—Antonia, the daughter of Senator Marcus Lecus. They had spoken a few times when her husband and Antonia’s father discussed the gladiator games. She was a noble Roman girl, an enviable bride, and simply a young, beautiful woman. And it was she who obediently settled onto the emperor’s lap, blushing and laughing as Caracalla whispered something in her ear.

Cassandra saw Antonia’s father in the crowd. He looked confused and pale, unable to protest or interrupt what was unfolding before him. She must have worn the same expression: rage, disgust, and revulsion.

"You have a wonderful daughter, Senator," Caracalla burst in laughter, addressing the now-pale man. "So obedient!"

"Thank you, Caesar," the senator replied with a trembling voice, bowing his head as though he truly believed it. "I’m glad you like her."

"Oh, I certainly do!" That cruel laugh came again as his hand slapped the girl’s thigh. What a disgrace.

"I am grateful, my Emperor," the senator continued to babble.

"So why aren’t you smiling?" Caracalla teased. "Have fun, my dear friend, today I’ll give your daughter a truly precious gift." His voice with a hint of taunting amusement, but the underlying meaning was clear: he would violate her in every way possible, then send her back to her father, degraded, miserable, and possibly pregnant. That’s how it had been with Cassandra. Tomorrow, he wouldn’t even remember her name, but for now, he took pleasure in watching the senator’s forced smile.

Emperor Geta, displeased, rose from his seat and approached his brother, whispering something in his ear while holding his shoulder. To humiliate the Senate in front of everyone was too much, even for him.

"This brainless little bastard has completely lost his mind," Tiberius whispered softly beside her. "If that were my daughter, l'd have killed that effeminate little runt."

Her lips twitched. That effeminate little runt had defiled your wife twice, and you hadn’t even noticed. Empty promises from a foolish man. Cassandra couldn’t even recall when she had started to despise her husband so much.

The dark-eyed, beautiful slave who had led her to Caracalla last time approached the emperor with a delicate dish. He inhaled the powder from the dish through his nose, leaned back, and closed his eyes in bliss. Antonia, clearly unaccustomed to this, inhaled the powder next, coughing and rubbing her nose frantically. Caracalla laughed again, stroking her thigh.

Cassandra looked away, feeling both relief and anger at the dishonor. Why hadn’t he chosen someone else from the start? Why had he tormented her so much?

Antonia, who had taken her “honorable” place, had lifted a huge burden from her shoulders. She felt as if she could finally breathe easier. Moving away from her husband, she felt light and free. Inspired, she drank wine, even ate, and chatted with other guests, forgetting the young emperor like a bad dream. He was no longer her problem.

She was engrossed in conversation with a young couple who had come from the provinces for the games. Cassandra hadn’t talked so much in a long time. But then she asked another question, and none of her new acquaintances answered. They stood frozen, staring somewhere behind her.

"Leave us."

No, no, no! The euphoria faded, replaced by trembling. Cassandra turned around. It wasn’t Caracalla, but the trembling didn’t stop.

Emperor Geta studied her carefully, as if seeing her for the first time. His cold fingers lifted her chin, his black eyes scanning her face.

"Where did you get this from?" His fingers slid lower, tracing the edge of her tunic.

"Your brother sent it to me," she replied quietly, trying not to meet his gaze. He, too, was a cause and a witness to her humiliation, though indirectly. She hated him as well.

"Antoninus?" His deep voice faltered.

She almost asked who he meant. Of course, no one ever called Caracalla by his real name. No one but his brother.

"Emperor Caracalla, Caesar, yes."

He continued to study her, not in the same way as his brother of course, but still hardly appropriate, given they were in public.

"Did he say anything to you? Did he do anything?"

She nearly choked on her fury. As if you didn’t see what he did! As if you didn’t stand there and watch the debauchery your own twin brother caused!

"Tell me, domina, why did my brother choose to dress you in the garments of our late mother?" He leaned closer, his voice lowering, growing harsher, as if she had stolen the clothes instead of being forced to wear them. "Let me tell you why. You look just like her, you know? Now I see it clearly—your eyes, your lips, your hair, even the way you furrow your brow." His hand caressed her cheek, the back of his fingers gliding over her skin. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw some of the guests watching them, whispering to each other.

It was disgusting. The whole situation made her stomach turn. She reminded them of their deceased mother. And how could Caracalla… How could he do those terrible things to her!?

"My brother seems chaotic, unserious, but he rarely does anything without a reason," he said, nervously licking his lips before flashing her a smile, one that was anything but kind. "There’s always a meaning, a meaning only he and I understand. You know, we shared the same womb, we’ve always been together as long as I can remember, and we share the reins of power, as you know. Everything that’s mine is his, and everything that’s his is mine. Do you understand?"

The realization of what he was hinting at washed over her like a vile shiver. No, no, not this!

"May I leave, Emperor?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Geta was different, after all—he liked being adored, admired, but Cassandra’s face revealed nothing but disgust. The emperor didn’t enjoy such games. His lips twisted, clearly wounded by her rejection, but he nodded nonetheless, stepping back and removing his hand from her face. It was strange how cold Geta’s hands were, while Caracalla’s had felt like fire.

Cassandra didn’t warn her husband; she left the throne room alone, not wanting to stay. The brief moment of joy she had experienced was stolen from her once more. The emperors had ruined her life without even meaning to.

Rushing through the dark corridors lit only by torches, she dreamed of one thing alone—to seclude herself in her chambers and this time, not to emerge until the games were over. Of course, her dreams were not destined to come true. The foolish, childish dreams of insignificant little girls were unheard by the gods. Here, in Rome, wishes were granted only to those who tormented these very little girls.

"Wait, domina," a rough voice called out to her from the darkness.

The owner of the rough voice turned out to be a Praetorian guard. He walked slightly ahead, with three others trailing behind. Tall, strong, clad in armor, they escorted the delicate, short figure. Even in the dim torchlight, he seemed to glow. Purple and gold, the soft clinking of his adornments, and the cold smile on his lips promised nothing good. How could such a delicate appearance conceal such evil?

The Praetorians were imposing, large, but it was only him that she feared—standing just a few steps in front of her, smiling, his hands clasped together.

"Wait outside," Caracalla nodded, and the Praetorians obediently stepped back, taking position on the other side of the arch. They could likely hear every word spoken in the corridor.

"Well, well, hello, birdie" his voice softer than usual, but his eyes growing more wild, "It’s been a while since we’ve had our little talks, hasn’t it? Is my company no longer to your liking?"

"Emperor, I…" What could she say that wouldn’t anger him?

"Or have you found better company, dear? Forgotten all about our sweet love?" He stared at her from under his brows, his lips trembling. He was furious.

Let him kill her! Let him do it, but not torture her! But no, he chose the second option. It was clear he wouldn’t have come after her today like divine retribution if he hadn’t seen her speaking to Geta. Fool, she was such a fool! He could have fucked every woman in Rome, but she had no right to even look at another man. Her husband was the exception, since taking her was a way of humiliating him; Tiberius wasn’t his equal. But his brother was.

"And what, you’re silent now? You were more talkative with Geta. Or am I not skilled enough at conversation?" Without waiting for her answer, he grabs her wrist, pinning her against the wall. His knee pressed between her legs, forcing them slightly apart.

"Your brother asked me about the garments you gave me—that’s all, I swear!"

"Ah, he recognized them, didn’t he?" He clicked his tongue with satisfaction. "He couldn’t have missed them, of course. Yet, you lie. Geta always wants everything that’s mine! Always!" Suddenly his voice took on a petulant tone, as if he were a big, dangerous child, but children don’t behave like this. "But he won’t get anything. No, not you. You’re mine, aren’t you, birdie?"

She stared at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, unable to summon the strength to answer.

"Answer me!" he barked.

He had never shouted before. Hissed, purred, laughed—yes. But never raised his voice.

"I am yours, Caesar, only yours."

"Everything in Rome is mine. Everything belongs to me. Do you understand?"

"I belong to you," she breathed.

Hearing her words, Caracalla's expression changed, he lifted his chin, clearly pleased. Though he wore no crown, the flickering torchlight turned his bright curls into a fiery halo framing his pale face, making him seem otherworldly, like a vision. A demon, a true demon, ironically possessing such an innocent-looking body.

A lone tear rolled down her face, and Caracalla's darkened eyes immediately followed its path, stepping closer to Cassandra, licking the salty trail with his hot tongue. The sweetness of oils and powders enveloped her again.

"Good," he finally relented, "and yet, you lied. Lying to the Emperor is a grave crime, you know that?"

"Yes, Caesar," she knew the rules, "I must apologize."

"Apologize?” He burst in laughter. “Oh no, my dear. This time, you’ve earned your punishment for such an offense.”

His lips brushed against hers, but there was no kiss—just a dry touch and a hot whisper, mouth to mouth.

"Where have you been these past days?"

"I… I was unwell."

"Why?" he pressed, sensing her hesitation.

"I…I had woman troubles," she admitted, biting her lip and looking away.

The emperor's pale eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he clicked his tongue in disappointment. His hand slid over her body, pausing on her stomach, pressing down.

"What a tragedy! Neither a senator nor an emperor could plant his seed in your womb!" His palm continued to press against her stomach, forcing her to clench her teeth. "Don't you wish to give your husband an heir?"

"I do," she whispered softly.

"Then why does my seed not please you?" He stared directly into her eyes.

Is he joking? Doesn't he understand this is beyond her control?

"You have pleased me in every way, Emperor," she answered quietly.

His hand was suddenly at her throat, his thumb pressing into the hollow between her collarbones, squeezing,

"You lie! You rejected my gift and lied to me again! This time, you will be punished and I will not be merciful. I’ll teach you how to properly accept gifts from an emperor, and when I’m done, whatever’s left of you, sweet little wife, will be sent back to your husband!"

She was almost choking, but he removed his hand, placing it on her shoulder, pressing down.

"On your knees before the emperor," he commanded.

What? Why? She couldn't fathom what he wanted from her, but certainly not here, in this open corridor where anyone could walk in.

The pressure on her shoulder increased.

"I won’t repeat myself," his eyes crazed, the madness in them burning, fueled by the drug’s effect. His cheeks flushed, as if embarrassed, but no, he had never known such feelings.

Obediently, Cassandra dropped to her knees before him, looking up, her lips pressed together, hands resting on her knees, her thighs touching her heels.

His breath quickened, his fingers tracing her cheek.

"A beautiful garment for a beautiful little thing," his voice trembles with anticipation, and she's clueless about what's about to happen. Caracalla ogles her for one last moment before extending his hand.

"Give me your hand, now."

She obediently slips her hand into his... and then, something she never saw coming happens. She knew he'd force himself on her again, but this? This was beyond her wildest nightmares.

"Feel that? You should be flattered," his voice broke into a rasp.

Her breath catches in her throat as he guides her hand, making her feel his hardness through the fabric. She'd never touched a man like that before, not even her husband.

"That’s it, good," the emperor praised, guiding her further.

Every time Cassandra thought it couldn't possibly get worse, it did. Now, in the corridor leading to her shared quarters with her husband, she was on her knees, like a nameless slave, caught up in something so degrading she never could have imagined it.

"Now, hands behind your back. Keep them there until I say otherwise. Disobey, and I’ll see those pretty hands taken away, understood, dear?" His smile is accompanied by a soft thumb stroke over her lower lip.

Shame burns through her as she slowly clasps her hands behind her back. What now? How will he degrade her this time?

His answer comes as his fingers sliding into her hair, initially petting her like a dog, then his grip tightens sharply, yanking her head back.

"Not a sound, sweetheart, or we’ll have an audience," he warns, "And trust me, I don’t mind at all—I’ll finish either way. But you… think twice."

Then comes the punishment. With a sharp, strong yank, he tears her tunic down, the fabric dropping to her waist. She wants to scream, to cover herself, but his threat keeps her hands locked in place, trembling.

"Sit up straight," he's so close, her eyes locked on his feet, but he grabs her hair again, forcing her to meet his gaze. Shame and fear consume her as his hips are now at eye level.

"Again, I’m doing your husband a favor by showing you what he might enjoy," he said with a sly smirk. "When you kneel before him like this, don’t forget to mention who taught you, hmm?"

The emperor lifts his lavish robes and flings his shimmering cloak aside, letting it fall to the floor. He wouldn't...?

"Come on, open your mouth, don’t give me that foolish look," Caracalla drawls, "if your womb won't take me, then your mouth will. Right, Cassandra?"

Her name makes her flinch—and obey.

He wields it shamelessly, not as a courtesy, but to assert his power. She had thought the young emperor didn’t care enough to remember, yet here, in this moment of utter humiliation, he says her name.

Trying not to look at him, Cassandra complies, fighting the urge to close her eyes, knowing it will only make things worse. Her reward is his raspy moan and the taste of him on her tongue. Unlike her, he's not about to remain quiet.

He doesn’t give her any freedom, holding her firmly with his hand tangled in her hair, his voice raspy as he orders her every move. To her surprise, the emperor is intensely responsive, moaning and biting his lip. His hand moves to the back of her head, the cold press of his rings against her skin sending a shiver down her spine. It’s clear he’s losing patience.

She struggles to breathe, choking on air as he takes her mouth roughly, his grip holding her head in place. Tears blur her vision, but she can't pull away, the pressure in her throat building with each passing second. He doesn't relent, pushing into her harder, more violently.

"Look at me, in the eyes," his voice a half-whisper, half-growl, escaping his red lips, "that’s it, good girl," it didn’t sound like praise, but more like mockery.

Her lip splits at the corner, a taste of blood, but it's insignificant now. All emotions have left her. Disgrace. Disgrace. Disgrace.

His grip grows harsher, his breath ragged, his body thrusting forward. She tries to push him away, her hands coming free to press against him, but he doesn't stop. With deep, harsh thrusts, he goes all the way into her throat, pausing, holding her head by the hair, staring into her eyes, another moan escaping his lips.

Cassandra pulls back as soon as he releases her, coughing, tasting him in her mouth, on her lips. She wants to spit it out desperately but is too afraid. How dare she reject his "gifts"?

Tears streaming, lips swollen, a drop of blood at the corner of her mouth, she's still on her knees in the middle of the corridor, her chest bare, her hair disheveled from his rough grip.

"Did you enjoy that?" he asks, already having adjusted his clothes, looking as innocent as if nothing happened.

"As always, Emperor," she can say nothing else. Now, she just wants to end her life. His taste still lingers.

"Then what kind of punishment is this, little bird? Once again, I've been too generous," he shakes his head theatrically, "you were rushing to your chambers, weren't you? Why are you still here? Come on, come on!" He claps his hands, urging her to move.

Shaking, she stands, head bowed.

"And don't forget who you belong to."

"Yours."

His satisfied laughter follows her as she walks away.

⋆ ⋆ ☼ ⋆ ⋆

Hey friends, thank you so much for all the love and support! It’s honestly so unexpected and makes me so happy that so many of you enjoy my Caracalla 💕 The next chapter is almost done, so you won’t have to wait too long! Love you all, muah!

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osmanthus-wine-addiction · 3 days ago

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19 Costumes

Zhongli x Reader / NSFW / Hollywood AU / Modern AU / Zhongli is married in here, but not to reader / Slight age gap and mentor-student relationship / Infidelity but not really / a bucketload of angst / mature themes so read at your own discretion

The moment your eyes caught his from across the room, you knew this would be the most difficult role you would ever play.

After all these years, absolutely nothing had changed. His fleeting glance, the gentle smile on his lips, the sound of his voice, his gentlemanly demeanor, the way he carried himself, everything about him effortlessly triggered the rapid beating of your heart. He still affected you the way he did when you first met him. Whether or not that was a good thing, you would find out.

This was the first lead role you had been casted in. It turned out, he was the one who had brought up your name in front of the director. He had that sort of influence in this industry, being the seasoned and respected actor he was. Even Director Hu had to take his professional advice and suggestions to heart. You were initially taken aback when your assistant informed you of the news, thinking your ears were playing tricks on you.

Zhongli had always been your idol, all the way back when you were still attending acting school. You got to meet him on set several times, each time was like a brush of the shoulders, fleeting but memoriable. You were always playing side characters, so once your scenes were done, you'd quietly disappear. Still, he remembered you, gave you guidance like a generous mentor, sharing pointers and techniques to help you improve your performance whenever he caught you hiding behind the set memorizing your lines. He was like a beacon to you, someone you couldn't help but admire, someone you longed to catch up to. If only he could wait a bit for you, perhaps you'd have mustered up the courage to tell him. He never gave you that chance.

When Zhongli got married, you were genuinely happy for him. His wife was beautiful, brilliant, and well-recieved among his fans. She was his perfect match and they had known each other for so long. They were close friends before they became romantically involved. You buried your feelings and began rejecting every script that had his name attached to the production. There were plenty of roles you could take. The film industry was big enough for the both of you, without forcing your paths to cross.

While the personal lives of celebrities were often more complex and messy than even what ends up on the trending page, Zhongli did not have that sort of reputation. His acting portfolio was impressive, a testament of his devotion to each and every role. Everytime he pulled on a costume, he gave himself to the character. His acting was meticulous, layered, made the viewer forget he was playing a character.

You often hear about actors falling in love while in character. The on-screen chemistry was sometimes so convincing, the audience would insist it was real. When you gaze into Zhongli’s eyes and utter words so ironically aligned with what you had been holding in for so long, you imagine that's what viewers would see through their screens. Even the tears streaming down your cheeks were giving their best performance. Not a strand of hair was out of place. Your expensive waterproof cosmetics ensured you cried prettily as he crushed your heart on screen.

The warm breath from Zhongli's lips formed wispy clouds in the frigid air. He was apologizing, saying he couldn't reciprocate your love. He turns around, leaving you to process your emotions on your own. Your lips quiver as you relive your silly little heartbreak in front of rolling cameras and ambient lighting. The fake snow drifted down from above, decorating your sorrow with a dash of pretense. Director Hu scouts cut, but the tears refuse to stop.

At least your character got to tell him, even if she got rejected. You all read the script. The male lead eventually reciprocates her love and the two become a couple. If only reality could be that sweet.

The director gave the call to wrap up filming for the day. A collective breath of relief expelled from everyone present. Nobody enjoyed filming in the freezing cold. The film staff had already begun putting away their gear and taking down the equipment.

You pat your tears dry and thank your assistant for the tissue. Your eyes were still puffy from crying. This would be the closest you'd ever get to being more than professional acquaintences. Perhaps he still considered you a friend, but after your deliberate avoidance, the two of you had drifted apart.

"Your control of your emotions have gotten a lot better. I can see a lot of improvement since the last time I've collaborated with you, especially with the last scene." Zhongli approaches you just as you're about to head back.

You gestured for your assistant to wait for you in your van.

"You're as good as always. I learned a lot from you, in case you've forgotten." You reminded him while trying to keep your thoughts strictly professional.

"I suppose I can consider you half a student then." He chuckled. "You've come a long way, dear. It's truly a delight to witness the result of your growth and the experience you've accumulated over the past few years."

You gave him a polite smile. For a method actor, you constantly draw emotions from your own experiences. If he knew your spectacular acting just now was thanks to the heartache he had gifted you years ago, what would he think?

On your ride back to the hotel, you couldn't help but scroll through your feed. It was mostly industry acquaintences and a few close friends who managed to stick around despite your unpredictable lifestyle and constant unavailability. That's why most actors date casually and usually with familiar faces. It's just easier to forgive if you share the same woes. Zhongli's marriage was an outlier since he had married someone unaquainted with the film industry and never really had any gossip surrounding his love life. If anything, that only further solidified his reputation as actor who relied solely on his work to remain relevant. You too hoped to become that kind of actress.

Your thumb stopped at a photo of a sunset posted by Zhongli. You had followed his account all the way back when you were in college. The backdrop of the sunset was the city you were currently filming in. The photo was dated two days ago. You read the caption in your mind with his voice, a faint smile on your lips. He had always been a bit of a rambler, evident by the paragraph-long musings he narrates his snapshots with. You scrolled downward, expecting to see his wife in the comments like the last time you had clicked open one of his posts. Perhaps she had not seen it yet.

With a self-deprecating smile on your lips, you closed the app and dropped your phone into your purse. Out of sight, out of mind. You should definitely not be thinking about him as often as you were. He was a taken man, and not the kind that would breach the sacred contract of marriage. There could never be anything between the two of you. All this melancholy, it was just residual emotions from tearing open old scars. In order to play this character well, you had to indulge these dormant feelings, let them sprout and take root again. They were just as much part of the costume as the clothes you wore on set. After the cameras stop rolling, you should take them off and put them away.

These characters you played, they belonged to a world separated from reality by a screen. You weren't you and he wasn't him. In the script, you were the one his heart belonged to. He had to remove his wedding band before every scene, but once filming was over, you'd see him slip it back on.

"Has she ever visited you on set before?" You asked him during a break while sipping on the tea he had handed you. You needed some caffeine in your system after staying up all night stressing over the upcoming scene.

He smiled back, a fond memory surfacing in his mind. "Many times. In the early days of our dating, staying away from each other for long periods of time was quite the challenge."

"Your wife must trust you very much." You thought aloud.

He sighed. "She has had her doubts about me before. It's expected of someone in our occupation."

"You're not the kind of person that would cheat." You blurted out before you could process what was on your tongue.

He let out a hearty laughter. "I'm glad you think so highly of my moral character. Though I feel inclined to warn you, at the end of the day, we are all only human. Assuming the best of someone based on limited observations would only result in disappointment."

"Are you saying I don't know you well enough? Am I wrong and you actually do sleep around behind your wife's back?"

"That is not what I said." He chuckled at your deliberate misinterpretation. "I would appreciate it if you do not slander me."

"You trust her enough to leave her by herself for months in a year, but what if she gets lonely or something happens and she needs you? You can't be by her side at the drop of a hat."

"That is indeed the reality of our marriage." He seemed a bit dampened by the reminder. "What about you? Do you find the time to pursue romantic endeavors in between filming?"

"I don't have the capacity to entertain an audience at the same time as a lover."

He gave an understanding smile. "That is a wise choice. Perhaps I should've…" He chuckled, shaking his head. "Are you nervous about the coming scene?"

His eyes were on your hand, which had been fidgeting for almost the entirety of the time he had observed you.

You sucked in a deep breath. "You don't feel strange about kissing me?"

"Should I be unsettled?" He questioned you back. "It's not me, but the character I play, that will be kissing the character you play. Unless it's the technicalities you are concerned with…"

"It's my first time filming a scene like this." You confessed.

Your previous roles were all side characters without a hint of romance in their scripts. This was your first lead role, complete with a love interest and plenty of intimate scenes. The upcoming one was simply the first and you had already lost sleep over it.

"I see. That explains the pressure you're under." He nodded. "Have you kissed before?"

A flush rose in your cheeks. "Back in film school, if that counts."

"It certainly does." He reassured you. "What do you remember of it?"

You shook your head. "It didn't leave much of an impression, to be honest."

"So you may be a bit out of practice." He noted. "Our break is almost over, so there is no time to get acquainted beforehand, but I would not worry too much. Director Hu would have us reshoot ten times if she is not satisfied with the first nine takes. Sometimes I suspect she does it for fun, as it's not the first time I've worked with her…"

You giggled as the two of you returned to the set side by side. His words seemed to calm your nerves. It was like you had returned to the past, to those simpler times when you were fresh out of acting school and he was just your senior, holding your hand and showing you the way. As much as it hurt to admit it, you missed the way things used to be, before he got married, when it felt less guilty to admire him with a pair of slightly rose-tinted glasses.

Once again, the cameras rolled and the clapboard sounded, marking the beginning of the scene. You glanced at Zhongli's hand. His wedding band had once again disappeared.

"I told you not to wait for me." He sighed, cupping your face in his gloved hands.

"If I don't, how would you know I'm willing to?" You recited your line.

You hated dialogue like this, especially since it was Zhongli you were saying it to. The words constricted your throat as they struggled to make their way out.

"I'm not the right person for you." He whispered as the camera panned closer, capturing every minute expression on his face.

"That's not up to you." You retort. "It's not even up to me."

"I don't want to waste your time." He stroked your cheek with his thumb.

"You already wasted enough of my time, but I'm not in a rush…" You sucked in a quick breath as Zhongli leaned in.

He studied your face intently underneath the street lamp. His own eyes shimmered like molten amber, captivating you effortlessly. The set faded away, followed by the whirring and humming of all the filming equipment. All you could see was Zhongli as he inched closer. With each nerve-wracking second that passed, the distance between your lips diminished.

His lips descended on yours, unhurried and gentle. Your eyelids fell as Zhongli encircled you in his arms, carefully cradling the back of your head with a hand. He even kissed like a gentleman, with tentative careesses and soft sweeps against your lips. Was he just a good kisser or were you too invested to begin with? You sighed as a dull ache spread through your chest.

As Zhongli suspected she would, Hutao had the two of you do an exhausting number of retakes. You thought the first take was fine, but she insisted that something was missing. By the time she was happy, you were breathless, way too stimulated, and slightly intoxicated. His eyes fell on your swollen lips and the telling flush on your cheeks.

"That must've been quite an overwhelming first for you. I appologize on behalf of our director." He said as the two of you walked off the set. "She tends to forget us actors are only pretending to be hopelessly in love with each other."

His words pierced into you unexpectedly, causing your steps to falter. Pretending? Perhaps he was. You might've been in costume and reciting lines from a script for the rest of the scene, but the moment his lips touched yours, you forgot where you were and who you were supposed to be portraying. His character was kissing yours, but you? You were kissing Zhongli through all those retakes.

"Are you alright?" The concern on his voice was palpable.

"I'm fine. I was just a bit unprepared." You said as you grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler and unscrewed the lid.

"We will not be filming the next kiss until next week, so there is plenty of time to practice if you wish to do so." He offered.

"P-Practice?" You nearly choked on your water.

"Why yes, if you find it difficult to relax in front of the camera when we are recording such a scene, it's my responsibility to ensure you are comfortable enough. Some actors struggle with the act itself while others find the presence of cameras and other people intrusive. There is quite a difference between kissing for the camera and kissing someone candidly, just like combat on screen is tediously choreographed while true fighting is often chaotic and unpredictable."

"Was that why she asked for so many takes? Because it didn't capture well on camera?"

He chuckled. "Perhaps. It's her call. As actors, we can only give our best performance. Even with all our experience and techniques put to practice, if the result doesn't align with the director's vision, we must reshoot until it does."

"Well, it's obviously my fault this time since I went in blind. The next time I hope to cut down the retake count by at least half. Two hours for a five minute scene is too much work for everyone involved, not just you and me." You declared.

The rest of the filming that day went by without much hiccups. You were starving by the time it wrapped up. Zhongli's assistants had gone off to buy takeout for the crew, leaving him alone at the back of the set. You were about to approach him to get his insight on something when you noticed the expression on his face as he stared quietly at his cellphone.

"Zhongli?" You called his name, making your presence known since he was so absorbed in whatever it was he was looking at.

He cleared his throat and put away the device, giving you his undivided attention. "Did you need my input on something pertaining to the scenes we will be filming tomorrow?"

You nodded, holding out your script. "This line here and that one too. I should be angry that you're withholding something, but I can't let you onto the fact that I know what you're not telling me. I have to convey that to the audience though, so it can't be too internalized or I would just look like a rock sitting there, but I can't be obvious enough to come off as sulking to you. How would I pull this off without looking too deliberate?"

Zhongli took your script from your hand while you took a seat beside him, waiting for him to finish reading.

"Think about someone close to you, if not a lover, than perhaps your closest friend. If they had lied to you and intend to keep the truth wrapped up until it tears or gets burned from the inside out, would you play along with their ruse or would you confront them immediately and risk losing everything you have built up together?"

You took a deep breath, absorbing his words.

"I think I'd play along, but the disappointment and hurt would be impossible to completely mask."

"Now what about the character you're portraying. Do you think they would do the same?" He asked.

"I think so. No, they would. She loves your character too much and waited all those years for him even though he never asked her to."

"Every person has specific aspects of their physical state that they have better control over. That means there will also be things they have less control over. You for example, I notice that your hands tend to be more restless when you're under pressure. You know this character better than I do. Where do you think her mask is thickest and where is it the thinnest?"

Your eyes brightened as you caught the thread of inspiration he tossed your way. "I know how to handle it now. You're the best."

Zhongli tensed in surprise when you threw your arms around him. You used to thank him with an enthusiastic hug back then too whenever he gave you valuable tips, but it had been so many years since he had seen you in person. You were a bit more mature, a polished gem now as opposed to the rough ore you were years ago. This might be your first lead role, but he had always seen the potential in you. That was why he brought you up with Hutao and suggested her invite you for the audition. As he expected, you bagged the role without much competition.

"Is there something wrong?" You asked him when he didn't hug you back. With a bit of self-consciousness, you pulled away..

He chuckled. "I was just thinking about the first time we met. You've come a long way and I can see that you've not slacked in honing your craft over the past years. Every journey will have its final day. Don't rush the process. You may yet see a day where you wonder if you had chosen the right path, but when you look back at the footsteps you've left behind and remember all the moments that brought you to where you are today, you will see that it was all inevitable. No two paths are alike, even if we walk in the same direction. I can only guide you for a short while."

"What's with the sudden introspection?" You tilted your head in curiosity. "Why does it sound like you're saying goodbye? Filming's not even done yet."

"This may be my last one."

You shot up from your seat, eyes wide with disbelief. "For now, or for good?"

"I've been in this industry for over two decades. It's been a long and rewarding career. I have no regrets, especially in meeting young talents such as yourself."

"Was that why you recommended me for the role? As a parting gift?"

"I recommended you because I found you suitable for the role."

"Then what about that sunset picture?" You demanded. "Were you trying to give us hints that you were hanging up your costume?"

You already missed the opportunity to be anything more than friends. It was just a silly crush anyways, nothing more. You survived. After a grueling early career, you finally caught up to him. All those cups of coffee, sleepless nights full of memorizing lines, and fighting for mediocre roles in as many productions as you could fit in your schedule, it was all paying off. It had been a long uphill journey, but you finally made it. You could finally stand beside him on the red carpet and he tells you he's going to quit?

"You can't." You said as you sat down again. "There are plenty of actors that work until they can't move or memorize their lines. You're not even that old. What will you do if you give this up?"

"I will simply focus my efforts on the talents signed under my agency like Xiao and Ganyu." Zhongli chuckled at your reasoning. "I can also fully step into my responsibilities as a spokesperson for the Liyue cultural exchange."

"You've always been into traditional things."

He already did endorsements for Chenyu Vale Tea and the Xigu Museum. Still, it was hard to imagine him abandoning acting since you had always looked up to him for it.

"Are you sure you won't regret it?" You had to ask him again, as if you simply repeating the question would give him a reason to reconsider.

"For every decision you make, there will be a cost in opportunity. Although acting has been a worthwhile journey, it does not mean I have not amassed regrets in the pursuit of it."

"So this wasn't an impulsive decision." You concluded from what Zhongli had just said. With some deliberation, you managed to reign in your emotions. A flush painted your cheeks. Your reaction to the news was perhaps a bit overreaching. If he wanted to retire early, who were you to say no? "I'm not going to pry since this is your life. I just want you to know that I… I've always admired your work."

Filming resumed as scheduled for the next few days. You couldn't help but sense that something was off with Zhongli. He delivered his scenes as usual, but once he was done, you'd catch him staring off in the distance, mind somewhere else.

You approached him after your last scene for the day was over. As expected, he didn't even notice you until you were right in front of him. Whatever was holding his mind captive immediately dispersed as he smiled at you.

"I was wondering if you could practice the next scene with me. If you don't have anything else occupying your time, of course. I wouldn't want to infringe… You seem rather distracted as of late." You said tentatively.

The next kiss was slotted for tomorrow morning. Besides offering to help you with it, he never brought it up again. You knew better than to let your inner demons interfere with professional matters. This was a hill you had to get over no matter what, so you might as well get it over with.

He hummed, a soft sigh expelling from his chest. "Is it so obvious?"

You nodded, resting your back against the railing beside him. "What's troubling you? Does it have something to do with your early retirement?"

Your gaze dropped down to his hands. He was absentmindedly turning the wedding band around his finger. You always noticed it, because he'd remove it before every scene and slide it back on when it was over. Perhaps this was a ritual of sorts to him, something he did to remind himself that he was somebody's husband. That ring wrapped around his finger symbolized a contract he agreed to, a promise he made to his wife.

"It does, but trifling personal matters would have to wait until filming completes to attend to."

"I'm here if you need an ear…" You offered even though you knew he wasn't the kind of man to open up so easily.

"There's no need to burden you with my personal grievances." He declined politely.

"So is the offer to help me practice the next intimate scene still up?" You said, eyes glued to Zhongli's face.

"It certainly still is. I have no reason to withhold practice if you need it." He chuckled at your hesitancy. "Where shall we go? I'm presuming you'd prefer a more private setting to ease the nerves."

Your eyes fluttered around the crowded set with countless pairs of eyes at every corner. "Anywhere but here. Is the hotel you're staying at closer or mines?"

"I believe yours is the closer one." He supplied.

"Let's get out of here then." You took his hand and all but yanked him off the railing.

Zhongli's driver dropped the two of you off at the front of your hotel before heading back to the set. The sun had long set and the streets were alight with streetlamps, signs and digital billboards. Zhongli followed you into the elevator, taking his place beside you inside the empty lift. Your hands tightened around your clutch. You were thankful to have something to hold onto, because your hands were getting restless. He was just here to help you practice, you told yourself. Nothing was going to happen beyond recited lines and inevitable liplocking, as demanded by the script. You were just practicing, for the sake of nailing the scene tomorrow. This definitely wasn't an excuse to tempt the loyal husband of another woman.

Once the door opened, the lights came on. You poured Zhongli a cup of tea when the water came to a boil. There was wine in the cooler, but you should definitely stay sober while he was in the room with you. You ordered the two of you some room service while Zhongli reaquainted himself with the script for tomorrow's scene. Once you hung up the phone, it was strictly business.

"Should I put my hand on your shoulder while I say this part?" You asked, hand already sliding up the front of his shirt as you repeated the line. Your eyes were fixed on the papers in your hand.

"Have you memorized this part of the script?" He asked you, to which you confidently nodded. "Good. Focus on your body movements and expressions instead. It would be difficult to fully immerse yourself in your character if you're holding this." He reached out and took the stack of papers from your hand, setting it down on the bed beside you. "Look into my eyes when you say the lines."

You drew in a breath and delivered the line once more, hand resting on his shoulder. "It hurt, you know? Imagining you with someone else… do you know how many times I kept asking myself, why couldn't it have been me?"

Your heart clenched in helplessness. How ironic of you, reciting false lines offscreen and confessing what you truly felt through scripted words. If it weren't for this production, you wouldn't even get the chance to be a fool.

"It's always been you, silly. There was never anyone else." He tucked strand of your hair behind your ear. "I was just hoping you'd move on while I was on mission. All I could think of were my dogtags in your hands. I couldn't put you through that."

His words, as lovely as they were, only applied to his character, not him. You knew this all too well, but the excruciating truth did not stop your silly heart from skipping a beat.

"You better be thinking of me every moment you're out there. I want to be on your mind when you eat, when you take showers, when you go to bed…"

You wrapped your arms around Zhongli's neck, taking your time before pressing your lips against his. His breath was steady, warming your skin for a brief few seconds before you closed the last bit of distance that separated you from him. Your lips melted into his, soft and eager.

You wondered what was actually on his mind while his lips were against yours. Does his wife surface in his mind, or is it actually you? You couldn't compare to him when it came to experience on-screen. He's probably filmed more kiss scenes with countless actresses than you had scenes of eating.

Your lips moved against his desperately, unable to suppress the impulse to indulge. His hands held the back of your head, fingers buried in your hair. If you didn't know better, you'd think Zhongli was getting a bit carried away by you.

"Wait." He suddenly pulled away from the kiss.

Your eyes followed his hand as he hurriedly removed his ring, dropping it into his pocket. His breathing was slightly unsteady and his heart was beating erratically.

Zhongli peered down at you, pupils blown as he took in your disheveled hair and flustered state. His own chest heaved as he caught his breath. He tore his gaze from you, reaching for the cup on the table.

You stood there as he gulped down the rest of the tea, afraid to make a single inappropriate movement. His silence was louder than the obnoxious beating of your heart. Could he tell? Surely an actor as perceptive and experienced as him could tell the difference. You chewed nervously on your bottom lip, further scraping off what little lipstick was left on it.

"Why don't we reattempt that? This time, allow me to pace the kiss. Urgency and unease captures surprisingly well on camera, but those are not the sentiments you are looking to convey. You want to entice the audience with confidence and control, both of which you were lacking just now."

"I… I haven't exactly done a lot of kissing on screen or off screen. So I can't really be confident…"

He chuckled at your honesty. "No need to fret. I'm here to help you find it. Hopefully you will have it by tomorrow morning or else I will have to stay the—" He caught himself before the thought could finish. "Pardon me, I didn't not mean it in that way."

It was your turn to laugh. "I know you didn't."

"Shall we?" He prompted.

You gave Zhongli a firm nod and repeated the lines leading up to the kiss, letting your hand trail up and over his shoulder again. Your lips met his again, but this time, you allowed him to take the lead, guiding the kiss at a more suitable pace. It was refreshing, and so much more enjoyable now that he was taking the initiative and you were only responding to his gentle ministrations. His kiss was patient, warm, and steady. Once again, you couldn't help but lose yourself. It was impossible to resist, with his hands in your hair, his body pressed against yours, and your lack of oxygen getting to your head. The tip of your tongue was met with resistance as you attempted to deepen the kiss.

Zhongli pulled away again, amber gaze sweeping over your flushed face and puffy lips again. His eyes narrowed and suspicion swirled in their depths as he observed your flustered state. It was a good thing the two of you were in the privacy of your own hotel room. It would've been a humiliating moment for you had you shown this lack of control in front of an entire crew.

You were not his protégé in the way Xiao and Ganyu were, but he had always been aware of how much admiration you held for him. He found you endearing, so it was natural for him to assume a mentoring role whenever he happened to be in your presence. When you stopped joining productions he had been casted in, he initially thought it was just due to incompatibility in your respective schedules. Months turned into years. You remained polite, but distanced, even on social media. He eventually realized that all those productions you joined in the past were in fact, not coincidental at all. You joined them in order to get close to him, to spend time with him, and to learn as much from him as you could. Your self-removal from his life had all but faded into an unresolved mystery.

Zhongli was on a year-long honeymoon haitus when you began distancing yourself from him, so of course he wouldn't have the mental capacity to dissect your strange behavior. After years of assuming you simply drifted away because you deemed he no longer had anything worthwhile to teach you, he's suddenly hit with an entirely different reason, one that he never even considered until your lips were pressed against his, your body practically melting into his arms. The way you were clinging to him, your wispy breaths feathering over his chin, and the way you stared up at him like some exhausted stray, none of this was pretending. He had been doing this for nearly two decades. With one glance, he could tell if you were acting.

He shouldn't have dragged you into this production, back into his life. What he thought was giving you a gentle push in your career turned out to be pushing you over the edge of a cliff. You were now swept up in a dangerous freefall and it was completely his fault. He could not dive after you nor could he just watch.

"Sorry, I don't know what came over me." You quickly apologized, trying to salvage the awkward practice session. "Was that alright?"

You picked up the script again, pretending to refresh your memory. Zhongli also cleared his throat.

"Yes, let us continue from here." He pointed at the next line.

"Don't make me wait too long." You brushed off some imaginary snow from his shoulder. "One day, I might just give up and decide I've had enough of you."

He reached up, catching your hand and pulling you close. His other hand slid over your waist, holding you still.

He sighed, eyes brimming with guilt. "If that happens, I'd be happy for you. You could do far better than—"

He was interrupted with another kiss. Every time you pulled away, it felt like you had left a small piece of yourself on him.

"I can do better than you?" You finished his words for him.

Zhongli drew in a deep breath, feeling an indescribable weight on his chest as you waited for him to deliver his lines. The look in your eyes, the carefully concealed anticipation you were trying to hide, it was all clear to him now.

"I can, but I don't intend to let you off the hook so easily." You said, looking directly into Zhongli’s eyes.

A gentle tug on his neck caused his gaze to drop to his tie, which you held firmly in your grasp.

"Improvising, I see." Zhongli remarked at your little addition to the script. "You should note this down and discuss it with the director tomorrow morning before filming. I'm sure she'd appreciate it."

You snapped out of character for a moment, blushing at his praise. "You think so?"

He nodded, smiling reassuringly. You immediately jotted down the idea.

Room service arrived just as you were about to resume practice. You didn't even realize how hungry you were until the food was set in front of you. After the two of you ate, you practiced for a couple more hours with him. You thanked him and sent him on his way once you were confident enough about the scenes you were filming tomorrow. It was extremely late and if you didn't wrap things up, he might as well stay the night. Of course, you only dared to entertain that diobolical thought for a split second before exorcising it from your mind. That would be much too scandalous.

When Zhongli returned to his hotel, his mind was all over the place. The events that had been plaguing him for the past month now had to contend with his shifting perception of you for the remainder of the filming. Your genuine feelings for him complicated things, yet he would have to carry on with seeing you everyday for the next two weeks and act like he was none the wiser. There was still one last kiss scene, or more precisely a bed scene with how far it gets. His throat suddenly felt dry at the mere thought. How could he possibly kiss and touch you like that, knowing that it would all be real for you?

He pulled out the wedding band that had been sitting quietly in his pocket, slipping it back on his finger. It glinted in the stale light. Memories fluttered through his mind of the moment he had first put it on. He had promised someone the world, but failed to deliver it. The smile on her face was so radiant then as opposed to the faint ghost of it that remained on her lips now. He was an accomplished actor, but his marriage was a far cry from what the internet had made it out to be and the world would soon find out if he is unable to salvage what was left of it. His heart had been ridden with a perpetual ache, dull as their love had faded into. Too many times he had disappointed her, left her alone to face the world when she needed him beside her. He couldn't even blame her for the rift that separated them now. The responsibility fell solely on him, because he had not held up his part of the vows and now everything was too late. When he received the papers, his heart sunk to the point where, for the first time in his career, he found it impossible to focus.

That was when you found him. He had to partially lie to you, hopelessly convincing himself at the same time that perhaps there was still time. He could still make amends and sacrifices. After this was over, he would retire and make true his words at the altar.

It was all he could think of for the past few weeks, clouding his mind whenever the cameras stopped rolling. The only times he could catch a break was when he donned the persona of someone who did not exist. This person lived a life separate from his own and did not have the regrets he did. It allowed him to temporarily shed his own skin and put on a thinner one.

There was also another source of distraction he could not escape, you. Ever since that first kiss behind the camera, he had suspected there was something amiss. Now, that he was certain of what it was, he knew why you were so tense whenever he was near and the reason you had kept your distance. He was blind for not noticing it all those years ago, mistaking it for simple admiration. He had already hurt you once without even knowing and it was inevitable that he would hurt you again.

Filming resumed the next morning. Thanks to all of the practice last night, you completed the scenes smoothly and efficiently. The kiss scene was wrapped up in just two retakes, much to the director's delight. You sent Zhongli a grateful smile, which he reciprocated. Needless to say, the less you two had to kiss, the better it was for your sanity. Nobody was willing to tear that thin paper barrier. You had a professional reputation to uphold and he has to put his ring back on.

"So do you go back to your wife after all this and become a full-time house husband?" You teased him, unknowingly tearing open an invisible wound inside of him.

He pulled on a smile. "If she will allow me to, I'm willing to."

Your brow went up in curiosity. "I suppose I can imagine you in an apron. You'll make a handsome house husband for sure."

He chuckled, but the joy in his laughter dissipated with a sigh. "I hope so…"

"She won't want you at home all day?"

Zhongli shook his head. "I'm not sure if she…" He pauses, realizing that of he finished the sentence, he wouldn't be able to take it back. You were the last person he should be burdening his marriage troubles with.

"Well, there's only a little over a week left. You'll be free to go back to her and make up for all the dinners you missed."

He fell into another silence at your words. Could he still make up for the past five years? All those days she had to eat alone, sleep alone, wake up alone in bed, they had no doubt worn her down like the steady erosion of what was once solid stone. If not for his neglect, how would they have gotten to this point?

The two of you parted ways. You went to check out a local shopping venue with your assistant and he returned to his hotel to finally open the package that had been sitting on the table for the past few days.

He drew in an unsteady breath when he read the title of the papers. The minute he was handed the package by the concierge, he already knew what would be inside it. Was her heart bleeding still when she went to pick these up or has the bleeding stopped, the wound closed, and the pain numbed by now?

Many times, he opened up the contacts on his phone, had the impulse to call her. Would she even want to hear his voice? These papers spoke loudly. They told him that she was done waiting for him, that she no longer wanted anything to do with him.

To put it gently, she was setting him free, but the cruel truth remained. She was cutting him out of her life. By doing so, she was reclaiming herself by renouncing those vows they made so many years ago. If he signed these papers, she would cease to be his and he would no longer be hers. He would lose her, as he deserved to.

The next few days flew by. The last few scenes were finally underway, with only two days of filming left. The scene you dreaded most was in slot for tomorrow and you had already lost sleep over it. Practicing beforehand with Zhongli had helped immensely with the last intimate scene, but the next one was something you didn't even know how to bring up with him.

You had kissed before this production, but sexual intimacy was not something you had experienced before. How would you even act convincingly if you had nothing to draw from? You had spent the past two nights watching porn, not that the script required you to do anything explicit, but you had to learn as much as you could for context. What sounds should you be making? What expressions should be on your face when his lips are on your neck as opposed to your forehead? All of these details have to be thought out ahead of time.

Worse of all, if you couldn't nail the scene, Hutao would absolutely force the two of you two retake as many times as it took to achieve her vision. You didn't want to repeat the recording process of the first kiss with a scene like this. It would be absolute torture for you and very uncomfortable for Zhongli. He had a wife, but had to see through scenes like this out of professional obligation. Some actors might indulge in it, but you were fortunate Zhongli had been strictly professional with you, even if your practice sessions were held in an intimate setting like your hotel room.

"I thought you wouldn't ask." Zhongli replied, a faint smile on his lips. "For such scenes, the audience's imagination does much of the heavy lifting, but we must provide something for their minds to run off with. If the shot is out of focus, we must still be in a reasonably suggestive position. The camera will rarely show your body, because nothing is actually happening between us, but we must give the illusion that something is. The majority of the shots will focus on our faces, interspersed with a few obscured full body shots and some close ups of our hands, so touching will not be completely avoidable."

You nodded, mentally taking note of everything he said like a good student.

"I've been doing some… uh, research on my own. I can mimic the sounds and expressions, but…"

His eyes combed your face, reading the crease between your brows. There were some things that you were unable to say, but he could guess what they were just from your expression and words alone.

"You've never experienced it yourself." He said with as little intonation as possible. This was simply the conclusion he was able to reach with the clues you had given him. Had you experienced it before, you would not be this unsure of yourself.

You nodded, a flush creeping into your cheeks. It was impossible not to when discussing such a topic, much less with Zhongli of all people. It felt unbearably scandalous to even mention such a thing, yet here you were, practicing a scene like this. How in the world were you supposed to stay professional?

"What is the most delicious thing you've ever tasted? You can supplement that in your mind. Ice cream on a hot day, or perhaps a piece of chocolate that you've been craving for hours. Something along those lines will do." He supplied.

"I imagine it would be a little more intense then eating really satisfying food."

He cleared his throat, looking away from your face as if to avoid seeing your reaction to the question he's about to ask.

"Do you touch yourself on occasion?"

His eyes might not be on you, but you were sure he heard your sharp intake of breath. Touch yourself? You were not some clueless teenager and neither was he, but admitting to such a thing in front of someone you've been idealizing for so long felt wrong. You wanted to lie. If you denied it, your festered admiration for this man would never see the light.

"Do you know how to? If you go about it incorrectly, it would be hard to reach the result you seek." He continued, gaze still averted. His voice was still steady, however it had taken on a barely noticeable graininess. "I do not wish to infringe more than necessary, but if you do not feel confident enough, even an infinite amount of reshooting will make no difference."

"Could you…" You began.

"I cannot." He answered firmly, even before you could make your request. "It would be inappropriate of me to, even if you do not mind."

You nodded, blushing furiously and grateful that he had interrupted you before the foolish words could ever escape. What were you even thinking? He was a married man and from what you had seen on the internet, it was clear that he loved his wife a lot. As enticing as he was, you should've known better. Even if you were to strip naked and throw yourself at him, he wasn't the kind of person who would cheat.

"Sorry, I… Could we skip over that part for now? You said the camera would close up on our hands. We might not be doing the real deal, but the script says we'll at least be undressing a bit." You changed the subject to something a little less stimulating.

"Indeed. Those shots are often comprised of hand shots. Untying belts, unfastening buttons, touching each other in suggestive ways, that sort of thing." He elaborated.

"How far do we need to go? The script is pretty vague when it comes to the actual shots, so I guess it's up to us."

He stroked his chin, recalling a previous filming experience perhaps. "As far as we need to give the illusion some momentum. It does not take much."

"Since you're here, can we practice?" You finally mustered up the courage to ask. That was the main purpose of meeting in the privacy of your hotel room, away from prying eyes.

"Certainly." He followed you over to the bed.

You began with the several lines of buildup leading up to the intimate scene. Zhongli took a seat beside you on the bed. His posture was relaxed and his gaze soft, completely immersed in the scene and in his character's adoration of you.

"Wait." You suddenly remembered something, reaching out for his hand. "Your ring."

He snapped out of his character, surprised that you had noticed his habit of removing his wedding band. "Thank you."

"It's the least I can do." You smiled understandingly.

"Let us continue." He said after dropping the ring into his pocket.

The kiss was relatively easy for you, now that it was no longer the first time you've shared a kiss with Zhongli. He pulled away to smile at you, his gaze so unbearably tender, you wondered if he had in fact looked at someone this way before, his wife probably. What if he was imagining her everytime he kissed you? You wished you had someone to envision yourself with everytime you had to act out an intimate scene with an unfamiliar actor in the future. Would it be inappropriate if that person was him? Probably. You needed to find your own muse, preferably someone who didn't have a wife.

"Your mind is wandering, dear." He chuckled, noticing your brief lapse in focus.

"Sorry." You sighed, smiling sheepishly at him. "It just hit me how much my lack of love life affects my acting. I really should've gone on more dates before throwing myself into acting. If I had gotten myself a boyfriend or two before taking this role, it would've helped a lot in scenes like this."

"If it comforts you, I started with very little as well. It takes a considerable amount of time to accumulate life experiences, so do not let it bother you. You will often feel inadequate when scripts call for knowledge and insight you have yet to gain. Allow yourself the time to learn. No actor steps into a role completely prepared."

"I need to write that down and keep it in my wallet."

"Do whatever you need to remember." He smiled.

Practice resumed. The two of you exchanged a couple more lines before the intimate part of the scene finally unfurled. Your blouse was unbuttoned, exposing your cleavage and the lace of your bra, an alluring contrast to your skin. Your back was against the sheets, body caged beneath his looming frame. Zhongli's gaze swept down your chest, taking in the sight of you.

"Exquisite." He praises in that deep velvety voice of his.

You swallowed, heart racing against your ribcage. Even though you knew his words were scripted, you couldn't help the way they affected you. Under different circumstances, would he utter the same words? Would he still find you beautiful?

"Where would you prefer I touch you? I will restrict myself to those areas." He pauses to ask.

"Shoulders, waist, legs…" You imagined Zhongli's fingers feathering over your skin. "Anywhere except here and… there."

Your hands trailed from your chest, dipping between your legs. His gaze followed your movements, saw the way your thighs pressed together when your fingertips grazed against that sensitive place. The both of you were fully clothed from the waist down, barely touching, but it made no difference. The tension between you, the proximity, it had you drawing breaths as if something had sapped all the oxygen in the air.

Whether it was the warmth radiating off his skin or the way he gently cups your face in the palm of his hands while his lips caress yours, you couldn't differentiate what was real from what wasn't anymore. He was just a stray touch or an accidental brush away from taking advantage of you. If he wanted you, you might just let him have you, but he would never ask. He just wasn't the kind of person who would.

You bit back a gasp when you felt his hand on your thigh. His lips shifted, scattering kisses along your neck all the way to your shoulder. His other hand rested on your waist. Your mind was a mess and your senses in utter disarray. You trembled underneath him, fighting the impulse to seek even more closeness. He could only give you so much. This was all you were allowed to indulge in.

A moan escaped your parted lips, causing Zhongli to freeze. A shutter rippled through his body. He pulled away slightly.

"Are you alright?" He asked in concern.

The sounds you made, that unexpected moan, along with those tiny gasps you tried to suppress, they affected him more than his calm exterior suggested. He couldn't ignore them, no matter how hard he tried. Perhaps it was because he could easily tell when you were and when you weren't pretending.

You nodded, collecting yourself as he climbed off of you. The scene cuts to black after the couple exchanges a heated kiss in bed, so a bit of touching was all that was needed. The two of you repeated the lines a few more times and discussed the details of the bed scene in a more tactical manner as opposed to the immersive approach you attempted first. The proximity and touching still happened, but you were able to remain much more clear-headed. You were even able to relax a bit, faking a few convincing moans and giggling over it afterwards.

"Aren't you going to put it back on?" You motioned towards his right pocket, where his ring was sitting. He slipped it back on, an appreciative smile on his lips.

"Try to get some rest. You did good tonight. Tomorrow's filming should go well." He reassured you before leaving. You stood by the doorway, seeing him off as he got into his van.

You let out a relieved sigh. If it weren't for Zhongli going out of his way to help you with these difficult scenes, you wouldn't be able to catch a wink of sleep the night before filming them. The horror of that first kiss scene left you terrified of the amount of retakes Hutao was willing to put the entire crew through. Hopefully you would get good enough at them to handle whatever was waiting for you in your future scripts. Not every costar was like Zhongli, as you learned these past few years. You were insanely fortunate to have him as a mentor, but you knew better than to expect someone to hold your hand throughout your career. That was your journey to take alone and nobody could guide you all the way through it.

When Zhongli returned to his hotel room, he headed straight for the shower. His tie, suit, pants, all were tossed haphazardly on the bathroom counter. He stepped into the stall, letting the cold water cascade over his body. With every intimate scene, his regret for dragging you into this production increased.

That budding actress who used to follow him around from one production to the next, asking incessant questions and constantly lighting up his phone with text messages, she had blossomed into an exceptional actress. He had come across a recent production you were a part of, which placed you back in his peripheral. Perhaps you still doubted yourself, or perhaps you just lacked the connections, someone who could put in a good word for you. Your acting outshined that of the two leads. Why were you still stuck in supporting roles? He truly just wanted to give you a hand, but he should've given more thought on why you suddenly went radio silent all those years ago.

You were in love with him then.

You're still in love with him now.

Even the cold water couldn't flush that damning thought out of his mind. He rested his forehead against the tile wall. The way you gazed at him after he kissed you, the brief flicker of happiness that you had to mask as soon as you regained control of your emotions, he noticed, but he could do nothing about it. The way your body responds to his touch, unfamiliar but far too receptive, if he wanted to, he could've… No, he couldn't allow his mind to go there. The little gasps and sighs you let slip while his face was buried in your neck, that moan that escaped when all he did was brush his fingers along your thigh, they were now seared into his mind.

He shouldn't, he reminded himself. He still had a chance to salvage his marriage, even if it was just a sliver of one. What was he doing, thinking of you? His eyes fell on the ring on his finger. In his hurry to get in the shower, he had forgotten to take it off. Everytime he filmed, the ring was out of sight. He was the one who was married, not his character. It would not make sense for the camera to capture a wedding band on the hand of an unmarried character, so it had become a habit for him to take it off. Many married actors and actresses simply don't wear them out of practicality, but he never found it an inconvenience. It was a part of the vows he exhanged at the altar. He was never one to take contracts lightly, be it written, printed, or spoken.

Thinking of you like this was a breach. He was not helping you practice. He was not acting. He was simply a distracted man, unable to reign in his wandering mind. Your flustered expressions, the softness of your lips, and the feel of your skin against his fingers, all these phantoms of you kept finding their way back into his mind. Something inside of him had crumbled tonight. He placed his palm against the wall, his breathing growing shallow. You rendered him brittle, like a chisel hammered deep into a crack. He peered at the glinting ring on his hand through the curtain of water.

He could hear you, everytime you called his name, that accidental moan, along with those little gasps you let slip. You were a decadent treat laid out beneath him. All he had to do was reach out. He might not have done anything to you just now, but he couldn't deny the devastating affect you had on his self control, especially now that he was alone.

With a frustrated sigh, he pulled the ring off his finger and placed it on the niche in the wall. He then adjusted the cold water to a more comfortable temperature. It was not working in the slightest.

A shuttered breath expelled from his lungs as he reached down, wrapping a hand around his hardened cock. He closed his eyes, pumping himself at a steady pace. It had been a while since he had done this.

He imagined your body trapped between his own and the slippery tile wall. The waterdrops adorning your breasts would make them appear even more luscious. He wondered how soft they would be in his hands. You'd bite your lip the way you do when you're trying to suppress your moans as he kneads them. He would part your legs with a knee. One of his hands would slip between your legs to play with your weeping cunt, fingering your clit and making you tremble with pleasure. You'd already be dripping for him, whimpering his name with increasing urgency. The adorable flush on your cheeks would get deeper as he pressed his lips against yours, drinking in the sweet sounds you make.

Tonight, he learned that you lacked this sort of experience. Probably didn't even know how to properly touch yourself, much less bring yourself to orgasm. He imagined you curled up in your hotel bed, the one he had you laying underneath him on. Were you just as affected by the heated practice session as he was? Was he on your mind just as you were on his? He really shouldn't be thinking of you like this, pleasuring himself at the thought of you.

If you touched yourself to the thought of him, would you be imagining his fingers curling against your squelching walls, or would it be his thick cock buried in your tight little pussy? Would you be imagining him fucking you from the front or ramming into you from behind? He let out a groan, the tip of his cock dripping as he worked himself into a frenzy. He would savor every needy sound and blissful expression you make as you take everything he gave you, your body trembling from the force of his thrusts.

Zhongli let out a loud groan as he finally released, spilling himself all over the shower floor. The water flushed everything away. He scrubbed himself clean and stepped out of the shower, heart heavy with a sludge of emotions. His mind also whirled with conflicting thoughts. Some revolved around you and some around a woman he had vowed to love and cherish until death did them part.

During that year-long honeymoon, he had taken a hiatus from acting in order to spend time with her. They had made love in more beds than he could count, so the attraction and affection was undeniably there. He strived to satisfy her, fulfilling every fantasy she could possibly have. He simply wanted to make her happy and he succeeded, for a while. She was an insatiable woman, but in his eyes, it had always been an endearing trait of hers. If it was air she needed, he was happy to supply her with it. Months flew by, countless shows of marrital bliss decorated their social media timeline. The joy was shared by all his fans, some innocently asking when the pregnancy announcements were coming.

Perhaps that was what started the spiral of self-doubt. After an entire year of putting off his career, he finally stopped declining scripts, encouraging her to return to her career as well. In his mind, he envisioned the brief separation would bring back the person he had known before they had gotten romantically involved. She was once a dazzling gem, but somehow when she fell into his hands, her light went out. Guilt rose from the shadows of their stagnant marriage, choking him until he could no longer breathe in her presence. He began taking more work, leaving her alone at home for longer and longer stretches of time.

Everytime he returned home from filming, her crestfallen face would tell him nothing had changed. He had long lost the power to bring her happiness, but he refused to abandon her. Everytime he slipped that ring back onto his finger, he renewed his vows. His patience had always been an asset, but this time, perhaps it was a liability, a gilded deadweight that he had chained the both of them to.

He had been hoping for so long for a miracle, yet what he received were papers demanding his signature. She always wanted what she wanted. Perhaps he had never truly understood her well enough. If they had dated for longer than they had, he would've realized they were incompatible. A fading memory, a marriage covered in years of dust, was it really worth salvaging? Would she even be happy if he gave into her demands now, or would she mock him for trying too late?

She was giving him an open door. Perhaps it was finally time to leave. He placed the ring on the stack of papers and dimmed the lights. All these years, perhaps it was this ring he should have taken off. The most difficult roles to take on were often ones unsuitable for the actor to play, but unlike film, life didn't come with a script.

---

Author's Note: I know this probably feels unfinished since Zhongli and reader didn't get together. It's a bit different from my other entries since it's less about the smut or relationship between Zhongli and reader, but more so focused on Zhongli himself. This fic was an opportunity for me to explore into darker themes.

Author's Note 2: I was trying to edit something and accidentally deleted the old post! This is a repost.

#zhongli x reader #zhongli fanfic #zhongli smut #zhongli x you #mdni #18+ mdni #minors do not interact #genshin x reader #kinktober 2024

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jazzy96scorpio · 2 days ago

Text

The Black Rose and the Star

Chapter 1 Unspoken Words

Description: Landing a job at SNL is huge for you as photographer, but the real surprise comes in when you met ridiculously charming actor [Pedro Pascal]. From secret studio dances to late-night pizza and poetry, your connection is undeniable. Turns out, the best things in life are totally unplanned.😉 It's a slow burn and so fluffy. For now 🫣

I think we all have delulu dreams of Pedro so here is mine 😊

Pairing: You / Pedro Pascal

Word count: 2,319

It was Friday, you were in studio finishing your work, you were happy, you are going to rest finally. When your phone rings. It was your boss. SHIT you thought.

"Ugh, seriously?" you groaned, already picturing your relaxing Friday night going up in smoke. Your boss's voice on the other end of the phone wasn't promising anything good. "What's the fire drill this time?" you ask him.

"Lorne Michaels' office called," he explained "They need a new photographer. Mary Ellen's sick."

Your heart skipped a beat. Mary Ellen Matthews. The legendary SNL photographer. "And…?" you prompted, barely daring to breathe.

"Lorne's seen your work," your boss continued. "He specifically requested you."

Your breath hitched. Whoa.

Lorne Michaels himself had seen your work? That was…insane. "Okay," you managed, trying to sound cool and collected when inside you were freaking out.

"Oh, and there's one tiny detail," your boss added, and you could practically hear the smirk. "You'll be working with Pedro Pascal."

Your brain short-circuited. Pedro Pascal. Pedro Pascal. The name echoed in your head like a beautiful melody. You loved his work. You loved his everything, honestly. The thought of actually meeting him, working with him… it was too much. A giggle threatened to escape, and you bit your lip to keep it in. "Okay, cool," you mumbled, trying to play it cool.

"Be at Studio 8H at NBC on Monday," your boss instructed.

"Will do," you replied, your mind already a million miles away. Studio 8H. SNL. Him. It was all so ridiculously exciting. You hung up, a huge grin spreading across your face. Friday night plans? Forget about it. Monday couldn't get here fast enough. You were going to meet him.

The whole weekend was a wash. Sleep? Forget about it. Your brain was a non-stop party of "OMG I'm meeting him" on repeat. Monday morning finally rolled around, and you practically bounced out of bed, dragging your assistant along for the ride. The studio was buzzing, the kind of organized chaos that comes with live TV. You met the producers, the crew – everyone was super nice and professional. And then… he walked in.

Holy crap.

Your brain just…froze. He was even more amazing in person. Seriously, spectacular. He said hi to everyone, that smile of his making your heart do a weird little flip-flop. Then he vanished into an office with the producers, and you tried to, you know, breathe again.

A few minutes later, he came back out, and one of the producers waved you over.

"Pedro, this is the photographer," he said.

You stuck out your hand, trying so hard not to be a total mess. "Hi, I'm…," you managed, getting your name out without too much stammering. He shook your hand, and whoa, that touch. Electric.

"Nice to meet you," he said, and his voice was just as warm and charming as you'd hoped.

"You two are working together tomorrow," the producer said. "We're shooting the promo pics."

"Alright," you replied, trying to play it cool. Inside, you were screaming. He smiled again, and you were pretty sure your knees almost gave out.

Then he turned to the crew, and they all started talking about the script. The vibe shifted, everyone getting down to business. You watched him chat with everyone, so relaxed and enthusiastic. You couldn't help but wonder what tomorrow would be like.

Shoot day 📸

That day was a trip. You were floating, high on the excitement of him, and trying to play it cool. Today was that day – the photoshoot. You practically leaped out of bed (okay, maybe you snoozed the alarm once or twice), picked out your best outfit (but, like, a cool, casual best), showered, and even put on some makeup (but, you know, the "I woke up like this" kind).

When you arrived at the studio, he was already there. Coco, his groomer and friend, was working on his hair. You introduced yourself to her; she was lovely. Then, you told him you'd wait until he was ready.

Half an hour later, you were setting up your camera, a little shaky despite having worked with big names before. This was different. This was him. And then he walked in.

Oh. My. God.

He was…gorgeous. His hair… you had a sudden, almost overwhelming urge to run your fingers through it. That cute face tucked between my… "Girl, are you alright?" Emma, your assistant, nudged you, her eyes wide. "Yeah, fine," you mumbled, but you knew she'd never seen you like this.

You started shooting, and he was a total pro. So talented, so gorgeous. It was easy, actually. He listened to your directions, and the camera just loved him.

Finally, the shoot was done. You walked over, thanking him.

"I'd love to see the pics," he said.

You showed him your laptop, and as you scrolled through the photos, he leaned in close.

His cologne smelled insane, and you were trying really hard not to just melt on the spot. "These are awesome," he said, grinning. "I love them."

And then, he put his hand on your shoulder. Fuck. You were pretty sure you were melting. "You did an amazing job," he whispered in your ear.

"Well," you managed, your voice a little husky, "it was you. You're incredible. It was pleasure working with you."

And then he left winking at you, leaving your heart pounding like a drum solo. You were officially a mess.

You sat at your table, fingers flying across the keyboard as you edited the photos. He was close by, at the next table, going over the script with the crew. Emma, your ever-attentive assistant, came over. "Need anything?"

"The strongest coffee you can find," you groaned, rubbing your burning eyes.

"And an energy drink. I haven't slept in days."

"That's not healthy," she scolded gently.

"Well, I've gotta die from something," you mumbled, only half-joking.

She giggled. "What kind of coffee?"

"Black as my soul and cold as ice," you replied.

Emma, being the absolute gem she was, turned to Pedro and the crew. "Anyone else need anything?"

"I'll have what she's having," he said, looking over at you and smiling.

You were like Wait, did that just happen? He smiled at me?

Emma brought the coffees, and you thanked her profusely.

"Seriously," she said, giving you a concerned look. "You need to do something about this insomnia. Have you tried sleep pills?"

"Yeah, they don't really work," you sighed.

"What about tea?" she asked.

You gave her a look. "Do I look like tea is going to calm me down?"

She laughed. "Good point."

"I hate tea," you confessed.

"Okay, okay," she said, still chuckling. "Just trying to help."

"I know, and I appreciate that thank you." you said, giving her a grateful smile. She was the best.

About an hour after Pedro was leaving with his friend, he strolled back in. And, to your surprise, he actually said goodbye to you. You felt your cheeks warm up a little. Right then, the producer showed up. "Hey, those photos and videos," he said. "Think you can get them to us by morning? We need them for tomorrow."

"Yep, I can do that," you said. "Just gotta finish up here."

"Awesome! Thanks," he replied, looking relieved.

Hours later, you were finally almost done. The program was rendering, and you were just chilling, waiting for it to finish up so you could send everything off. You were beat, but figured you'd put on some tunes to keep you going. A few minutes later, you were totally in your zone, dancing and belting out the lyrics, not a care in the world. You were alone, after all, and enjoying the moment.

Then, boom, he was just there. Pedro. He was cracking up.

"Those are some serious moves," he said, grinning. "Uh, I just forgot my glasses and script."

You froze, totally embarrassed. "Oh my god," you mumbled, your face getting hot. "I didn't realize anyone was around."

"No worries," he chuckled. "Your secret's safe with me. Unless… you want to give me a lesson?" He gestured playfully. "I've always wanted to learn how to… uh… do that." He attempted a little hip swivel, which came out more like a shimmy, and you couldn't help but laugh.

Your heart did a little flutter-kick. "Oh, please," you said, trying to play it cool. "You'd probably break something."

"Hey, I'm a fast learner," he protested, grinning. He was already shuffling closer, trying to copy your earlier moves, though not quite as gracefully. "Come on, show me what you got."

"Okay, fine," you laughed, showing him a basic step. He was actually into it, and before you knew it, you were both laughing and twirling around the studio to the beat of the song."Wow," you said, impressed. "You've got some serious rhythm. Those hips don't lie." He was a good dancer, you had to admit.

"You know," he said, his voice a little breathy, "for someone who claims to be tired, you've got a lot of energy." He moved even closer, a playful glint in his eyes. "And," he murmured, his voice dropping, "you smell amazing."

Fuck, you thought. I really want this man.

"It's called the power of RUN-DMC," you replied, trying to sound casual even though your insides were doing a wild dance.

He was so close, and at one point, he lightly touched your waist as he spun you, and whoa. "You dance like this always?" he asked, his eyes locking with yours. "You're good."

"No," you replied, a shy smile playing on your lips. "Only when I'm alone."

He grinned, a genuine, warm smile that made your heart melt. He was enjoying this moment with you, you could tell.

It was a perfect, crazy, unexpected moment… until your phone rang, totally killing the vibe.

Your phone wouldn't stop buzzing. "You should probably answer that," he said, nodding towards the insistent ringing.

You sighed and picked up. After a brief, tense exchange, you hung up, but the conversation clearly wasn't over. He left to find his glasses and script, but he came back just as your ex’s voice boomed from your phone.

"I told you, we are done. Don't call me ever again!" you snapped, your voice rising. Pedro’s face creased with worry as he overheard the shouting.

You slammed the phone down on the table, fuming. "Everything okay?" he asked, his brow furrowed. "Who was that?"

"My ex," you said, still trying to control your anger. "Long story..I don't want to mention him."

"Ok," he said, shaking his head. "You shouldn't be treated like that. Seriously. If you need anything, anything at all, I'm here."

"Thank you," you said, the sincerity in your voice palpable. "That means a lot." You glanced at the time. "I should probably get going. I'm finally done here."

You both left the building together. "Thanks again for the dance," you said, a small smile playing on your lips. "I actually had fun." He says "I enjoyed too."

You started to walk away, but he called after you. "Hey, where's your car?"

"It's in the repair shop," you explained.

"Oh," he said. "It's pretty late. I don't want you taking the bus alone. Let me give you a ride."

"Really? You don't have to—"

"No, I insist," he said. "It's the least I can do."

You got in the car, and the ride was comfortable, easy. You chatted about everything, the earlier tension fading away. When you pulled up to your apartment building, you thanked him for the ride.

As you reached for your stuff in the backseat, he was already opening the door for you.

"Allow me," he said, flashing that charming smile.

Such a gentleman, you thought. "Thank you," you said, feeling a little flustered. Then, a slightly crazy thought popped into your head.

"Hey," you blurted out, "are you hungry? I was planning to make a pizza." You were immediately nervous that you were being too forward.

He chuckled, noticing your hesitation. "Actually," he said, "I'm starving. And pizza sounds perfect. I'm a sucker for a good pizza." He grinned. "Especially when someone else is preparing it."

"Great!" you said, relief washing over you. "Come on in." And just like that, you were walking into your apartment with him.

💓

You get into your apartment. "Make yourself at home," you said. "I'll grab you something to drink while I prepare the pizza."

He wandered over to the bookshelves that lined one wall. "Wow, you've got quite a collection," he commented, running a hand along the spines. "You're a reader?"

"Yeah, books and movies are my two favorite things," you replied.

He chuckled, his eyes landing on a shelf crammed with everything from classic literature to steamy romance novels.

"Crime and Punishment right next to… those," he said, a playful smirk on his face. "I like your range."

"Hey, a girl's gotta have options," you said, grinning."Sometimes you need Dostoevsky, sometimes you need..well, you know spicy stuff."

"I get it," he said, still chuckling.

His gaze drifted to the small table by the wall, where a single black rose stood in a glass vase. "Wow," he said, his voice softer now.

"That's… striking. A black rose. I've never seen one before."

"They're my favorite," you said, walking over to the rose. "They're from Türkiye. They're unique. And so beautiful to me." You say "They just feel…special."

"They are special," he agreed, coming to stand beside you. "They suit you."

You looked up at him, surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah," he said, his eyes meeting yours.

"They're beautiful, a little mysterious… just like you."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. "Thank you," you whispered.

"That's… really nice of you to say."

"I mean it," he said, his voice low. "Everything about this place…it feels like you.It's… I don’t know… comfortable."

So, you are movie buff too? What are some favorites?"

"Ugh, that's the hardest question ever," you groaned. "I love anything with a good story, but I'm a sucker for good comedy and, you know, movies with twists that make your jaw drop."

You hoped he wouldn't pull out one of the spicier books, but of course, he did. He picked up one with a particularly intriguing title and flipped it open. He read a few lines, his eyebrows shooting up. "Whoa," he said, a grin spreading across his face. "This is…descriptive"

"Put that down," you said, laughing and playfully swatting his arm.

"You're going to corrupt my innocent image."

"Too late," he said, still grinning. "The image has been corrupted."

"Pizza will be ready in about fifteen minutes," you announced, settling on the sofa next to him. He was still holding the book.

"So," he said, flipping through the pages. "This one's yours?" He pointed to a slim volume bound in soft leather.

"Yeah," you said. "It's my… poetry journal. I write all my favorite poems in there."

"Mind if I take a peek?" he asked.

"Sure," you said, a little nervous. It felt weirdly intimate, sharing your favorite poems with him. He flipped through the pages and then stopped. "This one," he said. "Read this one to me."

You took the book, your heart pounding a little. You cleared your throat and read him your favorite poem, the words flowing easily off your tongue, even with him sitting right next to you, listening intently.

"All I want, is to lose myself in your eyes, to forget the world and feel like I belong to something real, something I can't escape, even if I wanted to."

You finished the poem, your voice soft.

"That's… really beautiful," he said, his gaze fixed on you.

"This one's my absolute favorite," you said, turning the page.

"It's called 'I Love You From Afar.'" And then you began to read:

"I love you from afar

without being able to smell your scent

to embrace your nape

to feel your face

I merely love you

from afar, I just love you

not holding your hand

without touching your heart

nor dissolving in your eyes

in spite of today’s three-day love fads

not wildly but like a woman, I love you

I just love you from afar

without wiping off the two tears running down your cheeks

not joining you in your heartiest laughs

nor crooning together with you your most favorite song

from afar, I just love you

without disappointing,

not pouring out anything

without destroying

not making sad,

nor causing a cry, I love you from afar

I just love you like that from afar;

by shredding in my tongue

every word I want to tell you

I love you

I love you on a white piece of paper

while my words fall down, drop by drop…"

When you finished, there was a comfortable silence. He was looking at you, his expression thoughtful. "That's… intense," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. "Really beautiful, though." He paused. "It's, like, really vulnerable, too."

You shrugged a little. "Yeah, well," you said. "Poetry. It's kind of my thing."

You paused, then added, "I think that kind of love, the 'from afar' kind, is the purest, biggest love a human being can feel. But also the one that's hurts the most. It's all about the heart, no expectations, no conditions."

He nodded slowly. "I can see that," he said. "There's a certain… power in that kind of selfless love, isn't there?"

You nodded back. "Yeah." You felt a little exposed, but it wasn't an uncomfortable feeling. It was… nice.

You stood up and checked on the pizza. Perfect. You set the table, and he came over, a smile on his face."Smells amazing," he said.

He took a bite, his eyes widening. "Wow," he said. "This is… seriously good. Best pizza I've had in ages." He polished off a slice.

"You've got some serious culinary skills."

"Thanks," you said, pleased. "It's my secret recipe."

You grabbed a beer from the fridge, handing it to him. "Perfect pairing," he declared. You shook your head, still a little in disbelief.

"I still can't believe I'm sitting here, eating pizza with you," you said, laughing a little. "This has been the best night. Thank you for keeping me company.”

"The pleasure was all mine," he said, his eyes meeting yours. "I really enjoyed tonight, too. The dancing, the poetry… the pizza." He grinned. "It was all perfect."

After you finished eating, he picked up the poetry book again. "Mind if I borrow this?" he asked. "I'd love to read some more of these poems."

"Of course," you said. "Just promise you'll give it back."

"Wouldn't dream of keeping it," he said, carefully tucking the book into his jacket.

As he stood at the door, ready to leave, he turned back to you. "Thank you again for tonight," he said, his voice warm. He stepped closer and, before you knew it, he pulled you into a hug. It was quick, but it was…..AMAZING.

His arms around you, the scent of his cologne… it was the best feeling ever. "Good night," he whispered.

"Good night," you replied, your heart still doing a little happy dance.

He was gone, and you were left standing in your apartment, a dazed smile on your face. It was late, you were exhausted, but you couldn't quite believe what had just happened. Pizza, poetry, dancing, a hug… with him. It felt like a dream.

The next two days were a blur of rehearsals and prep for Saturday's show. Friday was pretaping, and you mostly tried not to just stare at him the whole time. Seriously, he was so captivating to watch. Just pure talent.

After filming wrapped, he came over to you, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I've been reading your poems," he said. "They're… really something. You should publish them. Seriously."

You felt a blush creeping up your neck. "Oh, come on," you said, trying to downplay it. "They're not that good."

"They are," he insisted. "They're honest and raw and… beautiful. You have a real gift." He paused, a playful glint in his eyes. "And," he added, "I was thinking… maybe we could have a pizza and poetry night sometime? Just the two of us?"

"Sure," you said, trying to sound all chill. "Sounds fun. But next time, we're watching a movie. My pick."

"Okay, deal," he said. "I'm down for that." He leaned in a little. "You know," he murmured, "it's been really nice getting to know you. I feel… comfortable around you. It's cool."

"Yeah, thank you" you said, your heart doing a little flutter-kick. "I'm glad to hear that." You were trying so hard to play it cool, but inside you were doing a happy dance. You couldn't wait for that movie night.

🎥🎬

Saturday night was electric. The studio buzzed with energy, and you were right in the thick of it, helping the crew wherever you could, but mostly, let's be honest, you were watching him.

He walked in, all in black, those gorgeous curls framing his face, that "dad bod" he rocked so perfectly… you couldn't take your eyes off him.

"Honey, you are so in love," Emma whispered, nudging you playfully.

"I mean, who wouldn't be?" you replied, only half-joking. "That man is a Zaddy."

Emma laughed. You started humming.

Sex bomb, sex bomb, you're my sex bomb

And, baby, you can turn me on.

And before you knew it, you and Emma were belting out the song, doing a little impromptu dance party.

Then, the stream ended, and he walked up, having clearly heard your little performance. His face was serious. "Who's the sex bomb?" he asked, his voice low.

Oh crap you thought. Emma froze, her eyes wide. You turned around, and there he was.

"I… I'm sorry," you stammered. "I just… couldn't help myself."

He burst out laughing. "I'm just kidding," he said. "I love that song. And, if I may say…" He touched your shoulder lightly. "You're the one."

Your mind went blank. Did he just…?

You managed a "Thank you," your voice a little shaky.

"Are you coming to the after-party?" he asked.

"Nah," you said. "I'm not really a big party person."

"Me neither," he said. "But… would you come with me? Just for a little while?"

Oh my god, is he… asking me out?

"Yes," you managed, trying to keep your voice steady. "I'd love to."

After everything wrapped up, he came over. "Come on," he said, taking your hand. "Let's go."

Walking into the after-party with him was surreal. Everyone was looking at you, and you suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious. He got you a drink, and then, he asked you to dance. It was a slow song, and when he took your hand and pulled you close, his hand resting on your waist, you thought you might actually melt. Oh my god. His body was so close to yours, and you felt your heart pounding in your chest.

What is this man doing to me? You had never felt like this before.

Pedro POV ❤️‍🔥

The music swirled around us, a slow, pulsing beat. She moved with a quiet grace, her body swaying in time with the rhythm. God, I thought, she’s stunning. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but there was something about her… something mysterious, intriguing. I’d been drawn to her from the moment I’d seen her .

And then I’d heard her poetry…raw, honest, beautiful. Even her slightly awkward, goofy humor. And her food. Everything about her was captivating me in a way I didn’t quite understand.

I pulled her a little closer, my hand resting lightly on her waist. Her perfume was intoxicating. Damn, I thought. I wanted her. Badly. But I didn't want to rush things. There was something special about her, something I didn't want to mess up. Her eyes… those intense eyes, and that soft hair… and that silly, unguarded side of her, the way she’d just been dancing and singing without a care in the world. It was captivating.

"I think you're gorgeous," I murmured, my voice low. "I haven't met anyone like you before."

"Thank you," she said, a little breathless. "You're pretty incredible yourself. Seriously, this week has been amazing."

"Mine too," I said, my eyes locking with hers.

When the song ended, a wave of nervousness washed over her. "I should probably get going," she said, suddenly feeling shy.

"I'll drive you," I offered.

She nodded, grateful.

❣️

At your apartment door, he handed you back your poetry book. "Thanks for the dance," he said, a warm smile gracing his lips. "And for a beautiful night."

"It was… the best night ever," you blurted out, then immediately cringed. Smooth.

He hesitated, his breath catching a little. You saw something shift in his expression. Then, he leaned in, cupped your cheek in his hand, and kissed you. It was a sweet, tentative kiss, like he was testing the waters. He pulled back a little, looking almost nervous. "I'm sorry," he stammered. "I didn't mean to—"

Before he could finish, you grabbed him and kissed him again, harder this time, all that pent-up energy finally finding an outlet. You didn't want him to apologize. You wanted this. You pulled him inside, kicked the door shut, and suddenly, it was just the two of you. The air between you was electric.

Thanks for the reading ❣️ Please like, reblog or comment. I appreciate it alot. 💖

Chapter 2😉🫦

@pedrohub @pedgito @littlemisspascal

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal snl #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fluff #pedrohub #pedrostories #Spotify #pedro pascal #SoundCloud

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joelmillerisapunk · 14 hours ago

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Love me like a loaded gun

fuckbuddy!jJavier Peña x f!reader // 1.3k

There's things I wanna say to you but I'll just let you live. Like if you hold me without hurting me you'll be the first who ever did.There's things I wanna talk about but better not to give.

summary: Javier Peña is a man who never stays, but that doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door, seeking solace in the only way he knows how.

-or-

my interpretation of Cinnamon Girl by Lana Del Rey if it was a Javi fic

warnings: mdni, 18+, unprotected emotions, unprotected p in v, a lil fingering, a lot of angst

notes: this is the doings of this tiktok (which I suggest you watch the 23 seconds of it to get in your feels before reading) AND the song that was on the tiktok Cinnamon Girl by Lana Del Rey and then I heard 2 Hands by Tate McRae and it was over for me. Thank you @milla-frenchy for doing what you did. Thank you @thundermartini my baby for reading this lil guy over for me and always hyping me up and cheerleading me with everything especially my moodboard crisis that seems to be never-ending.love you both so much 💖

masterlist

Javier Peña is a hard man to hold onto. He never stays in one place too long. Never lets anyone get too close. You’ve known that since the moment you met him.

But that doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door in the middle of the night, his knuckles rapping against the wood like he already knows you’ll let him in.

You shouldn’t.

But you do.

Javi steps inside without a word, the familiar scent of cigarettes and whiskey clinging to him, sinking into the space between you. He looks like he had a long night—tie loosened, hair a mess, the weight of something unspoken pressing down on his shoulders.

You cross your arms, leaning against the doorframe. “You could’ve called.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, but it’s humorless. “Didn’t think I needed to.”

He doesn’t. He never does. And that’s the problem.

You watch him shrug off his jacket and take off his tie, tossing them over the back of the couch like he belongs here. Like this is just another night, another excuse, another way to forget whatever the hell’s been haunting him.

Your stomach twists.

“Mmm, guess not.” You say with a voice softer than you mean it to be.

Javi looks at you—really looks. His dark eyes flicker with something unreadable, something caught between hunger and hesitation. He’s good at this game, at keeping his distance even when he’s got his hands all over you.

You should tell him no. Should tell him that you’re done being the thing he comes to when he needs to bury the parts of himself he won’t face.

But then he steps closer.

“You want me to leave?” His voice is low, rough, but there’s something vulnerable under it, something he tries to hide.

You could say yes. You should say yes.

Instead, you reach for him.

His lips crash against yours before you can even think, all teeth and desperation, almost angry, like he’s trying to take something from you—like he needs this more than he should. Your fingers slide into his hair, and he groans into your mouth, deep and ragged.

Your fingers move down and twist into his shirt, holding on like you can stop him from slipping away. But he always does, in the end.

His hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you feel the heat of him through his clothes, through yours. You hate how easily your body reacts to him, how familiar this all is, how much you want him even when you know he won’t stay.

It’s always like this. Heated, frantic, like he’s running from something. Like you’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

You let him back you toward the bed, your fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders.

You break the kiss just enough to whisper, “Javi.”

He breathes against your skin, his lips dragging along your jaw, down your throat. “Don’t,” he murmurs. “Don’t say my name like that.”

Like you mean it. Like this means something.

But it does.

And you both know it.

His hands slide under your shirt, rough fingertips against soft skin, and you shiver at the way he touches you—possessive, desperate, like he’s trying to brand himself into you. Like he wants to forget everything except the way you feel beneath him.

Without a word, he grips the hem of your shirt and tugs it upward, his knuckles skimming along your sides as he peels it over your head. His eyes darken as he takes you in—bare skin, breathless anticipation, the way your chest rises and falls beneath his gaze.

His fingers find the clasp of your bra, unhooking it with a practiced ease. He pushes the straps from your shoulders, letting them slide down your arms before tossing it aside.

Javi’s hands are on you in an instant, palms rough against the softness of your breasts. His thumbs brush over your nipples, teasing them into hardened peaks.

You let him pull you down onto the sheets, let him hold you the way he only does in the dark. His hands are reverent, his mouth sinful, his body pressing into yours like he can carve himself into your bones. And you let him, because you need this too.

And he doesn't hold back.

Javi is all over you, his hands skimming down your stomach, pushing your pants and underwear off with the kind of urgency that makes your breath catch. His fingers brush against the heat between your legs, and he exhales sharply, like the feel of you alone is enough to unravel him.

"Always so fuckin' wet for me," he mutters against your throat, his voice rough, almost angry. The way his fingers stroke over you is anything but. It's worship. It's desperation. He spreads you open, a slow, teasing drag of his fingers before he slides one inside you.

Your back arches. "Javi—”

He cuts you off with his mouth, swallowing your moan as he works another finger inside you, curling them just right, like he knows your body better than his own. Maybe he does. Maybe that's why he keeps coming back.

His free hand grips your thigh, spreading you wider, keeping you in place like he needs you to stay right there—needs this to last. But it never does.

You reach for him, tugging at his belt, desperate for more, and he lets you, pushing his jeans down just enough to free himself. He’s already hard, already aching, the tip dragging through the slick between your thighs before he presses in, slow and deep.

Your head falls back, a whimper catching in your throat as he stretches you open, as your body takes him the way it always does. Like he belongs there. Like you were made for this.

Javi groans, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath ragged. "You feel so fuckin’ good."

His hips start to move, slow at first, deep, like he wants to drag it out, like he wants to feel every inch of you. But then your fingers dig into his back, your nails biting into his skin, and something in him snaps.

He thrusts harder, deeper, his hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise. You cling to him, gasping his name, and he hates it, hates the way it makes something crack open inside him, so he kisses you rough and messy, like he can make you forget what you just said.

You don’t.

And neither does he.

It’s fast and desperate, a little too rough, a little too much, like you’re both trying to take something from each other that neither of you can really give.

But right now, it’s enough.

For a moment, it feels like he’s yours.

For a moment, you can pretend.

His hand slides between your bodies, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit, dragging you closer to the edge, until you're falling, unraveling beneath him. You cry out, your body tightening around him, and Javi follows right after, a shuddering groan pressed into your skin as he spills inside you.

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. Heavy breathing. The warmth of his body still pressed against yours.

Then, like always, the moment starts to slip away.

Javi pulls out too soon. Rolls onto his back. And when you glance at him, when you see the way he stares at the ceiling like he’s already somewhere else, the ache in your chest spreads like wildfire.

You don’t ask him to stay. You don’t ask what this is or what it could be.

And he doesn’t offer, doesn't pretend this is anything more.

Because Javi loves like he fights—reckless, desperate, and always ready to leave before the dust settles.

And you let him.

Even when it breaks you.

#javier peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña #javier pena smut #javier peña narcos #narcos fic #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal smut

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goshikisbaee · 2 days ago

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Spending Valentine’s Day With Haikyuu Characters (part 1)

content: Fluff

[ Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Kuroo, Bokuto, Akaashi ]

———-

TŌRU OIKAWA

Valentine’s Day with Oikawa is nothing short of extra. From the moment you wake up, there’s a bouquet of your favorite flowers waiting for you with a note in his neat handwriting: “For the most beautiful person in my life.” He insists on making the day perfect— though his definition of “perfect” may include a little too much of his dramatic flair.

He shows up to pick you up in his favorite casual but classy outfit, grinning like he’s just won a championship match. “You didn’t think I’d forget, did you, my love?” he teases, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

He takes you to a cute café where he spends half the time holding your hand across the table and the other half bragging about how he managed to snag the “best date” in the world. The barista can’t help but roll their eyes at his antics, but you can’t stop laughing.

In true Oikawa fashion, the evening involves stargazing—because of course he has to incorporate something romantic and dreamy. Lying beside you, he points out random constellations, only half accurate because he’s too busy sneaking glances at you.

“I dont need the stars when I’ve got you,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face. Cheesy? Absolutely. But with him, it’s always endearing.

The night ends with him pulling you close, a soft, genuine smile replacing his usual cocky grin. “Thank you for being my Valentine,” he whispers, his voice quieter than usual. “I promise, you’ll always be my number one.”

HAJIME IWAIZUMI

Valentine’s day with Iwaizumi is simple but meaningful. He’s not one for grand romantic gestures, but he makes sure you feel loved in the ways that matter. When you wake up, there’s a nearly wrapped box on your nightstand—inside is a practical yet thoughtful gift, like a hoodie that smells like him or your favorite snacks. “Didn’t wanna get you something useless,” the note reads.

When he picks you up, he’s dressed casually, but you cant tell he put in a little extra effort—his hair is styled just right, and he’s actually wearing that nice cologne you love. He greets you with a gruff, “you look nice,” before quickly looking away, ears slightly red.

Dinner is at his favorite spot—nothing fancy, just good food and a comfortable atmosphere. He doesnt gush over you like someone like Oikawa would, but his small actions say everything: making sure you get the last bite, keeping his hand on your knee absentmindedly, sending a death glare at anything who looks at you for too long.

After dinner, he surprises you with a late night drive, ending at a quiet scenic spot. Sitting beside you, he lets out a deep sigh, looking up at the sky. “I know I dont say it a lot, but… I’m really lucky to have you.” His fingers find yours, squeezing them gently.

Before you part ways, he pulls you into a warm, lingering hug, resting his chin on your head. “Happy Valentine’s Day idiot,” he mutters, voice softer than usual. You smile, knowing that even without the over the top romance, every moment with him is real.

TETSURŌ KUROO

Valentine’s Day with Kuroo is fun—because, of course, he turns everything into an opportunity to tease you. You wake up to a text that reads; “Happy Valentine’s Day to my favorite nerd. Yes, you’re my favorite. No you can’t tell anyone.” A few minutes later, another message: “wear something cute. Not that you need help looking good, but, you know… for my sake.”

When he picks you up, he greets you with his signature smirk and a ridiculous gift—maybe a cat plushie because “it reminded me of myself. Handsome, charming, and definitely your favorite.” But before you can roll your eyes, he hands you something real—your favorite snack or a small thoughtful present that proves he actually pays attention.

Dinner is at a casual yet surprisingly nice restaurant, where he spends half the time making flirty comments and the other half pretending to listen while secretly just admiring you. “You know, I’d let you ramble about anything if it means I get to keep looking at you.”

After dinner, he takes you somewhere unexpected—maybe a late night arcade or a rooftop with a city view. Sitting next to you, he finally drops the teasing for a second, nudging your shoulder before saying, “you know, I joke around a lot, but I mean it when I say you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Before the night ends, he pulls you into by the waist, looking down at you with that lazy grin. “Happy Valentine’s Day, babe. Hope you’re ready for many more.” And with that, he finally gives you the kiss he’s been holding off all night.

KŌTARŌ BOKUTO

Valentine’s Day with Bokuto is non stop excitement from the moment it begins. You wake up to a spam of texts:

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!!!”

“WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP”

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT DAY IT IS???”

“IT’S THE DAY I GET TO SPOIL YOU, DUH.”

When he finally picks you up, he’s practically bouncing with energy, holding a massive bouquet—probably way bigger than necessary. “I didn’t know which flowers to get, so I got all of them!” He grins, handing them over like he just won an award.

Your date is a mix of everything fun—he takes you to an arcade, a cute café, and maybe even a spontaneous adventure like ice skating (which he’s surprisingly good at). Every few minutes, he reminds you, “BEST. DAY. EVER.” And insists on taking a million selfies.

At dinner, he’s a mix of loud excitement and soft admiration, stuffing his face one second and staring at you like you hung the moon the next. “I’m so lucky,” he sighs dramatically between bites, before pointing his fork at you. “Hey. You know that, right? That I love you?”

The night ends with him wrapping you in the biggest hug ever, lifting you off the ground effortlessly. “Best Valentine’s Day ever,” he declares, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. Then, with a cheeky grin, he adds, “same time next year? Actually, scratch that. Every day should be like this.”

KEIJI AKAASHI

Valentine’s Day with Akaashi is quietly romantic, filled with soft gestures that show just how much he cares. You wake up to a neatly written note left at your bedside—“happy Valentine’s Day. I hope today is as wonderful as you are.” A little later, he texts: “Are you free? I have something planned.”

When he picks you up, he hands you a small but meaningful gift—maybe a book you mentioned wanting, or a handwritten letter sealed in an envelope. “I wasn’t sure what to get you,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “so I just got something that reminded me of you.”

Your date is simple but perfect—maybe a quiet bookstore café, a scenic walk, or a cozy home-cooked dinner. He pays attention to everything you say, responding with soft hums and amused smiles. “I love listening to you talk,” he admits, twirling a piece of his food with his fork.

At the end of the night, he lingers at your doorstep, eyes gentle but hesitant. “I, um…” He exhales, gathering his thoughts before finally meeting your gaze. “I just want you to know that I’m really, really happy with you.”

Before you can respond, he leans in and presses a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmurs, lips curling into the faintest smile. “I hope I get to spend all of them with you.”

———

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #valentines day #bokuto x reader #kuroo x reader #akaashi x reader #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu fluff #fluff #hq x reader #hq fluff #hq

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miryum · 7 hours ago

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Simon Riley has a lot of weird little quirks that I couldn’t fit in any other fic idea

Simon Riley knows how to braid hair and braid it well. French, Dutch, fishtail, anything you wanted. Little tiny braids didn’t deter him either. He would sit on the couch, you standing or sitting between his thick thighs and glare silently in concentration as he braided your hair. He’s also able to pick up any hairstyle real easily. Show him some inspiration on Pinterest and he’ll be able to replicate it almost perfectly. Simon isn’t as good at buns because he can’t quite get how to twist his wrist just right, but give him a strand of hair and he loves to weave it between his fingers. It makes him feel close to you and he is so proud when you wear the braid all throughout the day

Simon Riley folds laundry with military precision and gets a little miffed if you fold the laundry wrong. He literally grumbles and mutters to himself and then re-folds the entire load. He tries to show you how to fold it, but you don’t care as much as him, so he just does it himself. Laundry and the majority of the cleaning goes to Simon because as much as he has qualms about the way you do laundry, don’t even get him started on the way you attempt to clean the house. It’s better for everyone if he just does it

Simon Riley likes to rub his face over your pillow. Especially before or after deployment, he’s like a cat. He circles your pillow in his beefy arms and just presses his cheek to it again and again. It’s like he’s scenting it so that when he goes away, you won’t forget him. You think it’s absolutely adorable and you like to scratch at his hair as he does it

Simon Riley has very strong opinions about Christmas lights. He likes to put them up every year because he grew up Catholic (though he’s now an atheist) and it reminds him of his childhood. He doesn’t really care whether the lights are all white or different colours, but he cannot stand it if they blink. It’s much too annoying and busy and he thinks it’s a cry for attention. It also doesn’t help that sometimes he sees them out of the corner of his eye and the red ones look like the lights on a bomb or the green ones like the call signal on a radio

Simon Riley likes to buy you jewellery. He likes to buy anything and everything that he thinks will look pretty on you. When he finds something with little birds on it, he can’t help but splurge because you’re his Birdie and he loves you

Simon Riley is really good at most any sport, you name it. Rugby, basketball, baseball, American football, the list goes on and on. But put a gun to his head and tell him to score a goal for football and he would take the bullet. There’s really no explanation for it. One could blame it on his utter behemoth size, but he’s able to dribble the basketball or swing at the baseball hurtling towards him, but his feet just trip over themselves as he tries to get the bloody football down the field. He hates that little black and white ball with a burning passion

Simon Riley who is actually pretty involved in the VA. He doesn’t go out and advocate for more funding or anything, but if he sees a homeless veteran, he definitely guides them in the right direction. He goes there once a week just to catch up with everyone. You think it’s very healthy that he’s establishing a community for himself and he really enjoys it – you can see it in his eyes after he comes home Simon Riley who needs to sleep on the couch sometimes after deployment. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold you close, but the mattress is sometimes a bit too soft for him after sleeping on the ground or in a hard cot for weeks on end. You usually end up joining him, just splaying out on his chest. After a night or two, he returns to his place in the bed, holding you close

Simon Riley has the 141 insignia tattooed on his bicep and then the numbers on his chest. He was going to put the numbers over his heart, but, a week before his appointment, he had met you and some little part of him told him to move the tattoo up three inches. He was very glad he decided to move it because a year later he had gotten your initials with a little bird tattooed right over his heart

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yey56 · 9 hours ago

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HARLEY SAWYER X PSYCHOLOGIST READER

HEADCANNONS: before Leiths backstabbing

When Pierre Leith first introduced you both when you were working in the project "bigger bodies" he though it would be good to have Sawyer a little bit more controlled. Your personality and insistence on defying authority made you a good match.

Little did he knew that eventually you would actually start getting along with the doctor, which meant that he had two insubordinate pricks to worry about.

Reader does have compassion and some kind of affection towards Doey, but they ignore it in favour of their own ambitions and the project.

Thats the reason they try not to use cold as much with Doey, only when it's really necessary.

Before your friendship/companionship started to develope, the doctor usually appeared more to respond to Pierre's demands or to talk to the executives but since he doesn't really like doing it and does it out of obligation, he often ask you to talk on behalf of both of you.

That's how the scientific team, the specialist, Pierre, Ludwig and other coworkers started getting used to you being basically the voice of Sawyer outside the lab.

You had enough trust on each other to be able to talk in behalf of the other. (Mostly you since Harley doesn't seem to eager to socialise).

At first, when Doey was recently woken up and he still was getting used to their new body. You and Sawyer would go together to the interviews to record the development of the experiment. Some day out of the blue, Doey started to react aggressively to the doctor, only to him so he started to avoid going to the interviews with the mass and stayed in the observation room.

The doctor sometimes gets actually happy about some improvement his experiments may have but he expressed it with a poker face, a raised brow and the slightest change in his voice.

*Yarnaby actually starts listening for once*

Sawyer: ah, that's so interesting-actually glad for once-

(Y/N):are you actually happy or you're just being awfully sarcastic??

You never actually talked about what you guys like in terms of food or drinks so since sometimes you went to the cafeteria in the upper levels to get some food, your started to bring him random stuff for him to try and watch his reaction in order to find out what he liked. Basically using him as a guinea pig with trial and error.

Harley suspects that that's the reason you've been bringing random stuff with you and offering it to him.

I think he has certain favouritism for Yarnaby so sometimes he makes you test him more than usual even though he knows that he won't get a different response from the yarn lion other than animal like reactions. With time it just turned into an excuse to spend time with you. Your company is actually enjoyable after all.

You both are difficult people to deal with in a work environment. You both like control over things and you are both willing to go to any lengths to reach your ends.

This also comes with certain differences that sometimes, make both your works a little bit unbearable. On one hand we have you, you tend to joke and slip sarcastic comments here and there without any filter, you're cunning, more than he initially assumed. Harley is not used to this so it makes him get really irritated when you don't seem to take something seriously, even though he respects your lack of filter in everything you say.

On the other hand, there's him, he's controlling and he gets easily angry. He's used to be in control so he tends to lash out whenever he's not the one in charge, a very self centered man. It never fails to annoy you how sometimes he just forgets that you're working there two. This was more noticeable during your early ages working together.

With time you have learned to adapt to each other in order to obtain better productivity. But still sometimes you get on each others nerves.

When it comes to physical contact, you guys are basically the definition of touch starved. Some more voluntarily than others...

But just there are moments when Sawyer can feel your hands brush against his when your passing him the paperwork about the experiments, or how your knees graze slightly when your seated next to each other in the observation room.

You can feel sometimes his breath against your neck since the doctor doesn't know the meaning of personal space. Your inspecting the experiments from a footbridge and the doctor just stand right there, behind you, observing in silence.

And his voice, you have catched yourselves zooning out hearing at his smooth silky voice. When he spoke to Yarnaby like a pet or when he named the a list of experiments that he was expected to operate that day. The tone of his voice was like a kiss to your ears.

Once he fell asleep in his chair after days of exhausting procedures and since the sir conditioner was to high and you couldn't really afford to keep up with the business rithm without the doctor you put your own jacket on his shoulders and retired his glasses to the side of his desk.

When he woke up, he silently put your jacket back in your shoulders, his touch lingering way to long

Headcannons about the reader and the doctors relationship pre transformation. Part two of the fanfic I made is in progress...

I also redesigned the doctors human form: tell me what do you think??

#x reader #harley sawyer x reader #harley sawyer #poppy playtime chapter 4 #poppy playtime the doctor #the doctor x reader #the doctor #fanfic #leith pierre #poppy playtime #poppy playtime doey

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headedstraightforfrankcastle · 2 days ago

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Random Vi headcanons

Plot: none, just random thoughts about Vi as your pretty little girlfriend <3

Disclaimer: both SFW and NSFW, not revised (please tell me if there's any mistake so I can fix it), mention of food

A/N: besties, I didn't forget about the smut! It just coming together pretty slowly because I'm working on an exam and all my strenght goes there. But it's coming, so stay tuned 👀

SFW:

Vi who always has a little smirk on her face because of the scar in her upper lip - her mouth is costantly slightly ajar and it makes her look as is in an endless state of are, mostly when she's looking at you

Vi who holds your hand as if it were the last safe anchor in a sea full of monsters

Vi who tries to cook for you when you don't feel like doing it by yourself, but she insists you absolutely cannot skip even one single meal

Vi who clearly makes a mess, filling the sink with dirty pots and utensils, struggling to keep up with something harder that a grilled cheese, but who keeps trying and ends up cooking a not-so-bad-but-very-personal version of your favourite dishes

Vi who later gives you the biggest puppy eyes while watching you eat, waiting fo you to tell her if she did good (you end up telling her she did even if it's a lie, because the effort that woman puts in everything she does for you is worth eating even dirt if she put it in a soup for you)

Vi who actually likes cooking with you as you teach her tips and tricks, because the way you do it without being patronising makes her feel important

Vi who insists on watching horror movies with you thinking she's good at hiding the dread

"It's just a movie, babe, no need to get scared", but she's actually the one taking her gaze of the TV when scary stuff happens. It always ends up with her snuggling in your arms saying it is for your comfort (you both know it's a lie)

Vi who loves to absentmindedly play with your hair and who's head over heels when you dye a lock of her same pink

Vi who is so messy in basically everything she does except handling you

Vi who sings in the shower thinking you can't hear her, not knowing you're actually sitting outside the door listening to her

Vi who would teach you some self-defence and love seeing you becoming stronger everyday, but will still be your scary dog privilege

Vi whose first reason to teach you how to fight is to admire you in your workout gear because your body and the way it moves is art to her - but seeing you so powerful when you hit the punching bag and knowing you can do it to whoever tries to hurt you is second place on the list

Vi who always shares drinks with you, so she's sure not to exaggerate with the alcohol and gets to have a constant contact with you at the same time

Vi who doesn't mind getting into little fights because she knows that when she comes home you'll fuss over her like a madman; it always ends up with you doing your best to mend her wounds while sitting on her lap, and she loves it

Vi who can seem like the toughest, meanest, harshest person to the rest of the world - but who, you know, has the biggest heart who she only shows to those she loves, especially you

Vi who is the best of both worlds, both strong and vulnerable, and who melts when you call her your wonder

NSFW:

Vi who likes your marks a little too much: your bites on her thighs and neck, the hickeys you leave both in places where everyone can see then and in hidded spots only she knows about (these are her favourites), the stinging red lines and half-moons of your nails digging onto her skin... the memories of you on her alter her brain chemistry in a way she cannot even describe

Vi who's a massive switch, but who's always at your service, mostly when she's fucking you dumb, be it with her fingers, her tongue or her strap

Vi who was sceptical about taking the strap from you at first, but later realizes how much she loves being at your mercy

Vi who loves making love (she stopped "having sex" with you a long time ago) while listening to a playlist you made with her and your favourite songs, humming the little tunes while she kisses you neck or eat you out, making you crazy

Vi who has you sitting naked on her knees and spends hours worship your body: caresses, kissing, the tip of her fingers tracing your curves, did I mention that you are her favorite work of art?

Vi who is super sensitive, way more than you, and loves taking her time with you before you take your time with her, so you can both finish together, her core rubbing against your until your screams of pleasure mix with hers

Vi who memorizes all your limits and knows you more than you know youreslf, but establishes a safe word anyway, just to be sure

Vi who never runs out of things she wants to do to you and who loves discovering all the nasty little things you want to do to her

Vi, with whom everytime feels like the first time, but who also is the most familiar habit

That's all besties! Hope you liked these little ideas, thank you for reading and have an amazing day <3

#arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane headcanon #vi arcane #vi fanfic #vi headcanons #vi x reader #violet arcane #arcane vi x reader #vi and reader

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ellouchi · 2 days ago

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One-shot: "Forget me not"- Jimmy (gn/nsfw?)

Disclaimer: unreliable narrator, Jimmy being Jimmy, implied SA in the ending.

Side notes: I knooow I've said I'd post it yesterday, but I was on four hours of sleep and completely exhausted from work so sowwy guys. I've tried my best to fix as many mistakes as I could so sorry again if you see any, I'll probably edit this fic again later but for now... enjoy!

Today, Jimmy would make sure you would never forgot him again.

First he just had to wait until it was the night time on the ship, when it was darker and quieter, without any extra pairs of eyes and ears putting a wrench in his plans. Standing in the doorframe, the man observed you like a beast it's pray — you were writing a report about your performance in the common rooms. You often got out of your own room to sit there, same old walls giving you an eye sore, you once said. You used to turn around, wave at him when he passed by, but now you didn't even acknowledge him when he finally entered the room — Jimmy had to tamper the sudden pang of annoyance that shot through his body and instead appear to be as nonchalant as he could master.

Turned out there really was just a single step between love and hate, Jimmy though to himself. It was a shame things couldn't be the way they were at the beginning.

Before all that, when you first boared Tulpar, you were just a temporary crew member assigned to be babied with until the management decided to throw you on another ship. Something instantly clicked for Jimmy when captain Curly introduced you to the crew, and no wonder: you were smart enough to stick to Jim — not too close to the sun, but not crawling in the dirt.

Jimmy didn't show it, but he quickly noticed how you sought after him more often than the others, turned up to him for advices about work related matters and laughed at his quips and jokes that he made. Hard work really does pay off, Jimmy would think to himself, while laying on the bed with his brand new piloting license gleaming like a precious gem in his hand. Unlike with other people, everything about you felt so genuine, so seamless and easy, Jimmy didn't need to try hard for you to look up to him. He could be himself.

Best thing was, the signs told Jim that the feeling was mutual. You were the first one to greet him with a good morning, last one to part with a good night. Looked at him with shining eyes, smiles lingering longer than they should. If you sitting almost thigh to thigh next to him on the couch wasn't the obvious signal from you, then Jimmy didn't know what was.

Even ship's underwhelming conditions turned out to be a blessing in disguise when the AC system broke down, forcing you to work with your blue jumpsuit peeled off from your shoulders. The man never missed the way you tugged at your yellow t-shirt, suddenly his own coveralls feeling a bit stuffy and uncomfortable to be in. At his playful suggestion for both of you to strip you merely laughed, but never disregarded the idea...That evening Jimmy, however, let his hand and imagination run wild with the thought of your hands exploring everything covered by the pesky blue suit and a plain white shirt he wore.

Problems started to arise when Swansea took a note of your budding chemistry. He usually would run his trap hours on end, complaining about this and that, patronising as ever with his "age and experience" seemingly giving him permission to preach and lecture others.

"If I were a green fool like ya I would stay a mile a way from our "watchful" co-pilot. He's more bark than bite, but all the pain in the ass." Jimmy overheard Swansea call out to you when you two stood together to get the melted sweet treats from the vending machine. Said co-pilot clicked his tongue in annoyance, throwing back a jab at the uninvited mechanic, fortunately prompting a laugh from the old man. Ignorant of both men's concerns you simply chuckled at the sight, not digging any deeper. Despite this, you begun dressing a bit more modesty, robbing Jimmy of the opportunity of gawking at you. That damn Swansea.

Days, turning into weeks passed uneventfully. You concluded your training, which meant now you were officially just another cog in the corporate machine. Same all routine settled on the same old freighter ship, except for a few things. The captain seemed to finally acknowledge his esteemed co-pilot by dropping onto him his own "important captain assignments". Which was false, Jimmy knew Curly was just growing too exhausted to fulfil his daily quota, though the reason eluded him. Another odd thing was regarding you. Jimmy had a feeling he saw you less and less with each passing day, without counting the times you spent actually performing your work. You were the first one to finish the meals, the quickest one to get out from the shower and the space ship manual practically never left your hands. Jim hated it to admit this, but he missed you.

The pieces fell right into their places when Jimmy entered cockpit one ordinary shift to hand in the paperwork he did in captain's stead.

To be frank, Curly was slowly getting on Jimmy's nerves for some time already, this whole "all capable and reliable" act seemingly never ending. However, no feeling of irritation could compare to only what could Jimmy describe as betrayal running through his veins when he saw you bowing and shaking captain's hand with "thank you". His "friend" was standing way too close to you and you — to him, no, straight up leaning in.

Suddenly snippets of you two hanging out in the common room flooded Jimmy's mind, you skipping out of the cockpit with a smile on your face a few days ago, you asking Jimmy out of blue what Curly was like when he was younger and Curly praising you for your efforts during the piloting--

"Am I interrupting something?" escaped Jimmy's mouth faster than he could register. His nails left marks on cheap rough papers he clutched, sweat blurring away the ink, all the boring tedious work done for nought.

"Oh hey Jim. No, not at all. Just helping out our new college with excess workload." Jimmy gaze hardened over the fact that it was Curly who stepped up first to clear things up. "You know how it is with Pony Express: setting high standards with small deadlines and...." Jimmy stopped listening to anything else that left Curly's mouth, his focus shifting entirely to you. You refused to meet his gaze by staring dumbly at the metal floor.

Why were you silent now?

Why did you avoid looking in his direction?

Why did you turn up to Curly for help and not him?

You, who followed Jimmy like a puppy prior, buttering him up with empty talks, asking him a favour after favour. In the end only to abandon him when you raised high enough on the ledder to turn up with your issues to the captain himself. And Curly, whom he considered his closest friend, instead of helping Jim tried to snatch you away. Being well respected captain wasn't enough, he had to lure away you too....

Jimmy should've figured it was all too nice to be true.

The man didn't wait for Curly to finish or you to start, instead he just threw the papers onto the fax machine and waved his hand in dismissal as he left, lessons learnt and mood completely spoiled for the rest of the week.

It hurt. But Jimmy had to keep going forward. Curly crawled back to him eventually like he always did — reminiscent of a dog with its tail hidden between the legs. At least Curly seemed to take the hint and grew distant from you, pushing the professional approach all the way. The captain managed to make amends, he had to, if it meant keeping the peace on the ship.

No, Jimmy didn't care about his friend's betrayal. What drove him up on the wall was your reaction, or the lack of it. Because you pretended like nothing happened, resuming your busy day to day life, but this time avoiding Jimmy almost entirely. Ignoring you in return wasn't an option as the relationship between you two didn't reach the point where you'd feel anxious without his attention. Jimmy felt sick — he grew too comfortable around you and it bit him back in the ass.

Here he was, struggling to keep his composure without hearing a familiar lazy "good morning" coming from you at the dinning table every day. Any attempts at catching your gazes never resulted in anything other than a pit heaving in his stomach. Jimmy begun skipping game nights altogether when you found yourself a new spot at the armchair near the massive screen. The man grew desperate enough to eavesdrop on your unimportant daily chit chats in distant hope to get anything out of them to use. Rummaging through your stuff also proved to be fruitless. Everything to no avail.

Jimmy grew sick and tired of waiting for you to come to him. It was time for him to come to you.

"We've got a fax message from the corporate. You might wanna check this one out."

Luring you out was too easy, the man almost felt bad for abusing your innocence. But it was your fault for being an ignorant fool and trusting a person you slighted. Jimmy never said it was an update about your placement, just a message from the management — everything else was your wishful thinking. You proded co-pilot for any information on your way to the cockpit, but the later remained tight lipped and instead chatting you up about the most mundane things happening on Tulpar. If you hadn't lowered your guard down, you would hear the click of the lock sealing your fate.

"Alright, let's have a look at what those higher ups prepared for me" you said with a sigh, landing on the free seat with a paper in hands.

Jimmy humoured you a little further, standing right in front of you with his arms folded in the waiting stance, observing impatiently how your eyes skimmed through the text.

"Uhh...Jim this is just a general reminder that our haul is reaching it's destination in 30 days."

"I know" he flatly replied.

"Sooo why did you invite me here then?"

"Man, I can't believe some people can be this dense. Goes to show we can't trust others with anything. Even reading the room." Jimmy grumbled, yanking the document from your hands and letting it settle down onto the floor. Suddenly the man buckled over the pilot seat you were sitting on, both strong hands forcing your wrists down on the leather armrests. "Do you still not understand why I've dragged you here?"

This got your full undivided attention — you shrunk in the armchair, trying to slip your arms away from the bruising hold. You were akin to the fish thrown out of water with how your mouth opened and closed, before you gathered back your thoughts to respond.

"W-wait what are you talking about. I don't understand...." Jimmy searched for anything that could resemble a lie in your frighted eyes, but came up with nothing. You really were painfully oblivious to all his suffering this whole time.

"Is it that easy for you to discard people from your life? Hm? Must be nice to go about your day without a care in the world while I'm left to wonder what I have done wrong to be treated this way."

You remained silent, simply staring at the man in front of you in disbelief. God, just why he had to deal with someone as slow as you.

At last it clicked in your mind, your brows knitting together.

"...you don't mean us spending less time together right? Or is it about that one time with Curly? I just have my own work to take care of, and the captain has already told you that we were j--"

A heavy slap landed on you cheek before you had any time to finish. The sting wasn't going to hurt as much as other things Jimmy had in store for you — you didn't know it just yet.

"Don't try to bullshit me now. I know exactly what was your plan from the very beginning" uttered Jimmy, bringing his face right in front of yours. He wanted to see you cry so badly, beg for his forgiveness — Jimmy was almost willing to beat you up with his bare fists if it meant getting what he desired. "If you really think you can screw me up and not suffer any consequences you are dead wrong. I was being nothing but kind and patient, even taught you things no-one else would, and that's how you repay me? By going behind my back to fuck your way up by using Curly? Sorry to disappoint you, but you're not even in his taste."

Once again the man could read complete bewilderment from your facial features alone. Burning pain on your cheek all but forgotten, you raised you face to meet Jimmy's. Tiny drops of glistening tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, you lower lip instinctively bitten and chewed on from the tension. It had to be one of the most beautiful faces you've ever made: full of confusion, fear and submission.

"Jimmy... you got it all wrong, please just listen to me." You've tried, earnestly tried to calm the man down, to find a way out of the situation you were forced into. But there was no reasoning, no bargaining, nothing left.

Jimmy leaned in to where your ear was, letting out hot puffs of air as he spoke. "You had a chance to explain yourself, but you've missed it. Don't forget that you brought this upon yourself. You"

Jimmy saw you gasp in horror before he smashed his mouth against yours with such force your head hit the back on the chair. Your lips have already been parted so he wasted no time tracing your lower lip with his tongue, hot and slick from all the waiting. That wasn't what Jimmy initially planned, but it felt right at that moment. All pent up emotions suppressed for god knows how long suddenly taking a hold of his better judgement. Actually, this would work too — it would make you never forget about him ever again.

You squirmed against Jimmy's hold once again, trying to turn your head away to the sides. Jimmy had to crawl on top of you to secure your head against the leather pad of the seat, fully inserting his tongue to violate your mouth. He lapped at you like a starved man, not caring about his stubble scratching at your skin or about the saliva seeping down your chin.

Jimmy caught a sights of your eyes squeezed shut which he didn't like at all. It seemed like his words didn't get through your thick skull after all, so he dug his knee right into you groin, making you jolt, stilling your struggles momentarily.

"Don't. Ignore me." Jimmy growled staring straight into your eyes. "If you want this to be over then just do what I say. Understand?" he finished, waiting for your response.

If it wasn't for the twisting ache in your throat, you would say something to Jimmy, but instead you gave a jittety nod.

This prompted Jimmy to finally smirk: a dark variation of a smile you were used to seeing whenever the man was about to say something witty. You instantly regretted your choice, cruel hand zipping down the fly of your blue uniform in a swift motion — from your chest to your abdomen, only setting the regret deeper and deeper...

"Then do me a favour and stay still, will you?"

#i wanna sleep so badly i'm gonna die gn #mouthwashing #mouthwashing x reader #jimmy mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing x reader

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