#I know I've been trying to temper my expectations

[fleetsparrow]

Email: Job you were looking at has new position open!

Me: Great! Oh, it's the same position I'd interviewed for. Well, they were doing multiple hires.

Job board: Here's your prior submissions!

Me: Cool, let me see if--

Job board: You're no longer in consideration.

Me: 😐

[aceyalonso]

a win-win situation? - LEWIS HAMILTON

pairing : lewis hamilton x fem!reader

summary : Fresh from a Formula 1 race win, Lewis Hamilton parties with his friends at a club. Y/n L/n, troubled by the condition that she must be married to inherit her father's company, is at the same club. They hit it off, have a few too many drinks, and wake up in a hotel room, shocked to realize they got married

warnings : drinking, swearing, suggestive content, 11-year age gap (reader is 28 years old)

word count : 7.1k

song : it won't stop - sevyn streeter, chris brown

a/n : 200 followers special & lewis win post!!! (i'm not sure if i want to make a part 2 to this ngl)

Sunday, 11:49 PM

The club was loud and chaotic, with people dancing, yelling, and drinking. The lights flashed colors in time to the music, giving off a disorienting feeling. The room was stuffy and hot, with people packed together like sardines, attempting to talk over the music and flirt with strangers

This club was like a small universe within itself, with each group doing its own thing and making a lot of noise while doing so. The music was loud enough to drown out any conversation that would have otherwise been attempted, and the alcohol only helped the chaos grow.

Some people were there to celebrate and have a good time, laughing and dancing with their friends to the music. Others were sulking and sad, either nursing a drink or trying to drown their miseries with alcohol.

Lewis was one of the people there to celebrate, and he was having the time of his life. They were all drinking and dancing in the center of the crowd, laughing and talking loudly to be heard over the music.

Unlike Lewis, who was having the time of his life on the dance floor, Y/n was at the bar with one of her friends. She was downing shot after shot, her mood sour and her temper short. The alcohol was dulling the edges of her anger.

Y/n

With a sigh, I slammed my glass down on the bar, my temper flaring. Lyka turned to me, her gaze curious and concerned as she asked, "So what did your father say that's got you in such a mood?"

I grumble, my irritation and bitterness clear in my voice. "My dad said I could inherit the company, but..."

I trail off, my mind swirling with the implications of my father's statement. Though part of me was undoubtedly happy to know that the family business would one day be mine, there was something else that bothered me.

Lyka picked up on my hesitation and leaned in closer to ask, "But what? You should be happy about that, right?"

I snort derisively, my shoulders tensing. "Yeah, I should be happy... But there's a catch, of course. There always is with him."

She frowns, sensing the weight of my discontentment. "What kind of catch are we talking about here?"

My words came out sharp and bitter, my eyes hardening. "I have to get married. That's the catch. My dad said I can inherit the company, but I have to be married first."

She gasps in surprise, clearly not expecting such a stipulation. "Wait, seriously? He's telling you that you have to be MARRIED just to inherit the company?"

I nod grimly, my expression darkening. "Yeah, that's the deal. I've got to find someone to settle down with if I ever want to take over the family business," I chuckled sarcastically. "It's ridiculous, I know."

Lyka's eyes widen, her face filled with sympathy. "damn, that's... rough. You don't even get a say in who you marry?"

I nod, my expression a mixture of frustration and resignation. "Yeah, that was the compromise. I get to choose who I marry but must be married within the next year. It's like he doesn't trust me to run the company by myself."

She lets out a sympathetic sigh, reaching out to comfort me. "That's so unfair, you shouldn't have to get married just to prove yourself. But I guess it's better than having someone picked for you, huh?"

I nodded grudgingly, letting out a small huff. "Yeah, I guess so. It's just… I'm not even sure if I want to get married at all, you know? The whole idea of it just feels so… I don't know, constraining, I guess."

Her friend nods, trying to shift the conversation to a lighter topic. "Okay, enough about your dad's stupid rule. Let's talk about something else. How's work been going for you?"

Y/n takes the chance to change the subject, grateful for the distraction. "Work's been alright. I've been so busy lately that I haven't had time for anything fun."

"Yeah, I know how that is," her friend replies sympathetically. "It feels like work just takes over your life sometimes. But hey, at least you're making some good money, right?"

Y/n lets out a dry chuckle, her mood lightening slightly. "Oh, yeah. I'm making really good money. So good that I practically live at the office these days."

Lyka laughs as well, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Damn, girl. Sounds like you're going to be rolling in it if you take over the company. You'll be able to buy anything and everything you've ever wanted."

Y/n grins, a little spark of hope reigniting at the thought. "Yeah, that's true. I could buy a nice house, or take fancy vacations whenever I want. I could pretty much do whatever I want, really."

Y/n's grin fades, her expression turning thoughtful. "But… I won't be able to take those vacations with a husband, would I? It would mean having to consider someone else's schedule and preferences, and I wouldn't be able to just take off whenever I want anymore."

Her friend nods sympathetically, her gaze understanding. "Yeah, that's a good point. Having a partner would definitely change things, especially when it comes to travel and leisure. It's not quite the same as having the freedom to go where and when you want, without any strings attached."

Y/n lets out a sigh, her irritation beginning to return. "Exactly. And it's not just the travel that's the issue. It's the whole idea of having to compromise and make sacrifices for someone else. I don't know if I'm ready for that, or if I ever will be."

The girls down another shot, the alcohol giving them a pleasant buzz. Y/n, feeling a little looser now, turns to her friend. "Hey, you know what? Let's go dance. We didn't come here just to sit at the bar all night, right?"

Her friend grins and nods in agreement, clearly ready to cut loose. "Yeah, let's do it. I could use some movement after hearing about your dad's ridiculous rule."

Y/n pushes away from the bar, her steps a little unsteady as the alcohol takes effect. Lyka laughs and steadies her, both of them making their way to the crowded dance floor.

They push their way through the sea of people, the music and lights creating a chaotic and energizing atmosphere. Y/n begins to sway and move to the beat. Lyka joins in, both of them letting go of their worries and simply enjoying the moment.

As Y/n is dancing, she suddenly feels the presence of someone behind her, close enough to dance but still leaving a respectful distance. Startled at first, she quickly realizes is being careful not to violate her space.

Y/n turns her head to catch a glimpse of who's behind her, her curiosity and excitement growing.

Her eyes widen as she turns and sees a man behind her. His hands are covered in intricate tattoos, drawing attention to his veiny hands and making her curious to know the stories behind them. But what truly captures her attention is his smile, a warm, charming grin that seems to light up his whole face.

"Hey," Y/n says, her voice a little breathless as she takes in his appearance.

His grin grows broader, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hey there," he replies, his voice carrying over the music. "I hope you don't mind me joining in. You looked like you were having a good time."

Y/n laughs, the alcohol helping her loosen up. "No, it's fine. I don't mind at all. I was just surprised, that's all."

She continues to dance, her movements more fluid and relaxed now that she has someone to dance with. She glances over at the man, taking in his tattoos and his easygoing demeanor.

The man dances alongside her, his steps matching hers effortlessly. He moves with a grace and confidence that is almost captivating, his body flowing with the rhythm of the music. Every now and then, he'll glance at her, his gaze lingering for a moment before darting away again.

As they continue to dance, he takes the opportunity to introduce himself. "By the way, I'm Lewis," he says, his voice smooth and pleasant to the ears. "What's your name?"

Y/n glances at him with a smile, appreciating his forwardness. "I'm Y/n," she replies, her voice a little louder to be heard over the music. "It's nice to meet you, Lewis."

Lewis nods, his smile widening at her response. "Y/n. A pretty name for a pretty lady." He glances at her again, his gaze openly admiring her appearance.

Y/n feels a little thrill at his compliment, her cheeks heating slightly under his gaze. She glances back at him, her eyes taking in his tattoos and his confidence. "You're not so bad yourself," she replies with a flirtatious undertone.

Lewis raises an eyebrow at her response, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Is that a compliment I hear?" he replies with a hint of amusement. "Careful now, you might make me blush."

Y/n grins, enjoying the banter between them. "Oh, please. I doubt a guy like you blushes easily. You're probably used to girls fawning over you all the time."

Lewis lets out a laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You're right about that. I do get my fair share of attention, but it's nice to have a conversation with someone who's not afraid to give me a little snark back."

Y/n grins, her earlier irritation completely forgotten as she dances with Lewis. "Oh, I can definitely give you snark. And don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're cute."

Lewis raises an eyebrow again, clearly enjoying their back-and-forth banter. "Oh, I would expect nothing less. It wouldn't be as much fun if you went easy on me, now would it?"

Y/n chuckles and leans closer to Lewis, the alcohol giving her a bit of courage. "Hey, if you're gonna keep me entertained with your witty banter, the least you can do is buy me a drink."

Lewis grins, clearly enjoying her demanding tone. "Oh, you drive a hard bargain, Y/n. But I think I can manage that."

He offers her his hand, a smirk on his face. "Come on, let's head back to the bar. What do you want to drink?"

Y/n takes his hand and follows him towards the bar, feeling a little flutter in her stomach. "I'll take a vodka soda, thanks," she replies, her gaze lingering on his tattoos again.

Lewis nods and leads her through the crowded club, his grip firm and reassuring on her hand. They reach the bar and he signals for the bartender, calling out Y/n's drink order. As they wait for their drinks, he turns to her with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"So," he says, leaning in close to be heard over the music. "You said you're not afraid to give me snark. Does that mean I have to watch my words, or are you just full of empty threats?"

Y/n laughs, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I'm a woman of my word. If you say something stupid, you can bet I'll call you out on it. Don't underestimate me, Lewis."

Lewis grins, clearly enjoying her feisty personality. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. In fact, I find a woman with a sharp tongue quite refreshing. It keeps me on my toes, you know?"

Y/n smiles, his comment making her heart flutter a bit more. "Well, you better get used to it then. Because I don't plan on holding back, no matter how charming you are."

"Good," Lewis replies, his voice low and sultry. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Just then, the bartender slides their drinks over to them, interrupting their conversation. Lewis hands Y/n her vodka soda, his fingers brushing against hers in the process.

Y/n feels a shiver run up her spine as their fingers touch, his touch sending tiny sparks across her skin. She takes a sip of her drink, the alcohol instantly making her feel more relaxed and carefree.

Lewis sips his own drink, eyeing her over the rim of his glass with a sly smile. "So, Y/n," he says, his tone a little more serious now. "What brings a woman like you out dancing by herself on a Friday night?"

Y/n glances around the club, her gaze landing on her friend who is dancing nearby. "Oh, I'm not actually here alone," she replies, her voice slightly amused. "My friend is over there. We came together, but she ditched me to dance with some guy."

Y/n turns to Lewis and gestures in the direction of her friend. "See that girl over there? The one who's talking to the DJ? That's my friend. She left me here to go flirt with him."

Lewis turns to look at the DJ, his eyes lighting up in recognition. "Whoa, wait a minute," he says, his tone tinged with surprise. "That's actually my friend, Lando."

Y/n raises an eyebrow at this new bit of information. "Wait, really? You know the DJ?"

Lewis nods, a small smirk on his face. "Yeah, we've known each other for a while. We met a few years back. We've been friends ever since."

Y/n takes a moment to process this new information, glancing over at her friend and Lando. "Well, I guess that explains why she's been dancing with him all night then."

Lewis laughs, clearly amused by the situation. "Looks like it. Lando has a way of charming the ladies. Seems like your friend isn't immune to it either."

Y/n chuckles. "Clearly not. She's practically drooling over him. But I can't blame her, he does have a certain charm."

"That he does," Lewis agrees, taking a sip of his drink. "He's a good guy, but he's got quite the reputation with the ladies. He has a new girl on his arm every weekend, it seems."

Y/n shakes her head with a smile, diverting the conversation back to Lewis. "Okay, enough about my friend and Lando. I want to know more about you."

Lewis grins, clearly enjoying her attention. "Oh, do you now? And what exactly do you want to know about me?"

Lewis chuckles at her question and replies, with a hint of mystery. "Well, I'm certainly older than you, that's for sure. Let's just say I've got a bit more experience under my belt."

Y/n grins, his response only making her more curious. "Oh, so you're an experienced one, huh? How much experience exactly? Or are you going to keep me in suspense?"

Lewis smirks, clearly enjoying their banter. "Now, Y/n, where's the fun in giving away all my secrets at once? You'll have to be patient if you want to find out more about me."

Y/n feigns disappointment, her expression exaggerated. "Oh, you're going to make me wait, huh? Fine, I guess I'll have to be patient. But I warn you, I'm not a very patient person."

Lewis relents, his smile widening as he answers her question. "Alright, since you're so insistent. I'm 39."

Her eyes widen in surprise, and she lets out a whistle. "Seriously? You're 39? I thought you were younger, like early 30s at the oldest."

Lewis chuckles, clearly enjoying her reaction. "I guess I'll take that as a compliment. I may be a bit older, but I like to think I still have a young heart, you know?"

Y/n grins, her initial surprise replaced by a touch of admiration. "That's impressive. You definitely don't act your age. You still look and act like you're in your 20s."

Lewis shrugs, a hint of pride in his gaze. "I take care of myself. I work out, eat healthy, and stay active. I guess it pays off, huh?"

Y/n nods approvingly, taking in his toned physique. "Yeah, it definitely does. You look like you could give guys half your age a run for their money."

Lewis quirks an eyebrow, a curious smile on his lips. "Alright, speaking of age, now it's my turn to ask. How old are you, Y/n?"

She takes a sip of her drink before answering, a touch of nervousness in her tone. "I'm 28," she replies, trying to sound nonchalant.

His eyes widen slightly, a look of surprise crossing his face. "28, huh? You look younger. I would have guessed you were in your mid-20s, tops."

Y/n chuckles, a mix of pride and embarrassment in her tone. "Thanks, I guess. I try to take care of myself too. I don't want to look like a fossil anytime soon."

Lewis laughs, clearly amused. "Fair enough. It's always good to stay young at heart, no matter your age. And it seems like you're doing a pretty good job of it so far."

Y/n grins, feeling bolder now. "Well, you know what they say - age is just a number, right? It's all about how you feel inside. And I feel pretty young and free right now."

Lewis nods in agreement, a twinkle in his eye. "That's a good attitude to have. Life is too short to let age define you. You gotta embrace every moment, no matter how old or young you are."

Y/n grins, raising her glass in agreement. "Here, here. To embracing every moment, no matter how old or young we are."

They clink their shot glasses together and take a swig, the alcohol burning their throats and adding to the already buzzing feeling in their systems.

Fast forward to a few hours later, Y/n and Lewis are both feeling the effects of the alcohol kicking in. Their movements are looser, their inhibitions lower, and their words a little bit slurred. They're both laughing and talking animatedly, the boundaries between them disappearing with every drink they take.

Y/n leans against the bar, her head spinning slightly, her gaze fixed on Lewis who is standing next to her. "You know, Lewis, you're not so bad when you're drunk," she slurs, a lazy smile on her face.

Lewis grins back at her, his eyes slightly glassy from the alcohol. "And you're not too bad yourself, Y/n. In fact, you're a damn good drinking partner."

Y/n throws her head back in a drunken giggle, feeling lightheaded and carefree. "Oh, I'm the best drinking partner you've ever had, buddy. I can out-drink you anytime, anyday."

Lewis leans closer to Y/n's ear, his breath warm on her skin as he slurs out a suggestion. "Hey, you wanna go somewhere a bit more private? Somewhere away from all these people?"

Y/n turns to him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. The alcohol has made her bolder and carefree, and she doesn't hesitate to agree. "Yeah, let's do it. Let's get away from this crowd. Leady the way, Lewis."

Lewis grins, his hand wrapping around hers as he leads her away from the packed nightclub. They weave through the sea of people, their steps a bit unsteady as the alcohol continues to flow through their systems.

They finally reach a quieter corner of the club, a more secluded area away from the hustle and bustle of the dance floor. Lewis leans against the wall, pulling Y/n closer to him, his hands resting on her hips.

Y/n stumbles a little as she steps closer, her body against his. Her head is spinning a bit, and her senses are heightened by the alcohol. She looks up at him, her eyes half-lidded. "This is better. Just you and me, away from the crowd."

Lewis nods in agreement, his eyes dark with desire as he looks down at her. His hands grip her hips tighter, pulling her closer. "Just you and me, Y/n. No one to bother us, no distractions."

They stand there, their bodies pressed together, gazes locked in a silent, charged moment. For a few seconds, time seems to stand still as they take each other in, their breathing heavy and their hearts pounding in their chests.

The air between them crackles with electricity, their connection undeniable. Lewis' hands move up from her hips, tracing along her sides, and Y/n shivers at his touch, her skin tingling from his caress.

Lewis pulls her even closer, their bodies now flush against each other. Y/n can feel every muscle, every contour of his body against hers, and she can't help but shiver again. She lifts her chin, her lips parting slightly as she gazes up at him, her eyes hooded with desire.

Without warning, Lewis loses control and closes the gap between them, his lips crashing into hers in a kiss that's all hunger and need. It's a messy, sloppy kiss, fueled by the alcohol and the mounting tension between them.

Y/n responds instantly, her lips parting willingly under his as she returns the kiss with equal fervor. Her hands wrap around his neck, her fingers tangling into his braids as she clings to him, her body arching into his.

The kiss deepens, their mouths moving together in a frenzied, sloppy dance of desire. Teeth clash and tongues tangle, as they pour all their pent-up frustration and lust into the kiss.

Lewis' hands roam freely across her body, pulling her closer, his touch possessive and urgent. Y/n moans into his mouth, her body responding to his touch, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

After a few moments that feel like an eternity, Y/n manages to pull herself back, breaking the kiss. Her chest is heaving with every labored breath, her body ablaze with desire. Her eyes flutter open, and she gazes at Lewis, her lips swollen and cheeks flushed.

Y/n glances up at Lewis, her expression a little dazed and a little amused. "Damn, you know what? You're a pretty good kisser. I might just have to marry you for that reason alone."

Lewis laughs, his head leaning back against the wall. "Is that all it takes, huh? A good kiss and you're ready to tie the knot?"

Y/n grins, tilting her head to the side. "Hey, I'm just saying, I think you'd make a pretty good husband… as long as you keep kissing me like that."

Lewis chuckles, his hands still resting on her hips, his grip a little looser now. "Is that a threat or a promise?" he teases, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Y/n pretends to think for a moment, her index finger tapping her chin. "A little bit of both, I think," she replies, a cheeky smile on her lips. "I'll expect a ring, but you'll have to keep up with those kisses… among other things."

Lewis laughs, shaking his head in bemusement. "You know what? Sure, why not? Let's do it. I'll marry you. I guess a good kissing record is enough to secure the deal."

Y/n, giggling like a schoolgirl, grabs Lewis's hand and pulls him out of the club. The cool night air hits them, and she shivers slightly, her head still spinning from the alcohol. "Let's go! Let's go get married!"

Monday, 8:57 AM

Y/n groans as she slowly opens her eyes, blinking against the bright light streaming through the curtains. She lifts her head, her mind fuzzy and disoriented, and takes in her surroundings. She's lying in a hotel room, the unfamiliar surroundings taking a moment to register in her hungover mind.

As her vision clears, she becomes aware of the weight and heat of another body pressed against hers. She turns her head slightly and sees Lewis lying next to her, fast asleep, their hands intertwined between them.

Y/n's eyes widen as she glances down at her hand, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of the ring on her finger. Her head is still fuzzy from the alcohol and her memories of the previous night are hazy, but the ring on her finger is undeniable.

She tries to pull her hand away from Lewis's grasp, but his fingers remain tightly interlaced with hers, even in his sleep. The realization of what happened slowly starts to sink in, and Y/n looks from her hand to Lewis's sleeping face, her mind buzzing with confusion and disbelief.

The room is silent, apart from the steady sound of Lewis's breathing. Y/n lies still, her heart pounding as her mind races, trying to make sense of the situation. She glances at the ring again, her stomach churning with a mixture of shock, disbelief, and a hint of excitement.

She's married. She's actually married. To Lewis. The thought is both terrifying and exhilarating, and Y/n isn't sure if it's the alcohol still lingering in her system or the sheer absurdity of the situation that's making her feel so lightheaded.

She lies there for a few more moments, her hand still trapped in Lewis's grip, her mind swirling with a million thoughts and questions. What did she get herself into? How did this happen? And most importantly, how is she going to face Lewis when he wakes up?

As the minutes tick by, Y/n takes deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. She glances at Lewis again, his peaceful expression a stark contrast to the turmoil in her head. She can feel the warm weight of his leg draped over hers, their bodies intertwined in the narrow hotel bed.

A small part of her is scared, unsure of what the future holds now that she's inadvertently married Lewis. But another part of her, the part fueled by alcohol-induced courage and impulsiveness, is curious, excited even, at the possibility of what this unexpected turn of events could mean.

Still, her head is throbbing with a headache, a reminder of the night before and the alcohol they consumed. She tries to piece together the events that led them to this point, but her memories are hazy and fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle that refuse to fit together.

Y/n attempts to wake Lewis up, gently shaking his shoulder and calling his name in a soft, hoarse voice. "Lewis… wake up, Lewis…" she murmurs, her head still aching as she speaks.

Lewis stirs at the sound of her voice, his eyes slowly opening as he blinks against the bright light filtering through the curtains. He looks disoriented for a moment, his gaze bleary as he takes in his surroundings and slowly registers where he is, and more importantly, who he is with.

As his eyes focus on Y/n's face, a look of realization dawns on his own. He lifts his head, his expression a mixture of surprise and disbelief as he looks down at their intertwined hands. His fingers, still linked with hers, tighten around hers as he processes their current predicament.

"Holy shit," he mutters under his breath, his voice hoarse and dry from sleep. "Did we…?" He trails off, his gaze shifting from their hands to her face, his eyes searching hers for an answer.

Y/n nods slowly, her heart hammering in her chest as she meets his gaze. The reality of their situation is crashing down on her now, and she can feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she responds. "Yeah… I think we did, Lewis. We…" she swallows hard, the words stuck in her throat. "…I think we got married."

Lewis's eyes widen further, his surprise mirrored in his expression. He sits up slowly, still holding her hand in his. "We got married," he repeats, his tone disbelieving. He runs his free hand through his bed-rumpled hair, a look of disbelief and confusion on his face. "How the hell did that happen?"

Y/n shakes her head, her own disbelief just as evident. "I don't know. I can barely remember last night. We were at the club, and we were both drunk and…" her voice trails off as the memories of the previous night continue to elude her.

Lewis lets out a deep sigh, his hand still firmly holding hers. "Yeah, same here. It's all a blur to me too. I remember having a few drinks, and then…" He pauses, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is insane. We got married. Like, actually married."

Y/n nods again, her eyes still on their intertwined hands. "I know. It's unbelievable. We were just… having fun, you know? Having drinks, dancing, joking around. And now…" she trails off again, her mind struggling to process the situation.

Y/n lets out a slew of profanities under her breath, her frustration and disbelief spilling out in a rush of colorful words. "This is unbelievable. I can't believe we actually got married. Of all the stupid things we could have done, we tied the knot. What were we thinking?"

Her head is still throbbing with a killer hangover headache, and the reality of their situation is hitting her like a freight train. She glances over at Lewis, who is still sitting up next to her, looking just as shocked and bewildered as she feels.

Part of her wants to pinch herself to see if it's all real, but the presence of the ring on her finger and the warm weight of Lewis's hand holding hers confirms that it is indeed no dream.

Y/n's eyes widen as she looks at the documents on the table. They're official documents, a marriage certificate bearing both her name and Lewis's. Her heart skips a beat as the reality of the situation hits her like a ton of bricks. This is really happening. They're really, legally married.

The weight of this realization makes her feel dizzy, and she has to steady herself against the table, her hand clenching the edge of it. Her mind is spinning, the headache and the alcohol from the previous night not helping her process this new level of insanity.

Lewis stands up next to her, his movements slow and slightly groggy as he takes the documents from her. He glances through them, his eyes skimming the words and official stamps, the reality of their situation sinking in with each line he reads.

Lewis puts the papers back down on the table, his expression still laced with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. He turns towards Y/n, his expression serious now. "I think we need to talk about this. We can't just ignore the fact that we're apparently married now."

Y/n nods, her own expression solemn. She's still struggling to wrap her mind around the situation, but she knows he's right. They can't just pretend it never happened, not when there's a signed marriage certificate sitting right there.

She takes a deep breath, trying to steady her thoughts. "You're right. We need to talk about this. But I don't even know where to start."

Lewis lets out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair again. "Neither do I," he admits. "But I guess we start with the obvious questions. Like, how the hell did we even end up getting married in the first place?"

Y/n shakes her head, her confusion mirrored on her face. "I have no idea. I remember us drinking, and dancing, and… well, not much else. It's all pretty blurry after a certain point."

Lewis nods, his expression thoughtful. "Same here. I remember having drinks, and things being fun and light-hearted, and then the next thing I know, we're waking up here, married. It's like a gap in my memory or something."

As the two of them continue to discuss their predicament, out of nowhere, a fragment of Y/n's memory resurfaces, a flash of her father's words from a few days ago. Her face twists with a mix of surprise and frustration as the recollection comes to her.

The memory of her father's words comes rushing back to her now, a sudden realization dawning on her face. The strange, cryptic instructions he'd given her a few days ago about being married come back to her, and now they make a terrible, twisted sort of sense in the context of her current situation.

She looks at Lewis, her eyes suddenly wide with shock and realization. "Oh my god… my dad," she mutters under her breath. The memory of her father telling her she needed to be married for the family business suddenly has a new, and very unnerving, meaning.

Lewis looks at her, confusion and concern on his face. "Your dad? What about him?" he asks, his voice filled with a sense of dread at her sudden outburst.

Y/n explains the situation to Lewis, revealing the deal she had made with her father regarding the inheritance and the family business. She also suggests that they stay married for a little while, just long enough for her to inherit, and then they could get a divorce.

Lewis looks stunned by her revelation and her proposal, his eyes widening as he absorbs the information. "So you're saying we only have to stay married until you inherit? Then we divorce?" he asks, his tone laced with disbelief.

Y/n nods, her expression earnest. "Yes, that's what I'm proposing. We stay married for a while, for the sake of the deal with my father, and then we get a divorce as soon as I inherit. It will be a temporary arrangement, nothing more."

Lewis looks at her, his expression still a mix of disbelief and contemplation. "Married for a while, then divorce," he says slowly, tasting the words on his tongue as he mulls over the idea.

He runs a hand through his hair again, his eyes locked with hers. "It's a lot to take in," he says finally. "Like, we're talking about getting divorced already, and we've only been married for…" He checks the date on the marriage certificate, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "…for less than 24 hours, apparently."

He lets out a dry laugh, rubbing his face with one hand. "This is insane," he mutters. "Married. And already planning a divorce."

He looks back at Y/n, his expression a mix of uncertainty and a touch of humor. "You know, most couples don't start planning their divorce on their first day of marriage," he jokes.

Y/n manages a weak smile in response, the joke lifting the tension a bit. "Yeah, I know," she concedes. "But most couples don't get married in a drunken haze after partying all night either."

Y/n nods and extends her hand for a handshake. "Alright, it's a deal," she says. "We stay married until I inherit, and then we get a divorce. Agreed?"

Lewis looks down at her offered hand, a resigned acceptance in his eyes. He nods and takes her hand firmly, giving it a firm shake. "Agreed," he says. "Temporary spouses, here we go."

Lewis' expression suddenly shifts as he realizes the implications of their agreement. "Oh, fuck," he mutters, his eyes widening. "My PR team is going to have a field day with this."

He looks at her, his expression still one of disbelief at the situation. "My PR team," he clarifies. "You know, the people who manage my public image. They're going to have a lot to handle with this unexpected… development. It's not every day your client gets married out of the blue after a night of heavy drinking."

Y/n looks at him, a realization beginning to dawn on her. "Wait a second," she says, her eyes narrowed in thought. "You have a PR team," she repeats, her voice laced with disbelief. "Why on earth would you need a PR team… unless you're some kind of celebrity or something?"

Lewis laughs, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, uh, about that," he says, scratching the back of his head. "I guess I kind of forgot to mention that part. I'm, um, a professional Formula 1 racer, actually."

Y/n's jaw drops at his revelation. "Formula 1?" she echoes, her surprise evident. "You're a professional racer? And you didn't think to mention that before?"

Lewis grimaces slightly, looking a bit sheepish. "Yeah, sorry about that. It slipped my mind last night, with all the drinking and… well, the whole getting married thing. I didn't think it would come up quite like this, to be honest."

Her expression remains one of disbelief, but there's also a hint of intrigue. "Formula 1," she repeats, her mind now processing this new piece of information. "So you race high-speed cars for a living."

Lewis nods, his face now showing a hint of pride. "That's right," he confirms. "I race for Mercedes- Ferrari soon enough. It's a pretty public profession, hence the PR team."

Y/n takes a moment to process this new revelation. "Okay, so you're a professional racer, with a whole team dedicated to managing your image and public relations. And we… got married last night, without knowing any of that about each other."

Lewis nods, a rueful smile on his face. "Exactly," he concurs. "We had absolutely no idea who each other was, got drunk, got married, and now I have to deal with the fallout with my PR team."

Y/n can't help but find the situation a little insane, but she can also see the humor in it. "Well, this is certainly, uh, interesting," she says finally, her voice almost a laugh. "I can only imagine the look on your PR team's faces when you tell them about this."

Lewis lets out a dry laugh, hiding his face in between his hands. "Yeah, I am not looking forward to that conversation," he confesses. "But I guess it's part of the package when you're a public figure. Nothing stays private, even if you don't want it to."

Y/n's expression softens a bit as she looks at him, seeing the tension in his face. As much as this situation is affecting her, she can't imagine the added layer of scrutiny he has to deal with due to his job. "You really have to consider everything when you're in the public eye, huh?" she comments, her tone a touch sympathetic.

She puts a hand on her forehead, the lingering effects of the hangover headache making her wince. "You know what," she says, "we should probably get some aspirin or something. I can't stand this headache much longer."

Lewis nods in agreement, his hand still massaging his temples. "Yeah, you read my mind," he says. "I don't know about you, but I can't think straight with this headache pounding in my skull."

Y/n gets up from her seat, her movements a bit unsteady as she stands up to look for her bag. "I think I have some Advil in my bag," she says. "I always keep some handy for hangovers like this."

Lewis watches as she rummages through her bag, trying to focus despite the persistent headache. "You're always prepared, aren't you?" he teases, his tone a mix of light humor and genuine admiration.

Y/n flashes him a small smile over her shoulder. "I try," she replies, her hand pulling out a small bottle of pain reliever. "I've learned the hard way that hangovers are no joke after a night of partying. It pays to be prepared."

Lewis gets out of bed as well, wincing slightly at the sudden movement. "I wish I had your foresight," he says sheepishly, a rueful chuckle escaping him. "I seem to forget about the aftermath until it's too late."

Y/n shakes a couple of pills out into her palm, handing him a couple of them along with a bottle of water. "Learn from this experience, then," she suggests with a smirk. "Maybe next time you'll remember the consequences before you drink the night away."

Lewis accepts the pills from Y/n, his expression is still sheepish but his tone still holds some humor. "Yeah, maybe next time I won't find myself accidentally married," he quips, dryly. "Lesson learned."

Y/n can't help but chuckle at his attempt at humor, appreciating his ability to see the lighter side even in such a bizarre situation. "I'm sure we both learned a lot last night," she remarks, her tone lighthearted. "Mostly about the dangers of too much alcohol, I think."

Lewis downs the pills, washing them down with a long gulp of water. He hands the bottle back to her, his expression now a bit more sober and serious. "Yeah, it's definitely a lesson in moderation, among other things," he concurs. "And… communication, it seems."

Y/n takes the bottle back, her eyes meeting his. She understands his meaning - that maybe they should have been more open and communicative with each other before getting into this mess. "You're right," she agrees. "We definitely could have avoided a lot if we'd just… talked first, before…" she trails off, gesturing toward the marriage certificate on the table.

Y/n holds up a hand, signaling that she needs to excuse herself. "I'm going to use the bathroom real quick," she says, her voice a bit quieter now. "Then we can…" She trails off, leaving the sentence hanging, implying they can continue their conversation once she returns.

Lewis nods in understanding, his eyes following her as she leaves the room. Once she's out of earshot, he lets out a long sigh and sits back down on the edge of the bed, rubbing his temples again. "This is a lot to process," he mutters to himself, his mind swirling with the events of the previous night.

Y/n closes the bathroom door behind her and takes a moment to breathe, trying to gather her thoughts. She leans against the sink, her hands gripping the edges, as she looks at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair is disheveled, her eyes still slightly bloodshot from the effects of the previous night's indulgence.

She splashes some cold water on her face, trying to clear her head and shake off the last remnants of the hangover. As she blots her face with a towel, her mind drifts back to the conversation she just had with Lewis, and the magnitude of the situation they now find themselves in settles heavily on her shoulders.

Y/n leans against the wall near the sink, her mind going over their agreement. Stay married temporarily until she inherits, and then divorce. It all sounds so simple, so logical when put like that. But she couldn't shake the feeling that there's more to it, that they're getting into something bigger than they're prepared for.

She looks at herself in the mirror again, her eyes betraying the turmoil inside her. On one hand, she knows they have to go through with this, for the sake of her inheritance and the future of her family's business. But on the other hand, she can't ignore the twinge of guilt and doubt that comes with the decision to play house with almost a stranger.

Her mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, a jumble of pragmatism and uncertainty. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts. There will be time to deal with the emotional aspects later, she tells herself. For now, they have to focus on the practicality of the situation, on navigating this new reality of being married, even if it's only temporary.

𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍

taglist

@nepobbylver

[awearywritersworld]

i have for the first time found what i can truly love—i have found you

sukuna x reader summary: you and sukuna go out for a late night meal. gojo finds out about your... relationship. sukuna is forced to take care of you when you come home drunk. w/c: 2.85k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. fluff. lots of banter. cursing. jealous/protective!sukuna. gojo being a flirt. aged up!yuuji. features a teeny bit of yuuji x reader. drinking and drunk!reader. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: i think i like how this turned out! also, the first two sections could def be read as a fluffy lil stand alone. idc whats happening in the canonverse, sukunas just a tsundere who adores us very much<3 series masterlist // masterlist

"maybe if you stare long enough, food will magically appear," sukuna calls to you from the kitchen table.

"this is no joking matter," you scold from your place in front of the fridge. "i'm starving."

"well, here's an absurd idea— let's go eat."

you turn toward him, finally closing the fridge, and tilt your head to the side. "you eat?"

"of course." he leans back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. "i typically prefer babies, but hell, i'd even go for an old man right now. i'm famished."

your eyes widen and your mouth falls open. he lets the panic simmer on your face for a few more cruel moments. "i'm kidding, idiot. i eat food, same as you."

"i knew that," you assert. the way your shoulders sag in relief tells him otherwise.

"right," he smirks. after standing up, he grabs your purse and tosses it in your direction. "where to? you're buying."

with only so many places open at midnight, you begin your journey to a 24 hour ramen shop.

you've hardly interacted with sukuna outside of your apartment, so this is certainly an experience you didn't anticipate. and in fact, you're shocked at how normal it feels— almost as if it's a date.

as you walk down the street, people eye him suspiciously because of the dark lines they assume are tattoos. it doesn't bother you though, nor does the lateness of the hour. you know that you're safe because you're with him.

your hands keep brushing against one another's, and you're hoping that he'll eventually take a hint and reach for yours. he doesn't (i mean come on, do you even know who you're dealing with?).

he does at least pick up on your pouty expression with impressive ease. "what now?"

"nothing," you huff.

"don't be a brat."

you sigh dramatically. "you're supposed to hold my hand."

"sure princess," he says condescendingly, lacing his fingers through yours. "maybe use your words next time like a big girl."

he doesn't fail to notice the ensuing skip in your step, and he kicks himself for regarding it as cute.

when you arrive at the ramen shop, sukuna orders no less than three bowls, which earns him a glare once the waitress walks away.

"when i agreed to pay, i didn't know what a glutton you are."

"oh yeah? cause i'm just the picture of temperance any other time?"

you scoff. "well you've got me there."

a sly smirk settles onto his face before he speaks again. "maybe one day you'll learn how greedy i am when it comes to the things i've deemed pleasurable."

you choke on the water you'd just brought to your lips, your face heating up as if it'd been bathed by fire.

wiping at your mouth, you try your best to recover quickly. "whatever, you hellion. as long as that doesn't involve a fourth bowl of ramen."

you're no more than 10 steps away from the shop when you hold out your hand to him. "ahem."

he grabs it roughly and not without rolling his eyes.

"what?" you ask innocently. "that was a word."

"hardly," he jeers. "for as much as you read, i'd expect you to be more fluent than a child."

"and at 1000 years old, i'd expect you to be more charming than a teenage boy, but i guess we're both making concessions."

"see, this is the part that puzzles me. you never seem to have trouble with your words when you're being insolent."

"maybe it's a sign," you begin whimsically. "the universe decided you need to be taken down a peg."

"ah, yes. you as the executor of the universe's will. i don't know why i couldn't see it before."

you giggle, rather delighted that he's elected to play along with your quips. there's something that feels so warm and pleasant about it.

as you wonder if he feels it too, your hand tightens around his.

you're not quite ready to head back to your apartment just yet, because you're scared you'll lose the atmosphere surrounding the two of you. in truth, it's a bit intoxicating.

the perfect opportunity arises when you spot a small park up ahead. lights are strung around the trees, all of which are situated around a small fountain.

"we should stop at that park!" you hardly finish speaking before you take off in that direction, tugging him along behind you.

after you plop down on the fountain's ledge, sukuna takes his place beside you.

"let's sit here for a little while."

he doesn't respond and you take his silence as agreement. he's not really one to stifle his grievances.

as the minutes pass, the rush of the fountain is the only noise that fills the air, while you gaze at the trees with a serene expression.

sukuna, however, is looking at you. the only care he has for the trees is the way their lights reflect in your eyes. otherwise, he's fully occupied by the curve of your nose and the fullness of your lips.

"isn't this pretty?" you finally ask.

"it's pretty," he agrees, even when such a soft word feels foreign on his tongue.

his eyes still haven't left you, and you seem to be oblivious to this fact until he reaches up to stroke your cheek with the back of fingers.

when your gaze lands on him, the fondness written all over his face catches you off guard and you realize how close the both of you are. without really thinking about it, you lean into his touch.

"very pretty," he repeats lowly, as if he's talking to himself.

your heart lurches once in your chest, then hammers away at your ribcage without respite. he leans toward you a fraction of an inch, his eyes flicking down to your lips for a brief second.

truthfully, sukuna has never felt the way he does in this moment. it's a sincere sort of desire. he doesn't want the mindless devotion he once thirsted for from his followers. and he doesn't want the sex he used to crave from his concubines.

no. he just wants you— in whatever capacity you're willing to have him.

the way he's looking at you is just too much. there's a dull thudding in your ears and you swear your thoughts are moving at a million miles a minute.

so naturally, you blurt out the first thing you can manage. "we should take a selfie!"

his face shifts from whatever that expression was to one of confusion. "take a selfie?"

some twisted mix of relief and disappointment crashes through you.

"yeah, a selfie. a picture together. ya know, since the park is so pretty," you ramble.

he pulls away from you. not all the way, but enough that it gives you space to finally breath. he chuckles and it doesn't sound lofty like it so often does. in fact, he seems genuinely amused by you.

"a selfie," he deliberates. "that sounds great, but to the best of my knowledge, hell hasn't frozen over."

and just like that, your dynamic feels like it did during your walk from the ramen shop to the park— comfortable and fun.

"well i guess you would be one of the first to know."

ignoring his protests, you take out your phone and hold it far enough away that the camera captures both of your faces. you can see on the screen that he's put on an expression of complete boredom.

"c'mon," you nudge him with your elbow. "you look like you hate me."

the corner of his mouth curves upward. "that's because i do."

you think back on the way he was gazing at you just moments ago and laugh. "you're so full of shit."

then, without warning, you press a kiss to his cheek and click the button.

you decide that his vague look of contented surprise will just have to do.

when you and yuuji walk into the bar, you immediately spot one of the people you're there to meet. he's sitting at a hightop by himself, his snow white hair pretty hard to miss.

you tap his shoulder and his face breaks out into a grin. he slides out of the barstool. "if it isn't my favorite civilian!"

as he pulls you into a hug, you wonder if he's ever going to get tired of that joke. "if it isn't my favorite old man."

"35 is not old," he argues, moving to greet yuuji. "i'm still in the summer of my life, thank you very much!"

"gojo you're 36," the pink haired man remarks.

"gah! such betrayal, yuuji!" he presses his hand to his forehead and takes a deep breath. "now i'm going to need another round."

"i'll go and get drinks for all of us," you offer. "you two stay here so no one takes the table."

before either of them can respond, you turn and begin making your way through the crowd. you don't hear gojo when he calls out, "but darling! i should go with you!"

he takes a step in your direction, but stops when sukuna's mouth appears on yuuji's cheek. "you certainly should not, you insufferable half wit."

"relax, dude. he flirts with literally everyone," yuuji informs him.

gojo scoffs. "i am right here—"

"as if that makes it better?" sukuna barks. "she isn't some toy to be played with."

"of course she isn't! you can't honestly think i'd believe otherwise."

gojo is left forgotten for a moment as the other two bicker, so he interjects once there's a lull in the conversation. "do either of you care to explain what the hell is going on?"

yuuji turns toward him, trying and failing to hide the embarrassment on his face once he realizes that gojo is, in fact, still standing there.

his eyebrows are raised above his sunglasses and it's clear he is inappropriately amused by the situation (what else is new?). he moves to sit across from the younger man, looking at him expectantly.

having no way to talk himself out of this, yuuji relays the recent events regarding you and sukuna, sparing some of the finer details. gojo's face doesn't really betray much emotion throughout the story, though he does look thoughtful by the end of it.

leaning forward, he crosses his arms on top of the table. "maybe your feelings for her are influencing his own, forcing a sort of bond between them?"

"i don't think so," yuuji contends honestly. "other than her, you're the person i admire and respect the most, but he thinks—"

"that you are perhaps the most imbecilic rampallion i've ever had the displeasure of coming across."

gojo jerks back, as if the insult had hit him squarely in the jaw. the look of giddiness from yuuji's compliment, followed by the shift to indignation at sukuna's insult is almost comical.

he stretches his neck forward, cupping his hand around one side of his mouth as if it'd keep sukuna from hearing. "what'd he just call me?"

yuuji shrugs. "beats me, but i don't think he was singing your praises."

"i see your point." gojo pauses, glancing over his shoulder. you're approaching the table, so he turns back to yuuji and quickly adds, "we'll talk more about this another time, but for now, keep this between us."

a few moments later, you appear in front of them and exclaim, "look who i found!"

megumi and inumaki situate themselves around the table too, offering their greetings. you slide yuuji and gojo their drinks, both of which are filled to the brim of the glass. "now then gentlemen, shall we?"

when gojo teleports you and yuuji back to your apartment that night, it takes everything in you to keep from yakking all over your carpet.

"ta ta, hooligans!"

you turn to request that he never do that again, but he's already gone. taking one step forward, you promptly fall on your ass in the entryway with an unforgiving thud. yuuji staggers toward the couch, making it there just in time to face plant into the cushions.

looking down toward your shoes, you're dismayed to find that each one appears to have two sets of laces. you're fumbling with them determinedly when someone crouches down in front of you, their elbows resting on their thighs.

he doesn't say a word. brushing your hands away, he unties your shoes and carefully pulls them off your feet. you're lifted from the floor before you can register the arm that's looped under your knees or the other that's securely around your back.

"careful," you hiccup, your head falling into the crook of his neck. "'m gunna p-puke."

"i'd rather you didn't."

you groan. "s'not like i 'ave a choice in the matter."

he hums. "how much did you drink?"

"dunno. sss'much. nobara—" you hiccup again. "nobara n' maki made me."

he chuckles, placing you down on what you figure is your bed. "right, i'm sure you had no choice in the matter."

"tha's correct, yes."

unbuttoning your jeans, he tugs upward on your belt loops. "lift."

you do as he says, lifting your hips from the bed so he can slide your jeans off your legs. he knows you won't remember this— hell, your eyes are already closed— but he looks away as he does it anyway.

pulling your phone from your pocket and putting it on the charger, your pants are discarded off to the side. he only turns his head back in your direction once he's pulled the blankets up over your body.

"tuck me in?" you request.

sitting down on the bed beside you, he does so without protest.

he stares at you for a little while, worried about how poorly you're probably going to feel in the morning. he presses a kiss to your forehead, intending to get up and grab a water bottle for your nightstand.

instead, his body freezes when he hears you mumble, "i love you s'much."

his heart clenches so painfully, he honestly considers ripping it from his chest— it would probably be less agonizing.

but a thought that makes him feel like a fool occurs to him. of course it's not him that you love. "i'm not yuuji."

"well, duuuhhh. you're s'kuna." you're peering up at him through tired, hazy eyes. it's the first time you've ever seen him look bewildered, so a small giggle erupts from your throat. "s'okay. you don't 'ave t'say it back."

your eyes flutter shut and your breathing evens out before he even thinks to respond. all at once, it's as if his head is empty and as if it's about to explode.

love?

what does he know about love? it's a sentiment he's cursed for so long, but sitting here beside you, he can't quite seem to remember why. one thing he is sure of, however, is that there's never been a thing in the world he's loved.

suddenly, he's struck with remembrance of a quote from jane eyre you had emphasized with messy underlines:

"after a youth and manhood passed half in unutterable misery and half in dreary solitude, i have for the first time found what i can truly love—i have found you. you are my sympathy—my better self—my good angel. i am bound to you with a strong attachment. i think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one."

rochester says it as he begs jane to stay at thornfield with him, an act sukuna had previously regarded as ridiculous, but is that still the case?

were you to ever scorn him, would he fall to his knees and plead with you to change your mind? or if you were in danger of dying, would he drag himself to a shrine and pray to the gods he doesn't believe in?

is that what love is?

could he stand to be apart from you? are you special to him? does anything else in the world compare to you? does he seek out your company? is he consumed by you? can he know himself without knowing you?

does the definition of love lie in those questions?

sukuna hopes not, because he's terrified of the answers. being in love is not his way, nor is it in his nature.

he buries his face in his hands as realization settles into his bones. it feels as if they're splintering beneath the pressure, trying resentfully to stave it off.

he transcends any imaginable scale of power. he's bled entire villages dry, he's commandeered death, he's the king of curses.

so why now? and why you? is it divine retribution? a sick sort of joke that even he couldn't have dreamed up?

gods, you were right. the universe has sent you to carry out its will and he's completely powerless to stop it.

the worst part of it all? he doesn't want to.

taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @thepup356 @risuola *users in bold could not be tagged

[cosmoeticss]

Haven’t I Been Good to You? | Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader (18+)

my masterlist

Words: 2K

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Neice!Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), good old fashioned targcest, p n v, overall bad writing because I haven’t properly written in so long

Note: Reader is Rhaenyra’s heir/eldest daughter and the argument takes place after the dinner scene. I tried not to use any physical descriptors but those gorgeous targaryen platinum locks so I hope thats okay and you enjoy. Literally crawling in my skin right now because I’m about to post this, existing is an embarrassment, if you see this ily thank you for reading.

part two

Aemond was anything but cooled off when he returned to his marital chambers that night. He bound into the room, his displeasure from the night clear in his body language and his labored breathing. His wife sat stoically in front of her vanity, clad in only her night dress as she combed through the length of her silky, silver curls.

Aemond stared her down in disbelief as she barely acknowledged him. How could she honestly be angry with him? It was her bastard brothers who started the disagreement, who started the rivalry to begin with, who teased him their whole childhood and took his eye that fateful night on Driftmark. And here she sat, his wife, shoulders back and proud and angry with him.

Gods, she was beautiful when she was angry. If he didn't know her so well he wouldn't be able to tell. She was so serene and regal and surprisingly calm when she was upset. He often thought of how opposite they were in that sense. He thought of how hot tempered and quick to snap he was, and how she thought everything through before it slipped from her pretty lips. He envied this about her, and yet it was what he had loved most about her as well.

Aemond couldn't help it. He broke first. "Where are the children?" He inquired, steadying himself to the best of his ability.

She hardly gave him the time of day as she answered, her eyes not leaving her own reflection. "I've settled them into bed,” she said.

The Prince furrowed his brow. "Did you not think that I would wish to bid goodnight to my sons?"

"The hour is late. They've had their fill of excitement for the day, Husband."

Husband. Not her usual 'my dearest love,' not 'my darling.' He was in trouble far more than what he had bargained for. He eyed her in disbelief. "You're truly taking their side?"

She finally turned then, vast (e/c) eyes meeting his violet one. "There is no side to be taken, Aemond,” he hated her formality when they argued, "We are a family. We're supposed to be on the same side. Did you see how pleased the poor King was to see everyone finally getting along? Our mothers finally found some common ground after all of these years and yet you ruined an otherwise pleasant night with your wounded pride."

"My wounded pride?" he spat harshly, raising his voice at her. "Did you not see the way your beloved brother laughed as they sat a roasted pig in front of me? Or have you forgotten the torment I was subject to as a child? What do you expect to me to do, (Y/N)?"

She stood then, the silk of her long night dress accentuating her rounded stomach. "You are to be the Royal Consort one day, you will be King!" she scolded him sternly, silencing him. "I expect you to be the bigger person. I expect you to act with dignity and not meet the teasing of a child with the ferocity that you did tonight!"

Aemond softened at this, turning away from her to face the burning embers of the hearth. He did not retaliate, only moving to sit in a chair placed in front of it. He gripped the arms of the seat trying to calm himself, breathing deeply.

His wife watched him carefully. "It is not fair. I know it isn't," she swallowed, her eyes glazed over as she did. "I know that it angers you that I love my family after all my brothers have done to you, after what Lucerys has taken from you and I am sorry, Aemond. I truly am."

He was silent still, eye glued to the flames before him as if they were the most important thing in the room. "I cannot keep atoning for crimes I did not commit," her voice was almost pleading as she stepped closer to him then, slowly, testing the water carefully. When he did not retaliate,  she kneeled on the floor in front of him. "I know that you would not have chosen me to wed on our own, dear husband."

Her hands reached out to take his, and he allowed it, watching down the bridge of his nose as his wife gently held his hands in her small ones and brought them both to her lips, kissing them tenderly and repeatedly. "We have been honest and good to each other in these near seven years as man and wife, though," she stated, eyes wide and pleading as she rested her chin on his knee. "Have I not been a good to you?"

"You have," Aemond's voice cracked, his eyes fluttering shut at her soft inquisition. He breathed deeply, removing one of his hands from hers and carding it through her beautiful hair. “My love.”

"I have given you my body, mind, and soul. I have given you my virtue, and my fidelity. My heart has only ever belonged to you," she whispered as her husbands tensity began to dissolve between her nimble fingers and lips. Her soft kisses continuing slowly up his arm. "I have bore you two beautiful, healthy boys. Boys that will be Kings and Warriors one day, and I carry another inside me."

The air was stolen from her as Aemond halted her pecking and surged forward, lifting her swiftly from the stone floor to straddle his lap as if she weighed nothing. She gazed down at him, moving to gently remove her husbands eye patch. He hadn't minded the action for years now, as it was a bother to wear and his pretty wife had never judged his appearance or what he had lost all those years ago. She set the patch on the end table next to them, not taking her eyes off of him as her hands slid up his shoulders and found their home at his jawline. Her thumbs moved in slow circles on his face.

"I have given you power," he whimpered at this, gripping the soft meat of her thighs. "Outside the walls of this chamber you are my equal, and one day we will rule the Seven Kingdoms side by side, however we see fit to."

"Yes," he groaned hoarsely, continuing his kneading at her thighs, sitting up to press his lips to her throat, leaving hot opened mouth kisses down her neck to the swell of her breasts as he detangled the strings of her shift, baring her supple chest to him.

"You would like that wouldn't you, My King?" Aemond growled in agreement, continuing his ravishing as she slipped her fingers to the base of his neck and weaved them into his hair, gripping it tightly. "And in this room, you will rule me as you see fit."

"If that we're true then I would bound you to our bed, little wife," he sank his teeth delicately into the flesh of her breast, tongue swirling against the skin, causing her head to snap back in pleasure and a breathy moan to fall from her lips. "You would never leave these chambers. Who would be left to rule if I'm buried inside this sweet cunt for all of our lives, hmm?"

"You have many years before we are crowned for me to ride you, my dragon. And I plan to mount you morning and night,” she grinding into him, their lips meeting finally in a messy kiss. "Surely you'll tire of bedding me by then."

"Never," he pressed his forehead to hers, their breathing hot as he moved a large slender hand to cover her swollen stomach. "I enjoy no sight more than your belly swollen with our children."

She rutted her hips against his once more, her weeping cunt begging for friction. "Please, my dearest love"

"I wonder how the realm would feel if they knew the truth of their precious Princess?" he smirked as she fucked herself on his covered length. "If they knew how she begged for me each night? How wet she gets without me even having to touch her."

"Aemond, please," she wined.

"You wish to ride your dragon, my Queen?" he began hiking up her night dress to rest on her hips.

She panted at his movements, so tender, so achingly slow and teasing. "Yes," she whimpered.

He cocked his brow at her. "What's stopping you? Claim me then."

She didn't have to be told twice. Her trembling hands moved frantically to the strings of his pants, unfastening them and pulling them down to his thighs. He hissed as she took his length into her hand, stroking it sweetly before he lifted her hips and guided her to sink down on him. Her eyes screwed shut, crying out in pleasure as she adjusted to the size of him. Neither of them moved for a moment, their breathing tense and labored.

Aemond brushed a lock of hair out of his wife's face, her forehead falling to meet his as he cradled her head with his hand. "Alright?"

"Mhm," she hummed needily, bracing herself as her hands dropped to his shoulders. Aemond's free hand moved to cover the swell of her stomach, a lazy grin forming on his lips, before finding it's way to her hips once more, helping to roll them against his. Aemond cursed, his jaw going slack as his wife unraveled above him. Once she found her footing, she picked up her pace, bobbing up and down steadily, her finger nails curling into his shoulders. His hips snapped up to meet hers, and she cried out, his name tumbling from her lips like a prayer. Something came undone in him at the sound, his hands were everywhere then, cupping her full breasts, wrapped around her throat, sinking into her thighs. He was pawing at her like she would disappear if he let go for one second, grunting like a wild animal as he rutted against her.

"So good," he captured her lips in a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth clashing. "So pretty and all mine."

She babbled something nonsensical in appraisal, her heat clenching around his cock as he worshipped her, their movements becoming sloppy as they approached their peak. "I'm so close."

"Say you love me," he demanded, fingers making their way to her pearl as he toyed with it, causing her to squeak at the touch. "Tell me again that you're mine and mine alone."

"Please," she panted, whimpering as he fucked into her relentlessly, hitting her sweet spot with each thrust. "IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou."

Aemond's fingers were torture, slow and taunting. "Say it." "I'm yours," she cried out. "Only yours. Please--"

"Let go," he permitted, following close behind as she toppled over the edge, back arching and eyes rolling back as she was overcome with pleasure. They were still, chests heaving and hot breath mingling as they came down from their shared orgasm. Her nimble fingers tangled into his hair, brushing it away from his sweat soaked neck. He fell back into the chair, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her. "I would've chosen you," he broke the silence after a long moment. She lifted her head slightly to look him in the eye, confusion evident as if she had not registered what he said. "When you said that you weren't the wife I would have chosen for myself. If I had been presented with a choice, I would've chosen you."

Her gaze softened at the sincerity and raw emotion flickering in his eye. "Then choose me now. Choose our family," she gripped his shirt tightly, pleading with him. "Love me more than you hate them."

Aemond sighed deeply, covering her hands with his. "I do love you. More than anything."

"Then promise you will try." Neither wanted to admit what they both knew, that even if he did, it was too late. The King's health dwindled more and more by the day, and the wounds cut between the Greens and the Blacks were too old and too deep for even their love to heal. The time was coming where they would have to choose. War was looming and their last chance at peace had slipped through their fingers like flowing water. So they didn't, and chose in silence to carry on pretending while they still could.

Aemond cupped her face gently, and pulled her into a soft, sweet kiss. "I promise," he whispered, the sweetest of lies, and he met her lips again in a more fervent kiss.

And she let herself hope, she let her self believe, just a little while longer.

[ashwhowrites]

So I had this idea, that Dustin had two older sisters who are twins. Steve didn’t notice anything while at high school he doesn’t know. So one day he comes into work and asks Robin, “did you know about the Henderson twins? And why is one dating Eddie The Freak Munson?” Dustin starts trying to get Steve to date his other sister. Steve agrees reluctantly but doesn’t expect the sister to be hot and dislike him, bc of high school. He has work to do.

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting🫶🏻

Date my sister

Steve was popular in high school, which meant everyone knew him but he knew no one outside his friend group. He started to notice people once he graduated and realized being popular hurt you more in the long run. Which is why his friends are Robin and freshmen.

Steve walked into work, a sigh on his lips as he clocked in. Robin had been bouncing on her feet all morning waiting for him to arrive. She had new information and she loved talking to Steve. He was a talker like her, so he didn't get annoyed with her last words.

"Did you know Dustin has twin sisters? Around our age, and one of them is dating Eddie Munson!" Robin lived for gossip and Steve was a sucker for it.

"Holy shit, no way," Steve scoffed, "I've known that kid for years and never heard about them."

"Yeah! They graduated with you, you never noticed them?" Robin asked.

"Well no, but I didn't look outside my friend group. But still! How could Dustin never say anything? And why have I been using my gas when he had two sisters to drive his ass around." Steve knew he had to talk to Dustin the next time he saw him.

~~~

Dustin was on Steve's tail before he could confront Dustin.

"Please! Ever since Eddie has been around, Y/N has gotten more lonely. Which means she's getting a temper and being moody. I think you would like her, just ask her out." Dustin pleaded. He needed his house to be less angsty and more fun.

"Dustin, I don't know. No offense, but a girl version of you doesn't sound like my type."

"I've seen girls you've asked out. You are desperate enough to ask anyone." Dustin argued back, a bored look on his face.

"Shut up," Steve groaned

~

Steve knocked on Henderson's door, then moved his hands to his back pockets. He waited for the door to open, thinking of how to ask Y/N out when he'd never seen her before. He promised Dustin to give it a shot, but one shot.

He looked as the door opened, and his jaw dropped.

"Dustin isn't here," she said, already closing the door. But Steve shoved his foot in, hissing as she kept closing it.

"I'm here for Y/N," he said, a sigh of relief when she opened the door again. A suspicious look in her eyes.

"Why?" she asked

Steve wasn't sure which twin he was talking to, but he prayed it was Y/N. Because she was beautiful, and Steve could already feel that he needed her. She wore casual clothes to relax at home, her legs on display. Steve couldn't help but check her out, his eyes leading him up her tank top and back to her face.

"Y/N, WHO'S AT THE DOOR?"

Steve smiled as his prayers were answered.

"STEVE" she yelled back. A good enough answer for her mom as she went silent.

"I want to ask you out on a date," Steve admitted. He stood terrified under her heated eyes.

"Oh really?" She asked, her arms crossed with a scoff. "Why's that? You obviously had no idea it was me when I opened the door. You had no clue who I was in high school, so why are you randomly interested?"

Steve had no idea if lying or telling the truth was best, but he went with the truth.

"Dustin wanted me to ask you out and at f-"

"Yeah, I don't need the charity date." She cut him off as she slammed the door shut.

Well, he asked and that's all he promised Dustin.

~~~

"YOU IDIOT! I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOOD AT TALKING TO GIRLS" Dustin yelled as he raced into the video store.

Robin immediately laughed with a scoff, "Who ever said that?"

"One of you at a time please!" Steve begged, moving his eyes to the younger and pissed-off boy.

"She asked why I was suddenly asking her out and I wasn't going to lie. She'd see right through it. I figured she'd be less pissed off. It was like the second she saw me, she hated me." Steve explained.

"Well, she's pissed! I had to listen to twenty minutes of her bitching me out on the way to school and when she picked me up. Turns out she hates you, dude! Being an asshole in high school really impacted some people." Dustin explained

"Yeah, I learned that. But I asked her out and she said no. So my job is done." Steve said, holding his hands in surrender.

"Then you need to make her like you!" Dustin argued

"Why?" Steve asked, his hands on the counter as he leaned over to stare at him.

"She'll never admit it, but she's lonely. She needs someone, and well I trust you to not hurt her" Dustin shrugged

"But she hates me, why would she change her mind?" Steve asked

"Show her the new you. The changed Steve. Sweep her off of her feet. Do whatever dumb stuff you do to make girls like you." Dustin explained.

"I'll try," Steve sighed. Because honestly, he hadn't stopped thinking about her.

~~~

The next time he saw her, she was bringing Dustin to the video store. He didn't notice he was fixing his hair until Robin poked fun at him. He shrugged her off and walked to open the door. Dustin gave him a sly thumbs up.

"Welcome in," Steve greeted

"Since when do you open doors for customers?" Y/N asked, but walking through the opened door.

"I don't, just you," he said, smirking as he walked behind her cutting Dustin off.

"Oh right, now trying to win me over?" Y/N asked, smiling over her shoulder.

"Let me know if it ever starts working," he said with a wink. She hated herself for watching him walk away.

~

Y/N was relaxing in her front yard. A book opened as she felt the warm breeze through her hair.

"Hello, gorgeous," Steve said as he walked up to her. She could feel the sun being blocked by his body, making her look up.

Steve had his hands in his pockets, smiling down at her with those pink lips. She cursed at herself for wanting to smile back.

"How can I help you?" she asked, shielding her eyes with her hand.

"Dustin wants to go to the arcade, you wanna come?" He asked, "promise you won't be the third wheel." He scrunched down, his knees bent as now he was closer to her eye level.

She inhaled his cologne and hated how she loved the smell of it. It was easier to hate him when he wasn't right next to her.

"I'll pass," she said with as much sass as she could. Trying to keep up her unbothered attitude. She went back to her book, ignoring the burn she felt from his eyes.

"Maybe next time," he said, standing up as Dustin walked out.

~

"Dustin please go with me?" Y/N begged. Her favorite band was in town and she really wanted to go. Her sister had a date with Eddie and she refused to ditch. None of her friends liked the band, and she didn't want to go alone.

"I already have plans with Mike, but you know who is free tonight?" Dustin hinted as he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Absolutely not," Y/N said, shaking her head. She knew what he was going to say, and she could not be alone with Steve. It was getting harder to keep up her act when being with him broke it all down. She can't imagine being alone with him, she's pretty sure she would fall for him. And she couldn't. She needed to be strong.

"Here's his number. Just call him," Dustin said. He went out the door and left Steve's number behind.

She stared at the digits until they began to move.

"Fuck me," she sighed to herself. She punched in the numbers and listened as it rang.

"Steve," she froze as she heard his voice on the line. She took a deep breath and reminded herself it was just a boy.

"Hey Steve, it's Y/N," she said. She could hear him starting to move, and a lot of commotion.

Steve hissed out as he stubbed his toe against his bed, trying to ignore the pain as he rushed to the other side of his room. He was already stripping out of his PJs.

"Oh hey!" he said through heavy breaths, "what's up?" His voice cracked and he smacked himself in the face.

"Look you weren't my first choice so don't think this means anything. But, would you like to go to a concert with me?" She asked, closing her eyes. A part of her already regretted asking.

"Um yeah, when is it? I can take off work." He asked, he could feel his heart racing so fast.

"In like two hours," she said

Steve looked at his watch. "Shit, um yes! I need to rearrange some things but I'll be at your place in an hour."

And with that, he hung up.

After an hour, Y/N was finishing getting ready. She finished her lipstick as Steve knocked on the door. She smiled at her reflection and began walking towards the front door. She smoothed out her shirt and jeans before she opened it.

Once it was open, Steve came into view. He stood there in a blue short sleeve and dark jeans. And a beautiful bouquet of roses.

"Wow," Steve said, rubbing his chin as he took her in. "You're always gorgeous, but wow."

"Thank you," she said as she felt her face burn. "You look very nice too."

"Thank you, these are for you." He said as he handed over the flowers. She reached forward to grab them, shivering as his touch sent electricity through her.

"Thank you, Steve. But you know this isn't a date." She clarified.

"I know, but still felt like I shouldn't show up empty-handed."

~

They arrived at the small bar, Steve was a gentleman as he opened her car door and the bar door. She hated how sweet he was. He grabbed her a drink and they moved through the crowd.

"Ready?" she asked, a playful smile on her face as she stood in the middle of the pit.

"For what?" he yelled into her ear, shocked when her hand slipped into his. He felt his face burn as he looked down to see their hands interlocked.

"TO GET TO THE FRONT," she yelled. Steve went to say something but then she began pushing through the crowd. He gripped her hand tighter as she made her way to the front, he kept apologizing to everyone.

He felt like it was wrong but once they made it to the very front of the stage, he was amazed by the stage.

"Oh wow, I've never been front row before," he said. He was hoping she wouldn't remember that they were holding hands.

"It's the best way to experience a concert. I've seen them every time they come to town and refuse to not be front row." Steve loved the way her eyes lit up as she talked about it. And how her body softly moved to the music that played throughout the bar's speakers.

"I haven't experienced many concerts. Always too loud for me," Steve laughed, taking a sip of his cold drink.

"Oh, if you don't like them, you didn't have to say yes," Y/N said, feeling a tad guilty for dragging him into something he didn't enjoy.

"Are you kidding? No way in the world I would say no to you asking me out," he said, a charming smile on his face.

I asked you to join me! Not ask you out," she said, but her smile was playful. It seemed like she was warming up to him.

He was in awe of her smile, but then the lights went dark and everyone screamed. They stared at each other as the stage lit up, not looking away until the band began to play. She turned to look at the stage, and he kept his eyes on hers.

She let go of his hand to clap. Jumping as the band performed. Steve had never seen her so loose and fun, not that he had much time to be with her. He was happy to be here in the moment, and so happy Robin took his shift.

The rest of the show went amazing. Steve danced to every song with her, holding his drink, and keeping eyes on everyone around her. It seemed her drink broke down some walls as she moved until her body was pressed against Steve's. He tried to keep his calm as her ass pressed against his jeans. He placed his free hand on her hip, the other one holding his unfinished drink. Their bodies moved together to the live music, he felt like his head was in the clouds as he inhaled her perfume and shampoo.

He could feel himself getting slightly turned on, chugging the rest of his drink and tossing it to the floor. The drink made his body hot, and her body felt hot when he placed both hands on her hips. He started dancing against her, she turned around and hooked her arms around his neck.

"ENJOYING THE BAND?" She yelled into his ear, her lips ghosting over his ear.

"I'M ENJOYING SOMETHING ELSE," he yelled into her ear, pulling away. His face was inches away from hers, he was getting lost in her eyes and didn't notice he was leaning in.

Her heart sped up as she looked into his deep brown eyes, she looked down at his lips as he leaned in. She softly played with the end of his hair near his neck as she closed the space between them.

Steve was slightly stunned as she kissed him, but kissed her back. His hands moved up to the bottom of her back as he deepened the kiss. The sound of the band and cheering fans faded as she felt his tongue slip inside her mouth. She tangled her hand in his hair, yanking it. She bit down on his lip and used her grip on his hair to pull him away. He stared in awe as she yanked his bottom lip and then released it.

"GOODNIGHT EVERYBODY!"

The band left the stage, and the crowd began to break apart. But they stood tangled together.

"Do you kiss like that to everyone you ask to join you?" Steve joked

"I don't, just you," she said, leaning in and kissing him again.

Steve owed Dustin big time.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Never Say Never| Pt1

Warnings: Cursing

Pt2 Pt3 Pt4

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

You and Hyunjin had always been a passionate couple, with emotions running high in both good and bad times. It was something that you had yearned for- being in a relationship as passionate as a gasoline fueled flame; but in time you had realized what you had was both a blessing and a curse.

The day had started out like any other, but a simmering tension had been building up for weeks, ready to boil over.

Simple things had been irritating you both, yet you were too afraid to communicate those things in fear of causing issues.

You had just returned home from running some errands when you noticed the look on Hyunjin's face as he stared intently at something on the screen of his phone.

"Hey, I'm back," you called out, placing your bag on the kitchen counter. You had left the dorms earlier to run out and pick up a few things you intended to use to cook the guys dinner, running to a few other places as well throughout the late morning until early evening.

Hyunjin didn't respond right away, his side turned to you as he scrolled through his phone. You sensed something was off but decided to ignore it for now, too anxious of a person to start confrontations.

"How was your day?" you asked, trying to keep the mood light.

He turned around, a frown creasing his forehead. "Did you see this?" he asked, showing you an article from Dispatch.

You glanced at the screen and sighed. "Yeah, I saw it. They're always making up rumors and releasing things. You know that." The headline read:

STRAY KIDS HYUNJIN DATING FOREIGN NON-IDOL?

Hyunjin's frustration was palpable. "It's not just rumors this time, Y/N. They have photos of us together, and they're saying you're a distraction to my career." He rushed a hand through his hair. "And this isn't the first time its happened. Remember when you took my Instagram pictures but forget to edit your reflection out of the mirror? Thankfully it was just your shoulder, but you've put us in multiple situations because of stupid mistakes you make. Like the photo in the article-" He shows his phone to you. "Everyone knew I was doing an isolated photoshoot. None of the other members were there and I said you could come but to be careful when leaving so you aren't seen at the shooting scene. But rather you aren't careful and they have a picture of you in my varsity jacket."

You sigh in frustration. "Hyunjin, they don't even know what my face looks like! I always wear a hat and glasses and a mask and clothes that cover me up. I don't see the big deal in people speculating you being in a relationship! Just ignore it and it'll die down." You turn to go put some of the groceries away but Hyunjin spoke.

"I wasn't finished Y/N. You seem to think its that easy. I'm supposed to look desirable - attainable Y/N. I have to live the life of a bachelor even if it isn't the case."

You turn at the sound of his voice. You don't know if it was the flippant tone he used while saying something so dismissive or if it was because of how fed up you were of hiding but you scoffed.

You felt a mix of anger and hurt. "So, what? Am I not supposed to be around you because you need to feed into people's delusions? Are you expecting me to sit at home and pretend like we're nothing more than just two people who have mutual feelings but can't act on them because of fanservice? All because of a tabloid article?"

He ran a hand through his hair again, clearly agitated. "It's not that simple. My career is on the line here. The fans, the company—they all have expectations."

Your temper flared. "And what about my expectations, Hyunjin? Does that not matter?"

Hyunjin's eyes flashed with frustration. "Of course it matters, but we have to be realistic. You- this could ruin everything I've worked for."

You laughed humorlessly at Hyunjin's slip up. "So...me loving you is ruining your career?" You licked your lips and then puckered them in thought. "Makes sense. considering I was the one who said yes to your advances." Your voice has a biting sarcasm to it.

"Y/N don't start. You knew what you were getting into- I warned you about dating an idol."

You threw your hands up in exasperation. "This wouldn't even be an issue if you just disclosed our relationship! How many times have we had to sneak around and hide like we're doing something wrong? And you didn't warn me about this. Matter of fact you warned me about how people would act knowing you were in a relationship. They don't know shit Hyunjin, because you have yet to tell anyone other than the members about us. And they wouldn't have found out so quickly if it wasn't for Jisung being nosy and following you."

He scoffed. "Its common sense. You've lived here long enough to know not all relationships are disclosed right away. "

"You gave me the impression that you were going to inform people! It's been a year, Hyunjin! A fucking year."

"You know it's not that simple. Disclosing our relationship could have serious repercussions. I could lose everything I've worked for."

Your voice rose in frustration. "And what about me? Do you know how it feels to be kept a secret? To constantly worry about getting caught, about being labeled as a distraction or worse? Getting doxxed? At least if you told people they could be warned of legal reprecussions! Or maybe they would feel inclined to love someone their idol loves just out of decency. Not labeling us as a couple to the public is making things worse. Its making it hard for me-"

Hyunjin took a step closer, his frustration evident. "Do you think this is easy for me? I have to think about my career, my future. It's not just about us!" His voice was sharp and there was a hint of something underlying you weren't sure you had ever heard before.

You felt tears of anger and hurt welling up. "So, what? Am I just supposed to sit here and accept that I'll always come second to your career?"

He shook his head, his voice rising. "That's not what I'm saying. But you have to understand, this is my life. This is what I've worked so hard for. I can't just throw it all away."

"But you don't realize doing all of that is just slowly throwing me away?"

The argument escalated quickly, with both of you hurling accusations and past grievances at each other. Each word was a dagger, cutting deeper and deeper. And if emotions were blood you would have been dead by now.

"You never appreciate what I sacrifice for us," you shouted, tears streaming down your face. Your throat hurt from the past few minutes of the screaming match you and Hyunjin had been in. "I'm constantly worrying, constantly hiding! And for what?!"

Hyunjin's voice was equally loud, the frustration palpable. "And you think I don't make sacrifices?! Playing damage control all the fucking time! I'm getting tired!"

The room felt suffocating, the air thick with unspoken hurts and unresolved issues. The argument had spiraled out of control, touching every sore spot in your relationship.

"You know what, Hyunjin?" you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "Maybe we need some time apart."

His face fell, shock replacing the anger. "Are you serious?"

"Yes," you replied, feeling a strange mix of relief and heartbreak. "I can't do this anymore. I don't want to fight with you-"

Hyunjin's expression hardened. "I should have never asked you out in the first place. I guess I'm finally free from that mistake."

That sentence hung in the air, a cruel echo of his frustration and regret. The final blow to an already fragile situation.

You had intended for this to spark a moment of calm, so you could both take sometime to gather your thoughts and talk things out civilly rather than pierce each other.

You hadn't expected it go anything farther than that. Not a breakup.

You felt your heart shatter, and without another word, you turned and left the apartment. Tears streamed down your face as you walked away, leaving behind the life you had built together.

The immediate aftermath was a blur. You found yourself at your best friend's place, seeking solace and trying to make sense of what had just happened. The pain was overwhelming, and every memory of Hyunjin felt like a knife to your heart. Your friend welcomed you with open arms, offering a shoulder to cry on and a place to stay, since they doubted that you'd want to be where Hyunjin knew you'd be.

They made you a cup of tea and sat with you on the couch. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You shook your head, the words stuck in your throat. "Not right now."

Your best friend nodded understandingly. "Take your time. I'm here for you. Whether you want to cry or be angry. Punch things, break things. Whatever makes you feel better. But for right now I'm gonna take this." They gently took your phone from your hands, entering your password and blocking the sultry eyed boy; already sensing that this turn of events wasn't a kind one.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin was left alone in dorms, staring at the space where you had stood before. Regret and anger battled within him, and he found himself replaying the argument over and over in his mind. He sat on the couch, head in his hands, wondering how things had gone so wrong. The words he had said echoed in his mind, each repetition amplifying his regret. "I should have never asked you out."

He knew he didn't mean it, but the damage was done. The love of his life had walked out the door, and he was left to face the consequences of his words.

He sat there ruminating on it, feeling his anger slowly melt away and turn into immense guilt and then a deep sadness that spurred an onslaught of tears when he heard the members arrive and Jeongin's voice ring out asking what you had made them for dinner.

Days turned into weeks and the void you left in his life grew more apparent with each passing day. He missed your laugh, your presence, the way you made everything feel better. But he also knew that the words he had said couldn't be taken back.

You, too, were struggling. The pain of the breakup was a constant companion, and you found it hard to focus on anything else. Your friends tried to comfort you, but nothing seemed to fill the emptiness you felt inside.

One evening, as you sat in your best friend's living room, staring at the boxes of the last few belongings you had yet to unpack in your new shared home. You couldn't help but think back to all the good times you and Hyunjin had shared. The way he used to make you breakfast in bed when you'd spend the night at the dorms, the late-night talks,. when you were and the spontaneous adventures you took- specifically the ones that were far from the public gaze where you didn't have to worry about hiding. It all seemed so distant now, yet so vivid.

BSF/N noticed your pensive mood and sat down beside you. "You're thinking about him, aren't you?"

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. "I miss him. I don't want to but I do. Its been months shouldn't I be over him?"

"You need to move on love. There are plenty of people who can love you better than he ever did." Your best friend stated with the conviction only that of an angry bestie could hold. "He may have been good but you can find better than that coward." You nodded along, grateful for your friend's unwavering support, but still fostering that seed of pain.

Hyunjin was grappling with his own feelings of regret and longing. He often found himself staring at his phone, contemplating whether to call you or text you. Even if he knew you had more than likely blocked him. He didn't dare text, because he didn't want to see the tangible answer to his biggest worry.

So instead threw himself into his work, using his busy schedule to distract himself from the gnawing emptiness. Rehearsals, recording sessions, and performances became his refuge. Yet, every time he stepped off stage or left the studio, the loneliness crept back in causing an ineffable ache throughout his entire being.

His friends and groupmates noticed the change in him. He was more withdrawn, quieter, his usual spark dimmed.

"Hey, you okay?" Felix asked one evening as they wrapped up practice. "You've been pretty out of it lately."

Hyunjin forced a smile. "Yeah, just tired."

Felix didn't look convinced but nodded anyway. "If you ever want to talk, you know I'm here, right? You never...really told us what happened...we want to be here to support you, you know?"

"Thanks," Hyunjin muttered, his thoughts already drifting back to you.

Nights were the hardest for the both of you. Alone in the quiet darkness, memories of Hyunjin haunted you. You didn't have his voice to fall asleep to, neither did he have your soft snores. You would often wake up, reaching out for you, to see if he was still on the line. Only to find a dark screen, only occasionally lit up with the random spam notification you got throughout the night. The ache in your chest felt unbearable, and more than once, you found yourself sobbing into your pillow, wishing things had turned out differently.

Hyunjin wasn't faring any better. He would lie awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, replaying every argument, every mistake. The guilt and regret weighed heavily on him, making sleep elusive. He missed the sound of your voice, the feel of your hand in his, the comfort of your presence.

One night, unable to bear it any longer, Hyunjin found himself walking through the city streets, lost in thought. The bustling noise of the city was a stark contrast to the turmoil inside him. He found himself standing outside your favorite café, staring through the window at the place where you'd shared so many happy moments. The happiest one being the moment he had first saw you, smiling at the register happily as a new hire taking his order- only to see the cutest face of disgust he had ever seen at the mention of the word Americano.

It was a stupid way to fall, but wasn't love stupid?

The days dragged on, and the pain didn't lessen. It became a constant, dull ache that colored everything you did. Friends and family tried to pull you out of your shell, but nothing seemed to help. The weight of Hyunjin's words lingered, a reminder of how things had fallen apart.

One particularly rough day, you received a message from your workplace. Your performance had been slipping, and they were concerned. It was a harsh wake-up call, a reminder that life was still moving forward even if you felt stuck in place.

You tried to throw yourself into work, hoping it would distract you from the pain. But every little thing reminded you of Hyunjin. The music playing in the background, a passing comment from a colleague, even the smell of coffee—all of it brought memories of him rushing back.

Hyunjin, too, was struggling to keep up appearances. He would smile for the cameras, perform with his usual energy, but behind the scenes, he was a mess. His bandmates grew increasingly worried, their attempts to cheer him up falling flat.

The breaking point came one night after a particularly grueling performance. Hyunjin had given it his all on stage, but as soon as the lights went down, the emptiness hit him like a tidal wave. He retreated to his dressing room, shutting the door behind him.

He sank to the floor, head in his hands, and let the tears fall. The loneliness, the regret, the pain—it all came crashing down. He missed you more than words could express, but he didn't know how to make things right.

Your breaking point was the night you sat alone in your apartment - BSF/N on a business trip -staring at your phone. Watching the birthday live you would have never been allowed to watch if your roommate was home. The ache was too unbearable, and sparked your motivation to finally let go so you could be free from it.

Once you had hit 3 months without Hyunjin, the pain began to change. It didn't lessen, but it became a part of you, a background noise that you learned to live with. You went through the motions of daily life, but the joy and spark you once had were dulled. But as 3 months turned to 6 months which then turned to 9 months, it was almost a distant memory. And you were able to laugh again, the hollowness of your cheeks disappearing and becoming flushed with youth and your noticeable dimples once more.

Hyunjin's friends and bandmates continued to support him, but they could see the toll it was taking. He was a shadow of his former self, his passion dulled by the heartbreak. It was unnoticeable to the public - to them he seemed fine, they just minimized his dull eyes to exhaustion rather than depression. But to his best friends, it was as clear as day how hard he worked to push through every day.

"Hyunjin," Chan said one evening, pulling him aside. "You can't keep going like this. You need to start living again."

Hyunjin shook his head. "I can't move on...what if they come back- what if - what if they take me back?"

"You're never going to know unless you try talking to them," Chan urged. "You owe it to yourself, to both of you, to at least try. Seungmin has seen Y/N around. They've talked and he says it seems like Y/N is struggling as well. Even if you don't get back together, if you become friends again first..." Chan sighed. "Seungmin asked Y/N to unblock you. So I'd try reaching out."

But Hyunjin couldn't bring himself to reach out. The fear of making things worse, of hearing that you had moved on, was too much to bear. So, he continued to suffer in silence, the weight of his regret a constant burden.

For you, moving on felt impossible at first.

One evening an old friend was hosting a small get-together and wanted you to come. It was a chance to get out, to try and find some semblance of normalcy.

You had reluctantly agreed. The evening was a blur of faces and conversations, none of which seemed to penetrate the fog of your indifference until and old crush had sparked conversation with you...

Back in his apartment, Hyunjin stared at his phone, fingers hovering over your contact. He wanted to reach out, to apologize, to try and make things right. But the fear of rejection, of causing you more pain, held him back.

He set the phone down with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. The silence of the apartment was deafening, each minute feeling like an hour. He missed you more than words could express, but he didn't know how to bridge the gap that had formed between you.

But in a spur of confidence he sent you a message. Simply apologizing as asking if it would be okay to meet up as friends.

Because he needed you in his life in some manner. He knew he couldn't live without you. And he would be content with loving you quietly, unknowingly, putting on a mask of platonic affection if it meant you'd stay around.

Which seemed to be what he would have to do, after recieving your response.

He didn't know whether to cry tears or joy or pain.

Because while you had agreed to meet him again, to spark a new relationship with him - he immediately regretted ever harboring a hope of you loving him again.

Especially after seeing your profile in his feed for the first time in a long time, causing him to wish he hadn't reached out, wish you hadn't unblocked him- wish you weren't so kind and loving to agree to be his friend again.

Because no amount of time with you, no amount of your presence could ever be enough to even cover a fraction of the pain he felt seeing a new face in your feed.

A face that mimicked the exact face he had in your company.

Eyes that mirrored the exact sentiment and display of love he felt.

The face of one who knew the one they loved was the moon in a world full of stars.

And he knew from experience just how easy it would be for you to fall for someone who gave you that-

Considering he had been that person for you once...

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @dreammix88

[lila-lou]

✨Stupid Movie Night✨

Summary: You and Ben had been through a lot lately. A movie night with friends was obviously not a good idea. Or was it?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, anxious Reader, Ben being a huge dick, hurting you - but also a soft little bean, kinda depressing guys

Word Count: 5365

A/N: I've been on this for what feels like forever and I hope you like it. 💙

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As you and Ben prepared for the movie night with Annie and Hughie, the atmosphere crackled with tension. You busied yourself with selecting an outfit, your excitement palpable as you anticipated spending time with friends. Meanwhile, Ben lounged indifferently on the couch, scrolling through his phone with disdain evident on his face.

"Why do we have to go to this stupid movie night anyway?", Ben grumbled, his annoyance and disdain dripping from every word.

You sighed, your patience wearing thin as you turned to face him. "Because, Ben, we agreed to spend time with our friends."

Ben scoffed. "I don't care about them. I just care about you, babe", he said, his tone dripping with possessiveness.

Your eyes narrowed, your frustration bubbling to the surface. "You know what, stay here and I'll go alone”.

Ben's expression darkened. "You're not going without me", he stated firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

You bristled at his assertion, your resolve hardening. "Watch me", you retorted, storming past him to grab your coat.

A tense silence settled between the two of you as you stood at an impasse, your relationship hanging in the balance. After a moment, Ben's pride gave way to a begrudging acknowledgment of your independence. With a resigned sigh, he followed you out the door, his ego bruised but his desire to keep you by his side outweighing his disdain for socializing with anyone but you.

As you made your way to Hughie and Annie's house, Ben's resentment simmered beneath the surface, his muttering curses punctuating the silence between the two of you.

You glanced over at him, your frustration evident in your furrowed brow. "Could you at least try to be civil?", you snapped, your tone tinged with exasperation.

Ben scoffed, his lips twisting into a sneer. "Why bother? None of these people matter except you, Y/N", he spat.

You shook your head in disbelief. "Ben. We're here to spend time with our friends, whether you like it or not".

Ben rolled his eyes, his disdain palpable. "Fine, but don't expect me to enjoy myself", he muttered darkly.

You sighed, your frustration mounting. "Just try to keep your attitude in check, okay? For my sake, if not for yours".

Ben grunted in response, his resentment simmering just beneath the surface as you arrived at your destination, tensions thickening the air between the two of you.

As you approached Hughie and Annie's house, Ben plastered on a fake smile.

"Welcome to the land of fun and excitement", he muttered under his breath, his tone laced with insincerity.

You shot him a pissed glare. "Benjamin! Behave yourself, damn it!”, you hissed through clenched teeth.

Ben shrugged, his facade slipping slightly as he grudgingly acquiesced. "Sure thing, darling", he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You bristled at the nickname. Your annoyance reached its breaking point. "Don't call me that", you snapped, your voice sharp with frustration.

Ben's smirk widened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he leaned in closer to you. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Can't handle a little affection?", he taunted.

Your jaw clenched, your temper flaring as you fought to keep your composure. "Stop it, Ben", you warned.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Ben brushed off your warning, his arrogance unyielding. "Relax, babe", he quipped, his smirk never faltering. "I'm just trying to be friendly."

You let out a frustrated sigh, knowing that arguing with Ben would only escalate the situation further. With a resigned shake of your head, you turned away, steeling yourself for the evening ahead, determined not to let Ben's behavior ruin the evening.

Then the front door finally opened

"Hey, guys! So glad you could make it", Annie exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug before turning to Ben.

Ben forced another insincere smile, his eyes flickering with annoyance as he exchanged pleasantries with Annie. "Yeah, wouldn't miss it for the world", he muttered under his breath, his sarcasm barely concealed.

You shot him another warning look, your gaze flashing with irritation as you subtly nudged him in the side. "Behave", you hissed through gritted teeth, your frustration palpable.

Ben rolled his eyes, but reluctantly toned down his sarcasm.

As you entered the house, Hughie greeted you warmly, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Hey, guys! Good to see you both", he said, stepping forward to shake your hands.

Ben's expression remained stoic as he accepted Hughie's greeting, his disdain evident in the way he glanced around the room. When Hughie offered you drinks, Ben's nose wrinkled in disgust as he eyed the selection of beer.

"Seriously? This is the best you've got?", Ben muttered under his breath, his arrogance seeping into his tone as he looked at the array of beers with disdain.

You looked at him, silently urging him to keep his complaints to himself, but Ben ignored you. "I'll take a whiskey, if you have one", he said.

"Sure", Annie muttered, before heading to the kitchen.

As Annie returned with a glass of whiskey for Ben, the group settled in for the evening. Despite Bens abrasive personality, Hughie and Annie welcomed him with open arms, knowing that beneath his tough exterior, Ben was still an integral part of their circle of friends.

As the evening progressed, the group settled into a comfortable rhythm, catching up on each other's lives and sharing stories over drinks. While Hughie and Annie chatted animatedly with you, Ben remained mostly silent, nursing his whiskey as he watched a football game playing on the TV in the background.

Occasionally, he'd interject with a comment or two about the game, his attention focused solely on the screen in front of him. Despite his disinterest in the conversation swirling around him, Hughie and Annie tried to include him, tossing the occasional glance his way and asking his opinion on various topics.

Ben responded with characteristic indifference, offering brief, monosyllabic answers before returning his focus to the game. You shot him a concerned glance, silently urging him to engage more with your friends, but Ben brushed off your concern with a dismissive wave of his hand, his attention firmly fixed on the TV.

As Annie started the movie, Ben couldn't help but roll his eyes, irritated at being pulled away from the football game. He begrudgingly shifted his attention to the screen, his annoyance evident in the way he crossed his arms and leaned back on the couch.

Beside him, you snuggled closer, seeking comfort in his embrace as Annie did with Hughie. Ben's initial instinct was to push you away, his pride and image as America's strongest Supe overriding his desire for affection. He shot you a brief, irritated glance, silently warning you to keep your distance, but you seemed oblivious to his discomfort as you nestled against him, seeking warmth and reassurance.

Ben's frustration grew as he struggled to maintain his facade of invincibility, torn between his need for affection and his fear of appearing vulnerable. He loved you, of that there was no doubt, but he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that allowing himself to indulge in moments of intimacy would only weaken his carefully constructed image.

As you rested your head on his chest, you couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort radiating from Ben. His tense posture and the subtle stiffness in his embrace leaving you feeling confused and hurt. You glanced up at him, searching his eyes for some semblance of reassurance, but found only a distant look that sent a shiver of unease down your spine.

"Is everything okay, Ben?", you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur as you tried to quell the rising panic in your chest.

Ben hesitated, torn between his desire to maintain his tough exterior and his fear of hurting you. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat, his pride warring with his guilt.

Your heart sank as you watched him struggle, your mind racing with self-doubt and insecurity. Did you pushed him too far with bringing him here? Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over as you fought to keep her emotions in check.

Things really haven't been going well between you in the last few weeks, so your nerves have been frayed and your feelings are completely confused

"I'm sorry", you choked out, your voice trembling with emotion. "I didn't mean to... I just wanted to be close to you".

Ben's heart clenched at the sight of your tears: With a heavy sigh, he wrapped his arms around you more tightly, pulling you into a tight hug.

"No, Y/N, it's not you", he murmured, his voice soft with sincerity.

You buried your face against his chest, your tears mingling with the fabric of his shirt as you clung to him desperately, relieved to hear his words of reassurance.

As you buried your face in Ben's chest, Annie's super hearing caught the quiet exchange between you, her expression darkening with anger at Ben's apparent callousness. She shot him a piercing glare, her eyes narrowing with disapproval, but chose to remain silent, not wanting to escalate the situation further.

Ben met Annie's gaze with a sense of unease, realizing the weight of his actions and the hurt he had caused you.

Feeling the weight of Annie's silent judgment, Ben tightened his embrace around you. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering in a silent apology as he whispered words of love.

With a deep breath, Ben glanced over at Annie, his expression contrite as he silently acknowledged her disapproval.

Despite the tension in the room, you found solace in Ben's touch as he gently caressed your lower back, a silent gesture of affection and apology. You leaned into his touch, allowing yourself to relax into his embrace.

You knew that beneath his tough exterior lay a man who loved you deeply.

With each tender stroke of his hand against your back, you felt a surge of warmth and reassurance.

As the movie ended and the credits rolled, Hughie and Annie turned to you with smiles, eager to discuss the film.

"So, what do you think?", Hughie asked.

You glanced over at Ben, who was engrossed in his phone, before turning back to Hughie and Annie with a forced smile. "It was... interesting", you replied diplomatically, your tone tinged with uncertainty.

Annie raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing glance with Hughie. "Interesting?", she echoed, a playful smirk playing at her lips. "That's one way to put it".

You chuckled weakly, your discomfort evident as you tried to navigate the conversation without drawing attention to Ben's lack of engagement. "Well, you know how it is. Different strokes for different folks", you said with a nervous laugh.

Hughie and Annie nodded in understanding, sensing your discomfort and choosing to drop the subject for now. Instead, they launched into a discussion about their plans for the upcoming weekend, eager to shift the focus away from the awkwardness that hung in the air.

You breathed a silent sigh of relief, grateful for your friends' understanding as you joined in the conversation, your mind still lingering on Ben's distant demeanor. You knew that the two of you had a lot to talk about once you were alone, but for now, you were content to bask in the warmth of your friends' company, thankful for the distractions they provided.

As the conversation continued and you were just about to get some snacks from the kitchen with Annie, you felt a sudden tug on your arm, causing you to wince in pain. You turned to see Ben gripping your arm with more force than necessary, his expression clouded with frustration.

"Where do you think you're going?", he muttered, his voice low and harsh as he tightened his grip on your arm.

Your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden change in Ben's demeanor, your heart racing with a mixture of fear and confusion. "I was just going to get some snacks from the kitchen", you replied hesitantly, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fear bubbling in your chest.

Ben's grip on your arm loosened slightly, but his expression remained cold and distant. "Well, hurry up then", he snapped, releasing your arm with a rough shove.

You recoiled at the rough treatment, your arm throbbing with pain as you scrambled to your feet, eager to escape the uncomfortable situation. You shot Ben a wary glance, but his attention was already back on his phone, his indifference like a barrier between you.

Feeling shaken and unsettled, you quickly made your way to the kitchen, your mind racing with questions and doubts. You knew that something was off with Ben tonight, but you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in your stomach as you tried to make sense of his sudden change in behavior.

In the safety of the kitchen, Annie’s concerned expression softened as she approached you, her voice barely above a whisper as she spoke. “Hey, are you okay?”, she asked, her tone laced with genuine concern. You forced a tight smile, your nerves still on edge. “Yeah, I’m fine”, you replied, your voice strained as you tried to downplay the situation. Annie’s eyes narrowed slightly, sensing that something was amiss. “You don’t seem fine”, she remarked quietly, her gaze searching your face for any sign of distress. You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal to your friend. “It’s just… Ben’s been acting strange tonight”, you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as you glanced back towards the living room, where Ben sat lost in his own world. Annie’s expression darkened with understanding as she placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, Y/N. You don’t deserve to be treated like that”, she said softly, her voice filled with sympathy.

“I just… he’s usually not like this, well, at least not to me”, you sighed. “I thought things were going well between us again, but tonight… he’s always got some bad days, but today, it’s worse”.

Annie listened attentively. She reached out, pulling you into a gentle hug, offering comfort and solace in the face of uncertainty.

"I'm sorry you're going through this", Annie murmured, her voice soft and soothing. "But you're not responsible for Ben's actions, especially if he's dealing with his own demons".

You leaned into the embrace, finding solace in Annie's warmth and understanding. "I just wish he would open up to me more", you whispered, your voice tinged with sadness. "I want to help him, but he pushes me away whenever I try".

As Ben continued to scroll through his phone in the living room, his attention drifted momentarily from the screen as he caught snippets of conversation drifting in from the kitchen. Despite his best efforts to tune them out, his super hearing picked up on Annie and your hushed discussion.

His heart clenched with a mixture of guilt and frustration as he heard your voice tremble with emotion. A pang of regret washed over him as he realized the impact his behavior had on you, the weight of his actions heavy on his conscience.

Part of him wanted to storm into the kitchen, to confront you and demand forgiveness, but another part held him back, his pride and fear of vulnerability holding him captive. He felt a surge of shame wash over him as he listened to Annie's comforting words, knowing that he didn't deserve your love and understanding.

As the conversation faded into the background, Ben was left alone with his thoughts, grappling with the harsh reality of his own shortcomings. He knew that he had a lot of work to do if he wanted to salvage his relationship with you, but deep down, he feared that he may have already pushed you too far away.

As the conversation in the kitchen drew to a close, you and Annie returned to the living room, your expressions softened by the private exchange. You approached Ben, a small smile tugging at your lips as you handed him his favorite beer, the one you had brought with from home.

Ben glanced up from his phone, surprise flickering in his eyes as he took the beer from you, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting moment of connection. He caught the subtle warmth in your smile, a silent acknowledgment of your shared history and the unspoken understanding between the two of you.

For a moment, the weight of your earlier conversation hung heavy in the air, but Ben found himself at a loss for words. He wanted to apologize, to express his remorse for his earlier behavior, but the words caught in his throat, his pride holding him back.

Instead, he met your gaze with a tentative smile of his own, silently thanking you for the gesture.

You didn't say a word as you returned to your seat beside him, but the warmth of your smile and the gentle touch of your hand on his arm spoke volumes.

As the evening drew to a close, the group made their way towards the door. Ben and you stepped outside into the cool night air, the tension from earlier still lingering between you. You glanced up at Ben, your expression softening with a mixture of affection and concern. "Are you okay?", you asked gently, reaching out to touch his arm.

Ben's reserved demeanor didn't go unnoticed by you. You withdrew your hand, wrapping your arms around yourself as a chill swept through the night air.

"Ben, please", you pleaded softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I hate when we're like this".

"Just… let's go home", he muttered, his tone curt and dismissive.

Your heart sank at his response, hurt flickering in your eyes as you recoiled from his coldness. You bit your lip, fighting back the sting of tears as you struggled to make sense of his abrupt dismissal.

"Fine", you said quietly, your voice tinged with resignation. "Let's go".

As you walked home in silence, the tension between you hung heavy in the air, the weight of Ben's words lingering like a bitter aftertaste.

At Home you quickly made your way to the bathroom, getting rid of your clothes and bracing yourself on the sink. Tears already streaming down your face. It was too much for you. Everything.

That’s when you felt your boyfriend behind you.

As Ben caught sight of your tear-streaked reflection in the mirror, his heart clenched with a pang of guilt and regret. He stepped closer to you, his own reflection looming large behind yours, his movements hesitant yet determined.

Without a word, Ben wrapped his arms around your naked body, pulling you close to him as he held you tightly against his chest. He watched your reflection in the mirror.

Your sobs echoed in the small space, your brokenness palpable as you leaned into Ben's embrace. "Do you... do you really love me?", you whispered, your voice fragile with uncertainty.

Ben's heart stuttered at your words, his own turmoil bubbling to the surface. He struggled to find the right words, his pride and emotional distance warring with his desire to comfort you.

"Of course I do", he replied finally, his voice strained but sincere. "But you know how I am, Y/N. I'm not good with... with all this emotional stuff".

Your shoulders shook with silent sobs as you buried your face against Ben's chest, your heart breaking with the weight of his words. You knew that he struggled to express his emotions, but the pain of his indifference cut deeper than you cared to admit.

Ben held you tighter, his own emotions roiling beneath the surface as he grappled with the realization of how deeply he had hurt you. Again. He wanted to reassure you, to promise you that he would do better, but the words caught in his throat, his pride and stubbornness holding him back.

In the end, all he could do was hold you close, hoping that his actions spoke louder than his words

As you trembled in his arms, Ben’s heart twisted at the sight of your pain. He cursed himself for causing you such distress, his stomach churning with guilt. With a heavy sigh, he tightened his embrace.

“Let me show you just how much I love you”, he mumbled.  

“Ben”, you whispered brokenly, your voice barely above a whisper as you looked up at him, your eyes shimmering with tears.

Without another word, Ben lifted you effortlessly into his arms, your weight feeling insignificant against his strength. He cradled you close to his chest, your head resting against his shoulder as he carried you out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. He lays your naked form on the bed, hovering over you.  

As Ben tenderly kissed away your tears, he felt your body relax beneath him, your sobs gradually giving way to soft giggles. He smiled against your skin, the sound of your laughter like music to his ears.

"Sorry about the beard", he murmured, his voice gentle as he continued to pepper your face with featherlight kisses. "I promise I'll shave tomorrow".

You shook your head, your laughter mingling with your tears as you reached up to caress his cheek. "I don't mind", you whispered, your voice filled with love and affection. "I love your beard".

With a soft chuckle, Ben leaned down to capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss, savoring the taste of you against his own. He felt you respond eagerly, your body arching against his

As Ben continued to caress your skin with tenderness and care, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unworthiness that gnawed at him. He knew deep down that he didn’t deserve your love, not after the way he had treated you earlier. But in this moment, with you wrapped in his arms, your laughter and affection washing over him like a balm for his wounded soul, he couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. He wanted to make things right, to show you just how much you meant to him, even if it meant stepping out of his comfort zone.

As you carefully pulled off Ben's shirt, he couldn't help but his instincts screamed at him to assert dominance, to remind you of his strength and power. But as he looked into your eyes, filled with nothing but love and tenderness, he knew he had to suppress those urges.

"Easy there", he muttered.

Your hands paused for a moment, a flicker of hurt crossing your features before you continued, your movements careful and deliberate. You didn't say anything in response, but Ben could see the disappointment in your eyes, a silent rebuke for his callousness. Again.

Ignoring the pang of guilt that twisted in his gut, Ben forced himself to focus on the moment. He reached out to caress your cheek, his touch gentler than he had ever allowed himself to be.

"You know I don't do this often", he muttered, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. "But for you, I'll make an exception".

Your lips quirked into a small smile at his words, your love for him shining through despite his flaws. "I know, Ben", you whispered, your fingers trailing lightly over his skin. "And I appreciate it".

With a nod, Ben leaned in to capture your lips in a tender kiss, his heart swelling with a mixture of love and gratitude.

Ben reached down to unbutton his jeans, his movements slow and deliberate.

As he trailed soft kisses down your body, his lips lingered over every curve and contour, savoring the taste of your skin against his lips. He worshipped you with each touch, his movements slow and deliberate as he explored every inch of you with care and tenderness.

When he reached the apex of your thighs, he paused, his breath catching in his throat as he gazed up at you with a mixture of desire and reverence. He could feel you trembling beneath him, your anticipation palpable.

With a gentle touch, Ben parted your legs, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along your inner thighs as he teased you with featherlight kisses. He felt you gasp in response, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you as you arched your back in pleasure.

As he lowered his head between your legs, Ben closed his eyes, losing himself in the taste and scent of your arousal. He moved with agonizing slowness, his tongue tracing languid circles around your most intimate areas, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from your lips.

With each flick of his tongue, Ben felt himself grow more and more aroused, his own need building to a fever pitch. But he forced himself to hold back, to maintain the slow and steady pace that he knew you loved.

And as he continued to worship you with his mouth, he felt your body respond to his touch, your pleasure building to a crescendo that threatened to consume both of you.

As you reached the peak of your pleasure, your body tensed and trembled beneath Ben's touch. With a soft cry of ecstasy, you came undone, your release washing over you in waves of pure bliss.

Ben held himself back, resisting the urge to give in to his own desires as he continued to pleasure you with his tongue. He felt you shudder and moan as you rode out the aftershocks of your orgasm, your body trembling with the intensity of your pleasure.

When you finally began to relax, Ben withdrew from you, his lips lingering over your skin as he pressed soft kisses along your body. Your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him close.

With a mischievous smirk, Ben looked down at you, his eyes sparkling with desire as he whispered, "Want to get fucked nice and slow, just how you like it?".

Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red at his bold question, your breath catching in your throat as you met his intense gaze. You could feel the undeniable heat of his arousal pressing against you, his erection throbbing against your wet folds.

Your heart raced with anticipation as you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, "Yes, Ben. Please".

With a satisfied grin, Ben leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his hands roaming over your body with a newfound urgency. He positioned himself between your legs, his gaze locking with yours.

As Ben guided himself inside you, he exerted a tremendous amount of restraint, controlling his movements with a deliberate slowness that bordered on agonizing. Every inch of his body burned with desire, but he clenched his fists around the bed frame above your head, channeling all his strength into maintaining the gentle pace you craved.

With each measured thrust, Ben savored the exquisite sensation of being enveloped by your warmth. He buried himself deep inside you, relishing the intimate connection you shared, his gaze locked with yours as he slowly started to move.

Despite the overwhelming urge to surrender to his own desires, Ben remained steadfast in his commitment to pleasuring you.

As the two of you moved together in the darkness of your bedroom, Ben pressed gentle kisses along your neck, his lips trailing caresses along your skin. He whispered softly against your ear, his voice filled with a mixture of desire and tenderness.

"Is this nice, baby?", he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. "Do you like it when I take things slow for you?".

Your response was a soft moan of pleasure, your body arching against his as you surrendered yourself to the sensation of his lips on your skin. You buried your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.

He shifted his weight slightly, adjusting his angle to deepen his thrusts.

As Ben continued to move inside you, he felt a primal urge building within him, driving him to take you harder, faster. But he resisted, determined to maintain the slow and steady pace that you wanted.

"You feel so tight, Y/N", he groaned, his voice filled with longing as he continued to thrust into you with measured precision. "I want to make you feel every inch of me".

With each thrust, Ben focused on savoring the sensation of your warmth enveloping him, his movements deliberate and controlled. He alternated between shallow and deep thrusts, teasing you with the promise of pleasure as he explored every inch of you with care.

Your body responded eagerly to his touch, your moans growing louder with each passing moment as you surrendered herself completely to the pleasure coursing through you.

You arched your back in ecstasy, your fingers digging into his skin as you urged him on with desperate cries of longing.

As Ben continued to move inside you, he felt a surge of desire building within him. With a gentle touch, he traced his fingers lightly your clit, teasing you with light caresses that sent shivers of pleasure coursing through your body.

Your response was immediate and intense. You cried out in ecstasy as your body convulsed with pleasure, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Ben could feel your walls clenching around him, your release gripping him with an intensity he had never felt before.

He held you close as you rode out the waves of pleasure, his own desire building to a fever pitch as he watched you.

As your body convulsed with pleasure, Ben couldn’t hold back any longer. The intensity of your orgasm coupled with the sight of you surrendering to ecstasy was too much for him to bear. With a guttural groan, he gave in to the overwhelming sensation, spilling himself deep inside you.

As the waves of pleasure subsided and the two of you lay tangled together in the aftermath, Ben let out a contented sigh, feeling more relaxed and fulfilled than he had in a long time. He held you close, your bodies still pressed together in an intimate embrace, your breaths coming slow and steady.

Your expression was one of pure bliss as you gazed up at him, your eyes shining with love and gratitude. You reached out to caress his cheek, your touch gentle and affectionate as you praised him for his efforts.

"Ben, that was amazing", you murmured, your voice soft with emotion. "I know how much you prefer it rough, but thank you for taking it slow for me. It was exactly what I needed".

Ben's heart swelled with pride at your words, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. He knew that he had pushed himself out of his comfort zone for you, and seeing the satisfaction on your face made it all worth it.

"I'd do anything for you, Y/N", he whispered, his voice filled with love and devotion. "You mean everything to me".

As you lay intertwined in the aftermath of your lovemaking, Ben reflected on his last words, he couldn't help but cringe at his own awkwardness. With a sheepish smile, he reached out to pull you even closer to him, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace.

"Forget what I just fucking said", he murmured, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "It was fucking cheesy”.

You chuckled softly, your fingers tracing soothing patterns on his chest as you looked up at him with a tender smile. "I wouldn't dream of forgetting. I love you, Ben".

As you drifted off to sleep in Ben's arms, he gently traced his fingers over your lower back and thighs with tender affection. His touch was light and soothing.

With each gentle caress, Ben felt a sense of peace wash over him, the weight of the world melting away as he focused solely on the woman he held in his arms. He marveled at the beauty and grace of your sleeping form, his heart swelling with love for you.

As the soft rhythm of your breathing filled the room, Ben pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering against you as he whispered words of love and adoration into the darkness. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth and intimacy of the dark, he knew that he was the luckiest man alive to have you by his side.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

[exhaslo]

Hi I love your work btw <3

I was wondering about Yandere!Miguel x Female!Reader . I loved your breeding one but I’m open to anything you’re willing to write. Just your yandere Miguel is one of my favorites :3

Thank you in advance <3

Yandere Miguel is getting quite popular for me, haha. I've done a few of him before and was going to wait until I write the mini series, but I can make this one separate from the series I'm going to write.

Here we goooo~

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, p in v, breeding, manipulation

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hello, I'm (Y/N), it's a pleasure to meet you all. I'll try my best to help everyone out!"

Miguel's eyes widen as he watched you introduce yourself to his group at Alchemax. You were a new hire, a beautiful one at that. Miguel felt his heart race as he already knew that you were meant for him. You were meant to be with him.

"Oh, I'm not as smart as the rest of you all. I'm just here to help file paperwork," You kept answering questions.

Miguel had to bite the inside of his cheek as his coworkers kept talking to you. How dare they? Taking deep breathes, Miguel kept his composure and decided to approach you. Everyone moved away from him for a good reason.

"We're happy to have you working with us, (Y/N)." Miguel said with a warm smile, holding his hand out.

"T-Thanks," You stuttered, shaking his hand.

Miguel hummed lowly. Your hands were soft. Once you let go, you immediately went to your new station. As much as Miguel wanted to follow, he needed to know more about you first.

--------

You had only been working at Alchemax for a week and already felt drained. This was a job opportunity given to you by a distant family member. You didn't even want to work here, but you needed some good money and fast.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you thought of all your bills. You were told to move out the moment you turned eighteen and these last few years have been a struggle for you. Lately, it just kept getting worse and you were on the verge of breaking.

"Looks like you need a pick me up," Miguel said as he dropped off a bagel and coffee. You quickly rubbed your eyes,

"Thanks, Miguel. This is sweet of you," You told him.

Miguel was the nicest and hottest coworker you had. Every time you were confused or had an issue, he came over to help you. You were happy that you were on his good side since he was the smartest and grumpiest person in this whole building according to your other coworkers.

"We're going to do an experiment soon, want to take a break and come watch?" Miguel offered. You glanced towards him, a fleeting blush against your cheeks,

"Sure,"

-----------

Miguel was winning you over, he knew it. You had been working at Alchemax for over a month and Miguel was starting to lose his patience. Plus, his temper.

The amount of coworkers he had to intimate because they looked at you.

The amount of coworkers he had gotten fired just because they talked to you.

The amount of coworkers he met after work as Spiderman to teach a lesson for having the balls to ask you out.

Miguel patience was running thin. He needed to take you away from all of these vultures. You were too good for any of them. Too good for him even, but Miguel did not care.

"Hey...Miguel, are you free this Friday night?" You were hesitate to approach him. Miguel's eyes sparkled, enjoying this shy side of you,

"Yes, why?"

"Well...I was wondering, and you can say no, but do you want to watch a movie with me?"

"I'd love too,"

Perfect. Not the way he expected, but a date is a date. Miguel was going to take this opportunity to make you his girlfriend. Once that step was secured, Miguel needed to start making you dependable on him for everything in your life.

To have you only rely on him.

---------

Humming happily to your playlist, you sat in your room, texting Miguel. You had officially became his girlfriend after your first date with him and everything was going amazing. Miguel was the perfect boyfriend.

You squealed, laying on your bed as Miguel texted loving comments about you. You had only been dating him a month and you couldn't get him off your mind. Miguel was helping you with everything, from your work life to even home issues.

"Ah! Already?!" You gasped, looking at the time.

Miguel was coming over to help you with managing your bills. Quickly, you got dressed and hurried towards the kitchen. Snacks, check. Drinks, check. Sexy lingerie, check.

"Beautiful as always, amor (love)." Miguel pecked your lips as you opened the door for him.

Miguel watched your excitement build as you eagerly showed him your apartment. It was small, but Miguel was going to let you have this moment. Soon, you'd be living with him. Miguel had already taken care of your job at working, planting you right next to him.

Worked out since he took over his father's company and became CEO. You were now his secretary, which was why he came over to help you with bills. Miguel was going to show you that you didn't need to worry about them anymore once he pays them off for you.

"Hm? And what's this?" Miguel whispered, spotting your panties, "I thought we were going to work on your bills?"

"W-We are! This...This is just, um, motivation?"

"Just for me?" Miguel whispered once more, getting horny at the thought of you needing him.

"Y-Yes," You breathed out, feeling his hands roam your body.

"My good girl,"

That night, you weren't focusing on bills. Miguel had you pinned to the bed, pounding the life out of your cunt. You were a moaning mess, crying out his name while he filled you repeatedly. Once he was done abusing your poor pussy, Miguel started to take care of your bills.

"Mhm," You muffled lowly in your sleep.

Miguel shushed you, holding your hips up to keep his cum inside you. Miguel wanted you to have his child, it was the best way to keep you with him. A dark chuckle escaped his lips as his dick harden at the thought of you pregnant with his kid.

"Oh, amor, I don't think you're quite full yet."

---------

You whimpered lowly as you buried your face into the pillow, moaning as Miguel thrusted his dick into your pussy. He had been going nonstop since you officially moved in with him. You could hardly feel your legs anymore. Miguel was the only holding you up.

"I can't hear you, (Y/N), I need you to speak up." Miguel teased as he slapped his hips into you rougher.

"M-Mig...mhm~ I...ah~...s'much~" You cried out, cumming hard against his dick.

"But this is your welcome home present. Gotta make you into a mother, no?" Miguel groaned your pussy squeezed and clenched his dick, "Doesn't my dick feel right at home in you? Don't you want me to give you a baby?"

"Y-Yes~ Mhpm~" You gripped the bedsheets, your mind growing hazy.

"That's right, (Y/N), you moved in with me because I'm all you have. I'm all you ever need."

Miguel chuckled as he gave you another fill of his cum. Pulling out, he watched you pant heavily for air, on the verge of passing out. Once again, he lifted your hips, wanting to keep his cum inside you. His eyes sparkled as you mumbled his name.

"Such a good girl,"

Miguel had successfully stolen your life for his own. You now only relied on him, trusted him and believed him. You stayed at home, helping Miguel with mission reports so you wouldn't get bored. You broke all contact with anyone, but Miguel.

You were his.

---------

"Miguel, c-can't this...wait until later? I...I have to make dinner," You said with a soft whine.

"You're doing such a good job, just stay still for another few minutes," Miguel hummed.

You were currently sitting on Miguel's dick, cockwarming him as he did some work for both Alchemax and the Spider Society. It had been two years since you started living with Miguel, and you could not regret a thing.

Miguel was your everything. He took care of you and your son. Miguel made sure to take you out to places and give you what you wanted, as long as you stayed home and be his good little wife.

"Miggy~" You whimpered into his ear, trying to get any sort of friction. Miguel held you in place,

"Shh, if we wanna give our a son a sibling, you have to be patient." Miguel chuckled.

"Mhm~"

You folded easily. Miguel was such a smooth talker. After another few minutes, you whimpered again, nearly drooling from the teasing. Miguel finally gave you what you wanted and thrusted into you, enjoying your pornographic moans and cries.

"Good girl, who do you belong to again?"

"Y-You,"

"That's right. You belong to me now and-"

FOREVER

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Waaaah, I hoped you liked this! I will be doing an official Yandere!Miguel series eventually (just has to win the poll) after I finish the Mafia!Miguel series!!

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (4/?)

Part summary: Getting to know Leigh Shaw comes with some hardships—literally.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 4.600 | Warnings/Tags: Pining | A/N: Still haven't decided how many parts will there be, but for now, enjoy reader's POV as her interest in Leigh grows :)

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Next

-

For some reason, you keep saying yes to Leigh Shaw.

Yes to providing your veterinary services for her.

Yes to divulging the private aspects of your relationship with Matt.

Yes to staying in her yoga class.

Yes to running very early in the morning, with a lung-busting pace that leaves you dehydrated and feeling queasy by the end of it.

As if to add insult to injury, Leigh Shaw doubles back to where you're lagging behind, barely hanging on for dear life. She flashes that cheeky grin, says, “Try to keep up,” and takes off again like it's nothing. You're left gasping for air, your heart screaming in agony as you attempt to match her pace, but Leigh's already a blur ahead. 

She was right—your endurance is really nowhere to be seen. It's in these moments, as you're pushing past what you thought were your limits, that you start to get why Leigh's both a pain and a push that was kind of missing before in your life. 

Leigh eventually vanishes around a corner, and consequently, you lose sight of her. You dig deep, pushing yourself to keep going, refusing to quit out of stubbornness and curiosity of what your body could do. By some miracle, you make it to the finish line, which turns out to be that park you've been to only once before with Matt. He had made it a special day with sandwiches and comics, while you got lost in a book he swore you’d love. You can’t shake off the feeling that this place is significant for Leigh and Matt too.

When you finally stumble in, there's Leigh, chilling on the grass, looking like she's lost in thought, her eyes dark with something you can't quite put your finger on. But then she spots you, and it's like someone flipped a switch. She’s back to the flippant Leigh—easygoing, as if nothing’s amiss.

“Was half expecting to find you passed out somewhere back there,” Leigh smirks up at you.

You can’t help but flop down next to her, letting the sun beat down on your face, feeling every bit of your skin that's exposed soaking up the warmth. Thirst claws at your throat, fierce and unforgiving. Gathering the little energy you have left, you manage to ask, “How long have you been waiting?”

Leigh glances at you, her casual ease belying the brief glimpse of concern you thought you'd seen earlier. “Oh, about five minutes,” she says, her tone light, as if the grueling run was nothing more than a leisurely stroll for her.

You pant out, “Why are you so fast, anyway?” 

Leigh bursts into laughter, finding your question absurdly funny. “Fast? Me? That's hardly competitive speed, you're just... completely out of shape.”

You pout, feeling slightly offended but too exhausted to argue. Stretching out beside her, you let out a series of groans and pops, feeling your muscles protest and then slowly relax. “Feels like I'm a hundred years old,” you mutter with a heavy sigh.

Still chuckling, Leigh shakes her head. “I've been running for three years now. It's more of a hobby, really, but I need to stay active for my job at the Beautiful Beast. Or my mom will fire me.”

“Your family owns that place?”

Leigh corrects you quickly, “Not my family, just my mom. And being the owner's daughter doesn't give me a pass to slack off. I can't afford to be terrible at my job.”

Her distinction between “my family” and “my mom” sticks with you. It seems like a clue into her family dynamics. In the short time you've known her, Leigh comes across as straightforward, genuinely helpful, and yes, perhaps a bit quick-tempered, but overall...she's okay. 

More than okay, actually. She must be incredible to those she truly cares about. So, what went wrong with her and Matt? How could he betray her like that? It’s even more baffling when you remember Leigh saying they were trying for a baby. That detail still turns your stomach, and you're endlessly grateful you never went down that path with him, despite once wishing things had gone differently.

Lost in your thoughts, you don't realize how intently you've been staring at Leigh until she calls you out on it. “What is it?” she asks, her voice pulling you back to the present.

Flustered, you find yourself asking the question that's been simmering in your mind, since you first pulled on your sneakers for that 5k this morning. “Why'd you bring me along for your run? Why are you even helping me?”

Leigh just gives an offhand shrug, says, “Well, you didn't have to show up, so you're actually helping yourself.”

“Fair enough,” you reply, but can't shake off a bit of disappointment. The truth is, you were hoping she'd say something that suggested she was up for being friends, or at least saw you as more than just another client of hers.

It's weird, really, why you keep wanting to be friends with Leigh Shaw.

Suddenly, Leigh glances at her watch and looks up at you. “Ready to go?” she asks, a bit impatiently.

“If I can still walk after this, sure,” you say, half-joking, half-serious, feeling the effects of the run in every muscle.

Leigh laughs at that, a genuine, hearty laugh that lights up her face. It's a sound that's real and unguarded, making you think that maybe, becoming friends with her isn't such a far-fetched idea after all.

-

Yoga sessions with Leigh stick to the script you first stumbled into. She's all business, only really tossing you a nod or a word when your form goes sideways. “Shoulders down, back straight,” she corrects you, her voice firm, yet not unkind. Outside of that, you might as well blend into the walls for all the personal attention she gives, just like anyone else there. Everyone gets the same treatment—tough love, dished out in equal measure.

Despite her imposing presence, there's something else, a depth to her that often seems just out of reach. You catch her sometimes, looking out the window with a distant gaze. But then she blinks, shakes it off, and is back, fully attentive and ready to guide the next pose.

“Focus on your breathing,” Leigh's voice snaps you out of your focus on her. “Inhale deeply, and as you exhale, sink deeper into the pose.”

Determined to excel, you pour all your effort into being the student Leigh doesn’t need to worry about. Ironically, your diligence only seems to make you more invisible to her. As you master the poses with less need for correction, Leigh's interactions with you dwindle further.

After class, you toy with the idea of approaching her. Maybe get some feedback, or even suggest grabbing dinner together so you don't have to eat alone. But as you're putting together what to say, you notice Leigh seems in a hurry. She exchanges a few quick words with another instructor who's just arrived, and before you can decide, she's excusing herself and heading out.

The moment to ask her has slipped away, leaving you to pack your yoga mat with a resigned sigh. 

Another time, then, you think.

-

The next day, without another invite from Leigh for a run, you lace up your shoes and follow the same route you and Leigh took together. Just 20 minutes into the run, the solo effort feels more like a chore than the engaging challenge it was with company. You loop the route four times, hoping maybe to cross paths with Leigh purely by coincidence, but she’s nowhere to be found. 

The studio had announced last night that Leigh’s yoga classes would be temporarily led by a different teacher, with her expected to return next week. This bit of news leaves you mulling about her absence, kind of hoping you might accidentally run into her to find out more. But as the week goes by without any such encounters, you realize you actually know very little about her daily routines or habits. Despite the nagging curiosity, you refrain from texting her, not wanting to intrude or anything.

Admittedly, your motivation to work out dipped slightly without Leigh being part of it.

-

When you finally talk yourself into visiting Matt’s grave, you do so just minutes before it could get really dark. You've chosen this time deliberately, betting on the common fear that keeps most people away from cemeteries as night approaches. 

Your main concern isn't the general public, though; it's just Leigh. Past experiences have shown that encounters with her can happen unexpectedly and in the most random of places—like that night at the club when she ended up getting sick just a few inches away from you. You're not here out of a longing for Matt. Instead, you aim to properly close this chapter of your life, hoping to do so without running into his widow and giving her the wrong impression.

The air holds a chill that wasn't there when you left home, making you wrap your jacket tighter around yourself. It’s quiet, just the sound of your own footsteps crunching softly on the path. Being here as the day turns to night, watching shadows stretch out long and skinny, really gets you thinking about life, death, and everything else in-between. Maybe that's also why people avoid this place—it sort of forces you to face the music, making you curious if all the things you're wrapped up in are actually important or utterly pointless. 

As for you, you haven't quite figured out where you stand on that yet. Lately, you've really come into your own in your career, especially now that you’re seeing the profits steadily rising each month. But that sense of achievement fades each evening as you return to your empty apartment. It's just you, night after night, pushing through the grind, pouring everything into your job. Yet, when you try to envision where you'll be in five years from now, the picture isn't clear. Will you be settling down with someone, or just picking up the pieces from another relationship that’s gone awry?

Finding Matt's grave takes a moment, but when you do, your heart clenches. It’s just a simple stone with his name, the years he was here, and a couple of words(you’re guessing it’s Leigh who wrote them) about him. 

You kneel down, the grass cool and slightly damp beneath you, and lay the flowers you've brought on his grave. They look kind of bright against the dimming light. Like hope.

“Hey Matt,” you say, stepping into a silence that feels like it's hanging around, just waiting for you to fill it. Talking to a dead person feels ridiculous like they do in the movies, but it's not like anyone's around to hear you.

“You know, I met Leigh,” you begin. “Your wife you conveniently forgot to mention when you were busy asking me out.”

There's a sour edge to your voice, airing grievances to a guy who can't throw back excuses anymore. You can't help but chuckle, though it's more bitter than amused. You let your thoughts more freely now, like the barrier between you and Matt has thinned out with the honesty. 

“Leigh is… beautiful, you know? Not in that runway or social media kind of way, but in a manner that's hard to just overlook.” 

You could list a dozen more positive things about Leigh to tell Matt, but he already knew all that, didn't he?

“The first time I met her, I felt small, maybe even insecure. And now?” you shake your head, smiling slightly. “...I still do. But mostly, I'm just left thinking…” You pause. The next thought isn't really for Matt, not anymore. 

It’s for you.

“I just can't wrap my head around why you'd want to be with me when you had her. I feel like the murder weapon that's trying to seek justice for its victim.” You let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Not a great spot to be in, honestly. Makes me feel kind of helpless, you know?"

Sitting back, you take a moment, just looking at the headstone, at the name etched into the granite. The conversation, if you can call it that, feels like it's shifted something inside you. Not closure, exactly, but maybe the first step towards understanding—or at least accepting—that some things just don't make sense.

Standing up, you dust off your knees, taking one last look at the grave. “Anyway, Matt, I hope you've found peace. It looks like we're all searching for a little of that ourselves. Thanks for the book suggestions. Though, you might be a bit disappointed to hear Agatha Christie remains my top favorite.”

As you walk away from Matt's grave, it feels as though you're leaving a piece of yourself behind to rest with him. You decide then, as the cemetery gate closes behind you with a gentle click, that you won't let this page in your book define you. Maybe tomorrow, you'll try a new coffee shop, or take a different route to work. Small changes, but important ones.

Maybe you’ll even try that spin class that scares you so.

-

“Since when did you start living at the gym?” Suzie teases you from her spot across the desk, that signature playful, all-knowing arch to her eyebrow.

Suzie, who had originally come on board as a receptionist at your vet clinic with little more than enthusiasm and a genuine love for animals to her name, had quickly become much more than just a staff member. Her lack of relevant experience was initially a concern, but her dedication and the way she connected with both the animals and their owners made it clear she was a perfect fit. Over time, she evolved from being just the receptionist to a friend. 

A friend who seems to enjoy teasing you, though.

“First off, it’s hardly the gym. It’s this fitness class I’ve been trying out—big distinction,” you clarify, eyes glued on your phone. The last half hour has been a slow crawl towards 5 PM, the magical hour when you can finally shut down and head to Leigh’s class at Beautiful Beast.

“Tomatoes, to-mah-toes,” she quips.

“Not the same thing,” you insist, still not fully engaged in the conversation, your focus on a food article you're reading.

Suzie just waves her hand dismissively. “Semantics. But seriously, you've been really into whatever this is. There's gotta be a guy making those sweat sessions worth it.”

You can't help but laugh, the idea so off base it circles back to being hilarious. 

“Trust me, the allure isn't the sweat. It's those endorphins,” you say.

“Yeah, sure,” she drawls, unconvinced. “Come on. Who is it? I know you're not this amped to be all gross and sweaty for nothing.”

“There's no guy, Suzie.” Then, as if the thought just occurred to you, you add, “Or girl. But honestly, there's really no one.”

At that, Suzie's expression shifts from playful teasing to one of pleasant surprise and a touch of mock offense. “Hold up, you might be into girls? And here I was, shooting my shot in the dark this whole time!”

Your ears burn red at her blunt flirtation. “Suzie, come on,” you stammer.

“If I had known that was on the table, I would’ve upped my game ages ago,” she says, her wink sending your face from warm to inferno.

“You’re impossible,” you manage to say as you hurry to collect your things, ready to rush out the door.

“Impossibly into you,” she retorts saucily.

“I’m gonna have to fire you, you know,” you mutter jokingly, glancing at your watch. “Gotta run, bye!”

“Just so we're clear, the offer stands,” she adds, still grinning.

-

You feel a sense of relief seeing Leigh back in class. 

Though the website clearly stated her schedule, you found yourself on edge until you could see Leigh with your own eyes. There's nothing noticeably different about her; Leigh seems just as composed and in control as ever. When she catches you looking, she offers a small, somewhat dismissive smile before turning her attention elsewhere. 

You spend the whole session with your energy dialed up, partly because Leigh's presence just does that, and partly because you're already plotting. As soon as she calls time on the session, you're practically springing into action. Your belongings—a water bottle, towel, and the rest—land in a haphazard pile on the floor as you quickly stand up, eager to catch her before she disappears. You make your way toward her, determined not to let her slip away this time.

Leigh's busy packing up her own gear, her back to you as you close the distance. “Hey, Leigh,” you say, and it sounds like you've got this under control, even if your heart's hammering away in your chest. She turns, and there's a flicker of surprise in her expression. You’re hoping it’s the good kind of surprise.

“I'm really glad you're back,” you push on, hoping it doesn't sound as clumsy to her as it does in your head.

She takes a swig from her water bottle, giving you a once-over, and then says, “Thanks. Do you need anything?” There's an expectant look in her eyes, and in that moment, your confidence begins to wane, melting under her gaze. You're on the spot, scrambling for words, any words that don't involve asking her out for dinner, which suddenly seems like an insurmountable task.

“Uh, actually,” you start, your mind racing to find a safe topic, “I was wondering if you had any tips on improving my form?”

Leigh's expression softens, and she nods, setting her water bottle down. “Sure, I can show you a few things. Let's go back to the mats,” she suggests, leading the way. Despite feeling like your tank is on empty and your body crying for hydration, backing down doesn’t feel like an option. 

Not when Leigh is already spreading her mat next to yours. She does so with a sort of blasé authority, and you can't help but think how this is Leigh all over—straight to the point, no fuss. You're tired, sure, and a part of you is suggesting that you're about to make a fool of yourself with your shaky legs and probably even shakier form. But then, Leigh starts talking, pointing out where you're going wrong and how to fix it, and suddenly, you're not thinking about dinner anymore. You’re too distracted now by the smell of her perfume mixed with the scent of her sweat.

The next few minutes turn into what feels like a whole new session under Leigh's watchful eyes. She's on you about everything—the angle of your arm, the set of your shoulders, even the way you're distributing your weight on your feet. Leigh's not mean about it, but she doesn't let anything slide. You're just trying to keep up, watching her move with that easy confidence. It's mesmerizing, really, how she can make something so complex look so simple.

By the time you're done, your muscles are burning, your breath is ragged, and you're pretty sure you've sweated out every last drop of water in your body. As you lie there, staring at the ceiling and asking yourself how a ten-minute guidance turned into an even harder session, you mentally kick yourself for not just admitting you wanted company for dinner. It was right there, and you were too scared to be rejected. 

But why? Considering everything that's happened and the circumstances, Leigh turning you down seems like the more probable outcome anyway.

And then Leigh does something totally offbeat. She glances at the clock, then back at you, and out of nowhere, she's asking, “Want to grab something to eat?”

It's so unexpected, that for a moment, you're sure you misheard her. But Leigh's waiting for an answer, a slight smile playing on her lips, and suddenly, the fatigue feels a little less overwhelming. You sit up, a slow grin spreading across your face as you realize this is it—your chance, handed to you when you least expected it.

“Yeah,” you finally manage to say, almost tripping over your tongue. “Yeah, that'd be great.”

-

When Leigh mentioned grabbing something to eat, you expected a sit-down at some cozy restaurant serving healthy food. Instead, she pulls into the drive-thru of a fast-food joint, orders a mountain of fries and a couple of burgers, and parks the car in a secluded spot overlooking the city. It's laid-back, unpolished, and honestly, pretty perfect.

“So, how long have you been in town?” Leigh asks as she hands you a burger, the city lights twinkling below like a scattered deck of glowing cards.

“Just over a year,” you reply, taking a hearty bite of your burger. “Moved here for the business opportunity, but it’s been... you know, slow on the social front.”

Leigh nods, understandingly. “It can be tough, starting fresh somewhere. This place isn't the friendliest to newcomers.”

Your eyebrow lifts, curious whether she's speaking from her own experiences or perhaps someone else's.

“Yeah, most of my socializing happens online these days. My closest friends are scattered across different states,” you say.

Leigh just hums a bit, not really adding anything else. She doesn't go into details about her own friends, so you're left trying to think of something else to talk about. But everything that comes to mind feels too personal, like asking why she wasn't at the Beautiful Beast for a week, how she's dealing with being a widow, or questions about her family.

Small talk isn't really your thing, so the conversation fizzles out from here. Both of you just end up staring out at the city lights in silence. Leigh seems comfortable with it though, so you decide to just go with it and savor the quiet moment too.

After a while, Leigh breaks the silence. “I didn't think I'd be able to love another dog after Rogue,” she shares, not taking her eyes off the cityscape. “Matt and I had to put her down because she was sick. It was brutal. I swore off dogs after that.”

You look over at her and offer a soft, “I'm sorry.”

But there's no trace of sadness on her face. It’s so nonchalant, almost as if she’s just talking about the weather and not a painful memory.

“But then...I saw Visitor,” she goes on, a small smile cracking through. “I just knew he needed me. And, this might sound odd, but I realized I wanted to feel needed. When Matt—” She stumbles over his name, a rare falter, but she's quick to brush it off. “When he died, nobody needed me. And I struggled with that. Because being needed felt like a purpose.”

The idea of needing to be needed isn't something you've ever considered. Truth is, you've never really needed anyone. You've been a solo act for as long as you can remember, handling things on your own, relying solely on your own capabilities. And so, that also meant you couldn't imagine being on the other side of the spectrum—being needed by someone.

However, there's a part of you, unexpectedly, that feels a twinge of jealousy towards Leigh. To truly experience loss, there first has to be something meaningful to lose. You're not sure you've ever let yourself have that kind of bond with anyone. Not yet, anyway. It's a sobering thought, making you think about what you might be missing out on.

Leigh notices you're not saying much and says, “I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. I'm sorry.”

You shake your head slightly, “It's okay. I just... I don't think I've ever been in your shoes.”

Leigh looks a bit puzzled. “What do you mean? Are you talking about the dog thing, or…?”

“The other thing,” you clarify.

Leigh smirks. “Oh, I wish I was like that.”

You quickly realize how arrogant that must have sounded, so you rush to explain, “No, I'm not trying to brag or anything. It's just, I guess I've never really opened myself up to that kind of bond.”

“Not even with Matt?” she asks, and there it is—the topic of Matt you've been tiptoeing around. You're suddenly aware that Matt's shadow is something you'll have to get used to, just as Leigh apparently has, given the unceremonious way she alludes to your almost-affair with her late husband. 

“No,” you whisper, looking straight into Leigh's eyes, hoping she’ll believe you. “We never needed each other like that.”

Leigh's eyes linger on yours a moment longer before she looks away. Eager to change the subject, you add, “Must've been rough, giving Visitor back to his real family.”

“Yeah. I mean, I shouldn't be, right? But part of me was actually angry at them for letting him get away like that. He could've been hit by a car or worse, all because they weren't careful. But at the end of the day,” she stops, a sigh escaping her, and that smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes comes back as she looks at you again. “He’s not mine.”

“Visitor really snuck into your heart, didn’t he?”

Leigh nods. “I wasn't expecting to care that much, you know?” Then, she offers a small, reflective chuckle. “Makes you think about the connections we allow ourselves to have, and the ones we avoid, doesn't it?”

You try to gauge whether she's still talking about Visitor while also trying to figure out where you stand—the connections she's chosen or the ones she sidesteps?  Before you find the courage to ask, Leigh starts the car and presses down on the clutch, ready to switch gears.

“I need to head back to the studio, so I can only drop you off somewhere on the way,” Leigh says, signaling the end of your time together for now.

You quickly decide that being dropped off at the studio is fine. “The Beautiful Beast works for me,” you reply, hoping to extend the time you have left with her, even if it's just by a few minutes. 

The ride is quiet, the earlier ease replaced by a thoughtful silence. You're watching her, the way she's all eyes on the road but clearly lost in her head. Leigh, as you’ve noticed, is someone hard to get to open up, her walls built high and strong. She's this fortress of a person, but tonight felt different, like she accidentally left a window open and you caught a glimpse inside. 

It just makes you crave for more.

As the studio comes into view, it feels like you've both made some progress with Leigh and yet, somehow, not made any at all. Stepping out of the car, you’re met by Jules, another staff member at the Beautiful Beast whom you've heard Leigh refer to numerous times, approaches. You barely catch her saying, “Danny is waiting for you inside,” to Leigh. You miss the frown on Jules's face or how Leigh instantly seems on edge.

“Thanks for the ride—and for dinner,” you say, feeling a bit out of place now.

“Don't get used to it,” she says, the corners of her lips twisting into a reluctant smile. “Was nice talking, though. Thanks for not making it weird.”

As she's quickly pulled away by whatever's going on inside, you hover for a second, debating if you should go in for a goodbye hug. But before you know it, Leigh is tossing a quick “Bye” in your direction as she strides towards the studio.

You're left there, floating in the aftermath, wondering about everything and nothing all at once.

[night-daily]

Are friends supposed to kiss on the lips? | Zuko x fem! reader

summary: Sokka's plans are the best.

warnings: none.

Has been two days since Zuko joined the team avatar at the western air temple. The things between you two were tense and the rest of your friends were growing tired of it but Sokka, as the genius he is, came up with a plan.

“Are you sure this will work?” Katara asked his brother. “Well, what's the worst that can happen?”

His plan was simple, Aang will lock the two of you in a room of the temple which can be only opened by him, Katara will tell you that Toph is waiting for you there and Sokka will just drag Zuko, in his mind, you two will become friends or at least will stop barking to each other.

You were training alone in the forest, and controlling the water wasn't hard but you wanna do it perfectly, it has become an obsession. You were tired of being beaten by the fire nation. By Azula.

“If you keep training just your element without moving you'll never improve.” Only hearing his voice made your heart race. “Are you offering to be my target then?” You didn't turn to face him. “More like training with you” The water on your hands fell to the ground. “You don't have to act surprised, like I told you before, I've changed, I'm good now.” He walked closer stopping in front of you. You watched his face, he wasn't lying. “I won't go easy on you.” That was your only response. “I wouldn't expect less.” He smirked blowing fire to you taking you by surprise “Hey! I wasn't ready!” You exclaimed stepping aside to avoid the fire. “The enemy won't give you a warning, you know?” This made you lose your temper, seeing the fire coming out of him remember all the times you have suffered because of it and not only you but your friends and family too. Your fists clenched.

You started turning the water into ice, trying to hurt him it wasn't a training anymore, he sensed your change of mood “Stop!” He thought you would stop but you didn't and you throw him hard on the ground. He hissed in pain and finally, you realized what you have done “Zuko!” You rushed towards him worried. His eyes were closed and he was breathing slowly. You grabbed his face putting his head over your legs. “Please, wake up” You were almost tearing up, this was your fault. “I can’t believe you fall for something so stupid” He was smirking again and opened his eyes just to see you worried. “You're an idiot I thought I hurt you” You push his head out of your legs. He groaned at the sudden movement “Ouch”

You sit away from him on the grass, hugging yourself tighter. You looked so fragile, so broken. Zuko felt his heart ache to see you. “Why are you training so hard?” He was curious because as far as he know you've never liked fighting but what changed? He knows you're in the middle of the war but that never made you be like this, so full of anger.

You didn't dare to look at him. “I'm tired of running away from the fire nation” even your voice sounded broken. For a moment he was confused but then he knew what you meant. Zuko stood up from his place and knee in front of you “look at me” you hesitated and then your eyes were looking at his “When Azula tried to attack you that day, I was afraid, you've been kind to me since the first moment even when you knew it who I was, you made your way through my heart and my mind” your faces were inches apart “I'm always going to come between you and anything that could hurt you, even if it's my sister” and then he leaves you there, alone with your thoughts and your heart beating fast.

what just happened? Did he likes you as you like hi-

“Hey” Katara's voice made you jump on your place “Toph is waiting for you” Toph? Did you forget you were going to do something with Toph? “Let's get going!” Her good humor was contagious so you started walking with her by your side, chatting about your memories together. You were walking for ten minutes until you arrived at the temple, you stopped in front of a room, and you saw Zuko sitting there on a chair, you turned to ask what was going on before Katara push you in there and you heard the door closing behind you. You and Zuko hurried up to the door trying to open it “This door can only be opened by Aang” Sokka explained “And we're not letting you out until you are friends”

Then the room was silent. None of you said or did anything for a few seconds. “Me too” your voice echoed. Zuko looked up to you, confused. “I- I'll always protect you, Zuko” hearing his name coming out of your mouth was like a sweet melody and it was enough to made him blush. He suddenly grabbed you by your wrist and pulls you closer to him. His eyes were looking at your lips making you nervous “ Can I?” He whispered. Instead of responding, you crashed your lips on his, his hands were now on your waist with closed eyes, you two have been waiting too much for this, to be together. Finally, you separated your lips to breathe, but still, you two were closer “Are friends supposed to kiss on the lips?” you asked with an amusing smile. Zuko laughed placing a kiss on your forehead “I hope not”

[doodlebugg16-blog]

Drama

Azriel x reader

**18+ MDNI**

{Song Inspo}

Summary: You and Azriel are besties for the resties and share a common feeling of resentment towards the mother for not blessing you with a mate. Unfortunately you decide to search for distractions through many males and Azriel is forced to watch you destroy yourself from it. Warnings: Cassian and Rhys guest appearance, angst, depression, suggestive, sexual themes, violence, heartbreak, nonconsensual touching, mentions of y/n, she/her reader, usual ACOTAR warnings, don't worry it has a happy, kinda rushed ending A/n: I honestly wasn't expecting my other Azriel fic to be read by anyone haha so here's another one I've been thinking about. This is also unedited--sorry xoxo

Azriel and you have been friends since he was found his shadows. You were the first to come across the newly born shadowsinger and show him kindness. He never forgot it and it had bloomed into a friendship attached to the hip.

You're the only person to get through his stubbornness. He's the only person that can calm your short temper. Until lately.

You were double-checking your heels to make sure they were strapped correctly and doing a last fluff-up of your hair. Checking yourself in the full length mirror, you spotted Cassian walking past, heading to the kitchen.

"I love what you've done with your hair, how'd you get it to come out of your ears like that?"

You whipped around and scoffed, catching his shit-eating grin. You went to reach for a nearby book to throw at him but a voice cut you off.

"Cassian, you should check your nose before making such comments."

Rhys had wandered around me.

"What?!" Cass had covered his nose and rushed back to his room.

You laughed and turned back to the mirror. "Thanks, Rhys."

He smiled and nodded to the door. "Be safe tonight, Y/n."

You sighed and nodded. "I always am. I know how to protect myself thank you very much."

He snorted, "I'd almost feel sorry for the poor soul to have to face Azriel if something were to happen."

That made you smile. Azriel hated that you went out. He always made himself scarce when you got ready to leave.

Once you accepted the way you looked, you rushed out the door and into the night.

"I assume you're going to follow?" Rhys spoke to the shadows. "I am starting to get concerned. She's starting to leave every night." He turned to the darkest corner in the room.

Azriel emerged and grunted. "I'm worried too."

With that he vanished along with his shadows, following you.

Over the years, Azriel had felt his fondness grow towards you. As his feelings grew, he felt the distance growing with you. You were pushing yourself deeper in the night and loosing yourself during the day. Azriel knew you were distracting yourself ever since the last family gathering. Your drank yourself silly and confessed to have given up with the mate bullshit. Azriel had agreed and felt the same but he had no idea you would have given up this much. He had promised himself that he would save you.

Azriel had followed you to your usual underground club. He watched from afar and had his shadows on high alert. He noticed a smaller male strike up a conversation. You immediately giggling and engaging. It made him sick. Suddenly, you and the male were gone, Azriel's visons blocked by a new group passing in front of him. He huffed and made his way through the crowd, trying to spot you.

After a while without any luck, Azriel started getting worried. He sent his shadows to look for you.

You were being lead out the club by the small male. You usually didn't leave the club but you started to care less and less. The male entered and ally and pushed you up against the wall, kissing your neck. You had the sudden feeling you were being watched.

"H-hey, I think I'm going to call it a night." You tried to guide the male off of you. He then grabbed your wrists and held them to the wall on either side of your head.

"I'm not done with yet, pretty. Don't you wanna have my friends join?"

You furrowed your brows and looked deeper in the ally to spot two other males.

Shit. This isn't going to end well.

"Let go. I'm done." You tried again but the male was somehow stronger.

His hands then started to travel down your body and the other two males made their way closer. "I spiked your drink so don't try anything stupid."

Fuck. This is definitely not going to end well.

Before the two males could touch you, the shadows had swarmed you. You could hear the slashing of Truth Teller. Looking to the male holding you, smiling, "Good Luck." With that, he was yanked into the shadows. You heard a slash and a gargled yelp. Your held your wrists and a frown carved on your lips.

The shadows blurred into the ground, revealing Az. He rushed in front of you, gently taking your wrists in his scarred hands.

"He won't touch you again." He promised.

You looked up into his hazel eyes and blinked away tears. "I can't do this anymore Az. I don't think anyone is going to love me." Now you were sobbing. Azriel's eyes softened.

"Don't say that. You won't find someone like this."

"But it's true! I still don't have a mate and I have to sit around everyone while they are happy with theirs."

Azriel tilted his head. "Trust me, I know how that feels. But you don't need a mate to find someone to spend the rest of your life with. I'm here, right in front of you."

Your eyes widen at him. You shook your head and took your hands out of his. "What are you saying, Az?"

"I love you, Y/n. I can't keep watching you destroy yourself and I can't keep watching other males take advantage of you."

Sniffling, you give his shoulder a push. "You dummy, how long have you felt this way?"

He smiled and shook his head. "Should I have said something sooner?"

You laughed and wiped under your eyes. "Wayyyy sooner."

He leaned in, "Can I kiss you?"

"Please."

His lips crashed to yours with nothing but passion and love. You wrapped you arms around his neck and sighed into the kiss. You pulled away and both stared into each others eyes. Suddenly, you felt a sharp tug in your chest, blooming a golden thread. You both gasp.

"No fucking way." You laughed. He joined in and held a hand to his chest.

When the laughter died down, he leaned in and rested his forehead to yours. "Let's get out of here, mate."

"Please." You sighed and leaned into his touch.

This definitely ended well.

[pascaloverx]

NO LIGHT

SUMMARY: Your life is simple. You are a pastry chef who has just opened a bakery near your home. A new life, being a new person. But when James Barnes shows up at your bakery injured, asking you to offer him shelter, your life takes a sudden turn.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The characters in this fanfiction are not my creation and all belong to the Marvel universe. This story will feature scenes of violence, brief intense intimate moments, and inappropriate language. To the readers, I wish you a good read and ask that you engage with the fanfiction if you like it. Do not interact with this fanfiction if you are underage. Enjoy reading.

TWO FOUR

THREE

You're sitting on the floor of your living room, waiting for Barnes to finish scanning your apartment for any signs that someone might be watching you. The most ironic part of this is that he's doing it just minutes after discreetly placing a camera above your door. The message this sends to you is that only he can watch your every move.

"What can you tell me about your life?" you ask while serving a glass of wine to each of you. You're certainly nervous about drinking wine near the expensive rug you received as a gift from a bakery customer, but it seems worth the risk when you think that drinking wine while sitting on the floor seems romantic.

"Well… non-confidential details. For example, my middle name, which is Buchanan, by the way. I was born on March 10th, a beautiful spring day. My mother used to say I was the most patient baby she ever knew. On the other hand, during my teenage years, I became a troublemaker. And I only started to behave better when I met my best friend. Steve was definitely the best person in the universe. Always thoughtful, trying to be cheerful even when there was no reason to be. The rare times he lost his temper, I knew the other person was in the wrong." Barnes sits down next to you. He smiles sweetly, as if he's fondly remembering the past. Then he takes a sip of the wine and looks at you, as if he's expecting something. You don't realize that you've been staring at him or making the atmosphere a bit awkward until he clears his throat, as if prompting you to say something.

"Your best friend must have had to put up with a lot to keep you in line… considering you're still getting into trouble even today. By the way, do you guys still keep in touch?" you ask, as if returning to reality after losing your train of thought while staring at Barnes. But how can you avoid getting lost in the most beautiful blue eyes you've ever seen?

"He wouldn't be proud of what I've become. But we lost contact after, let's say, we went our separate ways. In my mind, he's living a peaceful life, maybe with a house near some lake where he can fish. Maybe he's married, with at least one dog. But part of my job was saying goodbye to what was valuable to me before, well... before I accepted the job. A sacrifice I was willing to make." Barnes says, this time between sips of wine, seeming to get emotional. It's probably the wine taking effect, or maybe it's the longing for those he had to leave behind.

"And do you regret it? Giving up being with those you loved most for a job that obviously puts your life at risk? I don't mean to criticize you, but it's not too late to have regrets. We could have died when that guy attacked the bakery." You end up judging Barnes' life a bit, without intending to, but you know you've crossed a line when he looks at you with a certain anger, saying nothing.

"I didn't realize I was here to be judged. What else do you want to criticize about my life? The first time I fell in love with someone? Or maybe something more spicy, like like the time I fucked my partner while we were on a plane? Do you want to know if I managed to make her cum or would you like to criticize me because sex in a public place is wrong?" He takes another sip of wine, emptying his glass. You feel a mix of emotions as you listen to him speak. He wanted to humiliate you, that's obvious. So you don't think twice before throw the rest of the wine in your glass in his face.

"I would have apologized for intruding on your life in an untimely manner. But you can't talk to me like that. Now, I'd like you to get out of my apartment." You say angrily, getting up off the floor and hoping your expensive carpet stayed intact after you throw your wine at Barnes. You assume he can leave on his own, so you head to your bathroom to wash your hand. It's stained with wine, so you clean it off. Your thoughts are in turmoil, wondering how something that was supposed to be romantic lost its meaning. Maybe Barnes was better in theory than in practice; maybe your hypothetical Barnes was just an illusion. You only refocus when you catch a glimpse of Barnes standing near the bathroom door out of the corner of your eye.

"I overreacted. You didn't mean to be disrespectful, and I was out of line. It wasn’t my finest moment." Barnes says as he approaches you, and you watch him through the reflection in the mirror. He quickly moves to stand behind you, not close enough to touch, but close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath against your back. You get goosebumps, unsure if it’s because of his proximity or the huskiness in his voice as he speaks.

"I should have guessed it would be like this. You clearly have no intention of letting me get close to you. And you know what? Right now, it seems to me that you're doing just fine on your own." you say cynically, which seems like the right thing to do at the moment. Barnes gives a crooked smile and then moves closer. You turn to face him, as if you don’t want to make this moment more dramatic than it needs to be.

"Want to know something about me? I push away most of the good people I know because, most of the time, I have no idea if I deserve to have them around. But somehow, I don't push you away as easily. I eat your bread every day even though I don't like bread that much, just because I noticed you like to test new recipes when I stop by your bakery. Your coffee isn’t your strong suit, but I drink it almost religiously. Not everything I know about you comes from the fact that I put you at risk. I just took an interest in the lovely baker who smiles at me every morning as if I were the most important person in the world." Barnes says, looking into your eyes, and you’re surprised. All this time, you thought you were the only one noticing him. But he was noticing you too.

You have no immediate reaction, processing what he just said. Then, a surge of confidence takes over you; you place your hand gently on Barnes' face and caress him. But something awakens in Barnes. He places his hands on your waist, pulling you closer, and in moments, he brings his lips to yours. The initial contact is delicate as he explores every part of your mouth. It takes you a moment to believe that you're kissing James Barnes, but once you realize it, you pull his neck closer, deepening the kiss. It's as if your mouth is waging a war with his, as you both savor the taste of each other. You let out a soft moan as he presses you against the sink, but you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. He runs his hands down your back until he reaches your ass and holds it tightly. Urging you to climb onto your sink, you feel his hands release you onto the sink and then touch your thighs and leg. You are however interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. Apparently she was worried about the lack of news. He takes a breath while you watch him text Natasha, probably reassuring her. Then he looks at you, but this time with a hint of regret. It’s obvious it was too good to be true.

"Let me guess? You need to leave, and it’s better if we don’t talk about what just happened because you shouldn’t have done that?" you say as if you already know what he’s going to say, which you probably do, because he doesn’t make any move to deny it.

"It seems that, in the end, you know more about me than you realize," Barnes says awkwardly before quickly leaving your apartment, leaving only a lingering tension in the air. Soon after, you decide to take a shower and go to bed. Tomorrow is a new day, and thinking about Barnes won’t do any good right now. The next day, you head to work earlier than usual, wanting to make some muffins and éclairs to sell at the bakery. Your first customers compliment your coffee and muffins, and you can’t help but wonder if your coffee is as bad as Barnes made it seem.

"What would you recommend to a new customer?" A man with a kind look, blue eyes, and blonde hair approaches your counter while you’re pulling a batch of fresh bread from the oven. He is muscular, well-built, and has a wonderful scent.

"I’d recommend almost everything here except the coffee; I’ve heard it’s not that great. And welcome to Y/L/N Bakery. My name is Y/N; I’m the owner and also the baker. If you want my honest recommendation, this new bread recipe turned out great, and I’ve made some éclairs if you’re interested in sweetening your day." you say subtly as you watch the man place his backpack on the floor of the bakery. It looks like he’s just arrived from a trip.

"My name is Steve. Steve Rogers. I heard that an old friend of mine used to frequent your bakery, and I came here hoping to find out where he might be. Have you by any chance seen Bucky?" Steve asks gently as he approaches the counter. You look at him thoughtfully.

"Who the hell is Bucky?" you ask, not quite understanding who he’s talking about. You’ve had many customers, but none named Bucky. Steve then pulls a photo of his friend from his pocket. Immediately, you recognize him. It’s Barnes, in military attire, in a photo that looks like it was taken a few years ago. And then you realize that Steve must be the best friend Barnes was talking about last night.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[whereforarthur]

Brother’s Flatmate

Request: anything that starts angsty but ends fluffy PLS

Pairing: Arthur Hill x George’sSister!Reader

Category: Angst to Fluff

Word Count: 4.3k

*****

"Real love doesn't meet you at your best. It meets you in your mess." – J.S. Park

In the bustling heart of London, where the Thames River curved its ancient path, there was a man named Arthur Hill. He was known to many as a charismatic YouTuber with a velvety singing voice, yet to his closest friend George, he was simply Arthur, the bloke who was always there for a pint and a laugh. Arthur's flat, a cozy sanctuary tucked above a quaint bookstore, reflected his unassuming nature—a blend of vintage furniture and the faint scent of dusty pages that spoke of quiet nights spent reading and recording his latest vlogs.

The flat was often filled with the sound of George's raucous laughter as the two friends bantered over cups of tea. However, the dynamic changed whenever George's sister, Y/N, was around. She was a sharp contrast to Arthur's laid-back demeanor—ambitious, driven, and often blunt to the point of discomfort. Her visits were met with a tension so palpable it could be sliced with a knife.

Today was no exception. The moment she barged in, Arthur felt the atmosphere shift. He set aside his camera, knowing that the evening's vlog would have to wait. Y/N's eyes narrowed as she assessed the cluttered room, a clear judgment of his lifestyle.

"It's not just a bit of mess," she retorted, her voice laced with frustration. "It's a health hazard. And it's not like you don't know how to clean up after yourself, Arthur."

The unspoken hostility between them was a constant thorn in George's side. He had no idea what had caused the rift, only that it had grown wider with each passing year. Arthur and Y/N had never seen eye to eye, and it was clear that their dislike for each other was deeply rooted.

"Look, I've had a long day," Arthur said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Could we not do this now?"

Y/N scoffed. "I'm just saying, if you want to be taken seriously as an influencer, you should start by taking your living conditions seriously."

The comment hit a nerve. Arthur's success had always been a sore spot for her, a constant reminder of her own unfulfilled aspirations. Her words stung, and he felt his temper begin to flare.

"And what would you know about that?" he shot back. "You've never had to chase your dreams because you've always had everything handed to you on a silver platter."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, her voice dangerously low.

Arthur took a deep breath, knowing he had crossed a line. "I didn't mean it like that," he said, trying to backpedal. But the damage was done.

"You don't get it," Arthur said, his voice tight. "You never have. You think because I make videos and sing songs, I don't have a clue about hard work?"

"I didn't say that," Y/N replied, her voice equally as tense. "I said you should take better care of yourself. This place is a mess, and it's a reflection of your priorities."

The accusation stung, and Arthur felt his cheeks heat up. He had always prided himself on his authenticity, his willingness to show his true self to his followers. Yet here she was, suggesting he was a fraud.

"You think I don't know what real work is?" he spat out, his eyes flashing. "You sit in your fancy office all day, sipping lattes and bossing people around, while I'm out here, trying to make a difference in the lives of my fans."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. You're not curing cancer with your videos, Arthur."

The words hung in the air, a challenge that Arthur couldn't ignore. "At least I'm not living a lie," he retorted. "Pretending to be someone I'm not just to climb the corporate ladder."

Y/N's job was a sore subject for her, a constant battle against the expectations of their family's legacy. He opened his mouth to intervene, but she was already responding, her voice icy.

"You wouldn't know the first thing about hard work, Arthur," she said, her eyes glinting. "You play dress-up and make jokes for a living. It's easy to be liked when you're not actually doing anything of substance."

The words hit Arthur like a punch to the gut. He had always felt a little guilty about his chosen career path, especially compared to Y/N's high-flying corporate job. But he also knew that his content brought joy and comfort to millions. He clenched his fists, trying to keep his cool.

"You don't know anything about what I do," he said, his voice measured. "You think it's all fun and games, but there's a lot more to it than you see."

Y/N folded her arms, unmoved by his defense. "Oh, I know all about it," she said. "You sit here, making videos that people watch to forget their own lives, and you think that's meaningful?"

"It is to them," Arthur said, his voice rising. "It's more than you do, stuck in your ivory tower."

Y/N's eyes flashed. "At least I'm not living in a fantasy world," she snapped. "At least I'm not chasing after something that's never going to be more than a hobby."

"It's not a hobby," Arthur said, his voice strained. "It's my life."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Your life? More like your escape," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "You're afraid to face the real world, so you hide behind a screen and pretend you're important."

*****

Arthur's eyes widened, and for a moment, he just stared at her, the words cutting deep. He hated her—no, he didn't. He didn't hate her. It was something else, something more complicated. He hated the way she made him feel, the way she brought out his insecurities, the way she questioned his very existence. He hated that she could do that to him.

But he didn't hate her. She was George's sister, and George was his best mate. He couldn't hate her. Could he? The more he thought about it, the more he realized that what he felt was closer to fear. Fear that she might be right. Fear that he was just a glorified clown, dancing for the amusement of the masses.

He took a step towards her, his hands balled into fists. "You don't know anything about me," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "You think you're so much better, but you're just as lost as I am."

Y/N's expression didn't change, but something in her eyes flickered. For a moment, Arthur thought he saw a glimpse of vulnerability, a hint of doubt. But she quickly masked it with a sneer. "You're pathetic," she said. "You're wasting your life on this nonsense."

Arthur felt his heart racing, the blood pounding in his ears. He didn't hate her, not really. But her words stung because they echoed his own fears. He had always wondered if his career was just a facade, a way to avoid the responsibilities of adulthood. Yet here he was, standing up for what he believed in, for the community he had built, the fans who looked up to him.

"You're just jealous," he spat out, the anger giving him courage. "You're jealous that I found something I love, something that makes people happy."

Y/N's eyes narrowed. "You think you're so special," she said. "You're not. You're just a pretty face with a decent singing voice."

Arthur felt his anger boil over. "And you're just a cold-hearted bitch," he said, his voice shaking. "You don't know the first thing about love or passion."

Y/N's eyes went wide with shock at the venom in his words. For a moment, she looked as though she had been slapped. Then, she laughed—a bitter, harsh sound that rang through the flat. "Love and passion? Is that what you call it? A bunch of teenagers worshipping you?"

The room was a battleground, the air thick with animosity. The line between love and hate was paper-thin, and it was clear that they had both danced upon it for too long. Arthur's heart felt as though it was being squeezed in a vice, the weight of her accusations crushing him. Yet, amidst the anger, there was something else—a strange warmth that he couldn't quite explain. It was as if their shared disdain had kindled a spark of something more.

Y/N's eyes searched Arthur's, and for a fleeting moment, he saw a flicker of doubt in her gaze. The mask of superiority slipped, revealing a hint of the insecurity that lay beneath. She had always been the successful one, the one who had everything figured out, while he had stumbled into fame almost by accident. Yet here they were, both lost in their own ways.

"Shut up," Arthur murmured, the words barely audible. He didn't know if he was speaking to her or to the voice in his own head, the one that whispered doubt and fear.

Y/N took a step closer, her eyes flashing. "Make me," she challenged, her voice low and dangerous. The air between them crackled with tension.

Arthur's hand shot out, his fingertips brushing against her cheek. It was a gentle touch, a stark contrast to the harshness of their words. Y/N's eyes widened, and she took a sharp intake of breath, as though she hadn't expected the softness. For a second, they just stared at each other, the electricity between them palpable.

Then, before he could think better of it, Arthur leaned in and kissed her—harshly, desperately. He kissed her as if he was trying to prove a point, to show her that he was more than the sum of his YouTube views and singing talents. He kissed her as if he could erase the years of contempt with one fiery gesture.

Y/N's body stiffened, her eyes widening in shock, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into the kiss, her hands reaching up to tangle in his hair. It was a strange, intoxicating dance of anger and attraction that neither of them had seen coming. The heat between them grew, the air in the room thickening until it was almost suffocating.

*****

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless. Y/N's cheeks were flushed, her eyes dark with a mix of anger and something else—desire? Arthur couldn't tell. He felt as though he was drowning in confusion, his chest tight with emotion.

"I hate you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. But the way she said it, the way her breath hitched, told him she didn't mean it. Not entirely.

Arthur's chest tightened. "No, you don't," he said, his voice low and intense. "You're just scared."

Y/N's eyes searched his, a storm of emotions raging within them. "Scared of what?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Scared of admitting that maybe, just maybe, we're not so different after all," Arthur said, his voice low and earnest. "Scared of what this could be."

Y/N stared at him, her eyes searched his, looking for a sign that he was joking, that this was all some twisted ploy. But Arthur's gaze was unwavering, his expression raw and vulnerable. The truth of his words hit her like a tidal wave, and she felt the walls she had built around her heart begin to crumble.

"We're nothing alike," she whispered, her voice shaking. But even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. They were both chasing their own versions of success, their own ways of making an impact on the world.

Arthur stepped closer, his hand still resting on her cheek. "We're more alike than you think," he said softly. "We both want to be seen, to be heard, to matter."

Y/N's breath hitched. She didn't hate him, not really. But she had spent so long pushing him away, hiding behind her sarcasm and scorn, because the alternative was too terrifying to consider. If she let him in, if she allowed herself to care, she might just get her heart broken. And she had been down that road before—she wasn't sure she could handle it again.

"I don't do feelings," she said, her voice a feeble attempt at the armor she had worn for so long. But Arthur's hand remained on her cheek, his thumb tracing gentle circles that seemed to be unraveling her very soul.

"Well, you're doing a bloody good job of hiding them," Arthur said with a sad smile. "But I can see right through you, Y/N. And I think it's about time we both faced them."

Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of a bluff. But all she found was honesty, a stark contrast to the barbed words they had exchanged just moments ago. Slowly, she reached up and placed her hand over his, her touch tentative yet filled with a spark of hope. "What are you saying, Arthur?"

He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words before speaking them. "I'm saying that maybe, just maybe, we should stop fighting and start understanding each other." His thumb continued to caress her cheek, his gaze never leaving hers. "We're both just trying to find our place in this world, and maybe we could help each other do that."

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, the walls she had built around herself feeling more fragile than ever. The idea of letting Arthur in, of admitting that she might need someone, was as terrifying as it was tempting. Yet, she couldn't deny the undeniable pull she felt towards him, the way his touch made her feel seen, understood.

"I don't know if I can do that," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've spent so long pushing people away."

Arthur's eyes searched hers, filled with a gentle understanding that seemed to see right through her tough exterior. "I know," he said, his voice equally soft. "But maybe it's time to try something new."

The silence that fell between them was heavier than any of their previous barbs. Y/N felt the weight of his gaze, the warmth of his hand, and the sincerity of his words. It was a stark contrast to the chaos that usually surrounded their interactions, a gentle reminder that love could emerge from the most unlikely of places.

Her eyes searched his, looking for any hint of a lie or a hidden motive. But all she found was a mirror to her own confusion and yearning. Arthur was right—they were both lost in their own ways, but perhaps together they could navigate the tumultuous waters of life.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice shaky with uncertainty. "Okay, let's try."

Their kiss was not gentle this time, but it was not fueled by anger either. It was a kiss of understanding, of two souls colliding in the messiness of their shared existence. Arthur's arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, and she melted into him, her own arms snaking around his waist. It was as though they had been holding onto this moment for years, waiting for the perfect storm of words and emotions to bring it to the surface.

As they broke away, both panting, they stared at each other with a newfound appreciation. The hostility that had once dominated their interactions was now replaced with a strange, thrilling anticipation. They had both been hiding behind their own fears and insecurities, throwing jabs and insults to keep the other at bay. But in that one moment, they had found a common ground—the mess of their lives.

Arthur knew that real love didn't emerge from a perfect, pristine environment. It grew in the cracks of doubt and the weeds of imperfection. It was in the chaos of their shouting match that he had seen the real Y/N, the one who was just as lost and scared as he was. And in that chaos, he had found something beautiful—a spark of connection that was more real than any of the scripted moments in his videos.

They stood there, in the silence that followed the storm of their words, their hearts racing in unison. The tension between them had shifted, no longer a barrier but a bridge, a delicate yet solid connection that neither wanted to break. Y/N's eyes searched Arthur's, looking for confirmation that this was real, that she wasn't just imagining the tenderness in his gaze.

*****

"I'm sorry," Arthur murmured, his thumb still tracing circles on her cheek. "For everything."

Y/N nodded, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Me too," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I've been a bitch."

Arthur's hand slid down to her neck, his thumb brushing against the rapid pulse in her throat. "You've had your reasons," he said, his voice gentle. "But let's leave them behind now."

Y/N nodded, a single tear slipping down her cheek. "Okay," she whispered. "Let's start again."

Arthur wiped the tear away with his thumb, his eyes never leaving hers. "We don't have to start over," he said softly. "We just have to start… differently."

Y/N took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling against his chest. "Differently," she echoed, the word feeling strange and yet incredibly right on her tongue.

Arthur's gaze searched hers, his eyes filled with a warmth she hadn't seen before. It was as though he had just discovered a hidden treasure, something precious that had been buried beneath layers of anger and misunderstanding.

"I didn't know," he whispered, his voice filled with wonder. "I didn't know it could feel like this."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes searched his, and she could see the realization dawning in his gaze—the raw, unfiltered understanding of what love truly meant. It was as if he had just stepped into the sunlight after years of darkness.

Arthur's eyes searched hers, the weight of his realization heavy in his gaze. It was a look that spoke of a thousand unsaid words, of moments of doubt and fear that had led them to this precipice. In that instant, she knew that he saw her—the real her, not the armored version she presented to the world. He saw the vulnerability she had worked so hard to hide, the softness that lay beneath the sharp edges of her sarcasm.

"Neither did I," she murmured, her voice shaky. She felt the warmth of his breath against her skin, the steady beat of his heart under her palm. The tension between them had transformed into something new, something that made her heart flutter in a way she had long ago convinced herself she was immune to.

They stood there, in the quiet aftermath of their confrontation, the air charged with the electricity of their newfound connection. It was strange, terrifying, and yet, somehow, it felt more real than anything she had ever experienced. For the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N allowed herself to hope that maybe, just maybe, she had found someone who truly understood her.

"We'll take it slow," Arthur said, his voice low and soothing. "We'll get to know each other without the baggage of what we've always thought we knew."

Y/N nodded, the tightness in her chest slowly easing. The idea of taking it slow was both comforting and exhilarating. She had always rushed into things, eager to prove herself, to conquer and claim. But with Arthur, she felt the need to be gentle, to tiptoe around the fragility of this newfound bond.

"Okay," she said, her voice a whisper. "We'll start tonight."

*****

They decided to order takeout, a simple meal of fish and chips from the chippy down the street. As they waited, Arthur suggested they watch one of his videos together, one that had a special meaning to him. Y/N agreed, her curiosity piqued.

The video was of Arthur singing a cover of an obscure indie song, the melody haunting and beautiful. As he watched her reaction, he explained how the lyrics had resonated with him during a particularly tough time in his life, how the words had given him the courage to keep going. Y/N listened, her eyes never leaving the screen, and for the first time, she saw the depth of his passion, the raw emotion that fueled his art.

When the video ended, she turned to him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I had no idea," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I never knew you felt like that."

Arthur took her hand, his thumb tracing comforting circles on her skin. "There's a lot you don't know about me," he said, his voice gentle. "And I want to show you."

The night stretched out before them, a canvas of unexplored possibilities. They talked, shared stories, and laughed—the kind of laughter that washed away the years of tension and left them feeling lighter, freer. It was a tentative start, a delicate dance of opening up to each other.

As they sat there, on the couch in Arthur's cluttered flat, surrounded by the detritus of his life, Y/N felt something within her shift. It was as though she had been holding her breath for years, and now, finally, she could exhale.

The kiss that followed was not driven by anger or spite. It was born of a newfound respect, a tentative curiosity that grew into a blaze of passion. Their lips met, and it was as though all the words they had left unsaid were finally finding their voice.

When they parted, Y/N's heart was racing, her cheeks flushed. She looked into Arthur's eyes and saw the same wonder reflected in his gaze. They had crossed a line, stepped into a place neither had dared to tread before.

"I don't know what this is," she murmured, her voice husky.

Arthur leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. "Neither do I," he said. "But I know I don't want to let it go."

And so, with the soft glow of the streetlights filtering through the window, they embraced the uncertainty, the thrill of the unknown. They had found something in each other that was more than just friendship or rivalry. It was a connection that defied logic, a bond forged in the fires of their shared pain and doubt.

As they sat there, holding each other tightly, Y/N felt the first stirrings of a love that had been buried beneath layers of contempt. It was a love that had been waiting for the right moment to emerge, a love that was as real and as raw as the music that filled Arthur's soul.

The future was uncertain, fraught with the potential for either heartbreak or a love that could surpass their wildest dreams. Yet, in that moment, all that mattered was the here and now. They decided to take it one day at a time, to build their relationship on a foundation of honesty and mutual respect.

The weeks that followed were filled with tentative smiles and gentle touches, as they both learned to navigate the new waters of their blossoming relationship. Y/N began to see Arthur not just as George's friend, but as a complex individual with his own fears and aspirations. She admired his dedication to his craft and the way he connected with his fans, bringing joy to the lives of so many.

Arthur, in turn, discovered the strength and resilience behind Y/N's sharp exterior. He saw the passion she brought to her work, the way she fought for what she believed in, even when the odds were stacked against her. Her ambition was no longer a source of irritation but a quality he found himself drawn to, a reminder that there was more to life than just his own small corner of the internet.

*****

Their first date was a simple walk along the South Bank, the Thames reflecting the soft glow of the setting sun. They talked about their hopes, their fears, and the moments that had shaped them into the people they were today. The conversation flowed as easily as the river beside them, and with each step, they grew closer.

Holding hands, they stumbled upon a small jazz club, the music spilling out onto the cobbled streets. Arthur looked at Y/N, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Dance with me?" he asked, leading her inside.

The intimate venue was crowded, but they found a spot near the stage. As the music swelled around them, they swayed together, lost in the rhythm and the warmth of their bodies. Y/N felt a sense of belonging she hadn't experienced in a long time, as though she had finally found a place where she truly fit.

Their relationship grew steadily, each moment revealing a new facet of the other. They discovered shared interests, like a love for obscure British sitcoms and a passion for long, meandering conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning. The flat that had once been a battleground of snark and sarcasm now echoed with laughter and whispered secrets.

Yet, as much as they enjoyed their time together, the specter of their past remained. George, caught in the middle, watched with a mix of bewilderment and happiness as his sister and best friend grew closer. He knew the history of their animosity, the depth of the scars that still lingered beneath the surface.

One evening, as the three of them sat around Arthur's kitchen table, the tension grew thick. Y/N reached for Arthur's hand under the table, a silent plea for support. He squeezed it gently, a reminder that they were in this together.

"Look," Arthur said, breaking the silence. "We've all said things we regret. But we're trying to move forward. Can't we just… be happy for each other?"

George studied them, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he leaned back in his chair. "I just want you two to be happy," he said. "But don't expect me to understand it."

Y/N and Arthur shared a look, a silent promise to navigate this new chapter with care. It was a step forward, a small but significant one. They knew they had a long way to go, but for now, they were content to simply enjoy the dance they had found themselves in.

*****

Taglist~

@gvf23 @xxkatxgracexx @pookietv

[cryptfile]

hi there! i'm mila (she/her) i’m from south america (from this laaarge country called Chile) so english is not my first language. I've been on the internet for a while and i'm in my 20's trying to figure out life while writing silly little stuff and finishing my degree in Digital Animation at the same time, be kind to me or else i'll cry.

Currently my request are open! so feel free to send promps or whatever! i'm pretty social too, so if you'd like to talk or just ask about anything, just go ahead and hit that button! you can check who i write for here. At the moment i'm writing both +18 content as well as your regular nice fluff, angst, etc.

Please interact accordingly. More fandoms to come soon. Have a good time bby! x

ps: Credits to chimiyaa resources on deviantart for the nice thunder and the pink thingy you see in the first image.

SOLDIER BOY

ᓭི༏ᓯྀ nuclear seasons, [+18 mdni ] — he was friend’s with your mom. friend is a understatement cause when he appears in the middle of the night looking for revenge in your little apartment in the suburbs, you know he’s far from being nice.

HOMELANDER

ᓭི༏ᓯྀ holy terrain!!!!!! [ +18 mdni ] — when you arrive to vought’s tower covered in blood, you certainly don't expect to enjoy john’s comfort after feeling so numb.

FRENCHIE // [ RECASTED TO DEV PATEL ]

ᓭི༏ᓯྀ mountains at midnight — after a failed relationship, serge knocks on your door half baked / half bleeding-to-fucking-death.

QIMIR // THE STRANGER

꩜ drabble — qimir taking you as his acolyte.

꩜ dreamseeker — it all started when you find out he’s alive.

LOGAN HOWLETT // WOLVERINE

Ꮺ˖˚₊ leeches [ +18 mdni, vampire!reader] — logan howlett lacks of patience (and he can also be a nice little blood-bag while losing his temper).

CARMY BERZATTO

☆ loveseat [ +18 mdni ] — after being in a relationship with carmen, you cannot help but being extra judgemental when it comes to food.

☆ drabble [ +18 mdni ] — it's just the best pie he ever tasted.

BENEDICT BRIDGERTON

⋆౨ৎ˚ ࣪ over the moon — when your husband starts to stay up painting till late you start plotting a good plan to make him go to bed with you and actually rest instead.

[sillyteecup]

The Wrong Way

Roman Reigns x black!o.c

Jey Uso x black!o.c

Chapter 4

Warnings:

18+

Strong language

Misogyny

Mention of sexual assault

Taglist: @wrestlingprincess80 @nbanenefrmdao @vebner37 @theninthwonder @tshepisho @lensilver2 @trentybenty @empressdede @queen-shadow22 @becauseimher @jstarr86 @jaded-human @c-sgolden

A.N: This took me too damn long😭😭in my defense though, school has been drowning me and I've barely had the time to get this done quick enough, but ke...what can be said? Anyway, here is chapter 4 of The Wrong Way. I hope you like it. Enjoy❤️

Lori did not believe in setting expectations for people. As it was, she tried to keep her social interactions with anyone she did not know or trust to a minimal. Being a certified introvert, she thought it to be unrealistic to hold people to any social standards before speaking to them. All expectations bred disappointments as life is fickle. Human beings weren't nearly as fickle as life, but they could never be the exception to the rule.

All of that to say, she didn't know what to expect from the Tribal Prince Jey, as the first they met he grinned at her as though she were a piece of meat, and then the second time he glared at her like a foe. Now they were seated opposite each other in the matte black suv that Paul assigned to them, and he still had a scowl on his face.

"Have we met perhaps?" Lori questioned, breaking the heavy silence.

Jey tilted his head, features dancing between confusion and wondering if she was just stupid. "What?" he asked.

"Well you've been glaring at me since I landed, so I couldn't help but wonder if we had crossed paths and I happened to have wronged you by chance," she said indignantly, her irritation at his current expression slowly boiling.

"You're one to talk, when you don't look like the happiest trooper yourself," Jey said evenly, trying to keep an iron grip on his temper.

"Well I'm sure you can agree that there is nothing to be happy about as it stands," Lori pointed out bitterly.

Jey's face scrunched up in mild annoyance. "Yet you asked to ride with me. And for what? So you can shit on me for not acting like everything is sunshine and rainbows?" Jey spat, getting angrier by the sexond.

"I asked for you to accompany me so that we could perhaps get to know each other and maybe figure out a way to make this work, not have you sit there pouting like some petulant child who was denied pudding after dinner!" Lori hissed, finally losing her temper.

She watched as Tribal Prince Jey sat in his seat, jaw clenching as he likely fought the urge to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze till she was dead. If only he knew that she had the same thoughts swimming around her mind.

"Says the immature little bitch that threw a tantrum in the middle of a meeting because things weren't going her way," Jey said venomously.

"Tribal Prince Jey I assure you that while I respect your royal standing, I cannot allow you to call me out of my name. I shall hold my tongue because I was raised to be a respectable young lady, but-" she had begun to rant before being cut off by a mirthles chuckle from Jey.

"Respectable? Girl you a whole ass ho that runs around serving up pussy to every man that smiles at you," he said maliciously.

At this, Lori's heart stopped. Her hands began to tremble as tears threatened to spill form her eyes. She mentally condemned her father to hell for the way he painted the loss of her virginity as her being promiscuous. She had always rued the day she trusted him to understand and empathize with her for what actually happened that night. But now, at this very moment, she hated him for this false portrait he had sold of her to this family. He threw her trauma like a piece of raw meat into a den of lions. One day, he would pay.

"You do not know anything about me," she said, tone lowering as she seethed in rage.

There was another one of those mirthles laughs. "I don't need to. And frankly, I don't want to. Just 'cause we engaged, don't mean I need to coddle your feelings or be your friend or whatever the fuck you were hoping to achieve here!"

Lori bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from speaking out of line. Just because he was an insulant fool, it did not mean she had to stoop this level down in hell to defend herself. She was a woman of honor and dignity; there was no place in her mind that was reserved for engaging in petty spats with an individual such as Tribal Prince Jey.

"If that is what you so wish, then very well," she said evenly, marking him as dead to her.

No one could say she did not try.

➽──────────────❥

Roman, Paul and Sami arrived at the family mansion, or "the palace" as they usually called it, to find Miss Loreal Moore with her maidens, and Jey waiting for them. While the maidens each took in the courtyard with awe, Jey and his fiancé seemed disgruntled.

"Damnit," Roman whispered to himself. Even after the clear warning he had given Jey, his cousin did not cooperate. Roman could not let his incompetence slide as it would set a bad example to his brothers and the rest of their cousins. But he would deal with that later.

"The lady looks unhappy, my Tribal Chief," Paul pointed out, only adding to the grating of Roman's nerves.

"Wiseman, please tell me something. Do I look blind maybe?" Roman questioned him sarcastically, to which he shook his head rapidly while stammering for an answer.

"N-no, never my-my Tribal Chief. Your eyesight is absolutely perfect. 20/20 vision I would say-" Paul rambled, attempting to calm Roman down before he angered him even further.

"Then what made you feel the need to point out something that I can so obviously fucking see?" Roman said through gritted teeth. Everybody just seemed keen on trying his patience today and he couldn't understand why.

"I apologize my tribal Chief. But, may I ask, are there any plans by chance that the Tribal Chief may have to sway the lady in our favor?" Paul genuinely asked. If there was one thing Roman appreciated about his Wiseman, it was his dedication to the family. However Roman couldn't let his real plans be known, as one of the pieces to his little chess game was in the front seat.

"The best we can do right now is be hospitable. Show her that she's in the right place," Roman said before flashing a smile at Sami through the rearview mirror. "Ain't that right Sami?" he asked Sami in what has half a joke and half a threat.

Sami caught onto this and his lips curled up nervously. "Yes my Tribal Chief, definitely," he laughed nervously, earning a pat on the shoulder from Roman.

"Wiseman, get my door," Roman commanded while keeping his eyes on Sami. The moment Paul left the car, Roman leaned in to whisper into Sami's ear. "You and Miss Loreal Moore friends, Sami?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"She's been very kind to me my Tribal Chief," was all Sami said.

"I hope you've been returning the energy. After all, she might need a new friend around here," Roman whispered, sounding genuinely concerned for the lady.

"Oh, yes definitely, my Tribal Chief. I have shown Miss Loreal Moore nothing but kindness and I would be happy to be her friend if she allowed it," Sami rambled nervously. Roman moved back and smiled.

"Good, good. You're a good man Sami," he said, ending the conversation right before Paul finished announcing his presence and opened his door.

Right as he stepped out, Ms Loreal Moore's sharp gaze shot into his direction. "Miss Loreal Moore, you seem displeased-" Roman began to say, being cut off by his cousin's fiancé.

"I wish to go home. Now," she stated, her voice trembling as she struggled to hold it together.

Roman was taken aback by her demand. Her tone sounded to him like she had likely been angered or triggered by something Jey said. His neutral gaze quickly shifted into questioning glare towards Jey, who only scowled and turned away.

"I'm sure that whatever that happened to to make you wanna do that can be fixed. I don't know you well but you seem like a smart, mature and level headed woman. So let's just-" Roman began to say to calm her down only it be interrupted again. Which was beginning to get on his nerves.

"That thing you just did; attempting to soothe my ego to gaslight me into agreeing with whatever" solution" you were going to come up with? I hate it. It is an insult to my intelligence. And from what I can see, this family seems to be built on the foundation of insulting those they feel are lesser beings to them! I am by no means a fool! I know why that-" she took a breath to control herself mid-rant before continuing.

"I know why my father sold me to you people. I did not expect to be treated kindly or for this to be a fairytale of sorts, hell I did not even expect to be treated with integrity. But what I cannot take is being refferred to by obscene words, and then having my intelligence insulted less than 4 minutes later. If this is how it is to carry on going forward, then I would rather you put me on the next flight back to my home, so that I may live out the rest of my days in unmarried bliss," she finally finished before letting out a heavy exhale.

Roman clenched his jaw and nodded. He began to rethink every time he said Naomi was too stubborn for her own good. Compared to Miss Loreal Moore, Naomi was child's play. Even though she always gently kept them grounded, she had never outright called them out on their bullshit. Let alone on her first day on the island. As much as Roman appreciated this woman's strength, he also understood that she was going to be a nasty piece of work to mould into their image. Yet he found himself enticed by the challenge. Clearly he would have to break her and rebuild her in an image he saw fit. And one thing about Roman? He enjoyed playing God. But he would have to be smart about this. She had already seen through his first trick, which to be fair he hadn't even thought was one to begin with. He was just used to solving problems like that. Nevertheless, he was going to have to get far smarter than he ever had.

"I see. Wiseman, show them to their rooms. They've all had a pretty long day and are in no state to travel right now," he commanded, noticing the storm grow in Miss Loreal's eyes.

"Miss Loreal Moore, I shall speak with you tomorrow morning at 07:00 once you've had enough sleep," he added, hoping to quell her still rising temper.

Her eyes narrowed as she bit the inside of her cheek. It was as if she had realized that now that Roman had made his choice, there was no arguing. At least she held authority to a high regard to some extent.

➽──────────────❥

Skin illuminated by the sun rising, Lori took in the appearance of her room. The walls were a dull dull beige that contrasted poorly with the dark oak doors and large, arched windows. The curtains were a glaringly bright red, an irritating sight that drove Lori to open the curtains at the crack of dawn. They with the bedding sets and the velvet couch on the other end of the room. It was big, more spacious than the one back home. She hadn't bothered to check the size of the closet as she had no intentions staying long. The carpet and sheets were black, along with the blackwood vanity set. The whole room was dreadful.

And so was this family. Lori's mind had been flooded with predictions of how the Tribal Chief would try to coax her into staying. Having caught on to his tactic yesterday and with the understanding of the weight this marriage holds, she figured that Tribal Chief Roman would likely attempt slither his way into her mind to convince her that all of this was worth it in the end.

And maybe it was, but a few words dipped in caramel would not suffice in proving that to Lori. She glanced at the huge round clock on the wall next to the bathroom door, 05:30. Her maidens had insisted on making sure that they were at her side by five o'clock sharp, however Lori resisted. Insisting that she would much prefer if for the first time in a very long time, they rested. They deserved it. And her parents were not there to tell them otherwise.

After bathing and moisturising in complete solitude for the first time since she was born, she took the long-sleeved cotton sundress that. Minerva had picked out and ironed for her, and put it on. Lori then moved to sit by her vanity and frowned. She had never done her own hair before, and now with the bonnet covering her braided hair, the lack of experience had come back to bite her in the ass. From what she had observed in Willow doing her hair, her long, voluminous afro was no easy feat when it came to styling.

What if I just woke Willow up to help with my hair, then immediately after, she goes back to sleep? That would not be cruel would it?

Her pondering of her dilemma was interrupted by a knock on the door. Confused, Lori checked the time again, 06:30. Could the girls already be awake? She stood up from the stool and cautiously made her way to the door. The knock sounded again, right as her hand had touched the handle. Finally she opened, and on the other side was the last person she had expected to see.

"Sami? What are you going here so early?" she asked him. As nice as he was, and as much as she planned to utilise him if things went south, Lori was still guarded when faced with all the members of the Bloodline. After all, who was to say it wasn't an act?

He stook tall in her doorway with a boyish grin. He sported a black Nike t-shirt and sweats with sneakers to complete the ensemble. "Good morning Lori! Tribal Chief said I should swing by and check if you're ready," he explained cheerfully. His grin however faltered when he took note of the bonnet.

"What?" Lori said, noticing the change in expression. Sami grimaced in response and gestured for her to let him in. Hesitantly, Lori stepped to the side only for Sami to usher her back to the vanity. "Sami what is the meaning of this?" she demanded only for Sami to gently push her into the chair and smile at her through the mirror.

"You don't know how to do your hair do you?" he asked slyly, causing her eyebrows to furrow in confusion.

"How did you know?" she questioned, wondering what had given her ineptitude away.

"Educated guess," Sami shrugged as his hand hovered over her bonnet. "May I?" he asked, earning a nod from Lori which prompted him to remove it, revealing her hair. "Wow," Sami gasped as he felt the soft texture of her hair.

"What's wrong?" Lori asked in concern, not sure how to take Sam's reaction to her hair.

"Nothing, it's just-I've seen healthy, beautiful long hair before but this? God, your mom must love you," Sami said, still in awe of the sight before him.

Lori just wore a wry smile at the last comment. While she was sure that Sami meant no harm as he was unaware of her relationship with her family, he still struck a nerve. When speaking of her connection with her mother, Sami wasn't asking, but Lori had been for the longest time. And by the looks of it, she would never get an answer.

"Actually, Willow is the mastermind. Before that it was her mother. The two of them have been so kind to my hair in the way they have taken care of it. In fact, I would probably have cut it all off had it not been for them," Lori explained, notes of gratitude in the way she spoke. Willow and Mrs Graham had been taking care of her hair and keeping it healthy since she was born. They were the real heroes.

"Either way, they are hair goddesses," Sami chuckled as he began to braid Lori's hair.

That's when it dawned on her. "You know how to do hair?" she questioned, eyeing Sami suspiciously as his red locks were out and untamed.

"Yup, an old friend taught me," he replied, not seeing the way she looked at him.

"And where is she now?" Lori asked curiously as Sami kept unbraiding and gently detangling.

Sami glanced at her through the mirror, eyes gleaming with a hint of sorrow. "She-uh, got married," he said before clearing his throat. He was then quick to change the subject to how he barely saw the point in styling his anymore since the island's climate was never kind to it. Lori zoned out as he rambled on and on, watching as he carefully brushed and styled her hair into a simple low ponytail with a puff at the bottom, completing the look with sleek baby hairs.

A white man can do my hair better than me? I need to up my game.

Despite the huge favour he had done for her, Lori still couldn't help but be unconvinced. Apart from him, she had met two direct members of the Bloodline, and both of them have proven to be...unappealing for lack of better words. Why would she trust that Sami hadn't had the same ideals indoctrinated in him. After all, as much as he was "an outsider", he had still been there longer than her. And since he did not offer the family prospects of wealth as far as she understood, there had to be another, more sinister reason to keep him around. If only she had thought of this on the plane yesterday.

"Sami, why are you helping me?" Lori asked, her trust issues suddenly flaring up.

"Because you're cool, duh," he replied as if it were obvious.

"Cool?" Lori questioned, unsure what he implied with the term. Her father had always considered that kind of language to be juvenile and forbid it around the house, however Lori had heard it time and again at her old University and during the two years when Lord Byron had allowed her to go to a private high school to graduate instead of finishing with a home school education. Still though, she was not very familiar with the context of the word.

"Y'know, good, nice. Cool," he simply said. Although he was not clear, Lori understood just fine.

"Oh okay. Lovely." If Sami was acting, he sure was doing an amazing job at it. Either way, her oncoming talk with the Tribal Chief would determine whether or not it mattered.

➽──────────────❥

"The Tribal Chief requested that I escort you to his office."

Tribal Chief Roman's office was cold...fitting the stories she had been told of the man who inhabited it. Perhaps it was the intense air conditioning, or maybe it was the lack of a personal touch to it's decor. Either way, apart from the spread out red and black furniture pieces, it was rather dull. Lori doubted he cared to much about the aesthetics anyway.

She had been seated on the black couch situated next to the door, about 5 feet away from his desk where he sat, nose buried in his work. Her eyes followed the clock's hands as time slowly ticked by, foreshadowing her slow and agonising ego death, should she choose to stay here. It had been 3p minutes and the man hadn't said a thing aside from "Have a seat." Part of her felt like there was an angle he was playing at here. A psychological one that she couldn't quite point out. Perhaps he was asserting dominance by making her wait on his time. If that was the case, then the one he had hoped to present would not hold up too well.

Her eyes scanned the bookshelf to her left. The names on the spines of each book caught her by surprise. While some of the books were typical of what was seemingly his nature, such as The Art of War, the others were unbecoming of what she had noted about him so far. Romance novels.

The rest of the titles were in Samoan and Italian, two languages Lori had not an inkling of an idea about. Still though, the very idea that Roman likely not only spoke these languages, but also read them was somewhat attractive. An observation she mentally chastised herself from. The very reason she had let her sights roam around the office was to avoid settling her gaze on him. Lord knows how he would react to his cousin's fiancé staring at him.

Speaking of his cousins, before she slept, Lori had done everything in her power to cleanse her memory of her interaction with Jey yesterday. Better to pretend it never happened than to let it hold power over her. Her logic was faulty, but it worked. But that did not by any means imply that she would be thrilled about being in the same room as him. The last thing Lori wanted was to be executed for murdering her fiancé. Regardless of how satisfying it would be.

"I take it you slept well?" she suddenly heard Tribal Chief Roman say.

Keeping her gaze on the window behind him, she nodded. The room was ugly but the bed was comfortable. "Yes, my Tribal Chief."

"Good. As a future member of this family it is only fitting that the best is what you are offered," he said, causing her to scoff. His gaze narrowed at the action. "Why do you want to leave?" he asked her, tone completely neutral.

"I was quite clear about my feelings yesterday, my Tribal Chief. I do not appreciate being treated like a street urchin by your family," Lori responded coldly.

Tribal Chief Roman placed his forearms on his desk to lean forward. "What did he say to you?" he asked. His voice had dropped to a dangerously low octave that struck a feeling that Lori was not familiar with in her chest. It was a mix of two feelings really; fear that was all but expected, but more surprisingly, yet minimal, lust.

"Things I would rather not repeat," she said.

"Because you're afraid?" he questioned with an arched eyebrow.

"Because I am a lady who refuses to compromise herself by spewing anything unbecoming of me," she retorted with a scoff. Yes, Tribal Chief Roman himself was terrifying, but that was not a sentiment she held towards Jey.

He leaned back into his chair, firm gaze remaining on her. "Whatever it is that he said, does not reflect our views of you. He will be corrected-"

"You mean punished," she commented, cutting into his sentence. She noticed his jaw clench at her interuption and swore she choked on her breath.

"And I will make sure, that nobody else treats you like that again," he finished, patience waning with each word.

"Why go out of your way instead of allowing me to go home?" she questioned, knowing the answer but still wanting him to completely clear up his intentions.

"You said it yourself yesterday. You know why this engagement was arranged; political gain for my family in return of financial gain for yours," he explained with a shrug.

Lori slowly nodded, the sound of the clock ticking re-invading her ears. "Where is he?" she asked. She wasn't sure why she was curious, but she was.

"His house not too far from here. Sami neglected to tell you that you two will not be living together until after your wedding," he explained, causing Lori's eyebrows to shoot to the edge of her hairline.

"How come?"

"Tradition," he stated vaguely. "Some things I have no control over, although something tells me you don't mind," he said, subtly pointing out her already existing grievance with his cousin.

"Do you have control over how often we are to interact?" she asked half-jokingly.

"Don't push it," he responded in a tone similar to hers. "I would advise you not to worry too much about the personal aspects of your engagement. The moment you two are married, you can get your own place nearby and only have to interact during public appearances," he said, tone reverting back to serious.

She fought the urge to ask if that was his arrangement with his wife a she had not seen her yet. Unless of course the divorce rumor was true.

"Until then, I am to stay here with you and Sami?" she inquired.

"Are you comfortable with Sami's presence?" he asked. His omission of her comfort with his own presence did not slide past her though. But she would let it seem as if it had.

"Yes. He is good company," she acknowledged.

"Then he will stay here as well. Anything else?" he asked. An answer immediately came into mind.

"Yes, actually. Could one of your staff perhaps get an interior decorator on the phone?" she requested, taking him aback.

"I do not like how my room looks," she specified, putting him at ease.

"I'll have it arranged as soon as possible. Is that all?"

She nodded wordlessly.

"Good. I'm assuming Sami informed you about today's agenda if you stayed?" Lori shook her head 'no' in response as her features festered into a look of curiosity. Sami must have thought that there was no way in all seven variations of hell she was staying there. Never say never, they say. Tribal Chief Roman ran his hand down his face and sighed, attempting to quell his frustration at Sami omitting this information.

"Today is your welcoming ceremony. The day when you're being introduced to the entire family and our ancestors as Jey's future bride and as a future princess to the people," Roman explained.

Lori's stomach twisted into knots. If there was anything she hated nearly as much as being blindsided to marriage, it was large gatherings and parties. All of those eyes on her, perceiving her always sent her into a spiral. If the very people that conceived her saw her as inadequate, who was to say that these people who did not know her from a table spoon harboured similar sentiments. Not to mention the whispers of gossip that she found mind numbing. A fact that would be hypocritical if Lori herself was a gossip.

She preferred self-preserving journalist anyway.

Nevertheless, she had chosen to stay and become a part of this bloodline that many considered to be of high esteem. Lori had chosen to become Tribal Princess Loreal. No longer Miss Loreal Moore. She would finally be rid of the last tie to her wretched father. If anything, that just sweetens the deal. This ceremony was just the starting point, one she would overcome with poise and grace.

"Is there a specific dress code, my Tribal Chief?"

[fencecollapsed]

once again thinking about Hey Melissa because this story lives in my brain like a little worm that wants to slowly kill me. anyway I've thought of exactly what changes I think would've made the story work better in my opinion so uhh here's my Hey Melissa script doctor I guess djskfjdsk

cut Paul's dog story. I get what the intention was, it's meant to be a full-circle thing at the end, but I just don't think it works the way it was meant to. it muddies the story too much and makes Melissa's motivation more complicated than it needs to be. if in every timeline she's trying to kidnap Paul to keep him as a dog (and she hates and kills dogs), why is this framed as her breaking point? why does she like him at all? and why does him just meowing convince her? cut all that, simplify it. Paul's a cat from the start. give her little club a bit of a clearer and simpler base logic: men they hate are kept as dogs, men they like are kept as cats. Melissa's been wanting a cat for so long, and she's had her eyes on Paul, and she's finally got him where she wants him.

Paul still denies that he's as good of a person as Melissa thinks he is, but instead of telling the dog story, have him just. lose his temper and be kind of a dick to her. he wanted to let her down easy, but she just keeps pushing. goddammit Melissa, he'd like you more if you'd drop this. he's made it clear he's not interested. she's not his type, he doesn't like the things she does. they're not compatible. and he's dating Emma right now anyway. can she please just let this go and stop pestering him so they can at least stay friends? Melissa's clearly upset, barely holding back tears, but says she understands. Paul now feels guilty, asks if there's anything he can do. Melissa asks him to feed her dog. the dog is Ted, and Melissa knocks Paul out. Paul wakes in the cage, afraid he's going to be defingered like Ted, but Melissa assures him no, she would never declaw a cat. Ted's a dog, see, he's a nasty, filthy dog pretending to be a man, he needed to be taken off the streets to keep everyone else safe. but Paul? Paul's a sweet kitty who's just confused and thinks he's a man, thinks he knows what he wants, thinks he's happy. thinks he doesn't like her back. he broke her heart, but that's okay, he's just a feral cat who doesn't understand that he's safe with her. he bit and scratched her because he doesn't know what love really is. he just needs to be trained and socialized. in time he'll understand that all Melissa wants is to love him, and he'll come to love her, too.

add like. one scene or moment to ground the tone and force the viewer to sit in how horrific this would actually be. one mention of Ted's wounds being infected, or the guys being cold and malnourished. just like, a single line, or a brief exchange between Ted and Paul would be enough. keep it light and absurd the whole rest of the time, but one moment that takes the situation more seriously would add a lot, I think.

have Emma bitch Melissa out after their exchange. do not have her just walk away crying, let her get MAD. let her rip into this freak who's boasting about having stolen her guy. who does Melissa think she is?? someone who deserves a cup of milk to the face, Emma thinks. it's full of spit, by the way. fuck you. and fuck Paul. you assholes deserve each other. and Emma starts crying then, at the end if her rant, and realizes she's. a lot more hurt than mad, actually. more hurt than she'd expect to be about Paul. fuck, she'd thought there was something special about him. but he's just another asshole. and then she storms out crying.

foreshadow Paul's decision to stay with Melissa. one moment of him starting to kind of like being here. she's scratching his chin, or petting his hair or something, and he's enjoying it a little. has to snap himself out of it, like he forgot for a moment that this is a waking nightmare. would give the ending more of an ambiguous terror, that maybe it's not just the bump on his head, and there was something in him that was being won over, because we saw it.

at the end Paul apologizes to Melissa for breaking her heart, thanks her for being patient with him. he always wanted to be a good man, but he never believed he was. but Melissa believed he was a good cat, and now he is. she made him what he could never be on his own. and to make up for hurting her, he'll be hers until he dies.