#I thought they been knew but came to find out they thought I was the hit it n quit type (no shade)

[thesecondhandwoman]

MORNING AFTER

Sevika x f!reader

Summary: You and Sevika had another fling-filled night, but this time both of you decided to stay, waking up to one another, realizing that it was much nicer than waking up alone.

The morning light filtered through the tattered curtains of Sevika’s small apartment, painting the room in golden hues. The air carried a slight chill, but the warmth radiating from the body next to you was enough to keep you from shivering. You stretched lazily, muscles sore but pleasantly so, a satisfied smile curling on your lips as memories of last night flooded back.

You turned your head to find Sevika still asleep beside you, her broad shoulders rising and falling with each steady breath. The blanket was pushed down to her waist, revealing the scars and tattoos that decorated her upper body. In the soft light of morning, her sharp features were relaxed, her usually furrowed brow smooth, and her lips slightly parted. Even in sleep, she exuded a kind of raw, magnetic power that made it hard to look away.

Your gaze lingered on her for a moment before a wave of shyness hit. It wasn’t every day you woke up beside someone like Sevika—formidable, intimidating, and yet somehow, so tender when it came to you. The memory of her rough hands on your body, her lips trailing fire along your skin, sent a pleasant shiver through you.

Carefully, you slipped out of bed, trying not to wake her. Your legs wobbled slightly as you stood, a testament to just how thorough Sevika had been. You grabbed the nearest piece of clothing—one of her oversized shirts—and slipped it on. It hung loosely on your smaller frame, the scent of leather and something distinctly her surrounding you.

The kitchen was barely more than a corner of the room, but you managed to scavenge some coffee grounds and get the old percolator working. As it bubbled away, you leaned against the counter, staring out the small window. Zaun was already alive, the sounds of machinery and distant shouting filtering up from the streets below.

“Stealing my clothes already, huh?”

The low, gravelly voice startled you, and you turned to find Sevika leaning against the doorway, her hair mussed from sleep and her cybernetic arm gleaming faintly in the morning light. She had thrown on a pair of loose pants but hadn’t bothered with a shirt, the lines of her torso drawing your attention despite your best efforts to stay composed.

“I thought you wouldn’t mind,” you said, trying for nonchalance but failing miserably as a blush crept up your cheeks.

She smirked, the expression lazy but dangerous, as if she knew exactly what you were thinking. “I don’t. It looks better on you anyway.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. Turning back to the coffee, you poured two mugs and handed one to her. She took it with her flesh hand, the metal of her prosthetic brushing against your fingers. The sensation was oddly comforting, familiar after last night.

Sevika took a sip, her sharp eyes never leaving you over the rim of the mug. “So,” she began, her voice still rough from sleep, “was last night… acceptable?”

You almost choked on your coffee. “Acceptable?” you repeated, laughing. “Is that your way of fishing for compliments?”

“Just trying to gauge my performance,” she said with a teasing smirk, though there was a flicker of something genuine in her gaze—uncertainty, maybe? It was rare to see Sevika vulnerable, even in the smallest ways.

You set your mug down and closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around her waist. “If I rated it anything less than perfect, I think my legs would file a formal complaint,” you murmured, resting your head against her chest.

She chuckled, the sound rumbling through her like a purr. Her metal arm came to rest on the small of your back while her flesh hand gently cupped your chin, tilting your face up to meet her eyes. “Good,” she said softly, her thumb brushing over your cheek. “I’d hate to think I left you… unsatisfied.”

Her lips captured yours in a slow, languid kiss, the kind that made you forget about everything else. When she pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, her expression softer than you’d ever seen it.

“You know,” she said after a moment, “I don’t usually do this… the whole morning after thing.”

You smiled. “I figured. But I’m glad you’re making an exception.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Me too.”

The rest of the morning passed in a comfortable haze. You ate a simple breakfast together, Sevika grumbling about the lack of decent food in her apartment while you teased her about her poor culinary skills. For a moment, it was easy to forget the harshness of the world outside, the constant dangers and betrayals that came with living in Zaun.

But as you sat there, watching Sevika’s rare smile as she listened to you ramble about nothing in particular, you realized something. Last night had been incredible, but this—this quiet, intimate moment—felt just as important. Maybe even more so.

And judging by the way Sevika reached across the table to take your hand, her fingers lacing with yours, you had a feeling she felt the same.

Hey dolls, I know this a bit smaller than my normal fanfic, but I thought it would be nice to add another fluffy write up for you guys! Hope y’all enjoyed it, and I’m always up for recommendations/requests.

[daxhalfawake]

FUCK.

So, I knew some of this bc my step-grandmother-in-law got COVID and insisted it was allergies and was dead from a stroke caused by a weird blood clot that they know is a type that happens in long COVID literally 6 months later. And I got COVID last year, despite doing everything I could not to, because my wife's boss came back to work too soon, without testing negative. I was 5 weeks pregnant. My wife's infection involved mostly wheezing and coughing and shortness of breath. I had a fever of 102°, a migraine, bad congestion and a gross cough. We both had the body aches real bad.

My COVID infection triggered essential hypertension (high blood pressure, I'm 30 [29 when I got COVID] and wasn't eating too poorly then, but I do eat better now). My blood pressure was consistently reading at stroke-risk levels and I had to go on blood pressure meds. I've had several other new or worsening health issues since the infection that my doctors have yet to pinpoint the cause of, but we haven't been focused on the cause because I was very sick and the cause wouldn't be environmental.

But on the neurological/brain damage - I got COVID, had 2 miscarriages, then fell into derealization for 8 months so I thought that was most of it but like there are things I never got with derealization before and that haven't gotten better since coming out of it.

I type a phrase I've been using correctly my entire life and then stare at it bc it looks wrong and I don't know why but I can't send it if it's wrong (spoiler: it has never actually been wrong). I've started using words that I haven't used since high school - problematic ones that I stopped even thinking about using bc they were problematic - and I have been horrified at myself despite most of these words having been used only in my own company. I literally have to remind myself that we don't use that word anymore if it pops into my head because my filters are also off now. My eyes unfocus and I cannot get them to refocus. And I use the wrong words sometimes, words that don't even make sense in reference to the one I need - but that one's getting better. I can't remember things like I used to. Like I have memory issues and have my whole life, don't get me wrong - I'm ADHD and I have cPTSD - but this is different. Because I also have a selective photographic memory and I used to be able to walk myself backwards to find things I put in weird places with ease and now I lose everything for way too long and it triggers autistic meltdowns. My brain fog from my various conditions is significantly worse - to the extent that even on my Adderall, my mind will go completely empty while I am in the middle of speaking a sentence and I will lose my entire train of thought and not be able to remember without prompting from an active listener to the conversation; sometimes not even then.

Literally TONIGHT, in the aftermath of an autistic meltdown I was trying to articulate to my wife why I need more mental processing time in the middle of a conversation, and I mentioned that sometimes I'm trying to keep up with the conversation and her words stop being English to my brain. Not being able to understand words is mentioned in this article from Harvard University, and I have been becoming INCREASINGLY AND INCREDIBLY FRUSTRATED with the fact that I "all of a sudden" started having these episodes where someone is talking to me and their words start out okay and then they flip and it sounds like a garbled mess of sounds, not even words.

I just want to remind people that it’s 2024 and we didn’t “go thru a pandemic” we are “going thru a pandemic” present tense. It is still happening. People are still get sick, still becoming disabled, and still dying. Covid hasn’t gone away and I beg people to not normalize getting sick with it.

[barcaatthemoon]

respect || alexia putellas x reader ||

You go back to Alexia after taking some space with the hope to reconcile.

You were absolutely fuming. Alexia had a way of acting like a complete dumbass sometimes. What should have been a nice night out with the team turned into something much more complicated. You wanted to have a good time and enjoy yourself, but then Alexia got jealous. She had a bad habit of getting jealous, and you had finally reached your limit.

It had been over a week and a half since the incident, and you were still pissed. You had seen Alexia since then, but you were wildly good at ignoring her at practice. The two of you lived together, but you hadn't been home since that night. Alexia was hurting, and you were also struggling, but you needed to prove your point.

In the time that you'd been away, you had practically flocked to your older sister. Marta loved you, and she would always take care of you, even if it strained her own relationship a little. You and Caroline were pretty close friends, but it was a little overwhelming for her to live with two very outgoing Spanish women. You knew that you were getting close to the end of your stay, even if you weren't quite ready to face Alexia again.

"Nena, I think that it is time you go back home for a bit. Not a single thing you're wearing right now actually belongs to you." There was a teasing lilt to your sister's voice, but you knew that she was serious. Behind her, you could see Caro standing in the hallway. She seemed a bit more anxious than normal, the kind that came with a certain air of guilt. "I can take you back in a bit."

"It's fine, I'll call a cab," you told her. Marta frowned as she watched you pack up your things. She hadn't meant that you had to leave immediately, but you definitely seemed to take it that way. You weren't mad at her, not really, but Marta knew that it would be a good idea to steer clear of you for the rest of the week.

You had always been very passionate, and with that came a lot of different feelings. Marta knew how hard it could be for you to calm down. Something seemingly small would stay with you for so long, and despite all of the work you had done to stop that habit, you could never quite shake it.

Marta sighed as you seemed to be gone before she could really stop you. A part of her wondered if she had made the right decision sending you away so early. She knew that things with Alexia could potentially get much worse, especially if Alexia was mad at you for stepping away for so long. Marta hadn't ever seen the two of you fight, but she had been there to pick up some of the pieces in the aftermath. Things between you and Alexia were generally pretty good, even if both of you were beyond stubborn.

Alexia's car was gone when your ride dropped you off. Your car was in the garage, so Alexia always parked hers outside, despite it being the nicer vehicle. It was just one of the many things that Alexia did to take care of you. You could be a bit tempermental, but Alexia always tried her hardest to take care of you. It wasn't a good thought, but slowly, you began to wonder if you'd be able to find someone else who was willing to do that.

"Why are you sitting outside? You're getting burned," Alexia said as she ran over towards you. For a moment, you thought she was going to pull you out of the chair, but she skidded to a stop before she could touch you.

"I've been gone for a while, and I wasn't really sure whether you'd want me to come inside after everything," you told her. Alexia scoffed at that as she pulled you into a hug. "I'm sorry that I ran away, I just didn't want the fight to get worse. Please forgive me."

"You did the right thing. I was mad at first, but sometimes I forget how we go back and forth. You'd give me space if I wanted it, and sometimes, I need to remember to give it to you too. I was completely out of line for how I acted that night, and I am sorry, so please forgive me," Alexia pleaded with you. She held you in the hug to keep you from seeing her cry, but you could feel the tears begin to soak through the collar of the shirt you were wearing.

"Of course I forgive you, Ale," you told her. Alexia's body sagged down a bit as she relaxed in your arms. "Can we go inside now please?"

Alexia nodded as she wrapped her arm around your waist. You let her stay tucked against you as the two of you went inside. Alexia only let go of you once you were inside to go back out and grab your bag for you. You went straight into the bedroom to shower and change into clothes that were actually yours as Alexia started a load of laundry and called to order lunch for the two of you.

"I know that we kind of made up already, and I do not want to upset you, but I think we need to talk about what happened. Could we try to do that in a calm manner?" Alexia asked you. You nodded as you made room for her to sit with you on the bed. You knew that Alexia really didn't want to fight because she had brought the takeout to you instead of leaving it in the living room for later. "Will you please go first? I'd like to know what exactly happened that upset you so much."

"You embarrassed me in front of everybody. It's hard enough for the team to see me as my own person. I've been Marta's baby sister, then I was your girlfriend, and right when I started to feel like me, you showed everybody different," you told her. Alexia's face softened as she listened to you explain your feelings. She had never really thought about things like that before. You had always just been (Y/n) to her, but as she thought about it, the more she realized that she saw many people refer to you in regards to someone else.

"Yes, you're Marta's sister and my girlfriend, but that's not all you are. It isn't anybody else's fault that the world doesn't understand your value. I forget that not everybody knows you like I do, so I am sorry for stepping in the way I did. You know how I get, but if you're willing to be patient, I will work on being better," Alexia promised you. There was never going to be a world where you wouldn't give Alexia a second chance.

[hoe4hotchner]

Aaron Hotchner x non bau rich reader. Hotchner see's reader be all professional CEO and telling her that she looks hot when talking about work.

Girl Boss | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x rich fem!reader| WC: 0.6k | CW: girlbossing

The sharp click of your heels resonated within the room. Sunlight streamed through the towering glass windows behind you, casting your silhouette against the long table where half a dozen personnel sat, their pens poised and eyes alert.

"Let me be clear," you began, your voice cutting through the silence. "We are not pushing this launch back again." Your words were sharp enough to make even the most seasoned executive in the room sit a little straighter. You placed your hands on the table's edge, leaning forward slightly, the subtle move reinforcing your authority.  

"I expect finalized projections on my desk by tomorrow morning. No excuses. No oversights," you continued. "If there are any further delays, we’ll be having an entirely different kind of meeting. Understood?"

The collective murmurs of agreement followed swiftly, though not without a trace of hesitation. Your gaze swept the table, catching each person’s eye for a split second, long enough to cement your expectations but short enough to keep your employees at bay.  

"Good," you said, straightening up. Your expression softened by a degree — but only a degree. "Meeting adjourned."

Aaron had been leaning casually against the doorway to your office, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as he observed the scene unfolding. His eyes tracked your every movement, and there you were — fierce and assertive — commanding the room in a way that made it impossible for anyone to look away. Including him.  

He didn’t interrupt, content to watch as you had delivered your final order, and dismissed the room. His gaze lingered, marveling at the way you held everyone’s attention.  

Finally, your eyes found him. You turned and strode out of the room, the rhythm of your heels once again filling the space.

"Aaron," you said, your voice losing the edge it carried moments before as you walked toward him. Behind you, the meeting’s attendees began packing up. "You’re early."

"Traffic was light," he replied. He tilted his head slightly, his smirk deepening as he added, "Should I call you ma’am now, or will boss suffice?"

You rolled your eyes. Still, you couldn’t keep the small smile from tugging at your lips.  

"Come on," you said, closing the distance between you and reaching for his arm. Your fingers brushed against the sleeve of his coat. "We’re done here."

Aaron pushed off the doorframe and let you lead him, his smirk lingering as he fell into step beside you. Whatever commanding personality you projected in the boardroom, he knew the softer version of you just as well — and he loved both sides equally.  

The elevator was empty when the two of you stepped inside. His arm came around you without hesitation, his hand finding the small of your back. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," you admitted, closing your eyes as you allowed yourself to rest against him. "Sometimes I forget why I even started this."

Aaron chuckled softly, his breath warm against your temple as he leaned down slightly. "I think I just remembered," he said with a teasing tone as his lips brushed the shell of your ear.  

You opened your eyes, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, an eyebrow arching in curiosity. "Oh?" you prompted.  

"You," he replied without missing a beat. "You look unbelievably hot when you're bossing people around. I should make you talk about profit margins more often."

A surprised laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it, your hand instinctively swatting at his chest. "You’re ridiculous," you said, shaking your head, though the smile that stretched across your face betrayed your words.  

"Ridiculously in love," he countered smoothly, his hand at your back pulling you just a fraction closer, as though he couldn’t stand the thought of even an inch of space between you.  

The elevator glided to a stop, the faint ding marking your arrival at the parking level. Aaron glanced at the doors as they began to slide open, then back at you. "Come on, CEO," he said, "let me take you home."

[mekakitsune]

caitlyn x vi x reader | nsfw - minors dni

as promised <3 extension of my last post but can be read separately

you, despite your confusion, were happy to hear violet was in contact with her sister once again. you had heard the stories, drunked and slurred as the pink haired girl poured her heart out.

what shocked you, was news of a certain someone finding her way back into violets life. you had respect for vi, for whatever her and caitlyn had going on. your job at the brothel came with many feelings, ones that you had trained yourself to push away. a job is a job, thats what youd tell yourself.

the night went by like any other as of recent, slow and barely steady, leaving you with not much else to do but pack up and find your way home. it was only a small amount of time after your curtains were closed for the night that you heard hushed voices in the hall.

"are you sure?" a voice spoke, seemingly uncertain in the unusually quiet halls of the brothel.

"just...trust me?" it was her, the girl you had seen many times over the last few weeks, the girl who had drunkenly poured her heart out to you in the very room you sat in. sometimes, it was sex, a way to make both of you forget the general dismay of the fissures. other times, you just talked, almost like a small, pitiful therapy session for the both of you.

you had told her to come back, had she needed anything, but to follow her heart, to find the girl that held the key.

the curtian slid open slowly revealing the pair. you gave a gentle, yet sad smile as your eyes locked onto vi's.

"i told you id come back....and look, i brought a friend" she joked with a nervous chuckle, but something in her voice seemed uncertain. you swear you noticed the other girl stifle a laugh with a roll of her eyes.

"im glad you made it safe, both of you." you gave a genuine smile. you knew way more than you should, but seeing violet seem more lively than before, and seemingly sober, you took their appearance together as a good thing.

"im sure the two of you had a lot to say about me, and i get it. it was a lot of miscommunication, on both parts, but i wanted to thank you...for being there for her." the dark haired girl spoke, leaving you surprised at her kind words. you half expected the girl to jump you, not thank you for sleeping with her so called "situationship."

"its what i do." you stated simply, giving the girl a bashful smile. this felt so different from any other client visit.

"she told me about you...how you took care of her." caitlyn spoke smoothly, moving to sit herself beside you on the couch, dangerously close.

"youre a good person for that." she placed her hand on your knee, causing your skin to tingle. vi moves to sit herself beside you on the opposite side, leaving you feeling slightly overcrowded suddenly.

"she did...did everything i needed her to." violet spoke, hand finding yours and giving it a comforting squeeze.

the air suddenly felt hot as the two girls shuffled impossibly close. cool fingers found your chin, belonging to caitlyn, moving your head to look at her. "we want to repay you." she purred, scanning your face carefully for any signs to back off.

"you dont need to pay me...i just thought it was the right thing to do, no strings attached." you spoke softly, words almost getting caught in your throat at the sudden attention from the girl.

caitlyn hummed at your response, a smirk on her pretty lips.

"you know, ever since vi told me about you, the two of us havent been able to stop thinking about you."

you turn slightly to look at vi, who nodded with a sly smile on her face. "s'true. best lay ive had in a long time." she poked your side teasingly, making you huff and laugh softly.

turning back to caitlyn, you spoke– "this isnt how i expected this meeting to go..." you confessed, mesmerized by how easy it was for these two to charm you.

"lifes full of surprises, isnt it?" caitlyn whispered, eyes trailing on your lips. your breath hitches as she leans in, lips almost touching where you suddenly wanted her.

"just say the words and we will stop." her breath tickled your skin, making your chest squeeze in anticipation.

"please dont." you barely manage to speak, and with the final confirmation, her lips press against yours. the kiss was hungry, sinful for just having met the girl. her tongue brushed your lips, and you immediately grant her access to what shes been craving. a whine sounds from your throat as a strong pair of hands find your hips from behind you, rubbing affectionately.

after a few more breathless moments, the girl pulls back from your lips. her eyes seem darker now, filled with something you couldn't place.

a shudder rips through you as vi's lips find your neck, pressing searing kisses against the skin.

"let us take care of you." she muttered between nips on the delicate skin.

you nod desperately, back pressing against her firm chest. caitlyn moves in front of you gracefully, fingers finding the ribbons of your robe, untying it with experienced fingers. the fabric falls down your shoulders revealing your breasts, making both girls hum in approval.

caitlyns hands find home on your chest, squeezing softly and smirking at the cute whines leaving your lips and the arch of your spine. she moves forward to press calculated kisses along the exposed flesh. her lips move to your nipples, sucking the bud softly as you pant beneath her. vi's hands move from your hips to push away the pool of fabric, leaving you bare. caitlyn moves to give vi a silent demand, which the girl immediately obeys. she pulls away from your back just enough to slip her fingers under her own shirt, pulling it off after she shrugs off her jacket. youre pulled back against her with much force, causing you to gasp, the feeling of the warm skin of her breasts against your back making you undeniably soaked.

caitlyns hands move to your thighs, spreading them in a sinful yet delicious manner. she shuffles herself so she is between your legs, and her lips press kissed along your lower stomach and thighs. you gasp and your hips buck into her as she leaves small bites along your plush skin.

after much teasing and marking you up, you feel her breath on your core. you feel her blow cool air onto your dripping pussy, making you moan loudly.

caitlyn laughs slightly at your reaction. "you were right vi, she is cute." she smiled at the display infront of her. vi huffs a laugh against your neck in response –"told ya."

a whine sounds from you again and caitlyn decides she cant hold herself back any longer. the moment her tongue touches your cunt, electric sparks tingle up your spine, making you buck into her once again. her pace is steady, licking and sucking at your swollen clit and dripping hole. once shes deemed you ready, her fingers play with your hole before sliding in two slim digits. you gasp at the intrusion and arch against the girl sat behind you, who is very clearly enjoying the show. vi's lips find your neck again, sucking pretty purple splotches into your heated skin.

it was incredibly overwhelming, the lips on your neck paired with the fingers in your cunt. you were getting close embarrassingly quick, despite having sex for a living. you had never felt so taken care of, so...noticed.

caitlyn watches intently as her fingers slid in and out at a steady pace, moving her head back down to lap at your clit once again. you clench around her fingers tightly, gasping and moaning into the back of your hand. suddenly, a strong hand rips your own away from your lips.

"dont get shy now pretty girl, show her how good shes making you feel, let us hear it." vi muttered into your neck, making you spiral even deeper.

you mind was beginning to fog and your cunt was undeniably dripping onto the couch below, but you didnt care. not when caitlyn was eating you out like you were her last fucking meal. your hips shuddering and your whines pitching told both girls you were close to cumming.

"cum for us baby, let us see it." vi rasped from behind you, hands squeezing at your sensitive chest.

her words were more than enough to push you over the edge, along with caitlyns steady thrusts. she licks at your pussy as you moan shamelessly. you cum hard around her fingers and into her mouth, not missing the groan ripping from caitlyns throat as she swallows everything you give her. she doesnt stop until your panting hard, hips bucking and thighs shaking. she pulls away after letting you ride it out, moving up to slot herself between your thighs. her fingers find your chin as she pulls you into another kiss, this time much messier and far less calculated. you whine against her lips quitely, unintentionally following her as she pulls away. before you can protest, shes leaning over your shoulder and slamming her lips against vi's, making her moan at the taste of you on her girlfriends tongue. you watch in awe as the two girls kiss feverishly.

after a moment caitlyn pulls back again, this time looking down at you. her chest is heaving and her lips are swollen, its an incredible sight to behold.

"i want to see her make you cum now." she nods at vi, who immediately grabs your hips and flips you over so you are beneath her.

"you can give us another, right princess?" vi smirks at your shocked expression, large hands rubbing your thighs.

what have you gotten yourself into? something told you it was going to be a long night.

TAGLIST: @frsnkxie @themoonitselff

let me know if anyone would like to be tagged in future works!

[felassan]

David Gaider on Kieran, under a cut for length:

"CHARACTERS - DAY TWO: Kieran (Technically this is an addendum to yesterday, but I make the rules here so nyah!) Heading into DAI, I had a bite-sized problem on my hands. I knew Morrigan would feature. I also knew we were importing previous choices. So now I had to contend with: the Old God Baby. Here's the thing about honouring previous game choices, from a design perspective: it's a sucker's game. What many fans picture, when you mention it, is divergent *plot* -- the story changes path based on those major choices. How exciting! But you will never be able to deliver divergent plot. You can deliver flavour differences (usually in the form of divergent dialogue), character swaps (character X appears instead of Y), and extra content (such as a side quest) -- but plot branching, particularly the critical path? It's a question of resources, and there's never enough to go around. "Here Lies the Abyss" in DAI was about as good as it gets, and even that was a far cry from how I originally pictured it (hello last-minute insert of Stroud when a DAO Warden import got cut). The Old God Baby was one of the main choices from DAO -- Morrigan has a baby? With the Archdemon's soul?! Most DAO players who flagged that choice surely expected *monumental* consequences. World-shaking consequences! And we talked about it. We did. There were, like, three different designs of the DAI ending where OGB Kieran could cause complete divergence: new path, cutscenes, the whole nine yards. But it wasn't going to happen. It was a decision from *two games ago* that only a small minority (hello telemetry) would even choose. To the rest, they probably neither knew about it nor cared... so how many resources could you invest? To do what? Set up an even bigger divergence for the NEXT game? The other writers acknowledged my anxiety with a grim nod every time it came up, but they had no solutions. Finally, I realized there WAS a solution, and that was changing how I thought about the choice: don't make it about Kieran. The players don't know him, never have. Make it about Morrigan. Thus began a feverish three days where I wrote probably the most complicated scene of my career: Morrigan's reckoning with Flemeth in DAI and the fallout after. Three different versions (OGB Kieran, non-OGB Kieran, and no Kieran), each with branching for other choices (like the Well of Sorrows). I did it all at once. There was no other way to wrap my head around the complexity of it. It was also a tough sell to the team, considering the amount of cinematics work, but they agreed we had to do *something*. And still it felt... underwhelming, insofar as divergence goes. But it was also good. I remember when I first spoke with Claudia, about how this was Morrigan's story. This was about how motherhood had changed her, how she'd grown up. Claudia got a bit teary-eyed. It was a journey she was familiar with, she said. Her first son, Odin, had been born in 2005 not long after DAO came out. And, man, she killed with that performance! Kate, too, but I'll get to her later. Claudia dug down, and that scene where Morrigan tells Flemeth she'll never be the mother Flemeth was to her? That came from someplace very raw. It was devastating to witness in the booth. There were tears all around. Not long after, Claudia called and asked if maybe - just maybe - Odin could play Kieran? He was a bit young (not yet 5, then), but it felt... right? We agreed. Claudia was in the booth, gently coaching him through his lines, and I think that was the first moment I felt I'd done the right thing."

[source thread]

User: "Do you find it an odd choice that Kieran hasn’t been mentioned at all in Veilguard?" David Gaider: "If there’s less reactivity in DATV, I’m unsurprised. Continuing choice from up to 3 games earlier is… unsupportable. Yet DA established the expectation they would so… damned if you do, damned if you don’t?" [source]

User: "EA is one of the biggest game companies ever. I don't think more complex diverging plots are impossible." David Gaider: "Well, if only more writing was all it took. Sadly, it's also cinematics. Art time for all those reappearing characters you probably want to look *just* right. And let's not forget we have to test all those permutations! So I don't disagree with you in spirit, but I don't think it's the answer here." [source]

User: "is there a possibility of future kieran appearances in a book or something similar outside of the games?" David Gaider: "I'd have no way of knowing that." [source]

User: "I’m actually shocked so little people chose the dark ritual. That was basically the main reason Flemeth sent Morrigan with the wardens, no?" David Gaider: "The impression you get of what "most" players do - in almost any game, not just DA - is very different if you're online a lot. Consider here that it's not just the % of DAO players who chose the Dark Ritual, it's the % of DAI players WHO PLAYED DAO and cared to import that choice 5 years later." [source]

User: "Is there anything you wish you had done differently, in hindsight?" David Gaider: "Probably just to not ever do importing choices between games in the first place." [source]

User: "Kieran only existed in my DAI state b/c Morrigan as a mother really appealed to me. I wasn't expecting to be devastated by those scenes 😭 I guess when we complain about lack of consequences from prev choices in DAV we must also ask how MUCH are we willing to pay for those branches to exist?" David Gaider: "That's indeed it. Content directed towards reactivity would have to come from somewhere else. So essentially a shorter game overall for the sake of those hardcore fans who'd import - who would, I imagine, REALLY enjoy that... but it's a tough cost/benefit analysis to make." [source]

User: "mr gaider im gonna keep it real with you if i had to choose between my hof and hawke i would've simply passed away" David Gaider: "Right? That was the ENTIRE idea! I was very excited, and for a while it seemed possible." [source]

User: "This has been a very interesting read but I have to ask why they decided to use Stroud instead of the HoF" David Gaider: "1) Complexity of providing means for a player to build a Warden (which they did in DATV for the Inquisitor). Also spoiled the surprise. 2) We’d have needed to give the Warden a voice. Add these to the cost and it was deemed not worth it." [source]

User: "Genuine question, not a critique - but what made the OGB decision one that couldn't be handwaved as canon no matter what was or wasn't chosen? Leliana and Flemeth being around no matter what come to mind. Was OGB simultaneously too major and too minor of a decision?" David Gaider: "Flemeth and Leliana being alive were easily explainable, and we knew we were doing it even back then. Circumventing the Dark Ritual… that would be too cheap. We did talk about it, but it just felt too dishonest. Too high a price for what we’d get in return." [source]

David Gaider: "If I’d known the Well of Sorrows would only see reactivity in the confrontation with Flemeth, I’d probably have made a much bigger deal of it." [source]

David Gaider: "We could maybe have gotten past the need to "reconstruct" the Warden, much like the Inquisitor was reconstructed in DATV (so I understand), but the need to give the Warden a voice was the final nail. Too potentially disappointing for the very people who'd be excited about it, aside from the cost." [source]

[kenromis]

⌦ .｡.:*♡ last night on earth

⌦ .｡.:*♡ MDNI 18+

⌦ .｡.:*♡ WARNINGS: jayce talis, smut, some plot if you squint, post act 2 arcane, SPOILERS

⌦ .｡.:*♡ NOTES: i used to HATE jayce in 2021 but.... now i need him bad. dilf jayce stand behind me NOW!!! my official tumblr return for jayce talis, 2021 me would've lost it.

Soft clamors in the night, bandaged hands trailing against the wall to find their way through the corridors of his apartment in the darkness. The only thing audible is the sounds of his labored huffs and grunts as he limps towards any door he could find himself to first.

Jayce’s hip finds itself colliding with an item that God only knows of, hearing the sharp crack as it hits his marble floors. He lets out a groan, his free hand moving to rub his temple in reaction to the harsh shriek that echoed through the hall. Why did he even think about coming here first and not to a place he had mapped out better in his mind– such as his laboratory. He couldn’t go back there though… not after Viktor’s betrayal.

He hears the sound of a switch, the halls being coated with a blinding, artificial lighting that he hadn’t seen in however long he had been stuck in that goddamned dimension. Jayce’s eyes squeeze shut as he pushes his back to the wall, sliding down with a hand over his eyes. Always the one to have a flair for such dramatic reactions.

“Jayce!” A worried voice exclaims, footsteps running to approach him and shield his sensitive gaze from the light. “Jayce, goodness, where have you been?”

He knows the voice all too well, his lovely partner who had thankfully heard his desperate attempts to find his way through his home.

Jayce couldn't mutter a response, arms immediately wrapping around the woman that stood above him and pulling her form to envelope his. He hadn’t even bothered to open his eyes, burying himself in the crook of her neck with a satisfied sigh.

“Jayce?”

“Yes, honey?”

Her hands moved to rake through his hair— something that had severely changed in his absence. Not that she minded, however, it was clear Jayce had seen hell and back with the way his touch searched for solace on her body.

She bit her bottom lip anxiously, fingers dancing in his locks in an attempt to soothe him. “Are you okay?” Her question came out a lot more worrisome than she had intended, feeling the shift of his head move to look into her eyes through the strands that covered his face.

What could he say? She was no scientist, and while she was intelligent, there was no possible explanation he could give without sounding absolutely mental. But, she knew his line of work, so maybe there was a chance she could believe the sputtering and string of stories he had to tell about his absence.

However, right now, he couldn’t bother. His head dipped to rest atop her breast that had only been covered by a silk robe— his robe.

She took that as a response, realizing his reluctance. “The beard is new,” she mumbled affectionately, her free nimble hand moving to stroke the hairs that sat on his chin. It was rough and clearly untamed, but she hadn’t minded one bit.

Jayce let out a chuckle, moving his head back to lean against the wall. He couldn’t keep still one bit.

“I think I like this look,” she cooed, moving her hands to both sides of his face to caress his sunken cheeks. As worried as she had been, she couldn’t express it— considering how quick it was to get Jayce worried himself.

“I thought you weren’t a fan of facial hair?” He joked, resting his own hand against hers, his thumb rubbing circles around the skin. His gaze moved to hers, staring behind his long eyelashes and biting back a small smile at the way her hands rubbed the newly formed hair. It was quite different from how clean and kept he had been before, and his eyes searched for a reaction.

“I may be able to get used to it,” her soft voice whispered out, “but, I would prefer if we continue this conversation in the lounge.”

With that statement, she removed herself from her glass and onto her feet, hand extended to help as much as she could to get the weakened man to stand tall. Her hand gripping his allowing him to use her as leverage before wrapping his arm around her shoulder to limp his way to the destination she had led him to.

Jayce’s body fell to the sofa, a heavy groan as his arm moved to his shoulder with a wince while a ‘careful’ was yelled toward him. His other hand moved to the top of his head, soft pants spilling from his lips as if he had just run a marathon.

“Gracious, what were you put through?”

A seat is plopped beside him and immediately his head falls to her lap— a position he finds himself in quite often with his partner.

“If only you knew, [Name],” he whimpered out, moving her hand to caress his face once more. The only comfort he sought was from the softness of her skin against his.

“Then tell me,” she whispered in a plea, moving his head to look up at her. Her hand cupped the end of his chin to force his gaze, her softer expression from earlier now turned into one of slight irritation.

And how couldn’t she be irritated? Piltover’s golden boy disappearing without a trace, days after an attack at a memorial? Her only assumption is Jayce’s greed for revenge, which would perhaps explain his current state and absence.

“I know I worry you,” Jayce mumbled, moving her hand to place it against his lips. “I don’t know how I can tell you what is happening without worrying you more.”

“You’re an intelligent man, I’m sure you can find a way.”

He mind replayed the events from only a couple of days prior. How at one point he had been with Ekko and Heimerdinger drinking tea in an attempt to murder his best friend and partner. How would she understand? How could she? The pain he was truly feeling deep down behind whatever joking remark he had made mere seconds before. How could he explain the war coming to Piltover?

“There is something big coming, and all I want to do is make sure I can protect you,” he whispered, closing his eyes to avoid the live reactions from his lover. “I can’t live without you, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you too.”

‘Too?’ What had that meant? [Name] was aware of Viktor’s condition so had that meant he had passed? But Jayce had told you about Viktor leaving before he had gone?

“Jayce, I don’t un-“ “I told you. I don’t know how to explain this to you.”

He hadn’t meant to sound cocky, or for his words to sound belittling towards her intelligence. Jayce had barely understood it himself, so why would he assume she could?

“I just need you to know that I am going to make sure I can protect you with all my might.” With that, his eyes fluttered open to look up at her.

Tears formed around her [eye color] eyes, biting his lip to hold in any sobs that threatened to spill.

“Hey, hey,” he sat up quickly, pulling her body close to his. Now it was his turn to comfort her.

His large hand found position atop her head, mimicking her comforting motions from earlier. His free grip had wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest as he felt the wetness of her tears on his blazer. Jayce’s shushes blended with her soft sobs, resting his temple against hers and mumbling apologies and words of comfort.

“We’ll be okay, [Name], I promise you.”

His head nudged hers backward, pushing her to look back up at him before placing a chaste kiss on her lips. Jayce’s lips were dry against her soft plump lips, his position halting as he soothed into the touch of hers. He had missed this. Her lips being one of the only things circling his mind as a reminder of what he was fighting to escape.

Jayce fought to pull away, cursing himself for using your innocence and fragility as an excuse to kiss you. What a scumbag he had become in just a few minutes he had spent with you again after what he imagined to be an eternity.

“I promise, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

With that, her arms wrapped against his neck, placing her lips back against his. Their kiss moved in sync as Jayce’s hand found its way to the crook of her back, slowly pushing forward until he rested above her and her body placed against the material of his lounge chair.

A soft murmur escaped through their kiss, Jayce’s hand moving to the skin of her thigh that peaked through his robe. Oh God did he love seeing her in his robe, basking in his scent during his absence— waiting for him like a wife waiting for her husband in war.

“I’ve missed you so much,” [Name] whimpered, eyes trailing Jayce as his lips moved to her neck impatiently. She wondered if his debauchery was simply a distraction of the pain he was in, or if he had missed her just as much.

“I only thought about you,” he responded, teeth taking light nibbles against her skin. The roughness of his newfound beard brushed against her skin while her hands found comfort in his hair once more.

Oh how his hair was her newfound pleasure, oh how Jayce had felt a sort of fucked up appreciation for the arcane if it meant this was how his lover squirmed beneath him over something as simple as grown-out hairs.

His lips moved to the top of the robe where her chest slightly peaked from underneath, his teeth slightly pulling until he could get to the hidden jewels which he desperately longed for.

“Jayce…”

His golden eyes darted up to where her mouth pursed and her brows tightened. He lifted his own brow, giving a questioning look in response to her plea.

“Are you sure you’re in the position to do this?” She breathily asked, moving his unattended strands from the front of his face, combing them towards the back of his head. “You’re bandaged, you didn’t look good earlier. I don’t want you to strain yourself some m-“

Her words were cut off by his lips attaching to her breast, emitting a sigh from her lips. She hated how unfair he played, especially when it came to sexual pleasure.

God forbid she be concerned for her lover.

“J-Jayce, please.”

His head moved back, pushing himself to be at eye level with her.

“I feel better than I have in a long time,” he lied, “I want to spend this moment with you and only you.” His hand found its way up her thigh until it rested between its crevice. The tip of his finger danced against her underwear, hoping his attempt at seducing her would work.

“Can you just answer me something, please?” Her question came out sultry, unintentionally so.

Jayce’s brow had lifted once more.

“Are you truly okay?”

He smiled softly above her. It wasn’t every day someone would push away their own sexual pleasure to ask about the health of others. Maybe that was why he loved her so much, why he longed for her day and night and why the time spent away drove him to the brink of insanity.

The arms wrapped around him were what he craved.

A kiss was pressed against her nose, a small and melancholic smile tugging against his lips.

“I will be.”

[Name] gave a soft nod. A nod of understanding, of approval, of allowance for him to continue. Whatever made Jayce feel at peace was enough to satisfy her.

His fingers found their way wrapped around the band of her underwear, pulling it down enough until the pads of his fingers found their way against her core. They slide slowly, rhythmically, teasingly. It was almost as if he had been making up for lost time, even if it had only been a few days.

Jayce watched above, the way her teeth bit down on her lips and her eyes squeezed shut. He took that as a sign to continue, tracing her folds with his fingers along with a kiss to her jaw that slowly made its way downward back to his previous spot at her uncovered breast. His lip attached, teeth taking the bud between and grazing it together to earn a mewl.

How he basked in the noises he emitted from her behind closed doors. If only he could listen to the noise at every second of every day, like music to his ears. So melodic to his sinful ears, like a choir.

The way his name spilled from her lips was the only way he could stand hearing it, the only way he would dare to listen to someone speak to him with his full attention.

A finger dipped into her core, then another, slowly pushing in and out with the rhythm of her moans. His lips sucked and created pretty colored marks on the skin of her chest while his unoccupied hand moved to caress her untouched breast.

“Oh God…” She whined, pushing her head deep into the cushions, moving her arm to slither between the two. Her hand searched for the tent of his jeans, before gripping it harshly as a request.

Jayce was no idiot, he was a scientist after all.

He chuckled softly, lifting his head back up with a cocky smile. “If I knew growing a beard would have this effect on you, I would’ve done it long ago,” he joked, moving to sit on his knees and unbuckle his dress pants.

His comment earned an eye roll, [Name] propped herself up on her elbows to get a full view of the display.

Jayce’s new look screamed maturity, his freshly shaven look long gone from her mind now. He looked like a mess, yet for some reason, she had never been so much more attracted to him— despite being so in love. She wondered how he had managed to grow a full set in just a couple of days, but she was sure he would have an explanation for her when he was ready.

She watched as his fingers fumbled with his buttons with a nervous demeanor, lifting a brow of curiosity.

“Sorry, I just don’t know which parts of me grew hair…” he whispered, earning a laugh from his significant other.

“Do you really think I care that badly?” [Name] retorted with an eye roll, “I said before that I wasn’t a fan of facial hair, not pubic or chest hair,” she joked. “Plus, I already told you… I like this look.”

With that, his pants had been removed, falling off the couch as he moved to remove his shirt. His eyes stared into hers, taking occasional glances down to the robe as a hint to undress— which she happily understood.

His shirt had been removed, and a pool of chest hair that filled the blank canvas from before trailed down to where his pubic area sat. What a sight it was, to see a muscled man before her with a raggedy look.

Jayce’s hand found a way to his erection, inching closer with his knees to line himself up. His tip tapped against her core, a soft hiss coming from his lips. He knew he had to be careful, not just for his own physical wellbeing but hers as well.

His hand gripped the top of the sofa as he pushed in, panting heavily. His golden eyes stayed fixed on her face, watching it move around in pleasure. Watching as her lips formed an ‘O’ and soft mewls spilled from her lips— the same lips that had sobbed over his well-being a mere moment ago. Fuck, he wished he could keep her in that position forever, not because he wanted to be inside of her but because he wanted to protect her. He knew the only way he could truly protect her was as long as they were skin to skin, as one.

Jayce’s hips stuttered, pushing forward as slow as he could handle before moving his hips back to keep a consistent pace. His grip tightened on the coach, knuckles purple with how badly he wished he could destroy the furniture the two laid on— destroy her.

“Shit.”

His head found its way in her neck once more, hips rocking slowly and carefully with every noise she made.

“Jayce, please,” she whimpered, her fingers unintentionally gripping the dirty bandages on his back. “I need more.”

That was his cue to move faster. He hadn’t no longer cared about the injuries he faced, he just wanted to fulfill her needs and his own as quickly and efficiently as possible.

His free hand dug into her hips as he pistoned in and out of her, taking the skin of her neck between his teeth and sucking as hard as he can. He needed her to be reminded of him, of the effect he had, especially if it meant he wouldn’t be able to have her like this again.

“You’re too good for me,” he whined, lifting her thigh up to his waist. His pace quickened by the second. He had to show her what she meant to him, he had to show her heaven.

“I love you more than anything,” he spoke, gasps stopping his words mid-way as he thrust. “I only want you, only you.”

Her cries got louder, filling his once-silent apartment with her pleasured noises and expressions. [Name]’s grip on his shoulders signaled how close she was getting, and Jayce was unsure if he was ready to end it so soon.

He quickened, pushing himself towards his release before slowly drawing himself in and out. A smile on his lips as her pleas rang his ears, begging for him to pick up the pace and finish them both off— and so he did. His hips taking its final harsh thrusts before their orgasms spilled into each other, heavy pants from the both of them as their sweat mixed together.

Jayce let out a satisfied sigh, resting his head on her breast and pulling the robe off the floor to cover the lower parts of their bodies.

“Jayce?” “Yes, love.” “I don't know what you meant earlier but promise me, you’ll be safe out there.”

His eyes closed, his smile fading as his thoughts flooded and anxieties bounced around. “I promise,” he lied.

[halfmoonaria]

what i can’t say

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: tara wants the only person she can’t have, but she’ll do whatever it takes to change that —even if it means risking everything.

word count: 10.7k

author’s note: yall don’t forget to wish me a happy birthday this friday on the 22nd!

Tara wasn't used to hearing the word "no."

Growing up, she'd mastered the art of getting exactly what she wanted, whether it was a toy, a treat, or just a little more attention.

All it took was a well-timed look, a hint of a pout, or a small scene in a public place—not that she ever felt bad about it. After all, it always worked, and it always felt worth it.

But more than any toy or treat, Tara always seemed to have what she wanted most: you.

Her best friend since... well, since you both were small enough to think scraped knees were the end of the world. You'd been there from the start, the friend who laughed with her, who stood by her through every phase and whim.

Tara didn't have to beg or throw a fit to keep you close. You just were. It was like you were woven into each other's lives, and if anyone asked, she'd say you'd always be there—like you were something she'd managed to keep just for herself.

If anyone asked, Tara couldn't quite recall a time before you.

You were there in every memory that mattered, the friend who understood her quirks, finished her sentences, and knew every dream she'd ever had.

You were inseparable, not just in the way kids cling to each other, but in the way people do when they know they'll never quite find someone who gets them like this again.

You shared everything with your clothes, midnight snacks, and every embarrassing crush you'd ever had.

You laughed together about the silly things you thought were love back then, sharing conversations about who you'd marry someday and who had the best smile.

Although. Tara was always a little quieter during these talks, listening more than sharing, and you never thought much of it. That was just Tara, after all, always keeping a bit of herself back, tucked away in her own mind.

But when it came to your middle school crush, she never missed a chance to tease you, brushing him off as if he wasn't as special as you seemed to think.

She'd laugh and tell you he wasn't as funny as you made him out to be, or that his smile really wasn't anything to write home about.

To you, it was just typical Tara, always finding a way to poke holes in the things you liked.

You didn't notice how her smile faltered when you gushed over him or how her gaze turned a little sharper, though even she didn't fully understand why.

It left her with an uneasy feeling, the kind she could never quite explain, that made her want to change the subject whenever she could.

And as time passed during this time, it seemed like your crush only grew, and so did the way you talked about him.

No matter how many times Tara brushed off your comments or tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, you still lit up whenever his name came up.

Brian.

Brian slipped into conversations almost daily, whether it was about the way he made everyone laugh in class or how he'd held the door for you that morning. And each time you brought him up, Tara felt a pang of irritation she couldn't quite explain.

She never told you how much she despised Brian, but the feeling ran deep. It gnawed at her whenever you mentioned him, and even though she tried to brush it off, she found herself disliking him more and more.

The worst part was, she couldn't understand why. It wasn't like you weren't allowed to like a boy—that was just part of life, after all.

Whenever she hinted at her frustration with her mom, she'd hear the same thing: it was normal, fun even, to have a crush, and Tara would experience it too someday.

But she hadn't. She'd never felt that way about any boy in your grade, no matter how many times she tried to convince herself she should.

It confused her, and in a way, it confused you too. You'd always laughed off the fact that Tara never seemed to "crush" the way you did, teasing her about how she'd figure it out someday.

But whenever you'd gush over Brian, Tara would just sit quietly, trying to ignore the strange knot in her stomach that seemed to tighten with every word you said.

Time went on, and those middle school crushes never quite faded.

Brian only seemed to grow more attractive, transitioning from the shy boy you liked to someone who was effortlessly charming, with a confidence that made everyone notice him.

Back then, you'd have called him "cute," but now, there were new words—hot, gorgeous—terms that made Tara roll her eyes every time they left your mouth.

But you still felt that rush of excitement when he was around, that same giddiness you'd had since you were ten, only now it felt a little more real.

Tara, on the other hand, hadn't changed much when it came to relationships.

While others around you both dated, broke up, and fell in love, she stayed quietly distant, brushing off questions and teasing about why she never seemed interested in anyone.

The truth was, she didn't really know why herself. There was a part of her that felt left out when you gushed about Brian, when your other friends talked about crushes or brought dates to dances. She tried to tell herself that she just wasn't interested yet, that maybe someday she'd feel what everyone else seemed to.

But as the years went by, Tara started to realize that maybe she was different—and she couldn't shake the strange sense of frustration that came with that realization, especially whenever Brian was mentioned.

Somewhere along the way, as high school turned into something more serious, so did her thoughts about you.

Tara didn't want to admit it at first—not to herself, not to anyone. The idea crept up quietly, unexpected and unwanted, like some shadow she couldn't shake.

The way you'd laugh at something silly, the familiar warmth of your hand in hers, or the way her heart would skip when you'd throw an arm around her shoulders. It all made sense now, but it was a sense she desperately didn't want.

When the realization hit her, it was like she couldn't breathe.

There was this tiny voice in her mind that whispered, almost cruelly, You're in love with her. Tara's immediate reaction was to shut it down, to deny it with everything she had. This couldn't be right. She wasn't in love with you.

That wasn't what best friends did. She told herself she was just confused, that maybe it was normal to feel this strongly about someone you'd known your entire life.

But every time she saw you look at Brian—every time you said his name with that sparkle in your eyes—it felt like a punch to the gut, and there was no denying it anymore.

The more she tried to reason with herself, the clearer it became. And that terrified her.

She couldn't let herself feel this way about you. You were her best friend, the person who knew her better than anyone else.

The idea of telling you—of you finding out and looking at her with pity, or worse, disgust—made her stomach twist. She could already imagine the awkward smile, the way you might back away, laugh it off, or even leave her behind. It would shatter her, and she knew that.

And so, she decided then and there that this secret would stay with her.

She'd lock it away, bury it so deep that even she could forget about it someday. Telling anyone—even her parents—wasn't an option.

Not only did she fear their reaction, but she knew they wouldn't understand. To them, you were her friend, nothing more, and the thought of losing you, or of anyone making her feel like her love was wrong, was enough to keep her quiet.

But keeping quiet wasn't easy. The secret felt like it was burning a hole through her, consuming her thoughts and leaving her frustrated in ways she couldn't explain.

She wanted to be around you, but every moment with you felt like a reminder of what she could never have, and it only made the ache grow stronger.

She was angry, scared, and hopelessly in love with the one person she could never tell.

So she became skilled at hiding the depth of her feelings, putting on a mask that had somehow become part of her daily life.

She played her role well, acting like nothing had changed between you both.

At school, she kept her gaze casual, listening to you talk as if she didn't want to lose herself in the way your lips moved.

During sleepovers, she'd lie next to you, forcing herself to focus on anything but the warmth of your arm just inches from hers.

And at parties, now that you were both old enough to go, she'd laugh and dance alongside you, all while pretending her stomach wasn't in knots from the way you looked at her under dim lights, a playful grin lighting up your face.

It was like living with a constant tug-of-war inside her, balancing between wanting to be near you and needing to keep her heart steady.

She'd perfected the art of nonchalance, even when you made it nearly impossible. When you got excited about something—eyes wide, laughing about some small victory—Tara would have to swallow down the urge to reach out, to brush a strand of hair from your face or lean in just a little closer.

The hardest moments were the little things, the 'normal' things, like when you'd give her an easy, carefree compliment, your eyes warm and sincere.

She'd feel the blush rise to her cheeks, and she'd quickly look away or laugh it off, hoping you didn't notice the way her voice wavered.

And when you held her hands, like you always did, squeezing them to give her a little boost of courage, she'd act as though it didn't send her heart racing, as though she wasn't fighting the impulse to hold on tighter.

Every smile you threw her way, every moment you lingered too close, she had to act like it didn't make her insides flip.

She trained herself to respond with that same easy smile, to pretend she didn't feel like the air had been knocked out of her whenever you looked at her like she was the only one in the room.

It was a constant game of pretending, a battle against herself that she had to win every single day.

And as much as she tried to hide it, each touch, each laugh, each simple, familiar look left her more tangled in her own emotions.

She tried to tell herself that these things were just... normal. Friends did these things all the time, she told herself, even if everything in her felt far from normal.

But no matter how many times she told herself that, her resolve was starting to crack. She couldn't help but notice her jealousy flare up when she saw you talking to other people, especially Brian.

Then, one Tuesday at lunch, you dropped a bombshell that flipped her world just a bit more.

She leaned back, half-focused on your conversation with the others at the table, when she saw you walking toward her with a grin so bright it felt like it could light up the whole room.

Tara felt her heart jump at the sight, her thoughts immediately swept into the excitement that was clearly radiating off of you.

You barely took your seat before bursting with excitement. "Tara!"

Tara's smile matched yours, though a part of her already felt a small pang of unease. But she pushed it aside and leaned in eagerly, mirroring your excitement. "What happened?"

You practically glowed as you told her, "He sat next to me in class today." Tara's chest tightened, but she held her expression steady, keeping that casual, easy smile.

She already knew who you meant—you didn't even have to say his name. It was in the way your voice softened, how your eyes sparkled with excitement she rarely saw except when you were really, really happy.

She couldn't stand the sight of it. Seeing you so... in love, so giddy, felt like a punch she wasn't ready for.

You practically glowed, your whole personality seeming to shift as if you were that younger version of yourself again, like back in middle school when every new crush filled you with wide-eyed excitement.

Except now, it wasn't an innocent schoolgirl crush; it was real, and you were already slipping further from her reach with each passing second.

Tara kept smiling, but inside, every bit of her was tangled up in knots.

You'd never look at her like that. Never talk about her with that bubbly, uncontainable happiness. The thought clawed at her, a reminder she could never push away.

She was your best friend, sure, but she'd never be the person who made your cheeks flush or your heart race. And somehow, knowing that made it even harder to keep that same easy smile on her face.

"And?" she asked, hoping her voice didn't betray her, even as she felt a knot forming. She listened as you recounted every word, every laugh you'd shared with him in that class.

Then you dropped the real news, your eyes sparkling. Your grin only widened. "And then, right before class ended, he asked me to go with him to that party next weekend."

Tara's heart sank, yet she barely let the smile slip. She forced herself to open her mouth in surprise, eyes wide, like she was just as thrilled as you were. "Really?" she said, trying to sound as shocked and happy as you seemed, her voice just a bit too bright. "Did you... did you say yes?"

Of course you did. Tara felt stupid for even considering asking you that question.

But you didn't seem to mind, you just nodded eagerly, your whole face lighting up. "Obviously!"

"Oh, wow. That's... that's great, actually," she said, her voice a little too steady, but it was the best she could manage.

Inside, though, she was unraveling. You were actually going with him. It shouldn't have been such a shock—after all, this was what you wanted, right?

But knowing that you'd be there, dressed up, all smiles and laughter... with him... felt like a lead weight sinking in her chest.

She could already picture it, the two of you in some dimly lit room with music thumping, Ethan leaning in close to say something to make you laugh, you smiling up at him like he was the only person in the world.

The thought of it made her throat tighten, her mind racing with feelings she didn't even want to name.

"Are you excited?" she asked, her voice coming out just barely above a whisper. She hoped you wouldn't notice how strained it sounded, how much effort it took just to ask.

You nodded, your smile impossibly bright. "Yeah, I mean... I didn't think he even noticed me like that, you know? But now... maybe he does."

The way you said it—hopeful, almost in disbelief—cut deeper than she wanted to admit. Maybe he does. Those three words stayed in her head, echoing louder with each second.

She was supposed to be happy for you, and maybe part of her was, but mostly, she just felt hollow.

Because even though you'd never know it, she'd been looking at you the way you were looking at him, longing for that same chance to mean something more to you. And now she was faced with the awful reality that she might never get that chance.

Swallowing down the bitterness, she forced a tight-lipped smile. "You'll have a great time, I'm sure."

But even as she said it, a part of her was already wondering if she'd do something she'd regret. The thought of watching you fall for someone else—someone who wasn't her—was more than she could stand.

And as much as she hated to admit it, she knew she'd do almost anything to keep you from slipping away.

Your eyes brightened again. "You should come with us!"

Tara's heart twisted at the invitation, feeling both flattered and devastated. Of course you'd want her there, being the good friend you were—unaware of what it did to her to see you light up over someone else.

Forcing herself to stay casual, she shrugged, managing a small playful smirk. "I'm not exactly great at third-wheeling."

Her voice sounded steady enough, but inside, it felt like she was clinging to the last threads of composure.

She couldn't stand the thought of watching you fall for him right in front of her, yet the idea of saying no, of letting you go without her... that hurt, too.

Maybe if she was there, she could stop whatever was beginning to grow between you and him. Just maybe, she thought, she'd find a way to keep you by her side, where you'd always belonged.

Her mind spun, the smile on her face frozen, all she could focus on was the sinking realization that she might actually lose you.

Until now, she'd convinced herself that her feelings for you were something she could handle, something she'd eventually learn to live with. But now, with Brian's name hanging between you, that quiet acceptance shattered.

She could see the way this might unfold, each painful step already clear in her mind.

She'd watched enough romance movies to know how these things went, and as much as she wanted to push the thoughts away, they crept in, vivid and unrelenting.

First, you'd go to the party together, and maybe he'd make you laugh so much that you'd find yourself leaning in, your hand brushing his.

She could already picture the two of you on future dates—sharing secrets over a quiet dinner or standing too close on some sidewalk, your face lit up in a way that made her stomach twist with envy.

And worse, she could imagine what might happen after those dates, how one day soon he'd reach for your hand, and you wouldn't hesitate to hold his back.

She didn't want to picture it, but the thought seeped into her mind anyway, filling her with a fierce, unfamiliar ache.

The image of you wrapped up in his arms, whispering into his ear, or—even worse—laughing with that same joy you always shared with her, but this time meant for him, made her chest feel hollow.

The thought kept spiraling, her mind betraying her with scenes she couldn't bear to picture.

You, with Brian, alone, closer than she'd ever be, maybe even leaning in for a kiss.

She imagined his hand brushing your cheek, the two of you getting so lost in each other that you forgot everyone else around you—including her.

The jealousy was sharp, hotter than anything she'd felt before.

She hated the way it took over, the way it made her feel small and powerless, like she was losing something that had never even been hers to begin with.

And then, a terrible, aching thought hit her: she might never get to be close to you in that way.

She might never get to be the person who held you, who kissed you, who made you laugh like that.

It wasn't just about watching you fall for someone else—it was the crushing realization that you might never look at her the way you looked at him.

Maybe it would be better if she came along?

The idea took a root in Tara's mind, an unexpected, half-formed plan that both excited and unsettled her.

If she went to the party with you and Brian, it might give her a chance to keep things from moving forward between you two.

She could play it off as tagging along to "keep an eye" on you, to make sure you had fun—and stay close enough to step in if Brian tried anything. It was risky, maybe even a little desperate, but what choice did she have?

At least if she was there, she'd know exactly what was happening. She wouldn't have to lie awake later, imagining him whispering things in your ear, pulling you close, stealing the attention she wanted only for herself.

She could keep you safe from all that, and maybe, if she was careful enough, find subtle ways to draw your attention back to her, where it belonged.

In her mind, it sounded almost justified. A "protective friend" sticking close to make sure you were all right. But the truth simmered beneath that excuse—she knew this was more than friendship, that she wanted to keep you to herself in ways you might never understand.

If Brian was going to try to win you over, he'd have to do it with her there, watching his every move, ready to swoop in the second things started looking too cozy.

And maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to make sure that night ended with you still hers—still looking at her with that easy, trusting smile that had always been her anchor.

Her chest tightened at the thought of it, the chance to stay close to you a little longer, to stave off the reality she dreaded.

If you didn't have the chance to fall for him—if she could prevent that—maybe she'd finally have the time and courage to make you see her the way she saw you.

You nudged her lightly, snapping Tara out of her thoughts, leaning in with that familiar, hopeful smile that always made it so hard to say no to you. "Come on, Tara. It'll be fun—just this once. Please?"

Tara's chest tightened at the way you looked at her, like her answer actually mattered to you. It made something inside her ache, the way your face lit up with excitement, completely oblivious to the storm brewing in her mind.

She should've said no. She wanted to say no.

But the thought of watching you leave without her—without knowing what might happen between you and Brian—made her stomach twist painfully.

And now, thanks to the idea she'd let herself entertain earlier, the thought of staying home didn't feel like an option anymore.

That plan, desperate and reckless as it was, had already taken root, and no matter how much a small part of her whispered it wasn't right, she couldn't let it go.

What if she stayed behind and missed her chance to stop something from blossoming between the two of you? What if she sat in her room, alone, while you fell for him right in front of everyone? The mere idea made her skin crawl.

But going wasn't any better. If she went, she'd have to watch you fawn over him, maybe even see you with him. And that thought was enough to make her want to bolt from the room. Yet here you were, looking at her like her presence actually mattered.

But why? Did you think she needed convincing, or was there some part of you that truly wanted her by your side? Her stomach churned at the thought.

She hesitated, her fingers brushing the hem of her shirt as she tried to keep her expression neutral. If she said no, you'd go without her, and that stung more than she wanted to admit. But if she said yes...

Her mind spun with the possibilities. She didn't even know what she'd do if she went—how far she was willing to take this twisted plan of hers. But what she did know, with a growing certainty, was that she couldn't stay behind. Not when the thought of Brian pulling you closer was enough to make her chest burn with jealousy.

Your face shifted slightly, your brows knitting together when she didn't answer right away.

"Tara," you pressed gently, your voice dipping into that teasing tone you always used when you were trying to coax her into something. "Come on," you pressed again, your grin widening when she hesitated. "You have to come. It won't be the same without you."

It won't be the same without you.

Those words sealed it, though not in the way you meant them to. Something twisted and desperate bloomed in her chest, making her pulse quicken.

You didn't even realize it, but you were giving her exactly what she wanted: a reason to stay close. A reason to be where she could see you—and control what happened between you and Brian.

"Fine," she said at last, forcing a smirk that didn't quite reach her eyes. "But don't complain when I tell you it sucks."

The way your entire face lit up at her answer sent an ache through her chest. Her stomach fluttered against her will, a mix of longing and guilt tangling together in a way that made it hard to breathe. She hated how much it affected her, how happy you seemed just because she'd agreed to go.

She looked away quickly, pretending to focus on something across the room, anything to avoid the way your joy sent another wave of guilt and longing through her.

She knew it wasn't right—none of this was. But she couldn't let it go. Not when her plan had already started to take shape. Not when the thought of Brian having you was enough to make her reckless.

Because no matter how hard she tried to tell herself this was just a party, just a stupid night out, deep down, she knew she wasn't going for the music or the fun.

She was going because if Brian thought he was going to win you over tonight, he was dead wrong.

___

"What about this one?"

Tara looked up from where she was sitting on the edge of your bed, her gaze drawn to the shimmering fabric you held up against yourself. It was a short, fitted dress, one you'd clearly been saving for a moment like this.

The way Tara sat there, watching you flit around the room, sifting through piles of clothes you'd pulled from your closet.

It reminded her of when you were younger, back when the two of you would raid your moms' closets, parading around in oversized heels and dresses that pooled around your feet. You'd giggle uncontrollably, striking exaggerated poses in front of the mirror.

But this wasn't dress-up anymore.

Now, the clothes were your own—real, grown-up outfits that fit you perfectly, accentuating curves and edges Tara wasn't sure she was supposed to notice. It wasn't just playtime; this was your life now. And tonight, you weren't dressing up for laughs or pretend tea parties.

You were dressing up for him.

Her eyes flickered briefly over the dress before settling on your face. You were beaming, the excitement practically radiating off you as you turned to the mirror, holding the dress against your body.

She should've said something. A simple "looks great" or even a teasing "a bit much, don't you think?" would've worked, but the words caught in her throat.

It wasn't the dress—it was the way your whole body hummed with energy, the way your smile was just a little too wide, your movements a little too quick. Tara saw it all, and it was like watching you wear your feelings on your sleeve.

The way you twirled the dress in front of the mirror, the way your hands moved restlessly as you smoothed down imaginary creases—it was all too familiar. She knew exactly what you were feeling, even if you didn't say it out loud.

Did Brian? She doubted it.

He didn't know the little things, like how your voice got higher when you were nervous or how you couldn't stand still when you were excited. He didn't know the way your lips pressed together when you were thinking too hard about something or the way your shoulders tensed when you wanted something to go perfectly.

He didn't know you, not like she did.

"What do you think?" you asked again, snapping her out of her thoughts. You turned, holding the dress out at arm's length, giving her a better look. "Too much? Not enough?"

Tara forced a smile, her heart twisting as she watched you. "I think it's... nice," she said carefully, her voice steady even as her stomach churned.

Nice. The word felt like a betrayal. It didn't come close to how she really felt—how beautiful you looked, how much she wished those bright eyes were sparkling for her instead of someone else.

"You think Brian'll like it?" you asked, your tone innocent, but the question struck Tara like a punch.

She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into the fabric of your comforter. She wanted to tell you Brian didn't deserve you, that he wouldn't know how to appreciate all the little things that made you you. But instead, she kept her tone casual, masking the storm inside her.

"I mean... yeah," she said after a pause. "It's hard not to like you in anything."

Your grin widened, lighting up the room in a way that made her stomach flutter. You didn't notice the tightness in her smile, the way her eyes lingered on you for just a second too long.

"You're the best." you said, turning back to the mirror.

Tara's chest tightened, a quiet ache settling beneath her ribs. She glanced away, forcing a small smile as she leaned back on her hands.

She let her fingers dug slightly into the comforter as she watched you move across the room again, this time heading toward your closet. You sifted through the hangers with an almost frantic energy, pulling out one piece of clothing after another until something caught your eye.

"This," you announced, holding up a sleek black skirt and a tiny top with delicate lace accents.

Tara blinked, her focus shifting from the faint hum of her own thoughts to the outfit in your hands. The skirt was just short enough to grab attention, and the top would clung to the curves in all the right places—your curves, she couldn't help but think.

Her stomach twisted again, but not with the same bitterness from earlier. No, this was something else entirely. She couldn't stop herself from picturing you in it, couldn't stop the way her mind immediately conjured the image of you standing there, all done up, looking effortlessly hot and completely out of her reach.

She swallowed hard, tearing her gaze away. "You're not wearing the dress?" she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

"Oh, I am," you replied with a grin, holding the outfit closer to her. "This is for you!"

Tara froze. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe, her chest tightening as your words sank in.

She had been so caught up in watching you, so wrapped up in her own spiral of emotions, that she had momentarily forgotten she was actually going to this party.

"Me?" she echoed, her brows furrowing slightly as she tried to act like the idea of dressing up didn't make her stomach drop.

You laughed softly, stepping closer to hold the outfit up against her frame. "Yeah, you! Come on, Tara, you can't just wear that." You half-pointed to her attire.

Tara's eyes darted to the mirror, catching a glimpse of herself in her usual hoodie and jeans.

She had planned on blending into the background tonight, just another shadow in the corner, but now you were holding out a version of herself she wasn't sure she wanted to confront.

"It's... a little much, don't you think?" she murmured, her fingers brushing over the fabric.

"Not at all," you said, undeterred. "Trust me, you'll look amazing.

The way you looked at her, so excited, so hopeful, made it impossible for her to argue. The truth was, she didn't want to blend into the background—not really. Not if it meant letting Brian win.

"Alright," she said finally, forcing a small smirk as she reached for the outfit.

You grinned, clearly thrilled, and the sight sent her heart fluttering all over again.

As she stood up to take the clothes in you, the weight of the night ahead settled on her shoulders again. She knew this wasn't about the clothes or the party. It was about you—about keeping you close, about holding onto the part of you that still felt like hers, even if it wasn't.

And as much as she hated to admit it, she was willing to do whatever it took to keep it that way.

Tara pulled the clothes from your hands, her fingers brushing yours for just a second longer than necessary before she turned away.

She hesitated only briefly, her eyes darting to the bathroom door, but then she decided against it. It wasn't like this was anything new. You'd seen her change plenty of times before.

Slipping off her hoodie, she pulled the top over her head, the soft lace brushing against her skin in a way that felt oddly delicate, almost foreign.

The skirt followed, the fabric snug around her waist and flaring slightly at her hips. When she finally turned back toward you, she caught sight of herself in the mirror.

It was strange. She didn't recognize the girl staring back at her right away—not entirely. The clothes fit her so well, so effortlessly, that she felt a flicker of something unexpected: pride.

She looked... pretty. Not in the same way you did, with your radiant energy that drew everyone in, but still. Pretty enough.

Her heart jumped a little at the thought of you seeing her like this, of you noticing her in the way she always noticed you. She didn't know why she wanted that so badly, but the hope curled tightly in her chest, warm and persistent.

You looked up from where you'd been smoothing out your own dress, and your reaction was immediate. Your eyes widened slightly, and then your face lit up in that effortless way that always made her stomach flutter.

"Tara, oh my god, you look so good," you said, your voice soft but genuine, carrying none of the over-the-top excitement you sometimes used when joking around. This was real.

Tara felt her cheeks warm under your gaze, her fingers automatically reaching to adjust the hem of the skirt, as if she could somehow shield herself from the weight of your words. She tried to play it off, shrugging casually. "It's just a skirt," she mumbled, but her voice lacked its usual bite.

"It's not just a skirt," you countered, stepping closer. "You look amazing. Seriously, this is perfect for you."

Your words were kind, almost too kind, and Tara wasn't sure how to process them. There was no teasing, no playful edge, just an earnestness that made her chest feel tight and achy.

She glanced away, pretending to focus on her reflection again, but the warmth of your approval lingered, sinking into her skin like the lace of the top.

She wanted to feel good about it, to let herself bask in the way you saw her, but the nagging thought that this wasn't for her—that it was all part of your excitement for Brian—kept her grounded.

Still, the way you smiled at her, so unreserved and so entirely you, made her feel something she hadn't in a long time: seen. She wished, just for a second, that you were saying all of this for the same reason she wished you would.

You spun on your heel, nearly tripping over the pile of discarded clothes strewn across the floor in your excitement. Tara's breath caught for a second, her hand twitching instinctively like she was about to reach for you, but you caught yourself, laughing it off as if nothing had happened.

"You need to clean your room before someone gets hurt," Tara muttered, though her tone held more amusement than annoyance.

You ignored her, too caught up in the moment as you reached your makeup table, rifling through your collection with a kind of chaotic precision.

Pulling out a palette, you held it up, the colors catching the light as you grinned at her. "What do you think? Want me to do your makeup?"

Your voice was so full of unfiltered excitement, your smile so wide it made her stomach flip. Tara hesitated, her fingers brushing the hem of her skirt as she glanced at the palette in your hands. She wasn't really the makeup type—not like you were—but the way you looked at her, like you were just waiting to make her feel special, made it impossible to say no.

"You don't have to," Tara said finally, though her voice lacked conviction.

"I want to!" you insisted, stepping closer, the palette still in hand. "Please, Tara? I promise I'll keep it simple. Just a little something to go with the outfit."

She sighed, feigning reluctance as she sat back down on the edge of the bed. "Fine."

You grabbed a chair and pulled it in front of her, gesturing for her to sit. "Alright, let's make you even more stunning."

Tara rolled her eyes, though the faintest smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she leaned forward.

___

The buzz of the party hit you as soon as you stepped through the door.

Music pulsed through the house, the bass vibrating in your chest as voices overlapped in a cacophony of laughter and shouted greetings.

People crowded the space—groups gathered near the kitchen, couples pressed close against walls, and a few brave souls danced in the living room, already letting loose despite how early it was in the night.

You glanced over at Tara, catching the way her shoulders stiffened slightly as the noise and energy enveloped her. She'd been quiet on the drive over, her fingers drumming against her thigh in a way that let you know her nerves were kicking in. But she'd never admit that, not to you.

"See?" you said brightly, bumping her shoulder with yours as you stepped further into the house. "I told you this would be fun."

Tara gave you a look, one that was half-skepticism and half-amusement, as she tugged at the hem of her skirt. "Yeah, we'll see about that."

Your laugh was warm and easy, a sound that somehow made the chaos of the party seem less overwhelming. You reached back to grab her hand, pulling her through the crowd as you made your way toward the kitchen. The feel of your fingers around hers made something in Tara's chest twist uncomfortably, though she forced herself to ignore it.

The kitchen was just as packed as the rest of the house, but you managed to snag two drinks from the counter, handing one to her with a grin. "Alright, party rule number one: stay hydrated."

Tara raised an eyebrow, glancing at the cup in her hand. "This is definitely not water."

"Details." You waved her off, your playful smirk making her stomach flutter in that maddeningly familiar way.

Before she could respond, a voice called out from across the room. "Y/N! There you are!"

Tara's grip on her cup tightened as she followed your gaze, her stomach sinking when she saw him—Brian—making his way toward you. His smile was wide and easy, the kind of grin that would make anyone else swoon.

But Tara wasn't anyone else.

"Brian!" you said, your face lighting up in a way that made Tara's chest ache. She stepped back slightly, letting go of your hand as he drew closer, though her eyes never left you.

He didn't deserve that smile.

Brian's gaze flickered to her briefly, his smile faltering just a bit. "Tara, right?"

She nodded, her expression neutral as she took a sip of her drink. "That's me."

If he noticed the edge in her tone, he didn't comment on it, turning his attention back to you instead. "You look amazing," he said, his eyes raking over your dress in a way that made Tara's jaw tighten.

You beamed at him, clearly pleased by the compliment, and Tara had to look away, her hand gripping her cup so tightly she was surprised it didn't crack.

This was going to be a long night.

And it most definitely was.

As the night went on, the party only grew louder and more chaotic. People drifted in and out of the circle you, Tara, and Brian had settled into, friends of his joining the conversation with easy smiles and casual jokes.

You made a genuine effort to include Tara, always pulling her back in when she started to fade into the background, but it was clear who held your focus.

Brian.

He stood close to you, his arm brushing yours as he leaned in to talk over the music.

You didn't seem to notice—or maybe you did, and you didn't mind. Either way, the proximity between you two only seemed to grow as the minutes ticked by, and Tara couldn't stop watching.

Every time you laughed at something he said, her chest tightened just a little more.

You weren't doing it on purpose. Tara knew that. She knew you didn't notice the way her jaw clenched or how her fingers drummed against her cup.

You were just being you—kind, bubbly, and effortlessly charming. But watching you with Brian, seeing how much of your attention he was soaking up, felt like a slow, relentless sting.

She hadn't expected it to bother her this much.

At first, Tara tried to play along, chiming in when she could and taking small sips of her drink to distract herself.

But then Brian's friends started joining the conversation, their loud energy making it harder for her to keep up. You were still trying to include her, turning to her every so often to ask her opinion or flash her one of your brilliant smiles, but it wasn't enough.

Not when you lit up like a damn firework every time Brian said something that made you laugh.

Tara tipped back her cup, finishing it quicker than she probably should have. She wasn't much of a drinker to begin with—she never really liked how it made her feel—but tonight was different. Tonight, she needed the edge taken off.

"Want another?" you asked, noticing her empty cup.

She hesitated, but before she could respond, Brian offered. "I'll grab her one. Be right back."

She opened her mouth to say she didn't need another, but he was already walking away.

You smiled after him before turning back to Tara, your expression so full of effortless warmth it made her stomach churn. "You having fun?"

She forced a small nod, her grip tightening on the plastic cup. "Yeah. It's... fine."

You didn't notice the strain in her voice, too caught up in the energy of the party to catch on.

By the time Brian returned with her drink, she'd already decided she wasn't going to overthink it. She took it with a quiet "thanks" and drank just enough to feel the buzz set in. It wasn't much—maybe two drinks total—but Tara was short, and she always felt the effects quicker than most.

The alcohol didn't drown out her frustration, though.

Every laugh you gave Brian, every time you leaned in to whisper something to him, only seemed to magnify it.

And you? You were oblivious. Still trying to keep her in the conversation, pulling her in with the same ease you always had. But she could feel the gap widening.

Tara's foot tapped against the floor as she shifted her weight, her eyes flickering between you and Brian. She should've left, should've wandered off to another part of the house to escape this torturous little triangle, but she stayed.

Because if she left, she'd have to admit to herself why she couldn't handle this.

So instead, she took another sip of her drink and plastered on a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"You okay?" you asked, your voice cutting through her thoughts.

"Yeah," she said quickly, her words sharper than she intended. "I'm fine."

But she wasn't. And as the night wore on, that became harder and harder to hide.

And after an hour, or maybe even more.

The alcohol was definitely working its way through Tara's veins. She could feel it, the familiar warmth spreading through her chest, making her limbs feel looser but her thoughts louder.

The edges of the room blurred ever so slightly, but her focus on you was sharp as ever, almost painfully so.

You were giggling at something Brian said again, your hand brushing his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Tara had been watching you both like a hawk all night, trying to play it cool, but the subtle touches, the shared smiles, the way your eyes sparkled when you looked at him—it was getting under her skin.

She clenched her jaw, tipping back the rest of her drink as if it might drown out the frustration bubbling inside her. But it didn't.

It wasn't just the alcohol making her feel reckless, though it didn't help. Tara was desperate.

Desperate to do something—anything—that might shift the balance back in her favor. But how? She wasn't like Brian. She didn't have easy jokes or effortless charm. And she wasn't like you, all soft laughter and open smiles.

So she sat there, stewing in her own silence, searching for an opening she couldn't find.

Then she turned her head for just a moment.

A distraction—a loud burst of laughter from somewhere across the room. She glanced over, barely processing the source, and when she looked back...

Her heart stopped.

You and Brian were kissing.

It wasn't shy or hesitant. It was full and unguarded, like something out of the movies. His hands rested lightly on your waist, your fingers clutching the front of his shirt as though you were afraid to let go.

Tara's first thought wasn't sadness. It wasn't heartbreak or even surprise.

It was rage.

Her body went rigid, the plastic cup in her hand creaking under the force of her grip.

Because of course this wasn't a problem.

Why would it be?

You weren't hers. You'd never been hers. You were allowed to kiss boys, especially the boy you'd been crushing on for as long as she could remember. It wasn't like you were breaking some unspoken rule. She had no claim to you, no right to feel betrayed or blindsided.

But God, it felt like a betrayal.

Her rational mind tried to reason with her, repeating the same useless mantra: This isn't a problem. This isn't a problem. This isn't a problem.

But the other side of her mind—the side that had been clawing its way to the surface all night—was screaming the opposite.

It was a problem. A huge one.

The anger burned through her like a wildfire, consuming every rational thought as it spread. It started in her chest, hot and heavy, before curling into her throat and setting her teeth on edge. Her nails dug into the soft plastic of her cup until it crumpled under her grip, a sharp crack breaking through the buzz of the party.

And still, she couldn't look away.

She hated it. Hated the way his hands touched you so easily, like he'd earned that right. Hated the way you kissed him back like you'd been waiting for this your whole life. Hated how he got to have what she wanted so desperately without even knowing how much it mattered.

Her breaths came quicker, each one catching in her chest as if she couldn't quite fill her lungs. The alcohol amplified everything, stripping her bare of the filters she usually relied on. Every raw, unspoken feeling she'd buried for years was rising to the surface now, and there was no stopping it.

She wanted to scream.

To grab you and pull you away, to tell Brian to get his hands off you, to do something.

But she didn't.

Because no matter how angry she was, no matter how much she hated what she was seeing, there was a part of her—a small, quiet, agonizing part—that whispered:

You're not supposed to feel like this.

So instead, Tara sat there, her body tense and trembling, her nails biting into the palms of her hands. She didn't even realize she'd crumpled her cup until the sticky remnants of her drink dripped onto her lap.

And still, she couldn't look away.

Eventually you pulled back from Brian, cheeks flushed and eyes slightly glassy from the alcohol coursing through your system.

A small, almost dazed laugh escaped your lips as you glanced at him, then turned to find Tara in the crowd. She hadn't moved from where she'd been watching, her posture stiff and her eyes fixed on some indistinct point on the wall—anywhere but you.

When your gaze landed on her, your smile widened, bright and unrestrained, like you hadn't just set her entire world on fire.

Tara's chest tightened, the molten frustration inside her bubbling hotter with every passing second. She couldn't stop her thoughts, couldn't silence the storm brewing in her mind.

You stumbled a little as you reached her, still grinning like a fool, your energy infectious to everyone but Tara. You leaned close, tipping forward on your toes, your voice loud but slurred enough to betray your tipsy state.

"I think he kissed me," you said, as if it hadn't been entirely mutual.

Tara felt something snap.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms so hard she half-expected to draw blood.

She couldn't speak, couldn't trust herself to even try. If she opened her mouth, she was sure she'd yell or say something she couldn't take back. Worse, she might cry—and that wasn't an option.

Her silence stretched on, but you didn't seem to notice. You were too lost in your own world, your thoughts spinning with the buzz of the alcohol and the remnants of Brian's touch. Tara's silence didn't matter, because you filled the space with another easy laugh, leaning closer so she could hear you over the pounding music.

"I need to use the bathroom," you said, your lips brushing near her ear. The warmth of your breath made her stomach twist. "Wanna come?"

Tara's mind scrambled for an excuse, her mouth dry as she fought the urge to say something reckless.

"No," she said finally, forcing her voice to sound casual, detached. "I think I'm good down here."

It wasn't true. She wasn't good down here, or anywhere else in the universe at that moment.

You gave her a light shrug, your expression still full of that easy joy that made her want to scream. "Okay! Be right back!"

You disappeared into the crowd, weaving your way toward the bathroom, leaving Tara standing there alone.

The second you were out of sight, she exhaled sharply, her hands shaking as she reached for another drink she didn't need.

She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, the anger, or the ache of jealousy threatening to overwhelm her. Maybe it was all three, swirling into something she couldn't control.

But one thing was clear—she couldn't keep this up. Not tonight. Not with you and Brian. Not with her chest full of feelings she couldn't name and didn't want to face.

Tara's eyes burned as they landed on Brian, standing not far from where you'd left him. His posture was easy, relaxed—too relaxed.

He stood there like nothing had happened, chatting casually with a couple of his friends, his hand lifting a red cup to his lips like this was just another night. Like he hadn't just kissed you.

The most beautiful girl on the planet.

Tara felt her stomach twist painfully, her grip tightening around the drink in her hand. How could he be so unbothered? So unaffected? He wasn't grinning ear to ear, wasn't puffing out his chest or gushing about how lucky he was.

He wasn't laughing with joy or smirking proudly like any sane person would if they'd just kissed you.

How was he not telling everyone in earshot about what had happened? How was he not reeling from the fact that you—you, with your blinding smile and endless energy—had given him even a second of your time, let alone your lips?

Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding together as she stared at him, her anger bubbling hotter with every second he stayed calm. Her hands itched to grab him by the collar, to shake him and demand he act like he understood the weight of what had just happened.

Did he even realize how lucky he was?

Did he know how many people in that room—how many people in general—would kill to be in his place? To have even the tiniest fraction of your attention, let alone that?

Her vision blurred, and it wasn't from the alcohol. Her chest felt like it was about to implode, like something inside her was trying desperately to escape, and she didn't know how much longer she could keep it together.

Brian's laughter snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts. He was laughing at something one of his friends said, his expression light, carefree—unbothered.

Tara nearly saw red.

She downed the rest of her drink in one go, the sharp burn doing nothing to dull the fury roaring in her chest. How could he be like this? How could he act so normal, so indifferent, after kissing you?

How could he not be overwhelmed by the fact that you'd chosen him, even for a fleeting moment?

It was insulting. Infuriating.

She wanted to march over there, to grab him and make him feel the way she was feeling. She wanted him to hurt, to ache, to boil with jealousy the way she was.

But she couldn't.

Because none of this was his fault.

The real issue—the one she didn't want to admit—wasn't Brian. It was the simple, heartbreaking truth that he could kiss you without consequence.

He could have you.

Tara wasn't sure what happened next.

What she was thinking when it happened, or if she was even thinking at all. Maybe it was the anger—burning hot and uncontrollable—making her body move before her brain could catch up. Or maybe it was the alcohol, buzzing in her veins and drowning out every voice in her head that might've told her to stop.

All she knew was that one second she was standing there, glaring at Brian like he'd committed some unforgivable sin, and the next, she was storming toward him.

His friends noticed her first, their chatter faltering as they shifted awkwardly under her sharp glare. But Brian, oblivious as ever, didn't see her coming. He was mid-sentence, that stupidly calm look still plastered on his face, when Tara grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him down to her level.

The movement was forceful enough to knock the air out of both of them, and before he could even process what was happening—before she could process what was happening—she pressed her lips against his.

It wasn't soft.

It wasn't sweet.

It was messy, rough, and fueled by a cocktail of rage and desperation. Her hands fisted his shirt tightly, holding him in place, her nails biting into the fabric. Brian stiffened for a second, shocked, but then his hands hovered awkwardly near her waist, unsure of what to do.

Tara didn't care. She didn't care about his reaction, about his hesitation.

Because this wasn't about him.

It wasn't about his stupid, clueless face or the fact that he'd kissed you without giving it a second thought. It wasn't about him being unbothered or unaffected.

This was about her.

Her anger, her frustration, her absolute inability to sit there for another second and watch him act like kissing you was nothing.

The kiss deepened as her grip on his shirt tightened, pulling him even closer. She wanted to erase the memory of you from his lips, to replace it with her own. To make him feel something, anything, the way she was feeling.

But it wasn't working.

If anything, the kiss only made it worse.

Because no matter how hard she pressed, no matter how desperate her movements were, it didn't feel right.

It didn't feel like you.

And that thought was like a punch to the gut.

Brian made a soft, surprised noise against her lips, his hands finally settling on her hips, but it only made her angrier. How dare he hesitate now? How dare he act so unsure, like he didn't know exactly what he wanted when he'd so easily taken you from her just minutes ago?

Her chest heaved as she pulled back slightly, her lips still brushing against his, her heart pounding in her ears.

His wide eyes stared at her, confused and more than a little alarmed. "Tara—" his voice laced with bewilderment, but she silenced him with another kiss, pressing harder, needing to cut him off.

She didn't want to hear his voice. She didn't want to hear him try to make sense of this, because she didn't have an explanation. This wasn't about him.

It wasn't about you either—not entirely, at least.

It was about her. About the way she felt like she was unraveling, about how every smile you gave Brian felt like another thread being yanked loose, every laugh you shared with him felt like a blow to the chest.

She didn't know how to make it stop, and the only thing her mind could come up with was this. She didn't have to think when she was kissing Brian. Didn't have to feel the jagged ache of watching you be so happy with someone else.

This wasn't about him.

But it was all she could do to stop herself from falling apart completely.

And Tara wasn't sure what was happening anymore.

Brian hadn't pushed her away. He hadn't stopped her, hadn't hesitated for even a moment after that first surprised noise.

No, he'd leaned into it. He'd kissed her back with the kind of intent that only made her angrier, made the fire in her chest blaze so hot she thought she might combust right there.

Because it wasn't supposed to go like this.

His hands slid from her hips, pulling her closer, pressing her tighter against him, and she hated it. Hated the way he responded like this was exactly what he wanted, hated the way he kissed her back like she wasn't just a replacement for you.

And worse than anything, she hated herself for not stopping it.

His hands moved lower, gripping her ass, pulling her even closer, and she felt herself clench her fists tighter into the fabric of his shirt.

She didn't know if it was the alcohol buzzing in her veins, numbing her better judgment, or if it was the anger still consuming her every thought, but she didn't do anything to stop him.

She should've.

But she didn't.

Because in this moment, it wasn't about him. It wasn't even about you. It was about the chaos she felt boiling in her chest, about the way she felt like she was spiraling further and further out of control.

Brian murmured something against her lips—she didn't catch it, didn't even try to—but his hands stayed firm on her, guiding her, pulling her toward the stairs.

And she let him.

Every step felt like she was wading through quicksand, her mind shouting at her to stop, to push him away, to pull herself together. But her body wasn't listening. She didn't know if it was the heat of his hands on her or the fog of alcohol clouding her better judgment, but she let him lead her.

Because stopping meant facing the truth. And Tara wasn't ready to do that.

Not yet.

She'd barely registered how they ended up in the room. One second, she was being pulled up the stairs, Brian's hand gripping hers tightly, and the next, they were in a dimly lit bedroom, the door clicking shut behind them.

Her heart was racing, but not from excitement. There was no thrill, no anticipation, just a gnawing sense of wrongness she couldn't shake. Yet she didn't stop it. She didn't stop him as his hands found her waist, as his lips trailed down her neck. She didn't stop herself from responding, from letting this spiral further than it ever should have.

It was mechanical, empty, and every moment felt like it was happening to someone else. Brian's touch wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't what she wanted. His lips weren't the ones she craved, his hands didn't spark anything but an aching hollowness inside her.

And yet, she let it happen.

Because, for a fleeting second, it felt like power. Like control. Like maybe, just maybe, if she could take this from him—take you from him in some twisted, nonsensical way—it would hurt less.

But it didn't.

Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word she barely heard, only drove the knife deeper into her chest.

When it was over, the silence was deafening. Tara lay there, staring at the ceiling, her body still and her mind racing. Brian shifted beside her, saying something she didn't hear, and the sound of his voice made her stomach twist. She felt nauseous, disgusted—not with him, but with herself.

What had she done?

Her chest tightened as she fought to keep her breathing steady, refusing to let him see the tears threatening to spill over. It hadn't helped. It hadn't made anything better. If anything, it had only made everything worse.

Because no matter what she did, no matter how far she went, it would never be enough to make her stop wanting you.

Afterwards Tara laid still, the dim light of the room casting shadows that felt too heavy, too oppressive.

Brian was beside her, breathing evening out as if nothing monumental had just happened. As if this was just another casual moment in his life.

Her mind, however, wouldn't stop.

It wasn't Brian she was thinking about—not the way he'd touched her, not the way he'd looked at her. No, every thought clawed its way back to you.

She pictured you in the bathroom, probably still staring at yourself in the mirror, giddy and flushed. She could almost see your smile, so wide it was infectious, and the way you'd probably tilt your head, trying to relive every second of that kiss.

You'd been dreaming of that moment since second grade, scribbling his name in the margins of your notebooks and lighting up every time he was near. Tara could already imagine how you'd be practically glowing, heart racing with excitement as you ran your fingers over your lips, trying to make the feeling last.

She wanted to hate you for it. But she couldn't. She never could.

You'd come out of that bathroom with a smile so bright it could light up the whole house, your hopeful eyes scanning the crowd as you made your way back to the spot you'd all been standing. And what would you find?

Nothing.

Tara wasn't there. Brian wasn't there.

She could imagine how your smile would falter, confusion settling in as you looked around, searching for the two people who were supposed to be waiting for you. How long would it take for the excitement to drain from your face? How quickly would hope turn to disappointment?

The thought was like a knife twisting in her gut.

And yet, she still couldn't make sense of why she'd done this. Why she'd let it happen. Because it didn't feel like she'd won anything. She hadn't taken Brian away from you. If anything, she'd stolen something from herself—something she could never get back.

Her chest tightened as the realization hit her like a freight train. She hadn't wanted him. She hadn't wanted this.

She'd wanted you.

And now she'd ruined everything.

[rafeskai]

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Chapter Two

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: Inspired by the movie "Life as We Know It"!

Masterlist: Here

It had been three days since you’d found yourself in Rafe’s house, a place that now felt more like a cage than a refuge. You hadn’t had much time to adjust to the new reality. Between the funeral, the endless meetings with lawyers and child services, and the sudden responsibility of Willa, everything seemed to blur together in a haze of exhaustion.

You had told yourself you’d stay at the house more often, that you’d help Rafe get into a routine with Willa, but the sheer weight of everything had left you in a constant state of uncertainty. It wasn’t just that you were suddenly her guardian, it was that you were also navigating a delicate, complicated dynamic with Rafe. Every time you thought you had a handle on things, another obstacle seemed to rise up in front of you.

But life didn’t stop, and the bills still needed to be paid. So, you found yourself at the local café by 7 a.m. every morning, working the early shift as if it were a lifeline to some semblance of normalcy. The smell of fresh coffee and pastries helped ground you, a comfort amidst the chaos.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

That morning, you found yourself staring blankly at the coffee machine, lost in thought as you tried to get a fresh batch brewing. Willa’s laugh echoed in your mind, that small, joyful sound she’d made when you’d managed to make her smile that morning at Rafe’s house. But then there was Rafe—his disheveled hair, his barely-contained frustration as he tried to make breakfast, as if he were a stranger in his own life.

You shook the thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand. You couldn’t afford distractions right now.

"Hey, [Y/N], you okay?" Jess, your co-worker, asked as she slid into the back room, eyeing you with concern. Jess had been your friend since you started working at the café, and while she wasn’t a mind reader, she could always tell when something was off.

You nodded quickly, putting a smile on your face. "Yeah, just a little tired. You know how it is."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press further. "Well, the morning rush is about to hit, and we’re already behind, so I’ll let you catch up. Just take it easy when you can, alright?"

You offered a grateful smile, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. Jess had a way of reading you, and the last thing you wanted was to let her know the extent of what you were juggling.

The morning rush came and went, the familiar frenzy of orders, refills, and people coming and going. By noon, the crowd thinned, and you finally got a break. You slipped into the back room, sitting on one of the crates as you checked your phone, hoping for a distraction.

You had a few missed texts, mostly from Sarah’s family offering condolences, a few work-related messages, and then... one from Rafe.

Can you come over tonight? Willa’s been fussy all day. I can’t figure out what she wants.

You stared at the message for a moment, your thumb hovering over the screen. You’d been trying to keep your distance from Rafe, only coming over when absolutely necessary, and still, he was asking for help. He hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with his emotions, but there was something about the way he’d written this message that gave you pause.

You knew it wasn’t just about Willa—it never had been. There was still tension between you and Rafe, an unspoken rift that neither of you had quite figured out how to cross. Yet, here he was, reaching out.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. You’d been trying to balance it all—work, helping Rafe, and processing the grief that seemed to be dragging you under—but it wasn’t easy. You needed to be there for Willa, but you also needed to keep your job, and your sanity.

After a moment of contemplation, you typed out a reply. I’ll be there around six. I can stay for a few hours.

You didn’t know what you expected, but you sure as hell didn’t expect the quick response. 

Thanks. I’ll make dinner. She’s been restless.

You felt a strange knot form in your stomach at the offer. Dinner? From Rafe Cameron? A part of you wanted to laugh, but another part—an irrational, confusing part—wondered if this was his way of trying to do something right, for once.

The rest of your shift passed in a blur. You tried to focus on the coffee orders and the chatter of the customers, but all you could think about was Rafe and the odd, fragile dynamic that had begun to take root.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

By the time you pulled into Rafe’s driveway later that evening, you could feel the exhaustion settling deep into your bones. But Willa needed you, and whether or not you wanted to admit it, Rafe did, too.

You took a deep breath before getting out of your car, trying to mentally prepare yourself for whatever awaited inside.

The house looked even bigger at night, the lights from the interior casting long shadows across the front yard. As you walked up the stone path, you noticed the faint scent of something cooking—garlic, herbs... something surprisingly warm and inviting.

When you stepped inside, the familiar coldness of the house hit you, but this time, there was something different. The warmth of a home-cooked meal filled the air, and for the briefest moment, it almost felt like things could be normal again.

Rafe was in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up as he stood over the stove. He looked up when you entered, a slight tension in his posture as if he was still waiting for you to call him out on some unseen mistake.

“Hey,” you said quietly, watching him carefully. “Dinner smells good.”

He nodded, but didn’t meet your eyes. “It’s nothing fancy. Just pasta, I—uh, thought it might help if she had something warm.” His voice faltered, just a little, but he quickly recovered.

You glanced over at Willa, who was in her high chair, her small hands gripping the edge of the tray as she watched Rafe. She looked so small in the expansive room, and the sight hit you in a way you weren’t prepared for.

You walked over to her, gently picking her up from the chair. “Hey, little one,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Rafe turned away from the stove, his hands gripping the counter as he stared down at the floor. "I don't know what I'm doing. She won’t stop crying, and I... I don’t get it."

You felt a pang of sympathy, despite everything. You moved toward him, your voice soft. “It’s okay. You’re doing fine. It’s all new for both of us. You don’t have to have all the answers.”

Rafe looked up at you, his expression tense but vulnerable. "Yeah. I guess I just... I want to do right by her. I don’t want to screw this up."

You nodded, the weight of his words sinking in. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The sound of Willa’s cries echoed through the vast kitchen, filling the space with a noise that felt almost too loud for the house. She was tiny, yet her cries were fierce, relentless. It had been over an hour, and you were beginning to feel like you were running out of options. You had tried everything.

You’d fed her, changed her, rocked her. But no matter what you did, she wouldn’t stop. Willa’s little fists clenched and her body writhed in your arms, the tears never slowing, never quieting.

“Come on, Willa,” you muttered, trying to soothe her with the kind of gentle rocking you’d seen Sarah do a million times. But nothing worked. You glanced over at Rafe, who was standing across the kitchen with his arms crossed, looking both helpless and frustrated.

“I don’t get it,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Why the hell won’t she stop?”

You didn’t have an answer. Honestly, you didn’t know why she was crying, either. She had been fine all afternoon, playing with her toys, laughing when you made funny faces at her. But now, she was inconsolable, and it was starting to tear at your patience—and Rafe’s too.

You rocked Willa more gently, trying to keep calm. "I don’t know," you said softly, your voice low and soothing. “Maybe it’s... something else. She could be tired, or maybe she’s just upset. Babies have their moods.” You spoke from experience, but your words felt thin in the moment. You hadn’t expected to be thrown into this role, and you were starting to feel every bit of the weight of it.

Rafe glanced at you, his brow furrowing. “Do you think she’s sick?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

You shook your head. "I don't think so... I mean, she doesn’t have a fever. Maybe it's just... a bad moment." You were doing your best to sound confident, but even you didn’t believe the words you were saying.

Willa’s cries intensified, her tiny body wriggling in your arms, making it even harder to calm her. Your chest tightened with frustration, helplessness. It was hard enough to balance everything with the weight of the situation, but right now? You felt completely out of your depth.

“I don’t know what else to do,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. You looked over at Rafe, who hadn’t moved an inch since you started holding Willa. His face was tight, his eyes narrowed in frustration, but there was something else there, too—something you hadn’t expected: vulnerability.

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. After a few more seconds of Willa’s crying, he finally broke the silence.

“Maybe I could try,” he offered, his voice a bit softer, tentative.

You were surprised at the offer. You’d never seen Rafe with kids—never even imagined him with a child this young. But there was something in the way he said it, a quiet desperation, that made you nod.

“Yeah. Try.” You handed Willa to him, careful not to jostle her too much as she continued to wail. She was still kicking her legs, her face scrunched up in distress.

Rafe hesitated for just a second before adjusting her in his arms, awkwardly holding her against his chest. His expression was uncertain, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with this tiny person who was now his responsibility.

“Hey, Willa,” Rafe said softly, his voice surprisingly gentle. “It’s okay. You’re safe. We got you.”

He bounced her lightly, just enough to make her feel the rhythm of his movements. For a moment, nothing changed. Willa’s cries didn’t soften, but Rafe didn’t seem to mind. His focus was entirely on her, like he was determined to make it work.

You watched him for a moment, trying not to show your surprise. You didn’t think you’d ever see Rafe in this light. The way he moved, the way he spoke to Willa—there was something different in his tone, something real.

But the crying didn’t stop. Willa’s cries just seemed to escalate, as though she was testing him, testing you both.

Rafe gritted his teeth, adjusting his hold on her again, more firmly this time. “Alright, little one,” he muttered under his breath, his voice still trying to stay calm despite the rising frustration. "We’re gonna get this right. I swear."

He then shifted, trying a different approach, gently patting her back. He’d seen Sarah do it before, you knew, but it still felt foreign coming from him.

You, not sure what else to do, knelt beside him, trying to be as calm and soothing as possible. You placed a hand gently on Willa’s leg. “Shh… Willa, sweetie, it’s okay,” you cooed, matching Rafe’s rhythm.

And then, something unexpected happened. Slowly, gradually, Willa’s cries began to soften. Her body stopped wriggling as much, her little fists loosened. It wasn’t immediate, and it wasn’t magic, but her wails started to turn into quiet sobs, then sniffling, then, finally, she rested her head against Rafe’s chest.

You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

"See?" you said softly, your heart still racing. "I told you it was just a moment."

Rafe, his face still a bit tense but now with a faint trace of relief, looked down at Willa. Her eyelids fluttered as she finally, finally, drifted off to sleep.

“I don’t get it,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “I tried everything, but... she calms down when you do that. When we’re both here.”

You shrugged, feeling the exhaustion in your own body. “Sometimes... it just takes both of us. Babies are unpredictable.” You didn’t know what else to say, because, truth be told, you didn’t really understand it either. But you knew one thing for sure—despite your differences, despite the chaos, this was something you could do together.

Rafe shifted his weight, still holding Willa carefully. “Thanks,” he said quietly, as if he hadn’t just gone through a whirlwind of frustration. It was brief, but there was sincerity in his voice. “I didn’t think... I mean, I wasn’t sure I could handle this.”

You glanced up at him, and for the first time in a long time, you saw something different in his eyes—something that wasn’t defiance or anger, but something closer to gratitude.

“You’re not alone in this,” you said softly. “We’ll figure it out, one step at a time.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The house had fallen into a strange stillness after Willa finally settled into bed, her little form bundled up in the crib, tucked in for the night. The hours of chaos, the endless crying, the uncertainty—it had all melted into a tense kind of quiet that felt almost too heavy to breathe through. You and Rafe were both exhausted, physically and emotionally, but the weight of the situation hadn’t lightened one bit.

You leaned against the counter in the kitchen, your fingers wrapped around a mug of warm tea, trying to find some semblance of calm. The silence was comforting in a way, but also suffocating. You and Rafe hadn’t exchanged many words since Willa had fallen asleep. There had been a brief moment where you’d both sat at the kitchen table, exhausted, sipping coffee in silence, but now it felt like the quiet was pressing in from all sides.

Rafe was standing by the window, his arms crossed, looking out into the darkened yard. He had been quiet for a while, but you could feel his presence like a weight in the room. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

"You know," he began, his voice low but firm. "I’ve been thinking. Maybe it would be better if you just moved in here."

You froze, your fingers tightening around the mug in your hands. "What?" You turned to face him, the surprise evident in your voice. "What are you talking about? Why would I—"

He cut you off, not giving you a chance to react. "Look, we’re both her guardians now, right? I get it—you have your life, your job, but you can’t keep going back and forth between here and the café. Willa needs us both, and we both need to be there for her."

You blinked, trying to process his words. "That’s... a huge thing to suggest, Rafe." You shook your head, stepping away from the counter, moving to the other side of the room. "You think it’s easy for me? You think I don’t have a life outside of this? I’ve got my job, my own responsibilities. I can’t just—move in here."

He turned, his gaze sharp as he watched you. "I’m not saying it would be permanent, but Willa... she’s not going to be okay if we’re both stressed out all the time. You’re already running yourself ragged. This way, you wouldn’t have to go back and forth. You could be here when she needs you, and you wouldn’t have to worry about missing shifts or running out of time."

You felt your pulse quicken, frustration creeping in. "You don’t get it, do you? It’s not just about time. This is my life, Rafe. I’m not just going to—what?—move in with you? Because that’s what you think is best?"

Rafe’s face hardened. "It’s not about what I think is best, [Y/N]. It’s about what Willa needs. You think it’s easy for me, either? I didn’t sign up for this. But here we are, and we both have to step up. We both have to make sacrifices."

Your breath hitched, your voice shaking with the weight of it all. "You think I haven’t thought about that? But this isn’t just about ‘stepping up,’ Rafe. This is about our lives. You can’t just dictate how things are going to work because you suddenly want to play house. I’m not some—"

"Not some what?" he snapped, cutting you off, his jaw tightening as his temper flared. "You think I’m asking for you to live with me because it’s some great idea? I’m trying to help you. You can’t keep doing this alone, and neither can I."

You felt a sting of anger rise in your chest, the frustration of everything spilling out. "I don’t need you to help me, Rafe. I don’t need you to fix everything. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for any of this!"

There was a long, painful silence that hung between you both, a tension that had been building ever since that damn phone call, and now, it seemed like it might tear everything apart.

Rafe exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging slightly as the heat of his anger cooled into something more complicated, more raw. "I’m not trying to fix everything," he muttered, his voice quieter now, laced with frustration. "I’m just trying to do the right thing. I didn’t ask for any of this, either, but I can’t keep pretending it’s just going to work if we’re both barely holding on. You need help. I need help."

Your heart ached at the words, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw the cracks in his armor, the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide. But you pushed it aside, unwilling to let the floodgates open.

"I don’t need you, Rafe," you repeated, more firmly now. "I need to figure out how to do this on my own. We’re both her guardians, but I’m not going to make this—whatever this is—worse by complicating it. I can’t just move in here and pretend like that makes everything better."

His face tightened, the walls going back up, the Rafe you knew slipping behind his defenses. "Fine," he said, his voice flat. "Then keep living your life. Keep juggling it all, and see how far that gets you."

You shook your head, your words coming out in a rush. "You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t care? I care, Rafe. But this isn’t just about what’s easiest for you, or me, or anyone else. It’s about Willa. And right now, she needs more than just two people fighting over what’s best for her. She needs stability. She needs peace."

Rafe was silent for a long moment, the tension still thick in the room. His eyes flickered to the hallway where Willa’s room was, the soft rise and fall of her tiny chest visible through the crack of the door. His face softened for just a fraction of a second, but then he steeled himself again.

"Yeah," he said, his voice quieter now, though there was still a trace of frustration. "She needs peace. And maybe you’re right. Maybe this isn’t the right call." He turned his back to you, his body tense as if he was still holding onto something you couldn’t see.

You felt your anger begin to ebb, replaced by a quiet weariness that settled deep in your chest. You wanted to argue more, to fight for your space, for your independence. But the truth was, Rafe’s idea, crazy as it seemed, did make some sense. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to agree.

You stayed silent, the space between you growing more and more uncomfortable, until Rafe finally broke the stillness.

"I guess we’ll just have to figure it out, huh?" he said, his voice distant.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure if you were agreeing with him—or just acknowledging the mess you’d both gotten into.

"Yeah," you whispered. "I guess so."

And for the first time in a long time, the silence between you both wasn’t just filled with tension. It was filled with uncertainty.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

It had been weeks since the argument, weeks since you and Rafe had first clashed over what was best for Willa, what was best for the two of you. You’d spent those weeks bouncing between your place, Rafe’s, and the café, and with each passing day, it was becoming more and more clear that you couldn’t keep it up. You were running on fumes, your mind spinning with the constant demands of work, the responsibilities of being Willa’s guardian, and the weight of your personal life crumbling under the strain.

You couldn’t do it anymore.

It was a quiet morning when you finally made the decision. The sun had barely risen, casting a soft, golden glow across the living room of your small house. You hadn’t been home in days, had barely slept in your own bed. Willa was still adjusting to the routine, and the nights at Rafe’s were becoming more frequent. The constant back and forth was wearing you down.

You stood at the kitchen counter, staring at the coffee mug in your hand, the warmth barely reaching you. It was still early, and the sound of Rafe’s truck hadn’t yet filtered through the house. But today, you had to make it right.

You had to admit you couldn’t juggle it all.

The idea of moving in had been haunting you for days, but admitting it was another thing entirely. Rafe’s offer wasn’t just about practicality—it was about more than that. About Willa, about what you and Rafe were going to have to become for her. You’d been resisting it, pushing it away because it felt like giving up control of your life. But you knew you couldn’t keep going on this way.

And so, you made your decision.

When Rafe finally walked through the front door a few hours later, his presence filled the space like it always did—big, heavy, almost too much to ignore. He didn’t say anything at first, just kicked off his boots and moved to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water before leaning against the counter, his gaze flickering over to you.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low but not unkind.

You set your mug down, taking a deep breath before you spoke. “I’ve been thinking,” you said, your voice steady but with an undercurrent of hesitation. “And I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep bouncing between my place, yours, and work. It’s... it’s too much.”

Rafe’s brow furrowed slightly. “So what does that mean?”

You met his gaze, the weight of what you were about to say pressing down on you. “I’m going to move in. I can’t juggle all of this alone. But there are some conditions.”

Rafe tilted his head, his eyes narrowing just slightly in curiosity. “Conditions?” he echoed, a hint of skepticism in his voice. “Like what?”

You took a breath and laid it out, clear and firm. “First, I’m not giving up my job at the café. I need that. I need a space where I can breathe and do something for myself. I’m going to be there on my shifts, but I won’t be running myself into the ground. So, we need to find a rhythm that works. I can’t just be at home all day, every day. I have my own life, too.”

Rafe nodded slowly, processing the first part. “Okay. Makes sense.” He crossed his arms, waiting for the rest.

“Second,” you continued, your voice unwavering. “I’m not going to just be a ‘housewife’ or whatever. I need to be treated as an equal, I’m her legal guardian too, not some babysitter. I’ll help with Willa, but I can’t take on the full load. If we’re doing this, we’re both sharing it.”

Rafe didn’t argue with that. He gave a slight nod, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he were preparing for the next condition.

“And third,” you added, stepping forward, your gaze never leaving his. “We set some boundaries. This is for Willa. We’re doing this for her, but I’m not moving in here for any other reason. We need to keep things professional—for her sake. I’m not moving in here just to... make things weird.” You paused, feeling the tension rise between you. “If we’re doing this, it’s for Willa. Nothing more, nothing less.”

There was a long silence between you two as Rafe absorbed your words. He was silent for a moment, then exhaled through his nose, a sound of reluctant agreement. “Fair enough,” he said. “I can deal with that. We both need to be in this equally. No one person doing more than the other.” He glanced over at you, a little more seriously now. “And about the boundaries... I’m not trying to make this any more complicated than it has to be. I get it. You’re here to help with Willa, and I’m not going to make that weird.”

It was strange, the way things were shifting between you both. There was a subtle shift in his tone, something closer to understanding. As much as Rafe might have wanted to fight you on it, you knew he respected the fact that you were being clear about your limits.

“So, what now?” he asked, breaking the silence. “You move in today?”

You nodded. “Yeah. But, you’ll have to help me get my stuff together. I’m not just leaving everything behind, Rafe.” You allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile to tug at the corner of your lips. “You’re not getting off that easy.”

Rafe smirked, the tension breaking between you two for the first time in weeks. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll help. Just don’t expect me to pack your clothes.”

You laughed quietly, feeling the weight on your chest lift just a little. “I don’t need you to pack my clothes. I just need you to be... not a pain in the ass while I get settled in.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “No promises there.”

You shook your head, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. It was a step in the right direction, you told yourself. A step toward figuring out how to make this new life work.

Maybe it wasn’t going to be easy. Maybe it would take time, patience, and more compromises than you had ever imagined. But one thing was clear: you couldn’t do this on your own. And maybe, just maybe, with Rafe by your side, you could figure out what it meant to be a family, even if it wasn’t the family you’d ever expected.

With a deep breath, you took the first step.

"Alright," you said. "Let’s go get my stuff."

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[pathologicalreid]

first snow | s.r.

in which you and Spencer experience the first snow in your new apartment together

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff. the kind that rots your teeth. content warnings: snow? ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ word count: 954 a/n: so! not margovember! but i've been saving this one for a special occasion (my first snow came!!!!!) and i hope you enjoy it!!!!

“Why are we doing this now?” You asked, cocking your head at your boyfriend after you finished hauling a stack of books off of the shelves.

He was sitting on the floor, dozens of stacks of books surrounding him, so each step you took was precarious. Spencer’s self-appointed job was to sort through the books, but you weren’t getting rid of any of them. No. He’d decided to reorganize them, influenced by an influx of new language books, according to the Dewey decimal system—a phrase you hadn’t heard since grade school.

You hoisted another stack of books from the shelves, thankfully built into the walls, and set them on the ground. “We can never move out of this apartment,” you told him, flipping through an early edition Proust, likely from his mom’s collection.

That got his attention, “Why not?” His legs were crisscrossed beneath him, his hair freshly washed, and glasses perched on his face. Spencer’s flannel pajama pants were likely warmer than your cotton ones, but you felt as though your hoodie had an advantage over his crewneck.

Gesturing your hands out to the piles of books, you raised your eyebrows, “We’d have to move all of the books again.” The two of you had moved into the apartment near the beginning of the summer, right before Spencer started his training at the Academy, and the heat had ended up being more than you bargained for.

Spencer smiled fondly at you, “I like this apartment,” he reminded you, turning his attention back to his philosophy books, “It suits us.”

Looking around, you had also fallen in love with the apartment rather quickly, and you didn’t have much room to complain, knowing that Spencer had sacrificed having a short commute so you could be close to work. The two of you moved in together after you finished school in Pasadena, and he wrapped up classes at MIT, closing the distance and starting the rest of your lives together.

The two of you repainted together, abandoning the miserable taupe that had been on the walls in favor of a dark green; you worked together to make it home, even if you were here more often than him.

Stepping over a teetering pile of novels, you held your arms out for balance as you tried to get to the kitchen, yelping when your foot caught on a book, sending you falling to the ground. You groaned as the corner of a book dug into your side; the blow softened by the cotton of your sweatshirt as you rolled off of the collapsed stack.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked as you rolled over to a safe area. His hand settled on your side, stopping you from rolling onto your back.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you nodded, “Yeah.” You frowned at the books that were left in your wake, “Oh, Spence. Your books,” you sighed, sticking out your bottom lip sadly.

He shook his head, “They’re just books, lovely.” Despite his reassurance, you caught his brown eyes flickering over the fallen novels. At a glance, it didn’t seem like any damage was incurred, but Spencer held his books to a very high standard. You knew he’d be checking them over as soon as you turned your head.

Sitting all the way up, you giggled softly at the way his concern split between you and the books; you thought about pressing your lips to his, but something moving outside the window caught your eye instead.

You squinted out the window, trying to ascertain what was going on, when your mouth gaped in surprise, “Spencer!” You scrambled to your feet, trying to drag your boyfriend to his, “Come on!”

His brows pinched in confusion. He looked around the living room, trying to find what had gotten you so excited, but you were already shoving your fuzzy sock-covered feet into your sneakers. Spencer had no choice but to follow.

Not even minding that you’d folded over the heels of your shoes, you were shuffling down the stairs and making your way to the street. Spencer lagged behind you, and you had already thrown your arms out in excitement by the time he made it outside. “It’s snowing,” You said giddily, bouncing on the balls of your feet and spinning on the pavement.

Spencer grabbed one of your hands, stopping you from moving while he draped your jacket over your shoulders, having been too driven to get to the snowflakes to think about staying warm. His eyes were filled with love, leaving no room for judgment.

Sticking your tongue in an attempt to catch a snowflake, you didn’t even care that you were acting like a child. You’d never lived anywhere that got real snow like this before, “Oh, I love snow.”

“Your scarf is in tatters,” Spencer observed, holding the threadbare fabric at arm’s length.

You shrugged, breathing in and letting the cold air nip at your nose, “I haven’t had any use for it. It’s been in storage for ages,” you reminded him, closing your eyes and basking in the snow.

Instead of placing the hole-ridden scarf around your neck, Spencer loops his purple one over your shoulders. “I’ll have to knit you a new one. They’re predicting above-average snowfall this winter.”

Beaming at Spencer, you held out your hand for him to take, and he pulled you closer to him so your back was flush with his chest, the two of you watching the flurries as the lamplight refracted off the tiny ice crystals. “Happy first snow, Spencer Reid,” you told him, leaning your head back on his shoulder so the two of you could share a kiss.

He hummed affectionately, “Happy first snow, my love.”

[vivwritesfics]

Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Four

None of you are used to pack dynamics. Unlike then, it made you near feral. There's nothing more they want than to build you back up.

Lestappen X Reader

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

"You're okay, Beastie. You did good."

It hadn't been an easy race for either Ferrari driver. You and Charles had both struggled, through no fault of your own, during the race. The strategy was shit and the car struggled on track.

"You're okay, Beastie," your handler said, combing her fingers through your hair. "You can stop now. You can breathe."

She was trying to calm you down, Charles realised as he watched you.

Beastie. What an awful nickname, simply awful. Charles watched as your handler handed you earbuds. Your hands shook as you placed them into your ears, a whimper leaving your lips.

Beastie. You weren't a beast. Charles could see it, and he was sure that everybody else could see it, too. You weren't a beast; you just wanted to be free.

He strode across the garage, strode over to you. "What're you listening to?" He asked, his voice soft.

A whimper left your lips and you clawed at your shock collar. "Woah, woah," he whispered and grabbed a hold of your hands, stopping you from hurting yourself. "You're okay, Birdy."

Birdy. Charles wasn't very sure where it came from, but it felt right. It suited you. Birdy. You just wanted to be free. Free as a bird. Another noise left your lips, one that Charles was unable to place. "Wanna tell me what you're listening to?" He asked and pushed your hair out of your face.

You wouldn't answer. Charles knew this, he wasn't expect you to open your mouth to answer, but to somehow communicate it to him. Maybe pull your earbud from your ear and offer it too him instead.

Your handler stepped forward. "She discovered your music last night," she said and nodded to Charles. "She finds it's calming, so I thought it might help take her out of 'Race Space'."

"Race Space?"

Race Space. The headspace you went into as soon as you were in the car. It left you acting on instinct, going for every gap and having no self preservation. It would have been terrifying to watch, if you had anybody that cared about you."

"She likes my music?" Charles couldn't stop himself from answering as he looked at you. You liked his music. At that very moment, you were listening to his music. "Birdy," he whispered, unable to stop himself from grinning.

Charles couldn't help but think about it for the next few hours. As he flew back to Monaco, sharing a jet with Pierre. Maybe one day you could share a jet with them, too. But you weren't in the position for a private jet yet. Once you were a proper driver, no longer driving in the place of an injured Carlos, Charles would take you everywhere in his private yet, he decided.

And then you'd be flying. As free as a bird.

"You're attached," Max said as he watched Charles.

Sitting at the piano, Charles couldn't stop himself from thinking about you. He pressed a couple of the keys, no song really coming from it. "I am," he confirmed, giving a small nod. "I really am, Max."

Max released a sigh as he walked over. He slipped onto the bench beside Charles and wrapped his arms around him. "What're we gonna do about it?" He asked.

"I don't know, Max," Charles answered through a sigh. "I really don't know."

***

Home. A small room with several locks on the door to keep people safe from you. Locked in, Charles's music playing on a loop. This was better, you knew. You locked away from the rest of the world.

Birdy.

You had been a beast for so long that Birdy felt weird. Weird, but not exactly wrong. Birdy, because you wanted to fly away and be free. Birdy was fitting, you realised.

Birdy.

You liked it. Really liked it. Far better than Beasty. A beast was what you had been turned into, not what you wanted to be. You were never supposed to be a beast and you no longer wanted to be one.

Birdy.

The music stopped and you released a whimper. Tapping at the iPod screen, you got the music playing again, the piano filling the room. Your eyes closed as you laid back on your bed, holding your pillow against your chest.

Charles was nice. He was real nice, in a way nobody but your handler had been before. Why had you tried to bite him? Why had you acted out like that? But, still, he was sweet to you. Sweet, even after you had attempted to attack him.

You wouldn't, not again. You wouldn't attack the next time he was nice to you. It was easy to picture it in your mind, your muzzle removed as you hugged Charles, nuzzling yourself against his chest. But you were looking at it through rose coloured glasses.

It wouldn't be as simple as not attacking and you knew that. The reaction was involuntary: You couldn't help it. Couldn't stop yourself from lashing out and trying to hurt him.

"Birdy," you whispered to yourself and started his music again. "Birdy. Birdy. Birdy."

You couldn't wait for the next race weekend.

You didn't have to wait long, just a week. That week you spent training, in the gym, listening to your trainer like an obedient dog. When she said run, you ran. When she said lift, you lifted.

There was just one reason why you didn't like the gym. It allowed you to let out your aggression in a way that stopped anybody from getting hurt. But the collar around your neck and the muzzle attached to your face made the gym uncomfortable, skin beneath them prickling.

On the Tuesday, you flew to Miami. You were sedated for the entirety of the flight. It didn't take away your fear, just stopped you from acting on it.

You woke up in the taxi on your way to the hotel. How disorienting it was, to suddenly regain conscious in a different part of the world, so similar to your home, yet somehow different.

You panicked. Not enough to hurt anybody in the car with you. But your nails dug into your palms, pressing deep enough to draw blood.

"Enough of that, Beasty," your handler commented and patted your knee. Maybe she was trying to give you comfort. Whatever it was, it didn't help.

She got you into the hotel, her grip on your sleeve acting as a leash. As soon as she had your key (she always kept your room key. It was almost a threat: If you left you couldn't get back in), she led you to the stairs.

No lifts, you were too feral for that. They were too much like cages, and you didn't do cages.

“Rest, little Beast,” she said as you placed your bags in your room. Rest. You've done enough resting already. You didn't need anymore rest. “I'll come get you in the morning.”

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[beckyninja]

Relief

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x FemReader

Warnings: talk of periods, sexual content, MDNI

Description: Titus "helps" his serf lover through a particularly painful time of the month.

Forget whatever I said about my last fic. This one is definitely the spiciest thing I've ever written! I had planned on something entirely different, but then "that time of the month" reared its ugly head. And suddenly all I could think about was having a strong, handsome Astartes to help me through it.

Titus didn’t sprint, though he wanted to. 

After enduring the ominous warnings of the Chaplain, the disdain of Captain Acheran, and the incessant prying of his new squad (not to mention the small matter of a tyranid invasion), he longed for the solace of your presence.

Your touch.

Rage still burned like promethium within him when he remembered entering his quarters to find you half-starved. 

“You’re alive.” You’d whispered upon seeing him. “You’re alive.”

When I find the one responsible for her suffering….

His growl sent several serfs darting out of his path. He walked faster and, at last, the door to his quarters came into view. Soon, he would have you in his arms.

Saliva pooled in his mouth at the thought. 

The first time he lay with you, before Kadaku and his remaking, had been beyond his imaginings. Baseline anatomy lessons from his neophyte days supplied the rudiments. But he had the Space Wolves and a solitary Salamander he’d met in the Death Watch to thank for the rest.

He’d encountered the former boasting of their conquests one evening in the dining hall after one of them had smuggled in a few barrels of foul-smelling mjod. As they grew more intoxicated, they delighted in shocking the more puritanical Astartes in the Watch with detailed descriptions of “fraternization”. 

Titus remembered being repulsed at first. Though, against his better instincts, that repulsion soon turned to wary curiosity. 

While the Wolves howled about conquering and claiming, a Salamander Apothecary had taken a seat next to Titus and shaken his head.

“Not all baseline females are the wild she-wolves of Fenris.” The old drake had rumbled quietly. “If an Astartes is blessed with the affections of a woman, he should cherish her with gentleness, for she is rare and precious.”

Titus remembered a sorrowful look in the veteran’s red eyes as he spoke, and the way he stroked a bone reliquary tied at his waist. 

He had tried to incorporate all he’d overheard into your union. You’d been so fragile in his hands, so vulnerable. And when your body welcomed him inside. When, amidst the white heat of his own ecstasy, he saw you gaze up at him….

Throne of Terra, I would slaughter every tyranid in the Hive Fleet to have you look at me like that always.

He punched his code into the access panel. He only had a few hours of leisure to spare, and a third of that had already been taken up in removing his armor. But he needed to feel your skin upon his again.

The door hissed open and-

Blood.

Every enhanced sense he possessed sharpened to a razor’s edge as the metallic scent filled his nostrils. Unlike before, when his mind had been clouded by sleep, he knew with absolute certainty this blood came from your body. 

The room was empty. Half the candles lit. One smoking tapir on its side by the cot. Indents on the mattress the size of small baseline hands. Drops of red on the floor. The sharp taste of stress and pain chemicals. Soft whimpers from the lavatory.

All this came to him in the time between heartbeats. Another heartbeat and he stood before the closed lavatory door.

“Little Healer?”

The medicae had said you would be fine. An injection of nutrients, a high calorie meal, and rest. You already looked better when he left you in the infirmary. They said you would be fine.

He’d had to leave. He had no choice. They said you would be fine!

“Demetrian?”

Conscious and able to speak. He leaned his forehead against the cold metal of the door.

“I am coming in.”

A sharp gasp. “No! Just, just give me a moment, please.”

He heard pain in your voice. His instincts screamed at him to tear through the metal to reach you.

The door slid open.

Pale skin. Sweat beads on your forehead. Hunched shoulders. You smiled up at him, but reeked of misery.

He scooped you into his arms. “We are returning to the infirmary.”

“Demetrian-”

“You are still unwell.”

“Demetrian, please-”

He strode toward the door of his quarters. “Or did you injure yourself?”

“No, Demetrian! Listen-”

“I should not have left you alone.”

A tiny fist bounced off his jaw. He stopped mid-stride and looked down at you in shock. You looked back at him, then down at your clenched fist, seemingly stunned by your own actions.

“I…I…,” you closed your eyes and breathed deeply, “I’m sorry, my lord. I don’t know what came over me.”

“My lord?” He muttered. 

“Please put me down. I’m not unwell. And I’m not injured.”

He scowled. “You reek of blood, woman.”

Throne, has whatever hurt she suffered affected her mind as well?

“I know, but it’s…it’s natural, Demetrian.”

The Warp it is. “Explain.”

She sighed. “Can you put me down first? Please?”

“No.” 

He tightened his grip. If her mind was unbalanced, who knows what she might do if he released her.

Another sigh. “Fine. Once a month, a woman’s body undergoes a certain process….”

He remained silent during her entire explanation. When she finished, he carefully set her upon his cot.

“And this…cycle…causes pain?”

“Every woman experiences it differently. Some only ever feel mild discomfort, for others it’s little short of agony.”

You bit your lip. The pain smell spiked and, with it, his concern. 

“Why have I not noticed before?”

You breathed slowly now, in through your nose, out through your mouth. “You’ve always been on mission during this time. And…agh…in the Watch Fortress, Lord Apothecary Nev’ran made sure to set pain suppressants aside for us female serfs.”

The old Salamander always had a soft spot for the baselines, Titus remembered.

A low moan drew his attention back to you. You folded on his cot, arms wrapped around your midsection. 

His fingers twitched, automatically seeking a weapon. The instinct to destroy whatever caused you pain surged. He needed to fix this.

“Did you request pain suppressants from the medica?”

You started rocking slightly. “I…tried. He said they were unnecessary and dismissed me. I didn’t dare argue. In the Fortress, there were serfs I could go to for help during this time.” You looked up at him with a tight smile. “But I’m beginning to think I’m the only woman on this ship.”

Titus thought back over the last few days, and all the baseline crew he’d encountered.

She may be right.

“Oh Emperor….” 

Your whimper felt like another Carnifex talon through his chest.

“There must be something I can do.” He knelt before you, cupping your face in his hand. “Anything.”

You pressed against him. “Heat. Heat sometimes helps.” 

He let you move his hand to your lower stomach. You opened your robes and pressed it against your skin. 

“And, on my back, please?” 

Before you’d even finished asking, he slipped his other hand in and around. You gripped his arms and whined.

“Oh, oh yes.” 

He shouldn’t be aroused by this. You were still in pain. But your soft sounds of helplessness, the feel of your skin beneath his hands, the way you trembled. All of it called to a primal part of him only recently awakened.

And when you looked up at him in wonder and said, “You’re…you’re so much bigger now.”

Throne damn it.

Titus yanked you to him and took your mouth. You yelped, but did not struggle, instead throwing your hands around his neck and digging your fingers into the hair at his nape. He snarled at the sensation, pushing his tongue past your lips like you’d shown him that first night.

This time your moan sounded of pleasure.

He pressed his body against you, lowering you to your back on the cot. Your hands left his neck and fluttered against his chest. You pulled away from his kiss.

“Demetrian….”

He pressed his mouth to your throat, laving it with his tongue and tasting your sweat. He searched for a spot he could bite without leaving a visible mark. 

“Demetrian, stop!”

The magnitude of his selfishness crashed upon him.

“Throne. Forgive me, Little Healer.” Reeling back, he searched your face for any sign of pain. “I…I did not think, I…,” he raked a hand over his face, desperately trying to rein in his baser instincts.

“It’s all right. It’s just, now might not be the best time.”

“Would it cause you more pain?”

A blush spread across your cheeks. “Um…no, that’s not it. In fact, some women say…this…actually helps.”

“Truly?” 

Desire welled within him once more, washing away any lingering guilt. He bracketed your small body with his hands and loomed over you. 

“Then why should I stop?” You turned your face away, but he gently grasped your chin. “Look at me, and tell me why.”

“It, it,” he heard your heart beating wildly, “it could get a bit…messy.”

He blinked, then allowed a slow smile to spread across his face. “Woman, when has an Astartes ever shied away from the sight of blood?”

A new smell met his nose, one he had only recently become familiar with. He lowered his face close to yours and inhaled deeply. 

“You want this as much as I.”

You nodded frantically, hands suddenly pawing at his collar. “Yes! I want this. Please, Demetrian. Please, please, please!”

He tore his robe open and flung it to the floor. Your clothing swiftly followed. The scent of blood and arousal maddened him. He tried to pull your thighs around him, but you winced at the stretch.

For the first time he cursed the Primaris surgery. Grasping your hips, he turned you on to your front and settled behind you. He ran his hands down your back and sides, loving the way you trembled.

“Are you ready for me, my love?”

You pushed back against him. “Please, Demetrian.”

He thrust and your wet heat welcomed him in. His eyes rolled at the sensation, still so unlike anything he ever thought he’d experience. You cried out far louder than you had the first time. 

“Demetrian! S-so big…!”

Again. Again. Again, he thrust. In this position he felt powerful, primal. Like a beast claiming its mate.

The Wolves were right, damn them!

All at once, you tightened and screamed. With a growl he followed you over the edge. 

You collapsed onto your front. “Please…more….”

The first time, he’d only taken you once, denying his satisfaction for the sake of your overwhelmed little body. But now you begged him to continue. Who was he to refuse?

Three more times he released deep within. He pressed himself to your back, hand fondling your breasts as he pounded relentlessly. He lost count of how many times you shook apart around him. His own blinding pleasure paled in comparison to the knowledge that his actions relieved your pain. 

A tool designed to inflict suffering on others, but he brought you ecstasy.

“D-Demetrian…,” you whimpered. 

His fingers dug into the bruised flesh of your hips. “One more.”

You wailed as he filled you one last time, arching his spine to sink his teeth into your shoulder. Then he collapsed on his side.

He caressed your sweat-streaked back, allowing himself a brief moment to revel in the haze of pleasure. You lay still and panting next to him. 

“Are you well, my love?”

“Mmmm.”

By now, he recognized the sound of bone-deep satisfaction. He smiled down at you, already feeling his own body recovering. 

“You were right about one thing.”

“Mmm?”

“That was rather messy.”

You turned your head and attempted to glare at him. He chuckled, rose, and fetched a wet cloth from the lavatory. Ignoring your reaching hands, he cleaned the both of you. Then he sat on the edge of the cot and lifted you into his arms.

“Better?”

Your dreamy smile answered him. An entirely different kind of heat warmed his hearts as he cradled you. He ran a thumb over the imprint of teeth on your shoulder.

“I was not too rough?”

“You were perfect.” Your hands traced his new scars. “Throne of Terra, I came so close to losing you, didn’t I?”

He heard tears in your voice and held you closer.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled. “Another side effect of this time. I tend to turn into something of a weepy, clingy mess.”

“I enjoy your clinging.”

“But you need to go.”

“Yes.” As always, your respite, brief as it was, left him better prepared to handle the weight of his duty. “Will you be alright?”

“You have enough trouble without worrying about me, Demetrian. Human women have endured since our species began. I’ll be fine.” Your smile flickered. “Please, be safe. I love you.”

“And I you.” He pulled his robe back on and leaned down to kiss you once more. “I will return.”

And, I swear, I will find another way to ease your pain. 

***

An hour passed. You rested for a bit, then dressed and cleaned yourself more thoroughly. You stripped the sheets from the mattress and prepared for the trek to the laundry and then the serf’s dining hall. Not only had Titus's attentions eased your cramps, but you thought you might actually have an appetite again.

Just as you were about to leave, a few sharp raps sounded at the door.

“Who…?” 

You opened it to find a slight young woman with a face full of freckles and a satchel over one shoulder. Her robes marked her as a serf and a medica.

“Thank the Emperor!” She gushed. “I was afraid I’d gotten the wrong room!”

“Um. Hello?”

“My name is Vesta. I was just transferred here alongside my Lord Callistus. He’s supplementing the Apothecaries already in residence, you know. I was afraid I’d be the only woman! There are so few of us serving on the battle barges.”

You blinked, head-spinning from the rapid-fire chatter. “I see?”

She continued, stepping straight past you into the room. “I was just on my way back to the infirmary, when this massive Primaris Lord Angel barreled down on me. How fearsome he was! I don’t need to tell you I was terrified I’d done something wrong, and on my first day on a new ship, too! But he said you were experiencing some difficulties and needed assistance.”

Oh, Demetrian…. You fought a smile.

Vesta plopped the satchel on the cot. “I have pain suppressants, cleansing cloths, sanitary napkins. I do hope I brought enough.”

“This is incredibly kind of you.”

“Us women have to stick together, right?” She smiled cheerfully. “I hope we’ll be great friends!”

You found yourself warming to her effervescence. “I would like that.”

“You’re so fortunate to have a Lord Angel who’s attentive to your needs!”

You turned away, suddenly all too aware of the pleasant ache between your thighs. “Yes. I am.”

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@bispecsual @kit-williams @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus @lemon-russ

@justeverythingnothingelse @scriberye @bleedingichorhearts @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @mooniequeen

@passionofthesith @noncon-photobomb @sinistermojo @b-rabbitboss @vyzz-undercover

@missmannequin @rivalriotrenegade @iloveoutlinesiswear @jaghatai-khock

If you enjoy my writing, check out the rest of the stuff on my Masterlist.

[jjkarmy091]

Second Best- Jungkook (part 7)

Summary: Being friends with someone who has your heart it’s already hard, let alone when that special someone ends up falling in love with your best friend, the one you think would never make anything to hurt you . Will you be able to ignore it and move on? what will happen when everything gets too much for you to handle?

Genre: Friends to lovers; angst; body insecurities; bullying; friend betrayel;

Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader

Author's note: I already had this chapter prepared that's why I'm posting it. The next ones are gonna be the much longer, so probably will take a little more to be posted! I hope you enjoy it and once again thank you for you support on Second Best 💜

“Y/n? Wooow. I didn’t expect to see you here. Are you okay? Saw you a little nervous back there, came to ask if you needed anything. Didn't know it was actually you” it took her a while to be able to speak again but managed to say something.

“No, I’m good. I mean I was with my friend but lost sight of her and now I can’t find her and I'm losing my mind because I don’t know where I am or how I’ll get back to the chalet we’re in and ----” she rambled, making Tae be even more confused.  

“Hey, calm down. Sewoon really doesn’t change. I’m sure she didn’t see you weren’t following her tracks. Do you wanna drink something and catch up? I heard hot chocolate here is fantastic.” 

“Hmmm... I- I'm not here with Sewoon.. It’s Lisa, do you remember her? I saw her one night I went out with Sewoon and Jun--” y/n stops and tries to rephrase her words hoping Taehyung didn’t catch it. “Anyways, yeah, I’m here with Lisa. Girls trip actually, first day and I'm already lost." she laughs about her luck (or lack thereof). 

“It wouldn't be you if you didn't have anything contradictory to say about your adventures to be very honest. So what do you say? You, me and hot chocolate? Maybe you’ll see Lisa around there. If not I’ll help you look for her I promise.” Taehyung says with his charming smile. You remember Sewoon’s constant bragging about his smile, it was always her favourite trait of his. That and how good he treated her. She got really devastated when they broke things off. You felt really bad and tried to help her the best way you could, but she never gave you any information about their break up. You always suspected it, but never pushed it. “Let’s go then. You pay anyway so I’m not backing up.” Y/n says with a genuine smile. Tae was right, she could find Lisa on the way there and besides that she knew him for years now and he was someone she could trust.  

She really didn't want to be alone anyway, maybe it would be good. Y/n remembers that the only person she kept in touch with was Sewoon and she never realized why she didn't continue to get in touch with her old friends.  Was she so focused on her friendship with Sewoon, being grateful for everything they've been through together that she forgot to appreciate the little things and people in her life?

Y/n didn't understand why she was thinking about all of this right now, she was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't realize they were arriving at the cafe close to where they were before. He opened the door for her and she thanked him silently, nodding her head and walking in ahead of him, sitting at the nearest table. It was strange, but all that silence between her and Tae wasn't uncomfortable at all. Y/n remembers that before he and Sewoon started dating, they were very close, maybe that was why she was so relaxed, despite the circumstances. The waitress came to get their order and while they were waiting Tae started talking  

“This place is fantastic, isn't it? I've been here a few times and I never get tired of this view.” he said looking outside. “The first time I came was when I broke up with Sewoon, you know? Speakig of I saw her a few months ago when I returned to visit my parents, I ran into her in a restaurant, we exchanged a few words but nothing more. Are you still friends? I never heard anything from you again. What have you been up to?” They were interrupted by the waitress delivering their orders, thanked her and both tried the region's famous hot chocolate. It really was wonderful 

“Yes, I'm still friends with her. I- my god Tae, how long has it been since we last saw each other? she laughed. “So much happened between the lines after we all separated. I mean, I'm still in the same place. I rented an apartment for myself, work in a coffee shop relatively close to home too, you know how it is, I've always been very reserved, my life remains the same. I haven't changed much since we were younger" She said smiling

“You never change Y/n. That was always what caught my attention the most, always so dedicated and focused on your goals, always so... You. I'm glad to see you're still like this. And boys? Do you have someone special in your life?” At this Y/n chokes on her hot chocolate. She wasn’t expecting this question, at all. She cleared her throat. “Yes. I mean no. There's not much to say about it. You know me, I'm weird when it comes to guys Tae." She laughs, trying to lighten the mood and make the subject disappear. Why was she always so nervous about this kind of topic? Deep down she knew why but didn't want to think about it just as she didn't want anyone to know that at 23 years old she never had a real boyfriend or experienced anything related to guys besides kissing. A shame, she knows. 

“Weird why? Have you ever taken a good look at yourself? Y/n you were always beautiful and time only continued to be generous with you. It wasn't for nothing that I had a massive crush on you when in highschool. I still feel hurt that you didn't give me a chance”. Tae laughs like it was the most natural thing in the world while Y/n looked at him with a confused expression. Crush? Chance? What the hell did was he talking about? Taehyung must have noticed because seconds later he stopped laughing and looked at her seriously. “It looks like you've seen a ghost Y/n. Is everything okay? I'm just kidding, I know how to handle rejection, don't worry, I was never upset. Life went on” 

“It's not that, it's just... What rejection? I never rejected you Tae. I didn't even know you had a crush on me, you caught me off guard."

“What do you mean? That was the reason why I approached you at school in the first place. Don't act like you don't know, you even responded to the letter I sent you.” Damn he was really offended by your lack of memory.  

Y/n looked at him sternly. "Tae I'm telling you I didn't know anything about this, I didn't respond to any letter, I don't know what you're talking about. Stop making fun of me” Now she was getting mad. Why would she lie about this. Tae's face fell and if before his skin was glowing by the European sun now he could be confused with the wall of the cafe they were at. He was white as snow. Literally 

“Sophmore. It was the year I started hanging out with you more, I got closer little by little until the three of us spent a lot of time together. At that time I had a huge crush on you. Sewoon knew, I asked her to help me. I was always asking her things about you, what you liked, what your favorite color was, that sort of thing that kids do when they want to win someone over, but you never paid attention to me so I decided to write you a letter that, by the way, was the most beautiful thing I ever wrote. Sewoon said she would make sure the letter reached you. A few days later I received a letter saying that you were sorry but didn't feel the same way about me and that we could be friends but nothing more and you didn't want to make things awkward between us, so I dropped the subject. At the time I was really sad but I understood your reasons. Sewoon was fantastic duringt my heartbreak. She supported me a lot and as time passed, she ended up telling me she had feelings for me and one thing led to another and we ended up dating, as you know. The rest is history” 

Y/n was completely in shock, she had no words, no reaction, nothing. Her brain was working too fast and she couldn't keep up. When she was finally going to say something, someone called her name. "Y/n. Ohh Y/n. I've been looking for you like a fool, I never saw you again, I thought you were stuck in an alley and I wouldn't find you in all this snow. God I’m so thankful I found you but also wanna kill you for disappearing like this." 

“"I... first of all it wasn't me who ran off, it was you! When I looked to the side you were no longer there and I started to panic. Luckily I found an old friend around here too, you remember Tae right?” Lisa looked at where he was sitting 

“Tae? Sewoon's Tae? is it really you? Damn, you look different. Finally managed to grow a beard I see and you also got buff. Your old self must be very proud right now” Lisa teases. How does she manage to have these comments at the most inopportune moments? 

“Thank you for taking care of y/n in my absence. We just got here and she’s already making trouble, bad habits never die" she says winking at him and teasing Y/n while she sighs, rolling her eyes 

“The pleasure was mine. I'm very happy to see you, despite the situation." His gaze passes from one to the other "how long are you going to stay here?" Y/n responds an "I don't know" while Lisa says "a whole week". They look at each other and Lisa makes a face "don't tell me you're already changing your mind! Y/n you promised me." She didn't say anything, instead she picked up the hot chocolate and drank it all. Everywhere she went it seemed like trouble was always behind her. She wanted to shout, grabLisa and leave but she knew Tae wasn't guilty of anything and she felt ashamed of doing it, as if she was capable anyway. She knew Tae felt the discomfort in the air because he got up, left two bills on the table, straightened up and spoke 

"I'm glad you've already found each other. I have to get going, but I'll see you around. Lisa, order something for yourself, this is on me. Enjoy the rest of your day and please stay out of trouble” He said laughing while putting on his coat. He started heading towards the exit but looked back one last time, put his hands in his pockets and left. Only then did Y/n manage to let go of all the air she had been holding in.

“Did I interrumpt something here? I’m sorry I didn’t even ask, but I was so worried about you. Y/n?- Y/n?” Lisa started to get worried. After Tae left she got so pale and apathic. Y/n puts her elbows on the table and her hands on her head and begged "I need to get some air. I can't breathe. Please Lisa, no more questions, let’s get out of here. Please.” Lisa didn't say anything else, picked her up and helped her go outside where they stayed for a while until Y/n started to feel a bit better. Lisa didn’t say anything else and just waited for her friend to say something. 

“Sorry Lisa, I don't know what happened. I'm just... This was supposed to be an amazing time for us and I’m just ruining it, I’m so sorry" She hugged Lisa and started crying. She had so much accumulated from the last few days and now this bombshell dropped on her. She didn't understand. She always saw Tae and Sewoon together back in school. This didn't add up. 

“What happened back there Y/n?”  

“We were just talking about how we were doing right now, then he asked me if I had anyone in my life and I got nervous. Then he revealed to me that he had a huge crush on me at highschool and I was super quiet, I wasn't expecting it. He said that Sewoon helped him and everything, that he wrote me a letter to which I responded. Lisa I swear I never knew about anything. Tae's feelings, the letter, nothing, the only thing I know is that since Tae approached us, Sewoon has always been interested in him and that things were going well between them.” 

"Y/n there is something you have to understand. Just because you think Sewoon is a good person, doesn't mean it corresponds to reality. Why do you think I never joined you when she was present? Honestly, I never understood what good you saw in her. Deep down she was always like that, bad and conceited. I think you were always too good to realize that she was always jealous of you. I really thought there would be a time where you would open your eyes but not even with the situation that happened with Jungkook did you stay away from her. She was mean! She knows it, you know it and everyone knows it! It wasn't cool, period! You need to open your eyes” 

“But why Lisa, why?! I never did anything to upset her, I was always in my corner. You all know that I've always been very shy and reserved, I never cared about that kind of things. There is no comparison between me and her, I don't understand why she acts like that. I never gave her reasons” Y/n was extremely affected by today’s events. 

“Exactly Y/n, you have no comparison and she knows it! You are calm, focused, respectful, you help everyone around you without looking back, you don't go hurt anyone to get what you want. And she is the opposite of you, she knows that. You attract attention with your simplicity. She's eccentric and lucky to be pretty, but it's all superficial. Why do you think nothing lasts for her? Think Y/n, be smart!” 

Y/n didn't say anything else and started walking to the chalet. Although she didn't want to admit it Lisa was right. No good friend would do what Sewoon has done to her. She knew Y/n had feelings for Jungkook and at still went for him, she didn't think twice. Y/n would never do that to her. Her parents were not that present in her life but the values they instilled in her were always the best, perhaps it was time to put them into practice.

As soon as they arrived Lisa started to prepare something for them to eat and Y/n went to take a shower. It was exactly what she needed, a long, hot bath to relax her body and her mind. But instead she started thinking about Jungkook and how much she missed him, his smell, his hugs, the way he makes her feel alive. She never turned on her phone again, she should at least tell him she was fine.  

They've never gone this long without talking. Everything was eating her up. She was being unfair to Jungkook, he wasn't to blame for what she was feeling. He didn't know anything, because she never told him, nor hinted. Sewoon knew, as she knew that Tae liked her and was never honest about it. Things were slowly coming together in her brain, but will things get fixed when she returns home? 

She gets out of the shower, takes her bathrobe and wraps herself in it, does her skin care and leaves the bathroom heading to the living room to find Lisa sitting by the table with everything ready and several bottles of wine.   

“ I'm sorry for everything. I have been such a terrible friend and have neither helped to lighten the mood nor making this a fun time for us.” Lisa doesn't say anything, just motions for Y/n to sit next to her, pouring her a glass of wine. She sits down next to her and drinks a little.  

“I know how you feel Y/n. Even if it doesn't seem like it, I've been in your shoes before, where Sewoon played her part. It's not something I like or want to talk about, but maybe it explains why I withdrawn myself. I can’t take her seriously and just to see she keeps doing it makes me want to punch her in the face. I’m here for you but you need to change something about how you view things and face it when you know they’re wrong. I did. Let's just enjoy another day or two here. Whatever you decide next you tell me. We will have lots of opportunities to come back here and honestly I prefer that you resolve everything that bothers you first so that you can enjoy things as you deserve. And now let's stop talking about sad things for a while, let's eat, drink and listen to music. I won’t say for us to break something because then my father will annoy my ass. There was one time someone called my dad and told him I was making too much noise everyday, he appeared here and caught me and the boy I was having a fling with at the time in the middle of sex, you can imagine how that went.” 

Y/n laughed out loud. "and you say I’m the one who always has the most embarassing moments. I can imagine your dad’s face, dude how gross.” Y/n said making a disgusted face 

“Hands down to that. It was the worst experience of my life, for real. This happened when I was 21 tho, was he expecting me to be a nun?” Lisa laughs and takes a sip of wine. Y/n stays quiet for a moment, but then blurts out  

“I never had sex” Lisa looked at her and smiled “So? Everyone has their own time Y/n. If you feel good about your decision that’s all that matters” 

“Sewoon would always mock me about it. She said I wasn’t normal for waiting so long to have intercourse. She would tell me all about her adventures with guys, she even tried to tell me about her and Jungkook. She would make me feel really bad, there was one time when she came to my house, drunk as hell and told me about an adventure she had with Tae in the bathroom of a club and then she turned to me and said I was a freak for not wanting to sleep with anyone and that it wasn't normal at my age to not be curious about it. I was so upset with her that the next day I ignored her completely, but it didn’t last long” 

“You’re really dumb when you want to, y’know? If it was me I would have kicked her ass and show her a real deal” Y/n nods with Lisa's statement “I know Lisa, I know. I was dumb, I see that now. The thing is Sewoon was my comfort zone. I grew up with her my whole life, although there were some times her attitude would upset me a little, but she was the only there for me, maybe that's why I always ignored the bad things she would do, now looking back I know that her intentions were not the greatest.

“Total bitchy. So you never had a boyfriend? You never did anything? 0?” Y/n looked at her mad “No I’m sorry I was just-- That's not what you're thinking, calm down. I was just trying to understand what level we are at. I'm not judging Y/n, as I said, we have to respect others choices, but why? I mean you're amazing, I'm sure there was someone who has shown interest and made a move” 

“I did have a boyfriend but nothing special, we were very young and immature. I wasn’t ready for that and I’m sure he wasn’t either. So maybe that doesn’t count? My shyness always stopped me from doing a lot of things and with Sewoon by my side I saw everyone paying attention to her and I was always left behind, it kinda made me think I wasn't good enough for anyone to pay attention to, so I ended up taking refuge in my studies. Even when there was someone showing interest in me I thought they were taking advantage of my naivety. I never had anything to offer, why would they pay attention to me when they had her. All of this changed when I met Jungkook, he made me feel seen. For the first time I felt like I could be myself without being afraid of being judged.  

“Do you miss him?”  

“I do. I miss him so much and he is not to blame for what is happening. He doesn't know my feelings. I've been to blame for something he has no idea about. I've been trying not to pick up the cell phone and talk to him, apologize for my actions and explain him everything but if I do I'm afraid of ruining our friendship, though it's already damaged after that night at the club.” talking about Jungkook made her heart hurt as she felt tears prick her eyes. She was so in love with him, only if she had built the courage to speak up.

Lisa gets up and goes to the small closet with a drawer near her, grabbing a cell phone and giving it to y/n. "Call him or text him, whatever eases your anxiety a little, or don't do anything at all but don't stop enjoying the moment you're in now just because you can't let go of the past. Go get some rest I'll clean today, make sure to sleep well tonight because tomorrow we’re gonna have fun and the past will be just that. Goodnight babe. If you need anything I’m just a knock away” 

Y/n cleans her tears, grabs her phone and hugs Lisa, appreaciating everything she has done for her. She doesn't know if it's the wine taking effect or the anxiety growing inside her but a huge urge to vomit appears as soon as she turns on her cell phone. Sitting on the edge of the bed she starts seeing the notifications pop up. Unanswered texts and calls from Jungkook, begging her to say if she's okay, questioning why she left and didn't tell him anything. She knows he’s hurt. She hurt him.  

A wave of courage washes over her and she writes a text, but suddenly runs to the bathroom and vomits her soul out, ending up staying there for a while and when she returns the courage fades away, as she starts to thinks if it's a nice idea to talk to him. She comes to the conclusion that things are better to stay as they are. When she has the opportunity to talk to him, it's either the end or start of a cycle. After a few minutes she deletes the text she wrote and turns off her cell phone again, putting it on the bedside table.

She wasn't ready for it, not just yet 

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

Tags: @esposadomd @joonlover1207 @eegyo @furrywonderlandwolf @minghaosimp @differentrunawayperson @nikkinikj @jksusawife @jk97bam @11thenightwemet11 @cryingoverpixelsetc @bhonbhon @lostinneocity @almostpurplelady @meowforluv @imagine-this-motherfucker @jk-190811

[mascdestr0yer]

CAN I BE HIM

Knight!paige x princess!reader

Warnings: nobody’s dying this time, trust

Synopsis: The tension between you and Paige is building, driven by secrets and expectations, with both of you caught between duty and desire. The atmosphere remains heavy and uncertain, hinting at deeper conflicts and emotions that will only grow as the story unfolds.

A/N: i finished the other chapters, i’ll post them in moderation

The castle had always felt too big. Its halls, lined with tapestries depicting ancient wars and victories long past, echoed with the heavy footsteps of guards and the murmured conversations of nobles. Outside your window, the sun cast the last rays of the evening over the dark silhouette of the forest, stretching shadows across the stone floor like tendrils reaching out to pull you from the warmth of your chambers.

But warmth was an illusion here, you’d come to realize. A castle of cold stone can only hold so much heat before it slips through your fingers like water, leaving you clutching at something that was never really there. Just like people.

You sighed, running your fingers over the edge of the windowsill, chipped with age and flecked with dust. It had been three days since Vincent and his family had left, three days since your father and his advisors began their quiet, tense deliberations about what your future might hold. Three days since Paige had pulled away—again—leaving you alone with your thoughts, staring down at the flowers Vincent had brought. You had kept them in a silver vase on your dresser, though they were already beginning to wilt.

The petals were soft under your fingertips as you absently brushed one of the roses, its once-vibrant red now fading to a dull maroon. There had been a time when you would have pressed them between the pages of a book or tucked them into a drawer to keep them close, but you knew better now. Roses, like promises, were fragile things.

“Princess,” a voice came from the doorway, breaking the silence. You turned, and your heart twisted when you saw Paige standing there, her figure half-hidden in the shadow. Her armor glinted in the dying light, a stark contrast to the softness of her dark hair that curled around her neck. She looked hesitant, like she had something to say but couldn’t find the words.

“Yes, Bueckers?” you asked, deliberately formal. It was a barrier, a shield. Something you could hide behind, just like the heavy silk curtains that draped your bed.

She took a step inside, the usual swagger in her step absent, replaced by something… uncertain. “Your father requests your presence in the great hall,” she said, her voice clipped and businesslike, though her eyes were darting to the flowers on the dresser, the barely-there frown tightening her lips. “It’s about Prince Vincent.”

“Of course it is,” you replied, your tone light, almost flippant. It was easier to pretend, easier to deflect with humor than to acknowledge the strange knot in your stomach when you looked at her. Paige’s expression didn’t change as she turned to leave, but something flickered in her eyes—a flash of something raw and vulnerable that disappeared so quickly you wondered if you had imagined it.

You followed her down the corridors, your footsteps barely making a sound on the cold flagstones, but Paige’s armor clinked with every step, a steady, distant rhythm. You knew that beneath the armor, her shoulders were tense, and her hands—those hands that had so often held yours in secret—were clenched tight.

The great hall loomed ahead, the heavy wooden doors shut tight, and you swallowed the knot of unease that had lodged itself in your throat. Your father was waiting, along with his advisors and the knights who always seemed to lurk in the background like silent sentinels, watching your every move.

Paige stopped before the doors, her back straight as she faced you. “Go on,” she said softly, and for a moment, the coldness in her gaze softened. “I’ll wait here.”

You wanted to reach out, to say something that would ease the tension between you, but the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you gave a short nod and pushed open the doors, stepping into the cavernous hall where your father, King Alaric, sat upon the throne with a solemn expression.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of authority and exhaustion. “Come, sit. There’s much to discuss.”

You took your place at the long table, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on you—eyes that saw a princess, not a girl; a future queen, not someone lost in her own castle. The fire roared in the massive hearth at the far end of the room, but it offered no warmth, only casting shadows across the faces of the court, making them look hollow and distant.

“We’ve received word from Héroux,” your father began, and your heart sank. This was about Vincent, then. About the future that was slipping away from you like sand through your fingers. You listened as your father outlined plans, negotiations, arrangements—details of a life that felt more like a cage with each passing moment.

But your thoughts kept drifting back to Paige, standing just outside the doors, waiting. You wondered if she felt as trapped as you did, bound by duty and expectations neither of you had chosen.

When the meeting was finally over, you excused yourself with a polite bow, your face a mask of perfect composure even as your mind swirled with confusion and doubt. You had to find Paige, had to make sense of the distance that had grown between you in the past few days, ever since Vincent’s visit had stirred up things you hadn’t been ready to confront.

But when you stepped out of the hall, she was gone.

Later that night, you found her in the training yard, a lone figure in the moonlight, her armor piled neatly to the side as she ran through drills with the precision and grace of someone who had done it a thousand times before. You watched her move, the way her muscles tensed and released with each fluid strike, the way her breath formed small clouds in the chill air.

“Paige,” you called softly, and she froze, the sword hovering in mid-swing before she lowered it and turned to face you. Her expression was guarded, the easy smile she usually wore nowhere to be found.

“Shouldn’t you be inside, princess? It’s cold out,” she said, sheathing her sword with a harsh, metallic clink.

“Shouldn’t you?” you countered, taking a step closer, feeling the weight of her gaze settle on you like a physical thing.

She shrugged, but the movement was stiff. “I’m used to the cold.”

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” you asked, the question coming out sharper than you’d intended. You bit your lip, regret already welling up inside you, but Paige didn’t flinch. She just looked at you, her dark eyes searching yours, and for a moment you thought she might tell you the truth.

But she just laughed, the sound bitter and hollow, echoing off the stone walls of the yard. “Avoiding you? Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve been busy. Training. Preparing. You know… knight things.”

You took another step, closing the distance between you until you could see the flecks of gold in her eyes, until you could smell the faint scent of leather and sweat clinging to her skin. “Don’t lie to me,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I know you better than that.”

“Do you?” she asked, her voice dropping low, almost desperate. She looked away, her jaw tight, and you knew then that whatever walls had been building between you, they were higher than you’d realized. “Maybe you don’t know me at all.”

“Paige—” you reached out, your hand brushing hers, and she pulled away, turning her back to you with a sharp, angry motion that left you cold and aching.

“Go back inside, princess,” she said over her shoulder, her voice flat. “It’s late.”

You wanted to argue, to tell her that you didn’t care about late or propriety or the future your father was planning for you. But the look on her face stopped you—something broken and fragile that you didn’t understand, not yet. So you stepped back, wrapping your arms around yourself as if that could hold you together.

“Goodnight, Bueckers,” you said softly, using her last name because it was safer that way, because it was easier to pretend that you were still just a princess and she was still just your knight.

She didn’t respond, and you walked away, feeling the weight of her silence pressing down on you like a winter sky, heavy and endless and unbreakable.

But you knew you couldn’t stay away forever.

sorry if it's too short, hope you guys liked it taglist:@aerinaga @dancingqu33n @darlindayss @secretlifeofmarii @aavasstuff @ajcuteee @naipoohh @theendofevangelionnn @mrsengstler @thebignunfun @tired-duckling @julienbakerloverr @mrsarnold @slut4uconnwbb @abbyswif3 @svudetective @liviiyyy @hellokittyfeenie @paigeslanyard @latenighttalkinqwp @ashortyluvsports @kittykatz1227 @paulamdm @patscorner @addil244 @1-800-fantasy

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 7]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.2K

Chapter warning(s): Y/n gets accosted twice, "panic" attack (she shuts down)

"Oh! Sorry, I thought you were someone else, you sounded like him." You blinked at the stranger. The guy laughed and shook his head, a drink in his hand. Between him and the bar counter, you suddenly felt very cornered and uncomfortable.

"I was wondering if I could buy you a drink?" He asked with a smile.

"No, thank you. I bought my own drink." You shook your glass with your drink, trying to slink away but with so many people crowding the bar, it was difficult.

"Ah, looks like I was too slow then. Can I at least have a drink with you then?" He laughed, trying to be nice.

"I really should be getting back to my friends. They are looking for me." You tried to go past him but he grasped your wrist tightly.

"You know, I tried being nice. It's not nice to be so unfriendly in a place like this." He chided, his tone suddenly changing. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Do you expect me to be honoured then? Doesn't mean you make advances means I have to accept them." You couldn't bite your tongue.

"You-" He was about to say something.

"(y/n), I've been looking for you." Now it was a familiar voice. You turned to Jihoon with a soft sigh of relief. Jihoon immediately wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to his side, glowering at the man who had let your wrist go. Looking up, you saw Hyunwoo standing there too.

"Got a problem here?" Hyunwoo raised an eyebrow. With his muscles, it was normal for the guy to be intimidated by him. You merely looked away, not saying anything.

"Let's go." Jihoon threw a last dirty look at the guy and escorted you back to the table.

"Are you okay?" He looked down at you with a frown.

"I'm fine, Jihoon. Don't worry, you and Hyunwoo came at the right time. Thank you." You smiled softly. He nodded with a hum and you went to sit down.

"I'm going to find Nana and Eve. We should go." Hyunwoo said, leaving before you could protest.

"No, it's fine! You guys should stay and enjoy yourselves. I think I'll go home." You told Jihoon, you felt bad that they had to leave.

"You shouldn't leave on your own. I'll take you home." Jihoon shook his head.

"The exit is just there. Really, I'll be okay, I'm sober to make it home on my own. Make sure Nana and Eve get home safely, hmm?" You squeezed his hand. Jihoon knew you were stubborn and reluctantly agreed. You wrapped an arm around him to hug him.

"Text me when you get home." He whispered.

"I will. Let me know when you guys are home too. And send me my portion of the bill." You hummed and grabbed your bag, heading to the exit.

"Thank you." You smiled to the bouncer who opened the velvet rope for you. He gave a nod in reply as you made your way out.

"Hey!" You were suddenly yanked away, causing you stumble. You came face to face with the man earlier.

"Oh, so where are your two friends, huh? They just left you on your own?" He sneered, getting close to your face. You leaned back as he was invading your space.

"Do you not know when to give up?" You tried to break free of his grip. You shoved him back, causing him to let go of your hand.

"You're going to pay for that. And for embarrassing me earlier." He growled.

"Leave me alone and maybe I won't go to the police." You glared at him. You were tired of arguing with him, you wanted to go home and he was seriously getting on your last nerve. But he shoved you against the wall harshly, making you let out a groan as the pain stunned your momentarily.

"I think that's enough." A voice entered and the man was grabbed by the collar, yanked back, away from you. You let out a shaky breath as a suit-clad body stood in front of you.

"H-Hongjoong..." You said shakily, looking at the back of his head. He didn't turn to look at you.

"I've watched you from earlier. You just don't know when to give up. Why don't I give you a taste of your own medicine?" He chuckled.

"H-Hey man. I was just fooling around, I'm sorry." The man took a step back in fear. Hongjoong merely laughed again before he stopped and punched the guy.

"Hongjoong!" You gasped in shock but he was not stopping, raining down punches on the man.

"Hongjoong, stop." You tried to call him.

At that point, it wasn't about saving you anymore. Hongjoong felt so much blind rage and he just couldn't stop. This man just appeared at the wrong place, at the wrong time and became the object for Hongjoong to vent his anger.

"Please." You sat on the ground, covering your ears and shutting your eyes. You were so stunned, you couldn't bring yourself to get up and leave the place.

"What's going on here?" Seonghwa came out, witnessing the scene in front of him.

"Hongjoong, what did you do?" He asked. That snapped Hongjoong out of it. He looked down at the guy's face that was bloodied.

"Shit..." He turned to see you absolutely horrified and terrified. Seonghwa frowned, unsure of what to do now. Luckily, Yunho was quick to go to your side.

"Hey, (y/n). It's me, Yunho." He gently removed your hands from your ears so you could hear him.

"Y-Yunho sshi." You stuttered, unable to breathe. Luckily, Yunho used his body to block your view. He smiled softly.

"Breathe. Let's go." He spoke softly, helping you to your feet. Your legs were so wobbly, you leaned on him, letting him guide you to wherever it was, as long as you were no longer here.

"Here." Once again, he led you up the stairs and brought you to an empty room. You figured it could be a place for VIPs to sit and drink but with all the lights on, it just looked like a regular room with couches. He grabbed a blanket from the basket and put it around you, hopefully it'll bring you some comfort.

"Let me go get you some water. Breathe, it's okay." He said. You nodded slowly, not being able to tell him you wanted him to stay.

"Be right back." He stood up and left the room to get water.

"Yun, what's happening?" Mingi asked his best friend, having bumped into him as he left the room you were in. As he walked to get you water, Yunho filled Mingi in on what happened.

"Damn... So where's the girl now?" Mingi questioned.

"In the room I came from. I left Seonghwa hyung with Hongjoong hyung. I think they'll need a clean up crew." Yunho said.

"On it." Mingi took his phone out and texted for a clean up crew. When Yunho retrieved a cold bottle of water for you, the two went back upstairs.

"I'll go let the others know what happened." Mingi said and parted ways with Yunho, who went back to you.

"I'm so sorry, Yunho sshi. This is all my fault, Hongjoong sshi was just trying to help me. If the owner asks what happened, just tell them it was all me. I didn't mean to cause trouble." You told the male the moment he entered the room.

"(y/n) sshi, it's not your fault, you didn't cause any trouble. And don't worry about Hongjoong hyung. He won't get in trouble with the owner." Yunho assured, opening the bottle for you.

"You're sure?" You asked, gulping the cold water.

"Seeing as to how he's the owner, I'm sure he'll be fine." Yunho tried to joke. Your jaw slacked slightly in surprise.

"So don't worry about him. Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?" Yunho questioned. You shook your head, hands shaking slightly as you clutched the blanket.

"It could be the adrenaline, that's why you don't feel any pain even if you are injured." He said.

"I-Is Hongjoong okay?" You finally asked.

Yunho was surprised by your question. He thought after what you witnessed, you would have asked whether the other guy was okay. If you did, Yunho wouldn't know how to answer that, he didn't know if the guy made it out alive. Maybe the realisation of what actually happened hasn't sunken in for you yet.

"Feel better?" Seonghwa asked, the smoking cigarette between his fingers. Hongjoong blinked then shrugged, it did feel good to vent his emotions out.

"Should have just went to the fight club." He shot his best friend a small smile.

"Clean up crew is coming. We should head in." Seonghwa said and Hongjoong nodded, standing straight and heading in with him.

"Where's (y/n)?" Hongjoong asked.

"Yunho brought her to one of the rooms to calm her down. Mingi's the one that called clean up." Seonghwa informed, walking up the stairs with his hands tucked into his pockets.

"I should find (y/n) and talk to her." Hongjoong said as Seonghwa opened the door to the VIP room that the others were in.

"Hyung, are you okay?" San stood up.

"I'm fine. I can't say the same for the other guy though." Hongjoong nodded his head, taking the glass of whiskey Wooyoung offered to him and took a sip. The other guys all had had relieved looks on their faces while some even laughed.

"Let me go find (y/n)." Hongjoong turned to the door and almost bumped into Yunho, who was entering the room.

"(y/n)'s looking for you..." Yunho informed. At Yunho's words, the rest of the people in the room, including Hongjoong, had surprised looks on their faces.

"She is?" Hongjoong blinked. Yunho nodded and held the door open for him, pointing to where you were.

"(y/n) sshi? Can I come in?" Hongjoong knocked. He heard the soft hum from you and entered, closing the door behind him.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly, approaching your huddled form.

"I-I'm fine. But Yunho sshi thinks it could be a-adrenaline." You tried to look okay but Hongjoong could see how much you were trembling. He sat by you, where Yunho sat earlier.

"Drink this. It'll help." He held out the whiskey glass from his hand. With two shaky hands, you received the crystal glass and carefully took a sip. You winced at the burn and bitterness that hit your tongue. Hongjoong thought you were going to hand it back to him but you suddenly gulped the rest down.

"Woah, slow down." Taking the glass from you, he gave you the bottle of water from the table.

"What about y-you? Are you okay? W-Were you hurt?" You asked with a gulp, eyes trailing to the bruises on his knuckles. Hongjoong nodded his head.

"You are hurt." Hongjoong caught sight of your bruised wrist as you capped the waterbottle. You blinked and looked at your wrist.

"Oh." You looked at it.

"Hang on." Standing up, Hongjoong went to the door and yelled out for someone to get him a first aid kit. You couldn't see who it was but Hongjoong took the first aid kit from someone and returned to you.

"It's just a bruise..." You whispered. Hongjoong placed the first aid box on the table and opened it.

"I guess I wish I had the balm you made." Hongjoong tried to joke about small pot of homemade balm that you had given him.

"Y-You still have it with you?" You couldn't help your curiosity. Hongjoong hummed, his ears turning red. He held his hand out for you to show him your wrist. He was gently in applying a regular ointment over your wrist and wrapping it so it wouldn't smudge.

"Thank you, Hongjoong sshi." You said softly, looking at the bandage he tried his best to wrap neatly.

"No problem. It's the least I could do since you were injured in my establishment." Hongjoong replied, keeping the first aid stuff back into the box.

"It's okay, it's not your fault..." You murmured.

"I think I should go home now." You stood up and nearly fell over, feeling the throb in your ankle.

"Woah, careful." Hongjoong caught you, resulting in you leaning against his body, your face pressed into his chest. You winced as you tried to stand back up.

"Where are you hurt?" Hongjoong frowned with worry.

"It's fine. It's just my ankle." You tried your best to hide the pain but Hongjoong could see the grimace of pain.

"No, it's not fine. Let me get it checked out. Or at least sit down and ice it for a bit before you go." He insisted with a small frown. You chewed on your bottom lip. Being here was slowly making you feel more stressed and anxious, right now you just wanted to get out of here and go home.

"Hongjoong sshi. Please... I just want to go home." Tears filled your eyes. You couldn't control the way they fell down your face, they were not stopping.

"Alright, I'll take you home." He whispered, suddenly feeling a tightness in his chest from guilt as he watched you cry.

"Come on." Putting your arm around his shoulders, he helped you out of the room and down the stairs.

"Boss." The workers bowed to him as you passed them but he didn't acknowledge them. He led you to the VIP entrance in the back where the car was already waiting for you.

"Mr Kim." The driver opened the door for both of you. Hongjoong helped you in and removed his jacket, draping it over your lap.

"Hongjoong hyung." Yeosang called out to him just as he closed the door.

"I'm taking her home." Hongjoong informed. The 7 of them nodded and Hongjoong entered the other side to sit with you. You wiped your remaining tears with your hands, sniffling slightly.

Thankfully, Hongjoong didn't talk to you the rest of the trip home. You were so tired but your mind was racing. Whatever happened tonight has never happened to you before, you didn't know what to do and how to react.

"(y/n) sshi... We're here." His voice made you jump slightly. You blinked and looked up, seeing that you were indeed outside your apartment building.

"Oh... Thanks." You removed his jacket from your lap and got out of the car, standing on both legs.

"Let me escort you up, at least." Hongjoong came out from his side of the car.

"N-No, it's okay. I'd rather go up on my own." You shook your head. Hongjoong sighed and nodded his head, realising that he might be pushing you too much.

"Look, (y/n) sshi. I'm sorry about tonight and-"

"If it's okay with you, I would not like to think or revisit what happened tonight." You cut him off with a polite smile.

"Right..." He nodded. You cleared your throat and bowed gratefully to him before limping into your apartment building. Hongjoong stood there, making sure you went in safely before going into the car.

You entered your apartment and made sure to lock the door, leaning against the front door with a sigh. The first thing you did was text your friends that you were home. They may give you hell for texting them so late but you knew that they were just good friends and worried about you.

"Oh god..." You covered your mouth as you started to remember what happened tonight.

"What have I gotten myself into?" You asked yourself in disbelief. Did Mrs Kim know about Hongjoong and not tell you? Was there an underlying motive in getting to know you?

But what would Mrs Kim or Hongjoong want with you?

"No, no. Maybe she didn't know." You shook your head. Give wanted to give Mrs Kim the benefit of doubt.

"My son, he can be short tempered but underneath, he's just trying to protect everyone that he loves." Mrs Kim smiled softly as you poured more tea for her.

"He's a good son then." You hummed.

"He is. Even if I have a lot of faults and haven't been the best mother to him, he grew up to be a good man." She said.

"I hope you two can reconcile soon. It seems like you had a good relationship." You reached over to hold her hand. Mrs Kim merely shot you a sad smile that showed she thought otherwise.

"Maybe." Was all she said.

Hongjoong stood by his office window, staring out into the night sky. He sipped the whiskey from his glass, a soft sigh escaping him. As the leader of Ateez, he was never really open with his feelings. He didn't really like to feel vulnerable around anyone.

"You've been keeping everything in. So I guess it could have happened at any time when all your feelings come pouring out." Seonghwa said, sitting on the couch.

"It's annoying." Hongjoong sighed.

"Well, you're human, Joong. Even if you don't like your feelings, they'll always be there." Seonghwa chuckled.

"I don't even know her. But whenever she's around, I feel so conflicted. I'm angry and a part of me wants to resent her but I also want to talk to her." Hongjoong turned away from the window.

"Because whether you want to admit it or not, you want to know more about your mother." Seonghwa pointed out.

"This is so unnecessary, I don't need this." He groaned.

"But it is what it is. If you were to sit with her and learn more about your mother, can you say for certain that you'll be able to control your emotions?" Seonghwa asked.

"No. The mere mention of my mother by her makes me so..." Hongjoong clenched his fists.

"I'm not ready to hear what a wonderful person my mother was." He said bitterly.

"Then stay away until you are. Don't forget, it's not just about you. She has to be ready to hear your side too. To hear what your mother did to you and what your relationship was like." Seonghwa reminded. Hongjoong nodded glumly, that was another thing he didn't want to bring to the surface again.

"Look, after tonight, give her space to breathe. We just have to focus on other work for now, Ateez needs you." Seonghwa squeezed Hongjoong's shoulder.

"Mmm, I know. Thanks for holding down the fort, Seonghwa ah." Hongjoong shot his friend a smile.

"Of course. We're all behind you, supporting you, Joong." The taller hummed.

"She's not from our world, our normal is not her normal. And the less people in our world, the better." Seonghwa reminded. Hongjoong agreed, they've become so desensitised to violence and death.

"I'm worried that my mother's relationship with her has pulled her into our world, whether she wants it or not." Hongjoong said.

"Maybe, maybe not." Seonghwa shrugged.

Although Seonghwa didn't want to push Hongjoong to work more when he was already such a workaholic, he knew Ateez will serve as a distraction from you.

"About the guy from earlier..." Hongjoong's voice broke Seonghwa's train of thought.

"He's alive, in the hospital. But the police won't be investigating, they're just ruling it as a bar fight gone wrong. Even if he wanted to press charges, he can't argue against multiple eye witnesses." Seonghwa said, a glint in his eye.

~

Series masterlist

[rootedinrevisions]

Let's Find Out Together

SUMMARY: After a painful breakup, you turn to Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, your longtime friend, for support. But as he steps in to help you heal, he reveals that he’s been harboring feelings for you all along. What starts as a comforting distraction quickly turns into an intense, unexpected connection that blurs the line between friendship and something more. Now, as the sparks fly, you're left questioning everything you thought you knew about love, friendship, and passion.

A/N: Thank you to the Anon who sent this request in! this was a fun one to write! I hope you enjoy it!

PROMPT: "What do you like?" "I don't know." "Well, then how about we find out together?"

WARNINGS/TAGS: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. (Biting, Marking, Oral Female Receiving)

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The Hard Deck was alive with its usual buzz—boots scuffed against the wooden floors, laughter echoed from the pool table, and the jukebox played a classic rock song that you barely registered. You sat at the bar, staring down into the bottom of your glass like it might hold the answers to every question rattling around in your head.

“Hey,” came a familiar voice from behind you.

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw slid onto the stool beside you, his presence like a balm for your frayed nerves. His aviators hung from the neckline of his shirt, and his easy smile faded the moment he got a good look at your face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone softer now, concerned.

You tried to muster a reassuring smile but knew it fell flat. “Nothing. Just… a long day.”

He wasn’t buying it. Bradley had known you long enough to spot when something was bothering you. His brow furrowed as he leaned in closer, his voice low. “Come on. It’s me. What’s going on?”

You hesitated, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass. Then, with a quiet sigh, you admitted, “I broke up with Derek.”

Bradley’s expression flickered—something unreadable passed over his face, a mix of surprise and something else you couldn’t quite place. He took a moment, then asked, “What happened?”

You swallowed, the words feeling heavier than they should. “I caught him cheating on me.”

Bradley’s hand clenched around his beer bottle, his jaw tightening. “That asshole,” he muttered under his breath, then louder, “He can go screw himself.”

You snorted at his bluntness, a small laugh escaping despite yourself. Bradley’s intensity softened as he looked back at you.

“I’m serious,” he said, his tone gentler now. “You deserve better than that. Better than him.”

“Yeah, right,” you replied with a hollow laugh. “Good guys aren’t as common as they used to be.”

Bradley shrugged casually, but his lips twitched into a small smile. “I think I’m a pretty good guy.”

You blinked, caught off guard, then smiled at him. “Yeah, you are. One of the best, actually.”

He leaned forward, his forearms resting on the bar. “Then let me take you on a date.”

You stared at him, momentarily stunned. “Bradley…”

His brown eyes held yours, steady and earnest. “I mean it. Let me take you out.”

“You don’t mean it,” you said, shaking your head, though your pulse quickened at the thought.

“I do,” he countered, his voice unwavering. “I’ve liked you for a while. But you were with Derek, and I wasn’t going to get in the way of that. Now that you’re not…” He trailed off, his gaze softening. “I just want to show you how you should’ve been treated all along.”

Your heart twisted at the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t process how Bradley—your steady, dependable Bradley—was suddenly baring his feelings to you like this.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted quietly.

“Say yes,” he said simply.

Your lips curved into a small, hesitant smile. 

“Okay,” you said, the word slipping out before you could second-guess yourself.

His face lit up, and he reached out, brushing his fingers lightly against yours where they rested on the bar. The touch was tentative, warm, and for the first time that night, you felt the weight on your chest ease just a little.

“Let me take you home,” he said. “You’ve had enough of this place for one night.”

You nodded, letting him help you off the stool. As he led you toward the door, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the start of something you’d been too blind to see before.

The drive back to your place was quiet at first, the soft hum of the engine filling the space as you leaned back in your seat, watching the lights of the town blur past. Bradley’s hand rested casually on the gearshift, his fingers drumming lightly against it in time with the song playing low on the radio.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, “is this you taking me home and tucking me in? Or is this you taking me home?”

Beside you, Bradley’s lips twitched into a grin, though he kept his eyes on the road. “Depends,” he said smoothly, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “What do you want it to be?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey, you’re the one who asked.” His tone was light, teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something more—something that made your stomach flip.

“Just so you know,” you said, folding your arms across your chest in mock indignation, “you’re terrible at tucking people in. I seem to remember you leaving me to sleep on a couch last New Year’s while you stole my blanket.”

Bradley laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “First of all, that blanket was fair game. Second, you’re the one who insisted on watching that terrible rom-com marathon. I was being a good friend by suffering through it.”

You shot him a playful glare. “Suffering? You cried during The Notebook.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Fine. Maybe I got something in my eye. A guy can be moved by powerful cinema without crying, you know.”

“Sure, Brad,” you said, unable to keep the smile off your face.

The banter continued, easy and familiar, until he pulled up outside your place. He shifted the car into park but didn’t immediately move to unbuckle his seatbelt. Instead, he turned to you, his expression softening as his eyes searched yours.

“Seriously, though,” he said, his voice low, “it’s up to you. I meant what I said back there. I’m not in a rush. I just want to be here for you.”

Your smile faded into something gentler as the weight of his words settled over you. “I know, Bradley. And… I appreciate it.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air in the car thick with something unspoken. Then you reached for the door handle, breaking the spell.

“You coming in, or are you going to sleep in the car?” you asked, your tone teasing but your heart pounding.

Bradley grinned, unbuckling his seatbelt. “You know I’m not letting you go in there without company.”

You reached your front door, fishing your keys out of your bag, the cool night air brushing against your skin. Bradley trailed behind you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his presence. As you tried to slot the key into the lock, your hands trembled—whether from the chill or the way your heart was racing, you weren’t sure.

Before you could get the door open, you felt him. Bradley’s hands slid gently around your waist, his touch tentative at first, as though giving you the chance to pull away. When you didn’t, he pulled you closer, his chest pressing against your back.

“Bradley…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper.

His only response was to lean down, his lips brushing softly against the curve of your neck. The first kiss was light, testing, a feather-soft touch that sent a shiver down your spine. The second lingered longer, his warm breath fanning over your skin as he pressed his mouth to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

“Is this okay?” he murmured, his voice low and husky against your neck.

You closed your eyes, tilting your head slightly to give him better access. “Yeah,” you hummed, the word barely audible.

You swore you felt him smile against your skin before he continued, his kisses growing bolder, more insistent. His lips trailed down the side of your neck, tracing a path toward your shoulder. His hands splayed across your stomach, anchoring you to him as his mouth moved lower.

Every kiss sent a wave of warmth through you, the world outside your little bubble fading away.

“Bradley…” His name slipped from your lips, half a sigh, half a plea, though you weren’t even sure what you were asking for.

He hummed in response, his lips still trailing over your skin. His touch wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was deliberate, reverent, as though he’d been waiting for this moment for longer than he cared to admit.

You turned your head slightly, trying to catch his gaze, but he paused, his lips brushing against your shoulder as he spoke. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said softly.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you turned fully in his arms, your hands sliding up to rest on his chest. His brown eyes searched yours, and whatever he saw there must have been enough, because his lips were on yours a moment later, warm and sure, pulling you even closer.

Bradley’s lips never left yours as his hands moved down your back, his fingers grazing over the curve of your hips before gripping your thighs. With an effortless motion, he lifted you, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms looping around his neck for support.

Your breath hitched as he adjusted his hold, steady and sure, like he’d done this a hundred times in his mind. The strength in his arms sent a shiver through you, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered how he managed to make it all look so seamless.

Still cradling you securely, Bradley leaned back just enough to reach behind you, pushing your door open with one hand. The kiss never faltered, his lips still moving against yours in a way that made your head spin. The door swung open, and he stepped inside, his boots echoing softly against the hardwood.

With a swift motion, he kicked the door shut behind him, the solid thunk of it closing grounding you in the moment. Then he turned, pressing your back gently against the wall, his body pinning yours in place.

Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging lightly as his lips traveled down, brushing over your jawline and back to your mouth. The intensity of his kiss deepened as his tongue slipped past your lips, teasing, exploring, drawing a soft moan from your throat that you couldn’t hold back.

Bradley’s hands slid down your sides, his touch leaving trails of heat in its wake. When they settled on your waist, his thumbs stroked slow, deliberate circles against your skin through the thin fabric of your shirt. The way he held you—firm but gentle, steady but utterly consuming—made your pulse race.

Every movement, every touch, felt purposeful, like he was trying to show you with his hands and mouth everything he hadn’t yet said out loud.

“Bradley,” you murmured against his lips, your voice breathless and shaky.

“Hmm?” he hummed, his lips brushing yours as he paused just long enough to look at you, his brown eyes dark and full of something that made your stomach flutter.

You couldn’t form the words, but he didn’t seem to need them. Instead, he dipped his head again, capturing your lips in another searing kiss that left no room for doubt about how he felt—or how much he wanted you.

Bradley pulled back just enough to break the kiss, his lips hovering near yours as his warm breath brushed your skin. His hands still rested on your waist, his fingers pressing lightly into your sides as his eyes searched yours with a mixture of mischief and heat.

“So,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, “do you still want me to just tuck you in?”

The question made your pulse quicken, but instead of faltering, a surge of boldness rose within you. Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging his head back gently but firmly, exposing the strong line of his throat. His lips parted slightly, and a low groan rumbled in his chest, the sound sending a shiver through you.

You leaned in close, your lips brushing the edge of his jaw as you whispered, “I want you, Bradley.”

His reaction was immediate. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer against him as his eyes darkened with an intensity that made your breath catch. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear that,” he muttered, his voice rough and full of unspoken desire.

Without another word, he shifted you in his arms with ease, his hold on you unwavering as he stepped back from the wall. Your legs tightened instinctively around his waist, your fingers still tangled in his hair as he turned and started down the hallway.

The journey to your bedroom felt electric, every step punctuated by the tension between you. Bradley’s grip on you was sure and steady, his strength making you feel both weightless and completely grounded.

As he reached the door to your room, he paused, glancing at you with a small, almost cocky smirk. “Last chance to back out,” he teased, though his voice held a note of seriousness beneath the playfulness.

Your response was simple: you leaned forward and kissed him, pouring every ounce of your pent-up feelings into it. That was all the answer he needed.

With a quiet chuckle, he carried you over the threshold, his lips finding yours again as he stepped inside and nudged the door closed behind him with his foot.

Bradley walked you over to the bed, his movements careful and deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every second. Gently, he lowered you onto the soft mattress, his hands lingering on your hips for a moment before he leaned over you. The room felt still, save for the quiet rustle of sheets beneath you and the sound of your own uneven breathing.

He braced himself on one arm, his other hand brushing a strand of hair from your face as his lips met yours again. The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. Then his mouth began to travel, leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw and back down to your neck.

Between kisses, his voice came out low and teasing. “What do you like?”

The question caught you off guard, and you froze for a moment, your mind blanking under the weight of it. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bradley stilled, his lips hovering just above your collarbone. He pulled back slightly to look at you, his brows furrowing in confusion. For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly.

“You’ve... you’ve done this before, right?” he asked, his voice tinged with an awkward uncertainty.

A laugh bubbled out of you, breaking the tension. “Yes, I’ve slept with people before,” you said, your tone light and reassuring. “It’s just... all the guys I’ve been with only ever did missionary.”

His expression shifted instantly. First, his eyes widened in disbelief, and for a split second, you thought he might be about to argue. But then his lips curled into a slow, confident smirk, the kind that made your pulse race.

“Missionary,” he repeated, the word almost incredulous. “That’s it?”

You shrugged, a mix of embarrassment and amusement bubbling in your chest.

Bradley leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke, his voice a low, teasing murmur. “Well, then... how about we find out together?”

Before you could respond, his lips captured yours again, and his hands began to explore, sliding over your sides and down to your thighs.

Bradley’s fingers moved to the hem of your shirt, his dark eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Is this okay?” he asked softly, his voice steady but laced with anticipation.

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah.”

With deliberate care, he pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it aside, his hands brushing against your skin as he did. The warmth of his touch lingered, sending a shiver down your spine. His gaze didn’t waver as it roamed over you, and the look in his eyes made you feel more seen—and more desired—than you ever had before.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured, his voice reverent but with an edge of heat that made your cheeks flush. His hands moved to the waistband of your jeans next, his thumbs hooking into the fabric as he paused to look at you again. “Still okay?”

You nodded again, your voice catching in your throat.

He made quick work of the button and zipper, easing the denim down your legs and leaving you in nothing but your bra and underwear. He straightened, his gaze sweeping over you as you lay back against the pillows.

“God,” he breathed, shaking his head slightly. “You’re so beautiful. No... you’re sexy.”

The compliment hit you like a spark, and for a moment, you wondered why you had never let yourself see Bradley like this before. He wasn’t just your dependable, loyal friend. He was this—sweet, confident, and undeniably attractive.

He knelt back down, his hands gently trailing up your thighs as he leaned in. “You tell me if there’s anything you don’t like,” he reminded you, his voice soft but firm.

“I will,” you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest.

His lips found your neck again, pressing gentle, lingering kisses against your skin. Then you felt his teeth graze your neck—a new sensation, one that sent a jolt through you. Before you could process it, he bit down gently, and you gasped, the sound escaping you unbidden.

You felt his lips curve into a smile against your skin. “You like that?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “Do you want me to do it again? Do you want me to mark you?”

You nodded quickly, your breath hitching. “Yes. I want to be yours.”

The words barely left your lips before he leaned in again, his teeth sinking into your neck just enough to sting, followed by the soothing press of his mouth as he sucked on the tender skin. The sensation was unlike anything you’d felt before—electric, heady, and intimate. When he pulled away, you could feel the heat of his gaze as he admired the dark mark he’d left.

Bradley smirked, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face as he leaned in to kiss you. “Can’t wait to see what you look like with those all over,” he whispered, his tone filled with a promise that made your pulse race.

You couldn’t help but smirk back at him, a boldness blooming in your chest. “Where else do you want to put one?”

His eyes darkened with a mix of mischief and intent, and his smirk widened. Without another word, he lowered his head, his lips trailing along your collarbones before dipping lower, stopping just above your breasts.

He paused for a moment, looking up at you as if to ask for permission. You gave him a small nod, and he bit down again, his mouth working to leave another mark, this time on the skin between your breasts.

The sensation sent another wave of heat coursing through you, and when he pulled back, his expression was pure satisfaction as he admired his work. 

“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough.

Bradley's hands slid up your sides, his thumbs grazing the edge of your bra. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, silently asking for permission. When you gave him a slight nod, he reached behind you with practiced ease, unhooking the clasp and gently sliding the straps down your shoulders.

The garment fell away, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his gaze filled with reverence and hunger that made your skin flush.

One of his hands moved to cup your breast, his palm warm against your skin as his fingers squeezed gently, exploring. The sensation was new, different, and surprisingly intoxicating. You couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped your lips as he leaned down, his breath ghosting over your skin before his lips wrapped around one of your nipples.

The feeling sent a jolt of electricity through you. No one had ever paid much attention to your chest before; past partners had always been more focused elsewhere, making offhand comments about your body that left you feeling unbalanced. But this—Bradley’s touch, his mouth—was deliberate and consuming as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

Then you felt his teeth, a brief, unexpected pressure that made you gasp, your back arching as you unconsciously pushed your chest further into his mouth.

Bradley hummed against you, his lips curving into a smirk as he flicked his tongue over the sensitive skin to soothe it. 

“You like that,” he murmured, not as a question but a quiet declaration.

Your breath hitched, and you nodded, your voice too tangled in the haze of sensation to respond properly.

He didn’t wait for words. He pulled away, his lips leaving a trail of warmth as he shifted to your other breast. His hand replaced his mouth, rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers while his lips found their target. This time, he didn’t hesitate, biting down gently but firmly, drawing another involuntary gasp from you.

The sound made something flicker in his eyes—satisfaction, excitement, and a hint of possessiveness. His tongue swept over the spot he’d bitten, his mouth working with a combination of suction and teasing flicks that had your fingers digging into his shoulders.

Bradley pulled back slightly, his breath warm against your skin as he looked up at you. “I love hearing those sounds you make,” he said softly, his voice a rough whisper that sent a shiver through you. His hands slid down to rest on your waist again, grounding you as his lips brushed a gentle kiss against the curve of your breast. “I’ve got so much more I want to show you.”

Bradley’s eyes never left yours as he slowly made his way down your body, his lips brushing over your skin with a slow, deliberate pace. His hands were gentle but firm, guiding you closer to the edge of something new and thrilling. When he finally positioned himself between your legs, his gaze flickered up to meet yours once more.

He smiled, a look of both excitement and admiration in his eyes. “I can’t wait to hear the sounds you make when I do thi,” he said, his voice low and husky. The weight of his words settled heavily between you, making your heart race.

You swallowed, your breath hitching slightly as he traced his fingers along your thighs, his touch light and teasing. His lips followed, pressing a soft kiss to one thigh before moving to the other, a trail of warmth in his wake. Then, with a careful touch, he slid your panties down your legs and tossed them aside, leaving you feeling exposed, but strangely safe in his hands.

He looked at you, his eyes dark with desire, before lowering himself further. The air between you two was thick with anticipation. His hands gently caressed your hips, grounding you as his lips finally reached your center.

The moment his mouth made contact, your body jolted with the sensation, a sharp intake of breath escaping you as you arched into him, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you.

Bradley was slow, methodical, taking his time to explore and bring you closer to the edge. Every touch, every movement was carefully tuned to your reactions. He wasn’t just trying to make you feel good—he wanted to know what made you tick, to learn the rhythm of your body in a way no one else had before.

Bradley’s focus never wavered as he continued his work, taking his time to explore, making sure every movement was deliberate and sure. Each kiss, each touch, each gentle caress sent shivers through your body, and you couldn’t stop the quiet gasps that escaped your lips as you reacted to him.

He shifted slightly, and his movements grew more confident. His lips found that sweet spot, the one that made your breath catch, and when he applied a little more pressure, a moan slipped from you—louder than you’d intended, and unmistakably full of need.

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but then Bradley’s voice, low and full of approval, reached your ears.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his lips curling into a satisfied smile against your skin. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” He repeated the motion, coaxing another breathy moan from you. The sound was so raw, so genuine, it made him groan in return.

You couldn’t hold back anymore, your body arching further into him as the sensations built. “Bradley…” you moaned, almost too loudly, your eyes squeezing shut as a wave of heat coursed through you.

He growled in approval, the sound so deep that it sent a rush of excitement through your veins. “You sound so good, baby. Keep letting me know how you’re feeling.”

Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers threading through it, gripping him closer. The intensity in his gaze grew, and the way he praised you made you feel both empowered and desired in a way you’d never experienced before. You felt your body reacting to him, to his touch, to the way he made you feel so seen, so good.

Every movement he made, every sound you gave him, only fueled the connection between you two. This wasn’t just physical—it was raw, emotional, a dance of vulnerability and trust. And Bradley loved hearing you like this, loved knowing he was the one who could make you feel this way.

Every touch, every flick of his tongue, every deliberate movement made your entire body hum with need. You felt yourself coming undone, the sensations overwhelming as your breath hitched and your body responded to him.

Then, with one final, deliberate motion, Bradley pushed you over the edge. Your back arched as the release washed over you, your body trembling in waves of pleasure. A gasp escaped your lips, followed by a low moan, as the intensity of the moment left you breathless, unable to form words. It was the first time a guy had made you finish just with his mouth and hands, and it left you gasping, completely undone.

Bradley’s lips curled into a satisfied smile as he crawled back up the bed, his hands gently brushing the hair away from your face. His eyes were soft with affection, his gaze intense as he looked down at you, making sure you were okay. 

“You alright?” he asked, his voice hushed, a mix of concern and pride.

You nodded, still panting slightly, the aftermath of the orgasm leaving you weak but content. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, your voice unsteady. “I’m… I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

Bradley chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he leaned down to kiss you gently, a tender contrast to the intensity of the moments before. “I’m glad I could give that to you,” he said, his voice warm and full of sincerity.

You smiled up at him, feeling a mix of vulnerability and comfort, knowing that this moment was something you’d never forget. His presence, the way he made you feel, was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before.

Bradley settled beside you, keeping you close, his hand resting on your waist as he held you. Bradley’s hand gently traced patterns on your skin as he settled next to you, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. 

“So, what do you want to try next?” he asked, his voice low, a mix of curiosity and amusement.

You blinked up at him, feeling a newfound boldness. Without missing a beat, you shot him a playful smirk. “I want to ride you.”

The words hung in the air for a moment before Bradley’s eyes darkened, his breath hitching at the unexpectedness of your response. A grin spread across his face, his hands moving quickly as he pulled you on top of him, your bodies aligning with a hunger that was only growing. 

“Damn, baby,” he groaned, the thought of you in control sending heat shooting through his veins. 

You both shared a laugh, the playful tension still crackling in the air, before the moment turned more serious again. But this time, there was no question—the night was only just beginning.