#Its seven am and I have not slept

[that1notetaker]

This started as a doodle but...uh. The bunnies took over? Go give @somerandomdudelmao a big thank you for their au and our tears. I hope you don't mind me taking over but the 'Leo's spirit is basically a cat' thoughts wouldn't leave me alone,,, I was thinking that if Leo was able to stay alive outside a bubble for longer than five seconds, he'd be just as unstoppable as Turtle Tello Tot. Also. Disaster duo for the soul(ha).

[mit0bee]

i am a FIRM believer that malleus does not care about any unspoken rule on "only one or two messages at a time". he can, will and has sent you paragraphs spanning over six or seven messages. he IS the lorum ipsum dolor on every doc or presentation. he uses words you usually wouldn't find in a text like resplendent or magnanimous. ace on the other hand refuses to use big words when texting. does he adhere to the rule? no. its a stupid rule to him, and he would rather have a conversation with you than share a single word every two hours. his texts are usually in all caps, something like "LMFAOOOO" or the like. he also uses "u" "ur" and "urs". i dont make the rules :P

idia, in the first few months of knowing you, literally texts you like a teenage boy who wants to seem cool. that's his idea of what normies text like, and sevens be damned, he wants to get to know you so bad, but he doesn't wanna scare you away with his lingo. now, if you're also a gamer, or its been enough time into your relationship, he's SPAMMING YOU with all sorts of texts. he also uses "u" and the like. hes not scared to be himself anymore, so expect multiple texts a day about this, that, and the next. leona doesn't text you dry or rarely to seem cool, he literally just has nothing to say. ruggie once turned off auto-cap on his phone as a prank, and he doesn't really care about changing it back. if he wants to capitalize a word, he can use shift. just because he doesn't have much to say doesn't mean he's not engaged in the conversation. if you're telling him about your day or something you bought, he's asking genuine questions. he will NEVER EVER EVER admit that your little typing bubble gives him butterflies. he'd rather die. azul is probably one of the few people who actually uses proper, perfect grammar in his texts. he doesn't word them like letters like a certain horned-fae, but he does use similarly big words. he wants to make you think he's super smart and savvy. i mean you probably already do but he doesn't believe it. oh floyd. deciphering his texts is like deciphering egyptian hieroglyphs before the rosetta stone was discovered. he types so fast you can't tell which words mean which. it takes you literal YEARS to be able to consistently understand them. switches between "u" and "you" just to be a bug. pick one or the other, please floyd. jade is similar to azul, but with one minor (major) difference. he corrects your grammar. use the wrong your because you haven't slept in three days? "you're*". you've almost punched him out for it. he once threw out all of his beautifully structured grammar for an april fools joke (he was texting you like he's floyd. you had to ask if it was him), and it threw you off so bad. he tried to gaslight you into thinking he never did it the next day. vil is another grammar corrector. but while jade does it mostly to bug you and see you get angry, vil does it because he wants you to how yourself the so-called respect he thinks you get from writing a good text. he once gave you and epel an entire lecture on how to text others with grace and poise.

[tiredofthehumanlife]

I like our kitchen is that okay with you?

Barbie dolls: five hargreeves x gn! reader

Words: 3.6k words

Summary: you guys are just lovey dovey while getting ready for Grace's birthday party

Warnings: set in those few good minutes of s4 when everything was fun and nice, insinuated you're an early riser, Viktor doesn't get kidnapped everything is perfect, you sleep on your stomach now, five touches your butt, mention of nonsexual nudity, you lean your head of Five's shoulder, insinuated you don't want kids but five could be joking who knows, you work at the library now and are a massive music freak, Fives a thrifting GOD, pretty much just docile and sweet five and you, five is still at the CIA oops sorry, you're kinda a passenger royalty Five will not let you open a single door, mentions that you have a bag but its not specific on what kind could be a purse could be a backpack could be a fucking draw bag tbh, you are fun, okay bye

Request: dude stop snooping on me how did you know it was a request

Five was the worst to wake up next to. He snored with his mouth open, drool slipping down to his pillowcase. Somewhere during the night, he flung his hand towards your face, pushing the blanket over your eyes. His hand was still resting on your forehead, palm to the ceiling. Somehow, one of his legs was hanging off the edge of the bed while the other was thrown over your butt. You thought about not sleeping on your stomach anymore so he’d stop kicking you on the ass at 2:46 am every night, but you worried you’d miss his contact. You had one hand resting over his heart, and as gentle and regular as your position seemed Five made up for it with his 'I'm a fallen spider’ position every night. Five jerked in his sleep, knocking the back of his hand into his chin. You sat up, glancing around the room.

With sleep clouding your vision, you gently move Five into a slightly less strange position. You pulled both his hands to his stomach, letting them rest there. You moved his one leg away from your behind, letting the other stay where it was halfway off the bed. You got out of bed, tucking the blankets back in on Five’s sides so he wouldn’t feel the difference in warmth. You still weren’t entirely sure if Five knew he slept so weirdly, you woke up before him every day.

You watched Five from the doorway. He smiled in his sleep, something fun must be happening in his dream. He snuggled further into his pillow, letting out a sigh. You headed towards the kitchen, playing your music very quietly as you started breakfast.

This was a pretty regular routine. By the time you were setting the plates down on the breakfast table, Five was stumbling through the doorway. You glanced up at him. Five squinted at the light peeking through the curtains from over the kitchen sink. He looked around the room, his shoulders sinking when he found you. Five headed straight for you, reaching his hands out for your face. He greeted you with a kiss. You pulled back from the kiss with a smile.

“You know, I never move. I don’t know why you look around the room like you’ve never been here before.” You said, pulling his hands away from your face to hold them. Five shrugged.

“Maybe I like looking at our kitchen.” You hummed at him, pulling away to settle into your chair. As you both ate breakfast, you studied the kitchen more than usual.

It wasn’t anything crazy. A strange part of your brain, that you didn’t like to talk about much, assigned colors to lots of things. For example, the number seven was orange however eight was green. If you had to pick a color for your kitchen you’d pick that weird middle ground between yellow and orange that sounded like swings squeaking when you tried to fly as a kid and staring up at the trees and watching the sunlight shine through the leaves.

Your kitchen was in a small rectangle shape. The cabinets were brown and a small rounded dining table was shoved into the back right corner. On the one long side of the rectangle were the sink, oven, refrigerator, and many cabinets top and bottom. It had a window over the sink, so you could peer into the backyard as you did the dishes. The other long side of the room was the open, welcoming the sight of your living room. A small line of bottom cabinets jutted out on that side along the line where a wall would be. You never added barstools on the side in the living room but you could’ve.

As of right now, it was that time in the morning when it had the calming feeling of the night but the warming sun of the morning. The light was peeking through the kitchen window, shining through the floral curtains Five found at some estate sale. The light caught in the beaded curtain you made and hung behind the small floral curtains and made colors dance on the kitchen counter and couch arm.

There were pictures of you and Five hung on the refrigerator with tiny magnets that had different foods on them. Once again Five found them at some estate sale. You looked down at your plate, remembering the tablecloth Five brought home from a thrift store because it was your favorite color with the tiniest embroidery of your favorite animal.

You leaned forward over the table, knocking Five’s chin up, and capturing his lips in a kiss. It was kind of gross. He had a bit of syrup on the side of his mouth and he tasted faintly of bacon. You settled back into your chair, continuing your breakfast as if nothing happened. Five squinted at you, wiping at the corner of his mouth and sticking his thumb in his mouth. You grimaced.

“What was that for?” Five asked. You shrugged.

“I don't know, I like looking at our kitchen.” Five stared at you for a moment like he was trying to read your mind. He hummed, paying his attention back to his food.

A few thirty minutes later, Five was rushing out the door while fixing his tie. You followed after him, half-ready yourself, your shift didn’t start for another thirty minutes.

“Briefcase?”

“Hand.”

“Brushed your teeth?”

“New toothpaste and everything.”

”Lunch?”

“Other hand.”

“Coffee?”

“They have some at work.”

“You hate that coffee.”

“I can’t hear you over me about to be late.” You glared at Five’s sass. He made a frown at your look. “Sorry.”

“Socks?” Five stuck his foot out at you, showing off his lovely charcoal grey socks. ”Summer colors, beautiful.” You said sarcastically.

“It's the CIA, my love, not a Betsy Johnson fashion show.” Five said, slipping his shoes on as fast as he could. He glanced up at you through his mop of hair.

“Did you do your hair?” Five glared at you. You dropped it, moving on to the next thing.

“Wallet? Keys? ID card?” You asked. Five pulled his other shoe on, standing up straight. He faced you again, smiling as he leaned down to grab his suitcase.

“It’s fine, baby. Just like literally every other morning. I’m not going to forget anything. It’s basically impossible.” Five said. You followed him to the door, holding it open as you waved him down the hallway. Once he turned the corner, you returned inside. You furrowed your eyebrows when you felt like you were missing something. Chalking it up to you still not being dressed for work, you headed back for your bedroom. You stopped in the living room when you heard the front door open. You walked back to the front door, bumping into FIve halfway there.

“Turns out I can forget things.” Five muttered.

“It was your keys wasn’t it?” Five shook his head. He leaned down and gently pulled you into a kiss. He pulled you closer by the front of your pajama shirt. You would’ve returned the ferocity, but you knew better than to wrinkle his suit. You held your hands up in the air next to your head but still leaned forward towards him. Five pulled back, still keeping small contact.

“I have to go.” He said, muffled by your lips. You wouldn’t have understood him if you hadn’t had this problem multiple times before.

“You have to go.” You repeated, and yet still leaning forward. FIve hummed.

“I have to go.” He said again, although there he was still keeping his eyes closed and lips pressed to yours. He pulled back, finally breaking whatever spell you two were under.

“I have to go.” He said for a third time, walking backward towards the door. You followed after him, nodding along. Five stopped in the doorway, staring at you. You motioned for him to go. He sighed.

“I love you.”

“Go.” Five nodded, slipping outside and down towards the driveway. You stood by the door again, watching him walk towards the car. You are startled when you realize you didn’t say it back.

“I love you!” You yelled after him, watching him spin around and blow you a kiss before settling into his car.

Hours and hours later, you were shelving books, as your average librarian does. You had one of your headphones in and playing your music. It was quiet, as many libraries are. You pushed another book into the right spot, before turning back to the cart. You pushed it down the aisle between the shelves. You heard the bell over the door ring. You abandoned your cart and moved through the shelves to get to the front door. When you got close enough you knew they could hear you, though not see you yet, you spoke up.

“Welcome, Let me know if you need anything.” You said before turning the corner. Lovely Five was waiting by the door with a bouquet. He was still in his work suit, though his briefcase must still be in the car. He smiled when he saw you. You walked the rest of the way to the front door, greeting him by wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Whatcha doing here?” You asked, smiling at him. You hoped most of the patrons were in the back searching for a book. Five moved the flowers away you two so you wouldn't crush them. He leaned towards you, pecking your lips.

“I came to pick you up. Thought my car would be better than the bus.” Five said. You hummed. You sighed and pretended like you weren't giddy just being around him.

“Yeah, I guess. My shift ends in 15 so start reading.” You gestured towards the shelves. Five nodded and headed off for the nonfiction section. You finished shelving and were riding home in Five’s car in no time. He brought the flowers for you, so they rested in your lap on the ride back.

By the time you were pulling into the driveway, you had two hours to get ready. Five ran as fast he could to get your side of the car. You stared at him confused as you opened your door. Five slapped your hand away from the door, shooing your head back in the car. He shut your door before pulling it open again and holding his hand out to you. You glared at him before giving him your hand. Five walked with you into the house before you split up after taking your shoes off.

You headed off to the living room to replace the dying flowers in the reading nook. Five headed off to change out of his Work Suit. You both got ready, moving at your own pace. You shared a shower in which Five watched you with a loving smile as you danced ridiculously to your music. Also where Five remembered how much he missed you shampooing his hair.

Then you were pacing around the house as you got into the outfit you planned your head for the party. Five skittered past you when you were working on transferring everything you needed from your work bag to your ‘I'm going to hand this to Five once we get there so it's no longer my problem and I can play in the ball pit’ bag. He slid into the bathroom with his socked feet and when you heard the hair dryer turn on, you focused back on what you were doing.

You talked yourself out of taking a book. (Very hard) Then you were being rushed towards the door by Five as if he wasn't the one stuck in the bathroom for 45 minutes with the blow dryer going. You pulled your shoes on as you stumbled out the door. Five locked the door behind you as you both jogged down the steps.

“Do you think Grace will like her present?” You asked, now worried she might hate what was inside the wrapped box in your arms. Five snorted, pulling his car keys from his pocket.

“Well if she doesn’t, I know Diego will like it.” Five said, taking the box from your hands to set it in the trunk. You hummed. It did make you feel a little bit better. You thought about Diego gasping with joy louder than Grace and stealing the box from her hands. You doubted he would do that but it was fun to imagine his dramatics. You settled into the passenger side. Five handed you the aux cord as he pulled out of the driveway. You took it from him, imeditally plugging it into your phone and playing your music. Five bobbed his head along while you sang along. He’d even throw in a hand movement sometimes.

When you reached the party you were just barely 15 minutes late. Shocking. You took he box inside from the trunk, letting Five hold the doors open for you. Five lead you through the building by your elbow. You smiled when you saw familiar faces. Diego came over to you two first. He took the box out of your hands, staring down at it in confusion.

“What did you guys get her? An entire litter of puppies and a bike?” Diego joked. You waved him off.

“No that’s ridiculous, the bike is in a different box.” You joked making Diego grimace.

“Oh, Ha-ha,” Diego said sarcastically taking the box towards the already growing gift table. Five stood next to you, shoving his hands into his pockets. Your shoulders slumped.

“I thought it was funny.” You muttered. Five rubbed your upper arm, cooing.

“It was hilarious, I almost pissed my pants.” Five said, pecking your cheek. You gave him a small smile before patting his side. He slipped his arm around your shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his waist, giving him a weird-sided hug. You pulled away, gripping onto his hand and leading him to the next family member you had to say hi to.

You approached the group of Luther, Klaus, Ben, and Claire. They were all facing each other, making a circle. You stood behind Luther.

“Excuse me, Sir. You can't be unattended without a child.” You said, raising your pitch so you sounded squeaky and, quite frankly, annoying. Luther turned his head around with a confused face. Once he spotted you, he smiled brightly and wrapped you in a hug. You dropped Five’s hand to hug him back.

“Oh it's so good to see you,” Luther said, pulling away from you. He moved out of the way, letting the rest of the group see you. Klaus cheered and clapped his hands. Claire immediately pulled you into a hug while Ben let out a groan. You stood back next to Luther.

“I’m here, too.” Five said, moving to squeeze into the circle between Luther and Klaus. Luther patted him on the shoulder. Klaus reached over and shooed Five away with his gloved hands without touching him. Five glared at Klaus. Luther pulled the conversation back to the center.

“So what are you two up to now?” Luther asked, looking between you and Five. You shrugged.

“Domestic things. Decorating our house, going to work, and trying new recipes on the weekends. It’s actually quite nice being a human and not in the center of an apocalypse.” you said. It actually felt really fucking nice that your biggest problem was what color to paint the bathroom. Five hummed.

“Right, so when are you two going to make me an uncle?” Klaus asked. You weren't entirely sure if he was being sarcastic or not. Five scoffed.

“Please, we’re too old for kids.” Five said, glaring at Klaus.

“Not to mention you're already an uncle.” You added. Klaus pouted at you two and hovered his hand over Claire's shoulder to simulate a pat. Five moved away from Luther's side and stood next to you instead.

“You know he's coming up on three years of sobriety?” you gasped at Claire. Five leaned forward as Luther smiled.

“Really? Klaus, that's amazing. I'm so proud of you. You should throw a party or something.” You said. Klaus shrugged. He shook his head.

“It's really no big deal,” Klaus muttered.

“Yes, it is. You should be proud of yourself Klaus, sobriety is hard work.” Five said. Five reached around the back of your arm and hugged your arm to his chest. Luther nodded.

“I'm very proud of you, I know that must've been a struggle,” Luther said. Klaus shrugged again. You hummed.

“Right well me and Claire are going to plan a celebration for your three years whether you like it or not.” You said. Klaus turned to Claire and shook his head no with a grimace. Claire started nodding back at him with an evil smile.

“Yes. Yep, uh-huh. It's happening.” Claire said. You tugged on Five's elbow.

“Right well, we have to go say hi to the others.” Five said, following after you as you walked away. You and Five split up. You went around to his siblings and had long talks with each of them over their current jobs, hobbies, and problems. Five went to find someone to complain to and find a beverage. The party flew by as you two went around to say hello to everyone. As soon as you were wrapping up your conversation with Viktor, it was present time.

Everyone circled the present table and more importantly Grace. Grace stared at the large pile of gifts and turned back to Diego and Lila.

“I don’t know which one to open first,” Grace said.

“Oo ours, Grace. Open the one from us.” You said. Five moved closer to you, holding your hand again. Grace nodded and pulled down the box covered in wrapping paper that Five picked out. Grace tore through the paper like it was butter and handed the scraps to Diego. The box was blank and held together with tape she could tear through. Grace pulled the box open and gasped when she could see inside.

She reached inside, pulled out two of the laser tag toy guns, and pointed them to the sky pulling the triggers over and over again. She laughed maniacally at the sky. Diego and Lila laughed. Grace spun around and pointed the guns at her parents, pretending to fire again.

“We got enough for the twins, Grace, and you guys so fun for the whole family!” Five shouted over the chaos. You smiled at Diego and Lila fighting back against Grace, turning her attention back to the presents. You leaned your head on Five’s shoulder. He hummed, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. Presents flew by after that, everyone else gave her lame presents and you’re definitely not biased in saying that at all.

“Okay kids, this is your last chance to play. The parents are going to clean up and then we’re going to leave so play now.” Diego shouted over the short heads of children running around him. You gasped and pulled yourself away from Five. You handed him your bag, which he swung over his shoulder. You leaned down and slipped your shoes off, handing them to Five as well. He kissed you goodbye as you sprinted off towards the ball pit.

You played with Grace in the ball pit as the lame adults were cleaning up. You pulled Grace up into the air. making her squeal before dropping her back into the ball pit.

Grace quite enjoyed playing with you and about thirty minutes later, you were out of breath and even Grace was tired. Five walked over to the ball pit, standing next to the edge. He held his hand out, helping you out of the pit. You pulled Grace over the edge. She ran off to Lila, who spun her around in a circle.

“Did you have fun in the ball pit?” Five asked. You knew he was probably being sarcastic. He leaned down towards the floor with your shoes. You leaned back against the ball pit wall as he gently lifted your leg to pull your shoe on.

“Yes! It was amazing, you should’ve joined us.” Five glanced up at you, shaking his head. He finished with the other shoe and stood up straight.

“Not really my style.” He muttered. You rolled your eyes. You rudely mimicked his voice. Five latched onto your hand and dragged you towards the door.

When you finally made it home, you both undressed into your pajamas in a speedy fashion. You faceplanted into your shared bed, groaning. You rubbed your arms around in the blankets.

“I missed you.” You whispered to the sheets. You felt Five settle on top of you, using you as a full-body pillow. It was a little difficult to breathe with a full-grown person on your back but you’d let it slide.

“I was only gone for three minutes. And you say I’m the clingy one.” Five muttered, pulling his head over your shoulder and kissing your cheek. You hummed.

“Still think you are.” FIve groanded at you. “Not that it’s bad, I love you being clingy. At least you’re not being a dickhead. Well, more than usual.” You said, leaning over to kiss the side of his mouth. Five tried to hide his smile, knocking his nose into the side of your neck.

A few moments went by where you and Five just sat together. You nudged him off your back. He slid off your back, laying next to you instead. He scooted closer, throwing his arm over your back. You pulled your arm over his side, squeezing him even closer. Five sighed, his weight sinking into you in relaxation. You were so glad it was a Friday because tomorrow you could wake up and stay in bed with Five for hours. You ran your fingers through his hair, making him squeeze you closer.

[4milly]

make it to morning - jimmy u. 2

gif credit @punksrhea.

the tales of 2 roommates, and 1 man.

warning: unprotected sex, possessiveness, cheating, fingering, sex tapes, pillow talk, oral sex (both m and f receiving), exhibitionism, manipulation, (warnings will update as story progresses)

word count: 9.2k (yes, yes. I know. BUT CMONNN)

idea completely credited to @msbigredmachine <3

three weeks had passed since that night.

the miami summer had settled into its full, oppressive heat. malasia had become a master of avoidance, constructing her life around the space where jimmy might appear.

the first week, she'd booked a hotel room at a budget chain on the boulevard. three nights of scratchy sheets and the distant hum of traffic had cost her nearly a quarter of a website commission, but it had given her space to breathe, to think, to scrub her skin raw in a shower that never quite got hot enough.

she'd told trinity she was visiting a college friend passing through town—a lie that had slipped from her lips with disturbing ease.

the second week, when trinity mentioned jimmy would be staying over the weekend, malasia had packed her laptop and enough clothes for three days, claiming a last-minute business trip to tampa.

she'd actually spent sixty-seven hours in a beachside airbnb in hollywood, fifteen miles north, watching the waves crash against the shore and jumping at every notification on her phone.

by the third week, she'd established a routine. she woke at five am, before trinity or any potential overnight guests might stir. she'd slip out of the apartment in predawn darkness, laptop bag slung over her shoulder, and drive thirty minutes to a coffee shop where nobody knew her name.

asia waited till it was safe: safe meaning trinity would be at work, preparing for the dinner shift at the restaurant. safe meaning no chance of jimmy's matte black g-wagon parked in the visitor's spot.

no chance of them falling onto my bed again.

malasia sat in her usual spot at café mills, staring at her laptop screen without really seeing it. the code blurred before her eyes, her fingers hovering motionless over the keyboard. she'd slept poorly again, dreams filled with jimmy's hands, his voice in her ear, the weight of him pressing her into the mattress.

she'd wake gasping, sheets twisted around her legs, and her arousal staining the bed sheets. she couldn't deny the torturous ache left within her, or the way her pussy would randomly clench around nothing. she felt ruined.

the messages had been relentless. jimmy's name appearing on her phone screen like a haunting, each text more possessive than the last. over 42 text from jimmy within the last few weeks:

the first one innocent enough to make her heart skip before dread settled in: "you good, ma? ain't seen you around."

"missing you mama. been thinking bout how you felt wrapped around me."

"saw you jet out this mornin'. them blue workout shorts look good, baby."

"you thinking bout me, when you touch yo'self? i bet you do."

"this ain't over, asia. y'know that. you can run all you want."

"i miss that pussy so bad. nobody take it, like you do lil mama."

the latest had come with a video—his hand wrapped around himself, stroking himself, his movements moving rhythmically as he called out her name.

"shit, asia. you so fuckin' pretty, baby."

she'd deleted it immediately, but the video had burned itself into her memory.

malasia checked the time—4:17 PM. Trinity should be at work by now, preparing for the dinner rush. she gathered her things, sliding her laptop into its protective sleeve and draining the last of her cold coffee. the caffeine did little to settle her nerves as she contemplated returning to the apartment.

she pulled into her assigned parking spot, noting with relief that trinity's cherry-red audi was gone from its usual place. perfect. she'd have the apartment to herself.

the relief was short-lived.

as she approached their building, she noticed unfamiliar cars in the visitor parking—a white range rover and a silver tesla. probably for other units, she reasoned, quickening her pace. the elevator ride to the fourth floor felt interminable, her heart rate increasing with each illuminated number.

trinity wouldn't be home for hours. the restaurant didn't close until midnight, and trinity usually stayed for cleanup, sometimes joining coworkers for drinks afterward. it was only wednesday—not a night jimmy typically stayed over. the apartment would be empty, quiet, safe.

she stepped inside, dropping her keys into the ceramic bowl on the console table—a habit trinity had insisted upon after finding malasia's keys in the refrigerator one sleep-deprived morning.

the first indication that something was wrong was the music—low, throbbing r&b filtering from the living room. malasia froze, her fingers still on the light switch. the second indication was laughter—feminine, unfamiliar, followed by the unmistakable timbre of a voice that had haunted her dreams for three weeks.

trinity was home. trinity was home with friends. trinity was home with friends and...jimmy.

"well, look who came home," he drawled, his eyes traveling the length of her body with dark eyes

"there she is!" trinity called out, her voice carrying the slight lilt that indicated she was already two drinks in. "the ghost of south beach returns."

beside her sat a girl malasia vaguely recognized from trinity's Instagram—zara or zuri, something with a z—her box braids cascading down her back as she sipped from a wineglass.

malasia's fingers tightened around her laptop bag, knuckles whitening. "I thought… don't you work tonight?"

trinity waved her hand dismissively. "manager had to cut staff. slow night." she gestured toward the kitchen.

"come join us!" the girl on the floor said, as she moved over to make room on the couch for asia

"i—i have work to finish," malasia stammered, eyes darting everywhere but to the armchair where jimmy sat watching her, his dark eyes tracking her every movement. "just gonna head to my room."

"come on, asia," jimmy said, her nickname rolling off his tongue like honey, thick and sweet and dangerous. "one drink won't kill you."

the familiarity in his voice sent shivers racing down her spine. did trinity notice? could she hear the intimacy, the possession in the way jimmy said her name?

"you've been mia weeks. sit down. be human for once," trinity agreed

malasia hesitated, frozen between flight and the social obligation to stay. a third girl emerged from the kitchen, carrying a bottle of wine and an extra glass. she was tall, statuesque, with a crown of natural curls and skin the color of burnished copper.

"you must be the mysterious roommate," the newcomer said, her smile genuine and warm. "i'm nia. trinity's friend."

"malasia," she replied automatically, accepting the glass nia pressed into her hands. "nice to meet you."

malasia found herself seated on the edge of the sofa, as far from jimmy as the furniture allowed, but still within his line of sight. she could feel his eyes on her—hot, possessive, knowing—as she took a sip of wine to wet her suddenly dry throat.

the wine was dry, acidic against her tongue—nothing like the syrupy tequila that had clouded her judgment that night. malasia took another sip, hoping the alcohol might calm her hammering heart.

zuri—that was her name, malasia remembered now—leaned forward, her box braids falling over one shoulder like a glossy waterfall. she wore a cropped sweater that exposed a strip of toned midriff, her nails painted a vibrant coral that flashed like warning signals when she gestured.

"so what do you do, anyway?" zuri asked, her gaze curious and appraising. "trinity says you're always on your laptop, but she's never actually said what you do."

the question was innocent enough, but malasia felt herself tensing anyway.

"i design websites," malasia answered, her fingers tracing the stem of her wineglass. "mostly for small businesses and startups."

"oh, that's dope," nia chimed in, settling cross-legged on the plush rug. her curls caught the light from the floor lamp, creating a halo effect around her face. "freelance? or do you work for a company?"

"freelance," malasia replied, warming slightly to the topic. work was safe. work was neutral territory. "i was with an agency in chicago, but when i moved here, i decided to go independent. more flexibility."

"chicago to miami is a whole vibe change," zuri noted, her bangles clinking musically as she reached for her glass. "what made you leave? the winters?"

malasia's smile faltered, "j—just wanted a change. y'know?"

"ouuu. was it a breakup gone bad? girl don't i know it. niggas are thee worst." nia chimed in, throwing back her last gulp of wine

malasia shifted uncomfortably, acutely aware of jimmy's unwavering gaze from across the room. his jawline had tightened, eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly at the mention of her past.

"it wasn't that dramatic," malasia offered, focusing on the crimson liquid swirling in her glass. "just a relationship that ran its course after five years."

"five years?" nia whistled low. "that's practically a marriage in today's dating world. what happened? he cheat?"

the wine suddenly tasted bitter on Malasia's tongue. marcus hadn't cheated—that would have been simpler, cleaner somehow. instead, he'd simply stopped seeing her, as though she'd gradually become transparent over the years until one day, she was completely invisible to him.

"he just…decided he didn't want the same things anymore," malasia said carefully, aware of how jimmy had leaned forward in his seat, hanging on her every word. "said he wasn't ready for the next steps."

"sounds like some weak shit to me," jimmy continued, his voice dropping an octave lower. "real man knows what he wants. takes it. keeps it."

malasia swallowed hard, the wine turning to ash in her mouth. every word felt like a secret message meant only for her, laden with memories of his hands on her body, his voice in her ear. she set her glass down with shaking fingers, suddenly desperate for escape.

"maybe yo man just wasn't worthy," he said, still looking directly at malasia while addressing the room. "some women need to be handled right. need someone who knows they value."

"i should really finish this project," she managed, gesturing vaguely toward her laptop bag. "deadline tomorrow."

"girl, it's barely seven," nia protested, reaching for the wine bottle. "the night is young! trinity says your lame, ugh."

"i've been busy with work," malasia defended weakly, avoiding trinity's penetrating gaze.

trinity rolled her eyes, swirling the wine in her glass before taking a deliberate sip. "work, work, work. that's all we ever hear from you. like sitting on your laptop in pajamas all day is such hard labor."

the room fell silent, the music suddenly seeming too loud in the awkward pause. malasia felt heat creeping up her neck, spreading across her cheeks in a flush that was part embarrassment, part anger.

"i mean," trinity continued, leaning back against the couch cushions with casual cruelty, "designing websites isn't even a real job. it's like, what? dragging and dropping pictures and typing some words? my twelve-year-old cousin could probably do that."

jimmy's eyes narrowed slightly, but a small smirk played at the corner of his mouth. he seemed to be enjoying the show.

"but hey," trinity shrugged, raising her glass in mock toast, "if it keeps the bills paid, whatever. at least your rent checks don't bounce. whatever imaginary job you got, keeps you off your ass forsure."

malasia's fingers curled around the edge of the sofa, nails digging into the fabric. the dismissal of her career—her passion—stung more than it should have. five years of design school, countless all-nighters perfecting her craft, clients who valued her work enough to pay thousands for it—all reduced to "not even a real job."

"damn, trin," nia said, her eyebrows shooting up. "you didn't have to go there."

"what?" trinity's laugh was sharp, defensive. "i'm just saying what we're all thinking. she acts like she's saving someones life or something."

zuri shifted uncomfortably, placing her glass on the coffee table. "i actually think website design is pretty dope. my cousin started an online boutique last year, and the designer she hired made all the difference in her sales."

"thank you," malasia said firmly, finding her voice at last. she stood, gathering her laptop bag, "but trinity's entitled to her opinion. even if it lacks any narrative."

trinity's eyes flashed dangerously. "excuse me?"

"girl, let it go," zuri murmured, placing a cautioning hand on Trinity's arm. "you're being extra right now."

but Trinity shook her off, rising to her feet to face Malasia directly. "i work my ass off serving entitled rich people every night while you sit here in our air-conditioned apartment tapping on a keyboard. don't talk to me about lacking narrative...i know nothing about you."

jimmy leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, watching the confrontation with glittering eyes. the tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to slice with a knife.

"exactly. lets keep it like that." malasia stated, before turning on her heels to head to her room.

she didn't miss the audible "bitch" that came from trinity before she disappeared into the hall. she could feel jimmy's gaze burning into her back, tracking her retreat like a predator noting the weakness of its prey.

"you really had to do all that shit?" jimmy finally spoke, his tone carrying a warning edge, "why you care what she do with her life? let the girl work if she wants to. not everyone wanna be apart of that social shit."

malasia waited outside her bedroom door to hear his defense, if it could be called that. it felt worse than trinity's attack. the subtle condescension, the faint note of pity—it all confirmed what malasia had suspected since that night: in jimmy's eyes, she was nothing more than a convenient distraction, a secret to be kept, a weakness to be exploited.

what she didn't expect is moment's later her phone to light up:

you aight mama? you need me?

she face palmed. she didn't know if she wanted to march back in that room and slap the shit out of him, or just scream her head off. she choose better:

don't ever fucking contact me again.

jimmy's response came almost instantly: don't be like that, ma. you know it ain't that simple.

malasia stared at the message, her thumb hovering over the block button. with a decisive press, she blocked his number, then deleted their entire message thread. a wave of relief washed over her, followed immediately by a hollow ache she refused to acknowledge.

she tossed her phone onto the bed and leaned against the door, sliding down until she sat on the floor with her knees pulled to her chest. outside, she could hear the muffled sounds of conversation resuming, trinity's laughter cutting through the music. malasia closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing, but instead found herself transported back to that night.

the memory came unbidden–jimmy's hands gripping her thighs, his weight pressing her into the mattress, the way he'd looked at her with such hunger. her body responded traitorously to the recollection, a pulse of heat between her legs that made her press her thighs together in frustration.

"fuck," she whispered to the empty room, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes.

the morning after had been worse than the act itself. she'd woken to an empty bed, the only evidence of what they'd done dried on her inner thighs and sheets. her cunt still wet and pulsing in her panties.

trinity had already left for brunch with friends–a small mercy that had allowed malasia to strip her bed without explanation, to scrub herself raw in the shower as if she could wash away the betrayal along with the physical evidence.

she'd turned the shower as hot as she could stand it, steam billowing around her as she stepped under the spray. with trembling fingers, she'd washed away the physical remnants of jimmy—his dried cum, sticky against her inner thighs, dissolving under the relentless water.

but as she'd scrubbed, something unexpected happened. the memory of his hands on her body, his weight pressing her into the mattress, the way he'd filled her so completely—it all came rushing back with an intensity that made her gasp. her nipples had hardened under the spray, her body remembering what her conscience wished to forget.

her fingers has a mind of their own. without a conscious thought, her fingers found her swollen bud. she let out a gasp as she began to rub circles on her clit. she grabbed the shower head off the wall. angling it towards her clit.

asia's quiet moans started to feel the air, she moved two fingers down to her pussy. she was soaked. she'd caught with her lip caught between her teeth to stifle her cries, jimmy's name a forbidden thought she refused to acknowledge. she spread her fingers into a 'v' to stretch herself, the same way jimmy had.

after a few movements, she felt her pussy flutter around her fingers before she clamped down and flooded her hand. her knees buckled from the force, and she slid down the shower wall. letting the water wash away her tears of shame along with the evidence of her weakness.

now, just weeks later, in the quiet sanctuary of her bedroom with jimmy's presence just walls away, the memory of that morning made her face burn with humiliation.

how could her body betray her like that? how could she still feel this pull toward someone who used her for a night and betrayed his own relationship; a secret to be kept from her own roommate?

malasia sat on her bed for what felt like hours. the room getting smaller by the minute.

the distant laughter from the living room eventually faded. asia heard the front door open and close as trinity's friends departed, followed by hushed conversations she couldn't quite make out. she remained motionless on her bed, staring at the ceiling fan's hypnotic rotation until the apartment fell silent.

the digital clock on her nightstand glowed 11:42 PM. she hadn't eaten dinner, hadn't showered, hadn't done anything productive since retreating to her room. her laptop remained untouched in its bag. the client deadline loomed, but her mind refused to focus on anything except the knowledge that jimmy had been just beyond her door, laughing with his girlfriend, while texting her in the next.

asia sat up, running her hands through her hair. sleep seemed impossible, but she couldn't bear being awake with her thoughts anymore. she reached for the small bottle of melatonin on her nightstand—a recent purchase that had become essential.

without it, she'd lie awake for hours, replaying that night, feeling phantom touches on her skin.

she swallowed two gummies, chasing them with lukewarm water from the glass she'd left there that morning. the cherry flavor lingered on her tongue as she changed into sleep shorts and a tank top. the miami heat made anything more unbearable, even with the air conditioning humming steadily.

ss she settled under her thin sheet, ssia tried to quiet her mind. The melatonin would take twenty minutes to kick in—twenty minutes of dangerous thoughts she couldn't afford.

she reached for her phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media, trying to distract herself from the memories that threatened to surface.

eventually, the artificial drowsiness began to take hold. her eyelids grew heavy, her limbs loose and warm. she set her phone aside and surrendered to the chemical calm washing over her. her last conscious thought was relief that tomorrow was thursday—trinity would be working a double shift.

the apartment would be hers. alone.

the sensation came gradually—warm lips against her neck, gentle at first, then more insistent. asia stirred, caught in that hazy space between dreams and wakefulness. the kisses felt so real, trailing down to her collarbone, back up to the sensitive spot behind her ear. the weight on her body seemed substantial, not the phantom pressure of a dream.

her body responded before her mind fully awoke—a liquid heat pooling between her thighs, her nipples hardening beneath her thin tank top. when large hands skimmed down her sides to hook into the waistband of her sleep shorts, reality crashed through the melatonin fog.

her eyes flew open to find jimmy above her, his face half-shadowed in the darkness. he was slowly lowering her shorts and panties in one motion, his movements deliberate, unhurried, as if he had every right to be there.

"what—" she began, but her voice was thick with sleep and confusion.

"shh," jimmy whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "you smell so fuckin' good, ma."

"jimmy," she gasped, her mind struggling against the melatonin haze. "you can't be here—"

he ignored her and continued placing hot kisses along her neck, as she pushed against his chest, "we can't—not again—"

"trinity's right down the hall," he reminds her, his lips brushing against her ear. "you want her to hear how good I'm fuckin' you? hm? you gotta be quiet."

she shook her hand frantically as horror shot down her spine. asia's back arched involuntarily as he curled his finger inside her, finding that spot that made stars explode behind her eyelids. her protest died on her lips, replaced by a moan she couldn't suppress. she heard the faint squelching noises as his fingers moved in and out her pussy.

"you so fuckin' wet, mama. all for me, too. just for me." he whispered into her ear

a moan escaped her lips as his thumb circled her clit. immediately, his large hand covered her mouth, pressing firmly enough to silence her but not enough to restrict her breathing.

"i said quiet," he reminded her, eyes glittering dangerously in the darkness. "you gonna be good for me?"

asia's hands came up to push against his chest, a token resistance that felt more like going through the motions than genuine rejection. his muscular frame didn't budge under her palms.

with one smooth thrust, jimmy buried himself inside her. her back arched off the bed, a scream trapped behind his hand as he filled her completely. he remained still for a moment, savoring the sensation of her cunt pulsing around him.

"there she is," he murmurs appreciatively as her body surrenders. "there's my girl."

asia whimpers beneath his palm, tears now flowing freely down her temples into her hair. the truth of his words cuts deeper than she wants to admit. her legs wrapped around his waist of their own accord, pulling him deeper.

"fuck," he groaned, his forehead dropping to rest against hers. "yo ass so perfect, asia."

jimmy's rhythm was relentless, each thrust driving deeper than the last. His hand remained firmly over her mouth, catching every gasp, every whimper that threatened to escape. the headboard creaked faintly with their movement. they both knew where they'd be heading if they kept up.

"we gotta move," jimmy whispered, his voice rough with desire. "this bed too damn loud, mama."

he withdrew suddenly, leaving her empty and aching. before she could protest, he pressed his lips to hers in a bruising kiss. his tongue circling her own, to remember her taste.

"shhh," he whispered against her lips, his voice a low command that sent shivers down her spine. "not one sound. you understand me?"

asia nodded, her eyes wide in the darkness, pupils blown with a mixture of fear and desperate want.

"good girl," he murmured, approval warming his tone as he slid his large hands beneath her thighs.

in one fluid motion, jimmy lifted her into his arms. she wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively, feeling his dick press in-between her folds as he stood. her weight seemed inconsequential in his strong grip, his muscles flexing as he adjusted her position.

he carried her across the room in three long strides, her back meeting the cool wood of her bedroom door with a soft thud. the contrast between the cold surface against her shoulder blades and jimmy's burning heat pressed against her front sent shivers racing down her spine.

he adjusted his grip, strong hands cupping her ass, spreading her wider as he positioned himself at her entrance again, "right here, baby. this how i wanna fuck you. wrap your legs around me tight...just like that."

she complied, locking her ankles at the small of his back as he pressed her against the bedroom door. she tangled her hands in his hair as she pressed her lips to his.

shit, what was she doing?

he rubbed himself between her folds, before slamming inside her in one thrust. asia bit down on his lower lip to keep from crying out, the sensation of being so completely filled overwhelming her senses. The angle was devastating—deeper than before, hitting places inside her that made coherent thought impossible.

the wet slick of her arousal coating his length with each thrust, the soft thud of her back against the door, their mingled breathing harsh in the darkness.

"look at chu," he growled, his pace relentless as he drove into her. "takin' all of me so good."

jimmy shifted his grip on her thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he adjusted their position against the door. he spread her legs wider, the new angle allowing him to drive even deeper inside her. fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled her down onto his cock with each upward thrust.

the obscene wet sounds of their connection filled the darkness—slick, rhythmic squelches that made asia's face burn with equal parts shame and arousal. each thrust forced more of her wetness to coat his length, dripping down to where his balls slapped against her with every deep plunge.

"jimmy," she gasped, her voice barely audible as she fought to keep quiet. her head fell back against the door with a soft thud, exposing the vulnerable column of her throat to his hungry mouth.

he immediately latched onto her pulse point, sucking hard enough to leave a mark she'd have to hide tomorrow. his hips never stopped their relentless pace, the thick ridge of his cock dragging against that perfect spot inside. her pussy gripping him tightly with each withdrawal, only to yield completely as he drove back in.

her wetness had soaked them both, making each thrust smoother, deeper than the last.

"you feel that?" he demanded, his voice a harsh whisper against her ear. "feel how perfect we fit? nobody else makes you this wet, do they?"

asia shook her head, unable to deny the truth of his words. her inner walls clenched around him, drawing him deeper with each thrust. the pressure was building low in her belly, coiling tighter with each stroke.

"that's right," jimmy continued, his pace increasing as he felt her response. "this pussy's mines. you mines."

she clenched around him greedily, her toes begin to stopped from curling them so tightly, "i can't—" she whimpered, her thighs beginning to tremble around his waist. "it's too much."

"nah, mama," he growled, tightening his grip on her ass. "you can take it. you were made for this dick."

he quickened his pace, fucking into her with abandon now. the slapping sound of skin against skin grew louder, more urgent. asia buried her face against his shoulder to muffle her cries, teeth sinking into his shoulder.

jimmy's hands kneaded her ass, spreading her cheeks further apart as he continued his assault. the position left her completely exposed, completely at his mercy. one of his fingers traced the edge of her puckered hole, before pushing through it making her gasp.

"you like that?" he murmured, watching her reactions carefully even in the dim light. "

she could only nod frantically against his shoulder as pleasure built to unbearable heights. her clit rubbed against his lower abdomen with each thrust, providing the perfect friction to push her toward the edge.

"that's it," he encouraged, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control. "squeeze this dick, baby. show me how good it feels."

she turned her face to capture his mouth with hers, moaning against his lips as the first tremors of her orgasm began to ripple through her.

jimmy swallowed her sounds, his kiss turning desperate and messy as he felt her tightening around him. "that's it," he encouraged between kisses, "fuck, you squeezin' me so good."

her body tensed, every nerve ending electrified as her orgasm approached. jimmy's rhythm grew erratic, his breathing harsh against her neck.

"goddamn," jimmy groaned against her lips, his rhythm faltering slightly as her pussy gripped him tighter. "i'm about to cum, baby. fuck, i can't—i can't hold it.

his thrusts became desperate, frantic. asia clung to him, her mind spinning between ecstasy and guilt. trinity's face flashed behind her closed eyelids—trinity, who was sleeping just down the hall, whose boyfriend was currently buried inside her. the shame should have doused her desire, but somehow it only intensified the forbidden thrill coursing through her veins.

this is the last time, she promised herself, the same empty vow she'd made that first night. just one more time.

then never again.

no matter how asia felt, the way trinity had dismissed her earlier, talked down to her in front of everyone. the casual cruelty in her voice when she'd called website design "not even a real job." trinity was still her roommate.

and she knew trinity would vow the rest of her fucking life to make asia's a living hell if she knew what was going on behind this door. unaware of the betrayal happening against asia's bedroom door. the guilt sliced through her pleasure for a brief moment.

but fuck it if, she didn't want to scream so loud at the way he was fucking her.

before she could process his words, jimmy pressed a second finger alongside the first into her ass, stretching her deliciously. the dual penetration—his thick length filling her pussy while his fingers worked her other entrance—pushed her beyond coherent thought.

the dual penetration sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating through her core. her eyes rolled back, mouth falling open in a silent scream as her orgasm flooded her core. s

he squirted around his dick, her release soaking them both as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her. the hot liquid ran down his thighs, dripping onto the hardwood floor beneath them. the intensity of her squirting orgasm took them both by surprise—jimmy's eyes widening as he felt the hot rush of her release bathing him.

she never did that...for anyone.

"ah—i gotta pull out," he panted against her neck, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control. "shit, i can't stop—you feel too fucking good. that's it, baby. keep cumin for me. that's right."

he tried to withdraw, but asia's legs tightened around him instinctively, keeping him buried deep inside her. his let out choked pants against her neck, as his hips stuttered from her cunt milking him. she felt the hot spurts of his release, filling her completely as he came with a muffled groan against her neck.

she couldn't think. the pleasure was too intense, too all-consuming. her body trembled uncontrollably in his arms, aftershocks rippling through her as jimmy continued to drain himself.

for several heartbeats, they remained frozen in that position—her back pressed against the door, legs wrapped around his waist, his face pressed deeply in her neck. jimmy's fingers slowly withdrew from her back entrance, his softening cock still buried inside her as he pressed gentle kisses along her jawline.

reality began to seep back in as their breathing slowed. the weight of what they'd done—again—settled over asia like a shroud.

jimmy's breath was hot against her ear as he held her against the door, their bodies still joined, both slick with sweat and their combined release. the aftermath of their passion hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.

"tell me," he whispered, his voice a rough command that sent shivers down her spine. "tell me how good you felt."

malasia turned her face away, shame burning through her even as her body still trembled with aftershocks. jimmy wouldn't have it. his hand came up to grip her chin, turning her face back toward him.

"nah. look at me when i'm talking to you. tell me how good I made you feel. be honest."

her voice caught in her throat. "jimmy, please—"

tears welled in her eyes, "it felt good," she whispered, the words dragged from somewhere deep inside her. "so good."

a malicious smirk spread across his face. "yeah? what else? tell me how you like it."

"i—i liked when you…" she swallowed hard, the confession burning her throat like acid. "when you filled me up...when you were so deep i couldn't think straight. i've never—" she broke off, a tear slipping down her cheek.

"never what, mama?" he pressed, his free hand sliding up to cup her breast, thumb circling her nipple through the thin fabric of her tank top.

"i never came that hard before. so much." she admitted. her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face

his eyes darkened with renewed desire. "that's my girl," he murmured, leaning forward to capture her lips in a possessive kiss. "you were made for me. this pussy was made for me, mama."

jimmy noticed her shudder. he knew she was about to break down into another hysteria of tears like the last time. he needed to talk to her. he knew he couldn't say it right there.

he navigated through the darkness of her bedroom toward the en-suite bathroom, his steps steady and confident, as his softening dick was still slotted inside her. each step sending tiny jolts of pleasure through her oversensitive body.

"what are you—" he silenced her with a hard kiss as he shouldered open the bathroom door. the cold marble counter shocked her heated skin as he set her down, their bodies still connected.

the position pushed him impossibly deeper, drawing a gasp from her lips that he swallowed with another kiss.

with one hand, he flicked on the bathroom light, the sudden brightness making asia blink rapidly as her eyes adjusted. the mirror above the sink reflected their joined bodies—her legs wrapped around his waist, his large hands supporting her weight, both of them slick with sweat and the evidence of their passion.

in the harsh fluorescent light, malasia could see everything clearly now—especially, the possessive gleam in jimmy's eyes. the mirror behind her reflected her flushed face, her swollen lips, her hair wild from his hands.

his hand came up to cradle her face, thumb stroking her cheekbone with unexpected tenderness. then his grip tightened, fingers pressing into her jaw as he forced her to meet his gaze.

"y'know zuri and nia were talking about setting you up with zuri's brother?" jimmy said suddenly, his voice casual but his eyes sharp as blades. "they think you need to get out more. meet someone."

asia's eyes widened in surprise. "what? no, i—"

"you think i'm gonna let that happen?" jimmy continued, his thumb catching a tear as it rolled down her face. "nah. that ain't happening."

a fresh wave of tears spilled down her cheeks. expecting her to stay...in whatever bubble she was in? alone at that, all while he was in a relationship was fucking crazy.

his free hand slid between their bodies to where they were still joined, his fingers circling her sensitive clit. asia gasped, her body responding instantly despite her emotional turmoil.

"see how yo body knows?" he whispered, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "how it recognizes who it belongs to?"

"jimmy," she whimpered, her voice breaking on his name.

"you belong to me, yea?" he demanded, his fingers pressing more insistently against her swollen bud while his other hand maintained its grip on her face. "say it."

asia sobbed quietly, torn between the pleasure building again in her core and the guilt crushing her chest. she nodded weakly, unable to form words through her tears.

"nah, that ain't enough," jimmy insisted, his voice hardening. "i need t'hear you say it. who you belong to?"

"you," she finally whispered, the admission dragged from somewhere deep inside her. "i belong to you, jimmy."

satisfaction gleamed in his eyes, his grip on her face softening slightly as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.

"that's my girl," he murmured against her lips. "that's what I needed to hear."

asia's mind raced, thoughts swirling chaotically despite the renewed desire coursing through her veins. she couldn't deny the physical connection between them—how her body responded to his touch like it had been crafted specifically for his hands—but the reality of their situation couldn't be ignored.

the truth of it burned through her veins like acid—she did belong to him, in ways she couldn't articulate even to herself. Her body had surrendered completely, her will crumbling beneath the force of his desire and her own dangerous need.

asia found her voice, small and broken. "but you…you belong to trinity."

the words hung between them, the elephant that had been in the room since that first night. the betrayal they both participated in, the trust they violated with every touch, every kiss, every shared climax.

jimmy's expression didn't change. his eyes remained fixed on hers, unblinking, unflinching. "so what?"

the casual dismissal hit her like a physical blow. two simple words that revealed the true depth of his character—or lack thereof. She stared at him, seeing him clearly for the first time despite the weeks of obsessing over him, dreaming of him, running from him.

"so what?" he repeated, his thumb wiping

"so what?" she stared at him in disbelief, "are you fucking serious? so fucking what?"

his expression shifted, something dangerous flashing in his eyes. his grip on her jaw tightened fractionally before he released a low, dismissive laugh.

"so what?" he asked again, "that doesn't change what's between us. what's happening right here." he shifted his hips, causing her to shut her eyes tightly, reminding her he was still buried deeply inside her.

the bathroom mirror reflects their entangled bodies—her perched on the counter, legs still wrapped loosely around his waist, his powerful frame standing between her thighs. the image is undeniably erotic— had this all been different; if he was her man, she'd be ready to let him fuck her right on the counter.

but all she feels now is hollow.

"how can you say that?" she asks, another tear escaping despite her effort to hold it back. "how can this be separate? you're her boyfriend, jimmy. this isn't—this isn't right. i'm done doing this."

jimmy leans closer, his breath warm against her lips. "life ain't about right and wrong, ma. it's about what feels good." his thumb traces her bottom lip, still swollen from his kisses. "and this feels good, don't it? me inside you? the way i make you cum?"

he rolls his hips slightly, causing her breath to hitch. her body responds traitorously, inner walls clenching around him even as her mind rebels against his words.

"that's not the point," she insists, trying to ignore the way her body still hums with residual pleasure. "we can't keep doing this. i can't keep doing this."

"you said that last time, remember?," jimmy points out, his smirk growing wider. his hand slides between their bodies, finding her sensitive clit with practiced ease. "yet here we are again."

she tries to shift away from his touch, but the bathroom counter gives her nowhere to retreat. his fingers circle her swollen bud with deliberate pressure as his dick begins to harden inside her again.

"jimmy, i mean it this time," she protests, her voice strained as her body betrays her once more. the tears have dried on her cheeks, replaced by a flush of unwanted arousal. "we can't—i won't—"

but her words falter as he begins to move his hips in slow, measured thrusts. each drag of his length against her sensitive walls sends electric currents racing up her spine despite her determination to resist.

"i thought you didn't want this, mama?" he whispers against her ear, his breath hot against her skin, "why you so wet right now? hm?"

asia turns her face away, shame burning through her even as pleasure builds again in her pussy. "that's just physical," she manages to say, the words sounding hollow even to her own ears. "it doesn't mean anything."

jimmy's laugh is low, dangerous. "then let's make a deal, mama." His pace increases slightly, the wet sounds of their connection filling the bathroom's tiled space. "if you don't cum for me, one mo' time—right now—i'll leave you alone. for good."

she looks at him then, searching his face for any sign of deception. "you're lying."

"nah, I'm serious." his thumb applies more pressure to her clit as his hips maintain their relentless rhythm. "no more texts. no mo' visits. nothin."

the offer dangling before her feels like salvation and torture simultaneously. asia closes her eyes, determined to resist the pleasure building within her. she thinks of trinity sleeping down the hall, of the betrayal that has become a habit, of the self-respect she's sacrificed for these stolen moments.

she tries everything—mentally reciting website code, counting backward from one hundred, focusing on the cold press of the counter against her thighs—anything to distract her.

jimmy seemed to read her mind, changing his angle slightly to brush against her most sensitive spot with each pump.

"that's cheating!," she gasped, her thighs beginning to tremble despite her best efforts, "oh god—i can't—"

she could feel herself getting wetter, her inner walls gripping him tighter with each thrust.

"cum for me, baby. i'm right here, witchu." jimmy encouraged, embracing her into a deep bear hug, "lemme feel it."

she whimpered, shaking her head frantically. but her body had other plans. the pressure built to an unbearable crescendo, her resistance crumbling beneath the relentless assault of sensation. with a broken cry, she felt her stomach tighten before a warmth washed over them and she gushed over his dick.

his eyes gleamed with victory, that infuriating smirk spreading across his face. "your mouth say one thing, but your body tell me truth every time."

asia buried her face into his neck, unable to bear the weight of his gaze. Shame and pleasure warred within her, neither willing to claim complete victory. her thighs still trembled from the force of her orgasm, and her cunt still clamping tightly onto his dick.

jimmy pulled out of her with deliberate slowness, savoring the whimper that escaped her lips at the sudden emptiness. their combined releases trickled down her inner thighs, marking her in the most primal way possible.

he stepped back, admiring the sight of her—disheveled, flushed, thoroughly claimed. he bit down on his lip at the sight of her red swollen cunt leaking their combined essence onto the counter.

with unexpected gentleness, jimmy slid his hands beneath her thighs and lifted her from the counter. her legs felt like jelly, unable to support her weight. he carried her the few steps to the toilet, settling himself on the closed lid before positioning her on his lap.

"there you go," he murmured, his large hands spanning her waist. his dick pressed against her ass, already hardening again despite their multiple rounds. "Now you got a choice to make, baby."

asia remained motionless in his lap, her mind a battlefield of conflicting desires. the rational part of her screamed to get up, to walk away, to end this destructive pattern once and for all.

but another part—darker, hungrier—wanted to sink onto him again, to chase that oblivion only he seemed able to provide.

jimmy's hand came down on her ass with a sharp smack, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles. his hands gripped her ass possessively, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he guided her over his still-hard length.

his words hung in the air between them, a gauntlet thrown down with perfect confidence that she wouldn't—couldn't—pick it up. his hands moved to her hips, thumbs tracing lazy circles on her skin, neither pushing nor pulling, simply waiting.

her breath came in ragged pants as she battled with herself. trinity's face flashed in her mind—the dismissive way she'd talked about asia's career, the casual cruelty in her tone. then Jimmy's words from earlier: "so what?"

malasia stared down at him, her mind a battlefield of contradictions. this was her chance—the moment to reclaim her dignity, to walk away from this destructive pattern. all she had to do was stand up, step back, tell him to leave.

instead, she found herself frozen in place, caught between desire and self-loathing. jimmy's hands rested lightly on her hips now, neither forcing her down nor holding her in place. the choice was entirely hers.

"clock's ticking, mama," he murmured, his thumbs tracing small circles on her hipbones. "what's it gonna be?"

she looks into his eyes, searching for some sign that this is wrong, that they should stop, but all she finds is that same hungry desire that mirrors her own. time stretches between them like a taffy taffy, seconds turning to minutes.

asia crashes her lips against jimmy's, pouring all her frustration and desire into the kiss. it's messy and desperate, teeth clashing, tongues battling for dominance. his hands slide up her back, tangling in her hair to hold her closer as they devour each other.

with trembling fingers, she reaches down between their bodies, wrapping her hand around his thick length. he's hot and hard against her palm, pulsing with a life of his own. the familiar weight of him sends a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

she positions him at her entrance, feeling the blunt head press against her swollen folds. despite everything they've already done tonight, her body still craves him with an intensity that frightens her. slowly, agonizingly, she sinks down onto him, taking him inch by inch until he fills her completely.

a small hiss escapes her lips at the delicious stretch, the slight burn of her sensitive tissues accommodating his size again.

"easy, mama," jimmy whispers against her lips

"shut up," she gasps as she continues to rock her hips.

she didn't wanna hear his voice. she didn't even wanna see that stupid dumbass smirk on his face. she wanted to slap him, but fuck him at the same time.

jimmy smirked, his hands gripping her hips as she rode him, his eyes darkening with renewed lust. the bathroom's fluorescent light cast harsh shadows across his features, highlighting the predatory satisfaction in his expression. his dick throbbed inside her, growing impossibly harder with each bounce of her body.

"that's it," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "show me how much you want it."

asia's thighs trembled with the effort of lifting herself, her movements becoming more frantic despite her earlier protests.

"i hate you," she whispered, the words lacking conviction as her body betrayed her. "i hate what you make me do."

jimmy's laugh was dark, knowing. His hands slid up to cup her breasts, thumbs pinching her nipples through the thin fabric of her tank top. "your mouth say one thing, but this pussy? it tells me everything i needa know."

he thrust upward to meet her downward motion, hitting spots inside her that made coherent thought impossible. the bathroom filled with the obscene sounds of their connection—skin against skin, the wet suction of her arousal coating him with each movement.

jimmy's triumphant smile cuts through her like a knife. he's won.

they both know it.

"that's right," he murmurs, his hands guiding her hips in a slow, torturous rhythm. "take what's yours, baby.

his thrusts became more insistent, more demanding. the toilet seat creaked beneath them, the porcelain cool against his thighs as she continued to ride him. her movements grew erratic, desperate, as pleasure built to unbearable heights.

"you mine now," he whispers against her lips. "say it."

malasia begins to rock her hips, setting a slow, torturous pace that has them both breathing hard. "i'm yours," she admits, the words tearing something loose inside her.

tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

but whether from pleasure or shame? she couldn't say.

jimmy captures her mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue sweeping past her lips to claim her completely. his hands guide her movements, lifting her slightly before bringing her back down with increasing force.

"tomorrow," he pants against her neck, "you're coming to my place."

malasia's rhythm falters. "what? i can't—"

his hand comes up to grip her throat, not squeezing but establishing control. "not askin, ma. tellin. trin's got that double shift. you'll come to my spot. spend the day with me, in my bed."

the image set off a fire in her. hours spent in his sheets, nothing but them alone?

asia whimpers at the fantasy, imagining herself sprawled across his sheets, legs spread wide as he takes her again and again. On his kitchen counter, in his shower, bent over his couch—marking every surface as theirs.

every surface he's marked with trinity.

"jimmy—"

"look at me," jimmy demanded, his fingers tightening in her hair. "i wanna see yo face when you cum for me again."

asia's eyes locked with his, unable to look away as the coil of tension in her belly wound tighter. his hand slipped between their bodies, thumb finding her swollen clit, pressing circles into it.

her inner walls clench around him, pussy fluttering with the first tremors of release, "jimmy, ah—" she gasps, her voice breaking on his name, "it feels so good."

the pressure builds between her thighs, that familiar tightening deep in her core. her hips move faster, grinding down on him with desperate need. his fingers work magic on her clit, the dual sensations overwhelming her senses.

"that's it," he growls, watching her face contort with pleasure. "let go for me, baby. flood this dick again."

she can't hold back anymore. hot liquid gushes from her center, soaking them both as she squirts uncontrollably. his grip tightening on her hips as he holds her in place, letting her release wash over him.

jimmy watched her come undone, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he felt her release coat him once more. "that's my girl,"

her body convulses around him, inner muscles gripping his length in rhythmic pulses as she rides out the most intense orgasm of her life.

jimmy holds her through it, his strong arms supporting her trembling body as she comes undone. his lips press kisses along her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, and across her face.

"be ready by 10 tomorrow," he murmurs, pressing his forehead against hers. "after i drop trin off at work."

the mention of trinity's name sends a fresh wave of guilt crashing through asia. her body stiffens in his arms, the afterglow of her orgasm instantly tainted. jimmy feels the change immediately, his fingers tightening on her jaw.

"nah, stop that shit," he commands, forcing her to meet his gaze seeing tears well up in her eyes. "stop thinking 'bout that. focus on us. what we got right here."

she tries to look away, but his grip is firm, "there is no us," she whispers, the words lacking conviction even to her own ears.

asia's eyes fill with fresh tears, but jimmy wipes them away before they can fall. the actions of her betrayal filing her chest again.

"pack a bag too," his voice dropping to that honey-smooth tone that makes her insides liquify despite her better judgment.

"a bag?" she repeated

"might keep you there for a lil minute." his hands slide down to cup her ass, squeezing possessively

asia nods, defeated and aroused in equal measure. she was unable to form words as conflicting emotions war within her chest. desire and shame. anticipation and guilt. hunger and self-loathing.

her gaze drops to where they're still joined, noticing the absence of the familiar warmth that should have followed his release.

"you didn't cum again," she observes quietly, her gaze pinned on them still intwined.

"that's what you wanted, mama?" he lifts her slightly, his still-hard length slipping from her body with a wet sound that makes her face flush.

he stands, lifting her easily in his strong arms. she feels boneless, utterly spent, as he carries her the sit on the counter again.

asia watches as he stands and dampens a washcloth at the sink. the fluorescent light catches the defined muscles of his back, the strength in his shoulders as he wrings out the excess water.

the warm cloth touches her sensitive flesh, and she hisses, her eyes clinching shut at the contact. jimmy works methodically, cleaning away the evidence of their coupling with unexpected gentleness.

his fingers brush against her tender folds through the cloth, sending aftershocks of pleasure through her overstimulated nerves.

"i know, baby, i know." he soothes, pressing kisses across her cheeks., "you so pretty, mama."

his praise washes over her, a balm to her conflicted soul. despite everything—the betrayal, the guilt, the shame—part of her preens under his approval, desperate for more.

jimmy lifts her effortlessly, cradling her against his chest as if she weighs nothing. her head falls naturally to his shoulder, her body boneless with exhaustion and spent passion. he carries her from the bathroom to her bedroom, navigating through the darkness with surprising sureness.

the sheets are cool against her heated skin as he lays her down with unexpected care. asia watches through heavy-lidded eyes as he retrieves her discarded panties from the floor.

"lift," he instructs softly, and she raises her hips automatically, allowing him to slide the cotton fabric up her legs and over her thighs.

jimmy sits on the edge of the bed, his weight creating a dip in the mattress that rolls her slightly toward him. his large hand comes to rest on her hip, sliding down to cup her ass through her panties. he gives a gentle squeeze, jiggling the flesh playfully before bending to capture her mouth.

his tongue flicks inside, tasting her deeply as though committing her flavor to memory. when he pulls back, his eyes are dark and possessive.

"ten," he reminds her, his thumb tracing the curve of her bottom lip. "be ready."

asia nods, exhaustion pulling at her limbs, making her thoughts heavy and slow. she knows she should protest, should end this before it consumes her completely, but the words won't come.

instead, she reaches up, tangling her fingers in his hair bringing his lips back to hers. with one last peck, jimmy kissed her forehead before standing to leave her room quietly.

asia collapses against the pillows. the scent of him lingers on her skin despite his efforts to clean her. she pulls the comforter over her naked body, seeking warmth that has nothing to do with temperature.

tomorrow. 10am. his place.

she reaches for her phone, her fingers hover over the screen, tempted to search for available apartments in the area. she should move out. should remove herself from this toxic triangle before it consumes her completely.

"just one more time," she whispers to the empty room, "tomorrow, and then I'm done."

she closes her eyes, knowing sleep will be elusive, but hoping for at least a few hours of peace before morning comes.

before she makes yet another choice she'll both treasure and regret.

before she becomes even more his than she already is.

🏷️: @caramelcleopatraa @harmshake @msbigredmachine @luvrsluxe @uceyliyahh @angiedawn02 @amandairene88 @cyberdejos2 @queeny23 @empressdede @trentybenty @heauxvibez @whatdoeseverybodywant @shes2real @romansthrone @acknowledge-reigns @southerngirl41 @prettyfilmz @jaza23 @usoinked @punksyeet @fearlesschimera @holycollectivekitty @luuvprincess @bloodlineslut @levissslutt @punksyeet @fafomama @trippinsorrows

-

(series tags) @sisifromthed @amandairene88 @msbluehaz3 @fearlesschimera @fafomama @rose-bliss @duhitzkay380 @transparentphantomface @isabella-2025 @fairysoulja

xoxo. cleo.

[azsazz]

In Safe Arms (Part 2)

Bodyguard!Azriel x Celebrity!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Hey ! Ik u are hella busy and I am so proud of ur for ur publication , but if u ever get time could u do a Celebrity reader x bodyguard az?

Warnings: A little PTSD for reader alluding to a horrific incident but not much described besides blood.

Word Count: 3,702

Notes: Happy New Year my loves!

(Part 1)

_________________________________________

You’re jolted awake at the rocking of your SUV dipping into a pothole.

Your spine straightens on its own accord and your bleary eyes snap open, frantically scanning the space, on high alert. Your heart pounds in your chest as you desperately try to take in your surroundings. Outside the window, there is nothing but darkness, the skies and scenery draped in midnight-hour black.

It takes you more than a second to realize where you are. In the back of an SUV on your way to your parent’s charity gala that you cannot miss. Except that the weather in New York took a turn for the worse, a heavy blizzard that no news stations mentioned before you fell into an exhausted sleep last night. No planes in, and no planes out.

Which meant that you had to find alternative transportation to make it to Chicago before the gala, which meant that Azriel had to arrange safe travel for you to get there on time, his job already on the line from his mistake only days ago.

Not the kiss. Not the weak fucking moment he had in the bathroom of your suite after a passerby tossed an unknown object at you that split the skin above your brow.

Your parents don’t know about the kiss. You tried to convince Azriel that it wasn’t worth telling them, and he tried to convince you that it couldn’t happen again.

His eyes had been hard. He’d been wearing that same stoic mask he showed up on his first day with. “We can’t do that again,” he’d said, like the kiss was transactional. Like he didn’t feel the passion that lit your entire body up, the wanting in your bones.

No kisses have happened in the days since.

Your eyes connect with Azriel’s through the rear-view mirror and the sight of your infallible bodyguard has you relaxing against the warm leather seat, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Azriel says softly. His rough, gravelly tone sharpens his apology.

“It’s fine,” you brush off, but it’s not fine. Nothing that has anything to do with you is ever fine.

Silence takes over the car. He hasn’t even turned on the radio to keep him company while you slept. You frown at the thought, then realize that silence is probably what Azriel is used to, what he prefers.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you admit.

Azriel’s gaze stays focused on the road, not another vehicle in sight. “You needed it,” he defends, and you shrug.

“Where are we?”

“A few hours away from the Ohio border,” Azriel answers. You glance at the neon glow of the clock. It reads just past one in the morning, which means that you still have seven or so hours of driving to go, depending on how bad the road conditions are.

You’re supposed to be in Chicago by ten a.m. for brunch with your parents and the charity director for the gala, but with all of the delays that have happened since New York, you’d much rather spend as much time as you can away from the crazy normal that is your life. This unexpected road trip feels like a breath of fresh air that you didn’t know you needed.

You squint, peering around the passenger seat. The roads are clear from snow, piled high on the sides of the highway, but that doesn’t mean that there can’t be patches of black ice to look out for.

You decide to keep Azriel company. You don’t want to be sleeping the night away peacefully while he navigates through four states to get you back to your parents. You know for a fact that he’s gone days without speaking a single word nor getting an ounce of sleep, but right now, with the dark of night blanketing the car, it feels cruel.

Azriel protests when you unbuckle and climb over the console, claiming the front passenger seat. His hands are white-knuckled around the steering wheel and he tries to keep his focus on the road, though you do catch him sneaking a protective peek over at you more than once. It makes you want to snort with amusement, there’s no threat here, unless he hits a patch of aforementioned black ice, but you trust Azriel with your life, so you should be fine.

And you are. Azriel’s shoulders don’t lose a strand of tension until your buckle slides locked with a click. Even then, he can hardly relax. “You shouldn’t be up here.”

“And you shouldn’t be driving this late at night,” you retort easily, kicking your feet up on the dash. Azriel’s hand comes down over your knee before you can fully prop up your legs, guiding you in a gentle yet stern matter to keep your feet on the floor. You follow his command so that he doesn’t banish you back to the back seat.

He hardly acknowledges you, focusing on the task at hand. Delivering you in one piece to Chicago in time to arrive at all of your scheduled meetings. He will not fail your family a second time.

With his focus pinned on the road, you drink your bodyguard in. His eyes flicker from the rearview mirror to the side mirrors to the windshield in meticulous rotation. You trail your gaze down the straight slope of his nose to his pink, plush lips. You haven’t stopped thinking about his mouth on yours since the desperate kiss you shared in your hotel room two nights ago, and a warm heat coils low in your stomach at the memory, waking you up.

“You look tired,” you murmur, distractedly. He does. The gray circles under his eyes aren’t the only thing giving Azriel’s exhaustion away. It’s in the way he blinks slowly, but forces his eyes wide. It’s in the way he drums his fingers against the steering wheel for something to focus on other than the road. It’s in the empty cup of coffee stacked on his old ones. He’s stopped thrice tonight for a caffeine boost and you slept though them all. He’d be jonesing for another if you hadn’t climbed up into the seat beside him. His entire body is tightened with alert now that you’re here.

He isn’t tired, he’s wired. Three large black coffees might have been too much, but it’s your presence that has Azriel more alert than anything. His skin heats at the feeling of your eyes on him, can feel every movement you’re making from across the console.

He taps his fingers against the wheel to expel the nervous energy. You wonder what’s going on because Azriel’s resolve never cracks like this. Everything was fine when you were in the backseat, asleep. He didn’t have to interact, possibly mislead you. He was free to dig into his mind, overthink every little thing that’s happened between the both of you since this little journey began.

He knows you too well. He has to. He’s read your file, like he does with all of his clients. Somehow, you’ve managed to worm your way into his mind, deeper than a flesh wound.

“I’m fine,” he assures. He rubs a hand down his jaw, the short stubble tickling his skin. He needs to shave.

“We should stop for the night,” you protest, catching glimpse of a sign on the side of the highway that shows that you’re only a few miles away from a town to get gas and sleep.

“We need to be in the city early,” Azriel refutes. He chances a glance over at you. Your arms are crossed over your chest and you’re wearing that stern, determined look on your face that makes his cock twitch in his pants. He keeps himself carefully still. “We don’t have time to stop.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that we stop for the night, Azriel,” you reply. “I was telling you that we are going to stop for the night.”

He should protest, he knows that he should. He doesn’t know anything about this town, if it’s filled with lunatics or people who’d try and harm either one of you for your expenses. The decked-out, expensive SUV is a sign screaming rich.

You don’t remove your glare from him until he veers the vehicle onto the exit ramp.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“I’ll take the chair,” Azriel says, eyeing the single bed in the room. “I won’t be sleeping anyway.”

Your nose scrunches. You stare at the chair for a long second and return your gaze to Azriel’s. The entire point of stopping for the night was to rest, to let the storm that caught up to you play out and hopefully finish the drive with clearer conditions.

Something clenches in your chest. You’re not sure if it’s your heart or your stomach or both.

He won’t sleep because there is only one bed.

“So, you’re going to sit in that chair,” you repeat like you don’t understand. You don’t, and you point to the faded green armchair. The rests are made of a blonde wood and the back of the chair sits so straight that there’s no chance anyone could actually fall asleep in it. “And do what? Watch me sleep?”

His jaw sharpens, the muscles flexing as he clenches his teeth. His hazel eyes follow the point of your finger for a fleeting second before returning to yours.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s watched you sleep.

“I’ll turn the chair toward the window,” Azriel answers like this is a solution. If it makes you uncomfortable, he will even wait in the car.

The real solution would be for him to get in the fucking bed with you and sleep for a few hours. You saw the stack of empty coffee cups in the car. You saw the strain in his posture, the way he was forcing himself from giving into his exhaustion.

A disbelieving noise crawls up your throat. He’s so fucking stubborn. It’s not like you’re both eighteen and the prospect of touching looms over you. No, you’re both adults. You’ve seen him sans clothes, even if it was an accident, and Azriel has been in the room with you during fittings with designers your father fully didn’t trust. He may have been turned toward the window, you toward the mirror, but there was always the thrill that maybe he’d peek over his shoulder, give you a long once-over, that maybe some sort of want would infiltrate his hard, hazel eyes.

You’ve imagined it more than once.

“Azriel,” you scold. You busy yourself with moving your luggage to the empty desk in the corner. The table wobbles as you set your things on it, but it stays upright. You quickly move back toward the bed and tug the blankets back, doing your best to reign in your cringe as you think about the possibilities of what could have gone on in this dingy motel room on the side of the interstate. You’re used to luxurious, five-star hotels catering to your every need, not rundown motels that reek of mothballs and crime.

Ghosts. Are there ghosts?

“We stopped here specifically so you could sleep,” you try to argue, but you sound distracted, and Azriel’s gaze snaps to yours, his shoulders straightening like he’s going into protective mode.

He catches you staring dazedly at the bed. Your fingers are curled tightly into the blankets, lips pressed together tightly. Your chest is rising and falling more quickly, and he rounds the bed, coming to your aid.

Azriel knows the life you’re used to living. What you must be thinking about a place like this. He could say something mean, mention how spoiled you are, how it’s just like the hotels you usually stay in, minus the amenities. He wants to tell you that people have done worse things in nicer rooms, especially the ones you tend to stay in, but he knows that your frozen features are due to something else, a dark memory that edges up every once in a while.

“Let me get you some fresh blankets,” he murmurs. His hand comes down around your wrist gently, drawing you slowly from your daze. The heat of his body sears through the thin fabric of your pajamas, and you latch onto that as you squeeze your eyes shut and force the memories away.

“No,” you choke, sounding much more put-off than you’d like. Azriel knows your past, you remind yourself, he knows everything about you, this isn’t you looking weak. You’re only human. “It’s fine, I—” you swallow roughly as a smatter of red conjures behind your eyelids. You try hard not to flinch, but it’s there, the blood on the walls like some fucking mural.

You look down at your hands, painted with the same crimson. Your clothes, and as you drag your eyes up to the bed—

“Hey,” Azriel snaps, hand planted firmly on your cheek, tearing you from the awful memory. You blink and your eyes latch onto his worried hazel ones. You didn’t even notice Azriel turning you around, how your hand went from clutching the sheets to fisting in his black button down. “You’re not there, you hear me?”

You nod because your throat is too tight to do anything else. Tears brim your eyes and Azriel wipes an escaped drop that drags down the apple of your cheek. His touch is too soft, too tender.

You pull away, ripping yourself from his hands. You turn toward the bed and don’t allow the dreadful recollection another thought. You slip between the sheets and try to hide your trembling movements by tugging the blankets all the way up to your chin.

You can feel Azriel’s presence behind you. You always can, whenever he’s in the room. It’s like the two of you are magnets. There is an attraction to him that you can’t place.

He knows that you won’t be sleeping now. That the harrowing memory of what you’ve been through lingers in the surface of your mind and if you should fall asleep, it will only haunt you worse.

Azriel’s known about your past, the terror that you’re trying so desperately to run from, to forget. It chases you like death is on your heels, ready to grip you with its bony fingers and drag you into the dark. He’s been briefed on how you might respond when the trauma inevitably claws its way back, but this is his first time experiencing it happening to you. How it grips you around the throat and threatens to consume you.

His jaw aches from grinding it so tight. The one thing that he can’t protect you from is the one thing he wants to protect you from the most.

He has a job, and this is part of it, he tells himself as he kicks his shoes off.  

“Shove over.”

“What?” You ask, confused. You peer over your shoulder to see Azriel shrugging off his jacket. It leaves him in a black t-shirt that clings to his body exactly the way you want to. You never thought you’d be jealous of a piece of clothing, yet here you are. You carefully tear your gaze away.

“You need to sleep and I know your stubborn, spoiled ass isn’t going to do it if I’m not doing it with you” he pauses. That sounded so fucking wrong, but Azriel trudges on. “So, shove over.”

You fight the smile that threatens to curve your lips at his comment. If it was coming from anyone else, you’d be offended, but you know that Azriel doesn’t mean it as anything other than a joke. You scoot further toward the edge of the bed, shivering at the cool sheets. Your goosebumps only prickle further when Azriel’s weight hits the mattress, and the warmth of his body washes over you.

You try not to let your breathing shallow as he settles himself in. He’s not even touching you, for Mother’s sake, and yet you’re responding as if you’re a teenager lying beside her childhood crush.

“Don’t think about it,” Azriel’s voice startles you.

You might smile at the rough demand in Azriel’s tone if you weren’t feeling like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for someone to come up behind you and shove you off.

“Easier said than done,” you mutter. When the light flickers out, your body locks, and the memory explodes in your mind like a fucking gunshot wound.

“I said, don’t think about it.” Azriel’s voice is a gruff command in your ear, snapping you back into reality. Your heart is pounding against your ribcage, and you can hear the struggle in your lungs as you try to gulp down what little air makes it through your constricting esophagus.

Hands wind their way around your waist and you don’t have a second to struggle before Azriel tugs you back into his chest, molding his body against your back. A warm, heavy arm is draped across your side, and his hand finds your shaking ones beneath the blankets, offering you a lifeline.

You clutch onto him. Azriel murmurs softly in your ear but you can’t make out the words. They’re in a different language. French or Italian or Spanish, you think. You sure that if he was speaking English, you still wouldn’t understand with the way that you’re focusing on fighting past the demons in your head.

The room is pitch black. You always sleep with a light on, even if it’s just the screen of your phone lighting up the darkness. You haven’t been in a blackened room like this since that night, and Azriel knows it, which is why, with some maneuvering, he turns on the flashlight on his phone and sets it on the bedside table, illuminating the room in an awful white light that has you all but melting into his body.

“Thank you,” you whisper. It sounds much too loud in the quiet of your motel room.

“Go to sleep,” he answers plainly. His bluntness almost makes you smile.

But you can’t go to sleep, and not just because of the lingering aftershocks of your memory. As those slowly eke away, you focus on the feeling of Azriel’s body pasted tightly against yours.

You swear you can feel every muscle that is packed onto his hard body through your clothes. Your ass is nestled against his front, and you want to wiggle oh-so badly, to writhe against him in the hopes of feeling what he’s working with down there.

He’s still fully clothed, you notice. Didn’t think twice about climbing into the bed behind you to console you. You wonder if he’s uncomfortable before realizing that with his military trained past, he must have slept in worse conditions than this before.

Which makes you cringe. Here you were, freaking out about a fucking motel when there are people who are going through much worse. Embarrassment flares your body and you squirm uncomfortably.

Azriel’s arms lock tighter around you, and he tugs you closer. You didn’t think there was a closer, but there is. His breath fans across your ear when he speaks. “If you keep moving like that, we’re going to have a lot more than a blizzard and stiff fucking sheets to worry about.” He sounds callous, but there’s a strain to his tone, one that has all of the fiery feelings in your veins converging between your thighs.

Your movements halt immediately. “Sorry,” you say, but there’s no sleeping now. Not when his words are out there, hanging in the air. That if you kept moving, you’d have a different kind of stiffness to think about. One that you’re much more interested in than the starchy sheets.

You close your eyes anyway, trying to fight off the interest stirring low in your gut. The image of Azriel naked, rolling on top of you drifts into your mind. Your pussy clenches when he slowly parts your legs and flashes you a devious smile before lowering himself between your legs.

Movement has your eyes jolting open. You’re holding your body so tightly that Azriel would be terrible at his job if he didn’t know that you weren’t asleep like you should be.

“Sleep,” Azriel reminds you brusquely. His hand splays across your stomach, his thumb stroking across the soft fabric of your shirt in a soothing motion, or what would be a soothing motion if you weren’t three seconds from creating the foulest dirty thoughts about him or two seconds away from actually doing something about it.

“Okay,” you breathe, trying to force annoyance into your words instead of the arousal that slips out anyway. Azriel’s thumb falters and you swear you feel something against the curve of your ass twitch. Your breath catches in your throat and now you know that the movement against your hind wasn’t a part of your imagination.

The noise you let slip has blood pooling into Azriel’s cock. He refuses to move, refuses to do anything except squeeze his eyes shut and practice the techniques he learned in the Royal Marines to keep himself in fucking check. He promised that after the kiss in the bathroom that he would keep away from you, that this relationship would stay professional only.

Professional feels so fucking far away from this.

You find the courage to whisper. “Azriel?”

He grunts in response, to let you know he’s awake and listening, and you like the sound all too much. “That doesn’t sound like sleeping.”

“I’m not sure that I can,” you admit.

Azriel sighs softly, his breath tickling your neck. “You didn’t even try,” he answers simply, but his fingers begin tracing a soft, soothing pattern across your forearm. You latch onto his hypnotic touch, wishing it would move further south. “Just think of better things. I’m here, and you’ll be alright.”

I’m here, and you’ll be alright. Because he’s your bodyguard, your protector, and he won’t ever let anything happen to you, mentally or physically.

You shut your eyes and think about those words, the soft touch from a man so callous and strong, long until you fall asleep.

[httpsserene]

Heyy, i was wondering if you could do an Toto wolff x reader. I was thinking kitchen sex?? Like Toto getting turned on because he found out that reader was trying to make him his beloved pumpernickel bread for breakfast. I’ve been seeing tiktoks of Toto and his love for pumpernickel bread, and was just wondering if you could write abt it, though it’s TOTALLY ok if you don’t. Sorry if this was a little messy, this is my first time rqsting something. ♥️

𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐰/𝐭. 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟𝐟

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you make toto his favorite bread. he’s going to thank you for this surprise properly. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. implied age gap. kitchen sex. rambling about bread. unprotected sex. vaginal sex. morning sex. reader and toto are married. beta-read. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.2k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: toto wolff x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: can't take my eyes off of you (i love you baby) • lauryn hill

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: can you tell i did way to much research on the types of pumpernickel bread? no, well, i don’t care 🙂 i WAS NOT familiar with toto wolff and pumpernickel bread so a quick youtube search opened my eyes to it and uh what can i say, this was born. ALSO: i feel like i’ve self-diagnosed myself; i am ashamed to admit that my kink might be somebody making me their wife…because why can’t i go one fic without making the reader be referenced to as a wife (m sorry i crave love). i honestly feel like it could be better, but y’know i hope i did your request justice (sorry it took me so long, ktober beat my ass). anon! i hope you see this, and i hope all the toto wolff lovers enjoy !!!

the yellow dish gloves on your hands protect your brown skin from most of the heat of the scalding tap water. the sound of your hums airily reverberate within the high ceilings of your open-plan kitchen as you clean the expensive dishes you’ve dirtied. you’ve taken off your wedding ring and placed it on top of your phone in the middle of the island to avoid any possibility of it falling down the drain or getting damaged. 

you woke up a little after dawn, quickly shutting off your alarm to avoid waking up your husband; it’s the off season for him, you won’t wake him up at insane hours when he’s not needed to work. sneaking out of bed was a battle of its own—there were several close calls as you struggled to slip out of the tight hold of the austrian man. it took seven minutes for you to escape his warm embrace, but you made it through by thinking of the surprise you were going to cook up for Toto—or bake up for him. it’s no secret to anybody that the mercedes team principal loves pumpernickel bread, and that he’s very particular about how he likes it. of course, there’s no way you would be able to make the traditional german pumpernickel bread before he woke up—it takes fourteen hours to cook and it needs to rest for an entire day to allow it to form properly into its crunchy, cookie-like consistency. so, you decided to make the simplified recipe that only takes roughly an hour and a half to bake and prepare, while the original takes its time cooking. your husband will have to be happy with the more loaf-like treat until his preferred bread is ready. you’ve never been more thankful to have two ovens. 

everything went well. both breads are prepped and baking away at their respective temperatures, and you’re carefully attempting to clean up the mess you’ve made in the process. you may not have been quiet enough based on the footsteps you hear heading your way. Toto pauses in the doorway and you smile, not needing to turn around to see the baffled expression on his face. you turn the faucet off and grab the cloth resting on the oven handle to dry your hands, “good morning, bär. slept well?” you teased gently with a small smile in Toto’s direction. you take an appraising glance of his form; he’s only wearing this pair of pajama pants covered in the mercedes logo (George gifted him those when the team did secret santa last year; Toto said he’d never wear them), leaving his toned torso exposed for your viewing pleasure, sleep lines from his pillow are still faint along his left cheek, and his hair is ruffled like he’s been running his hands through it. your husband nods half-heartedly, and blinks in confusion as he takes in the sight of you in the kitchen.

you're wearing one of his white button-up shirts—half of the buttons are fastened, the sleeves are rolled up and cuffed right above your elbow. you aren’t wearing a bra based on the way he can see how your nipples are pebbled through the shirt, and he assumes you’re only wearing underwear based on your bare legs. your feet are warmed by a pair of black, fuzzy house slippers, the bottom of the shirt rests along the middle of your thighs, and the collar is shifted to the side exposing your collarbone. your hair is free, allowed to rest however it wants to on this winter morning. he starts, making to finally enter the space of the kitchen and give you a proper morning greeting, but notices a smudge of flour along your jawline. and then he sees the baking utensils gathered in the sink, and a rich aroma starts to permeate the air. it smells slightly like coffee and slightly like dark chocolate—it’s sweet. then, it dawned on Toto, you’re baking pumpernickel bread. for him. his heart flutters; you usually sleep as late into the morning as possible, but today, you woke up at an insane hour just to make him his favorite bread from scratch. you’ve always teased him for how difficult he acts about his breakfast treat yet you sacrificed hours of sleep to please him. Toto’s mushy mindset is broken, as you cock your head at him, wondering why he hasn’t responded to you, and the collar of his your shirt shifts and falls to expose the top of your chest. mmm, yes, he should thank you properly.

you don’t even have time to register toto crossing the space between you, before your lips are interlocked in a passionate kiss. a shocked squeal is muffled against toto’s lips, as his large hands hold your waist steady, and your own hand flies up to hold his head. your other hand rises to tap at his chest frantically, as you begin to run out of air, and toto pulls away with an amused chuckle. dazedly, your hand on his chest pulls back to touch your lips, like you needed further verification that he just kissed you. 

Toto smirks, “good morning, schatz.”

you nod unsteadily, “yes—g-good morning.”

your husband laughs louder at your stutter, and tugs you into his chest for a proper hug, rubbing at the nape of your neck with a heavy hand. the two of you stand tangled in the middle of the kitchen, uncaring of how many seconds fly by, and your eyes flutter shut at the relaxing motion of Toto’s massaging hands. 

“i’m going to fuck you on the island, now, “ Toto informs you kindly.

you startle, pulling your head back to stare up at him with wide eyes. his gaze is serious, and you can’t help how your cheeks warm under his attention.

“well…” you murmur, “i’m not going to say no.”

from there, it’s all a rushed haze. you go from having two feet firmly planted on the tiled floor to being lifted and placed on the marble island as toto speeds through unbuttoning your collared shirt. you try to shrug it off, but Toto halts your motions firmly telling you to leave it on. you hum absently and pull him into a kiss. Toto moans into your mouth, and the sound has your hips bucking forwarding to grind against the bulge in his pants. his hands reaches for your left hip and assists you in grinding against him, and a sigh of pleasure parts your lips. the austrian eagerly slips his tongue into your mouth, and he tastes a bit of sugar from whatever you snacked on while making his bread. oddly, that causes more of his blood to rush south and he breaks the kiss to lean back and tug your panties off. 

you simultaneously pull his pajama pants down, and squirm happily at the fact that he slept without boxers. Toto gently guides you to lie back on the countertop, and coos softly when you shiver from the cold surface; he’ll warm you up soon. he pulls your panties off from where they were dangling around your right ankle and drops them to the floor, kicking them to the side along with his pants. tugging you forward, your ass rests on the edge of the counter and he leans down to press kisses on your throat.

moaning highly, you crane your neck to expose its full length to his mercy. your right hand tangles in his hair to guide him exactly where you want, your left hand holds at his shoulder for support, with your nails digging into the meat of his muscles. Toto pauses, and pulls back to grab your left hand. a broken whine falls from your lips, and you buck your hips upward searching for friction, the slide of his cock along your folds feels delicious. his knees buckle at the sensation, and he forces your hips back down with his free hand, as he pulls your left hand in front of him to look at it.

“where’s your ring, liebling?” Toto asks, warm eyes focused on your bare ring finger. you laugh disbelievingly, amused and surprised at the fact that he managed to feel the absence of your wedding ring, and pull your hand out of his grasp smoothly. you reach behind you and pluck your ring from its spot on top of your phone, and slide it back on your finger. brandishing your ringed-hand in his eyeline, you impatiently try and buck your hips upward to no avail, his one-handed hold on you is unbreakable. 

“okay! fuck me—now, please,” you demand desperately.

Toto hushes you, and holds your left hand steady. he stares into your eyes as he presses a kiss on the wedding ring he bestowed you with. your cheeks burn hot, and you roll your eyes as if your heart didn’t liquify at the show of devotion. your husband guides himself to your entrance, and pushes in carefully—thankful he fucked you open last night. you whimper softly, tender and sore, but you nod frantically to encourage Toto to push further in. he groans throatily as he bottoms out, throwing his head back in pleasure, and your moan harmonizes at the feeling of fullness. the stretch burns slightly, but you’re more focused on achieving an orgasm than the space he caves out in your walls. 

you squeeze your knees around his waist, and grind up on him to encourage him to move. Toto grabs your left leg, bringing it to rest over his shoulder, while your right leg remains resting on his waist, both fuzzy slippers falling from your feet at the movement. it has him sliding slightly deeper inside you, and a spark of pleasure races up your spine. Toto begins to thrust, setting a quick pace from the get go. he fucked you open eight hours ago and the tightness of your cunt has him considering that he didn’t fuck you well enough. the bruises in the shape of his hands on your hips suggest differently. it’s ridiculous, how lost the two you get in each other’s bodies. your moans are punched out of you with every thrust, his cock dragging against your most pleasurable spot every time he sinks in you. Toto should be embarrassed at how quickly this is ending, but your sounds are too erotic for there to be any other outcome. 

he lays his hand on your navel, gently adding pressure over where he’s reaching inside of you, while his thumb circles rapidly over your clit. your back arches sharply as you screech from the unexpected flare of pleasure, raking your nails down his back in thin red lines as you cum at the added stimulation. it’s a multitude of sensations and emotions that had you hurtling over the edge quicker than you thought possible, and Toto has no choice but to follow you into the abyss, unable to hold back his orgasm at the unbearably hot and wet grasp of your cunt. your husband rocks into you through the afterglow, pausing only when you start to whimper in too much, and not feeling good. staring up at toto with a blissed-out smile and half-lidded eyes, you sigh sweetly as he slips out and leans down to kiss you again. the press of his lips is syrupy sweet and you find yourself getting lost under the feeling of him pouring his love and devotion into you—even though you don’t need the reminder—and the timer you’ve set on your phone blares jarringly causing you and toto to jump apart, startled. 

“what the fuck,” Toto deadpans as you scramble around to turn off the alarm. 

you sigh in relief once the aggravating sound is silenced, and nudge at Toto’s hip with your foot, “well—don’t just stand there! get the bread out before it burns!”

the austrian huffs exaggeratedly, like it’s such a chore, and pulls on the oven mitts to take out the pumpernickel bread adaptation after you direct him to the proper oven, not wanting him to disturb the traditional bread baking. the sight of the known headphone-smashing, hothead mercedes team principal completely naked spare for a pair of oven mitts is amusing, enough that you can’t quiet your snort, uncaring of how Toto glares at you. he places the baking tin on the cooling rack you set to the side, and hums happily at the aroma—even though it’s a far cry from the usual bread he prefers. like the oaf he is, Toto reaches to pull a piece of the fresh pumpernickel to eat, but with lightning quick speed you reach over and slap his hand away before he defiles the bread. 

“aht aht! what do you think you're doing? it needs at least forty-five minutes to cool before you can take a slice,” you scold the grown man.

Toto pouts (astounding, honestly), and then he brightens considerably, a sleazy smirk spreading across his lips, “ah? we have time for a second round then, maybe three…” you laugh hysterically, ignoring the way your stomach flips pleasingly at the suggestion, and slide off the counter, buttoning up your collared shirt, and you bend down to pick up the discarded pieces of clothing lying on the floor, “there’s no way you manage to get hard twice in forty-five minutes, old man–” Toto balks at your words–he’s really not old, or at least not that old, “–however, it’s enough time to finish washing the dishes you distracted me from doing.”

taglist: @saintslewi@cherry2stems@lorarri@inloveallthetime@mindless-rock@biancathecool@barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz

© httpsserene2023

[the-winter-spider]

Yours, Always | Part Seven

Steve x reader, Bucky x reader AU

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Angst, fluff, grief

A/N: HERE WE GOOO, bucky and u have more emotional convos as we go, sooooooo excited still a lot more parts to go!!

lotsa steve flashbacks in this one lol feels diabolical within the part where we see you know who again 🤣🫶🏻

Masterpost

---

“Steve, I swear to God, if you put one more thing on that pan, I’m leaving you.”

“Baby, have a little faith in me.”

“I had faith in you until you set the oven mitt on fire.”

Steve grinned at you, unfazed, standing in the middle of the kitchen like it wasn’t seconds away from being declared a disaster zone. “That was an accident.”

“You literally put it on the stove while the burner was on.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean to.”

You sighed, dramatically dragging a hand down your face as Steve turned back to the pan of food he was attempting to cook.

Attempting.

“Okay, let’s be real,” you said, leaning on the counter. “How many times have you actually used a stove?”

“I use it every day,” Steve scoffed.

“Uh-huh. To reheat leftovers doesn’t count, handsome.”

He was silent.

You grinned. “I knew it.”

Steve groaned, throwing a hand towel at you as you cackled, dodging it.

“Hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?” he muttered, prodding at what was supposed to be dinner but now looked like an unidentifiable charred mess.

“It would be, except now I have to cook and clean.”

Steve gave you his best innocent smile, leaning on the counter beside you. “I’ll do the dishes.”

You arched a brow.

“You’ll do the dishes properly? Or am I gonna find soap in the cups again?”

“You’re never letting that go, huh?”

“Absolutely not.”

He laughed, pulling you against his chest and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Alright, alright. You win. Takeout?”

You grinned up at him. “I thought you’d never ask.”

---

You hadn’t slept, you did try on the plane using Steve’s shoulder as a pillow, you had even curled up in the too-stiff hotel bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to Steve’s even breaths beside you but sleep never came.

How could it? In just a few hours, you were going to see him.

The thought alone was enough to keep your pulse hammering, your stomach twisted in knots, your breath coming too fast, too shallow.

So instead of lying there, drowning in your own thoughts, you had gotten up. Now, you stood in front of the small hotel mirror, staring at your own reflection, trying to recognize yourself, trying to find the girl you were before when Bucky was always there was a sure thing.

You looked… different.

Older of course and there was something tired in your eyes, something weighted in your features. Like grief had left its mark on you in ways you hadn’t even realized.Your spark that he gave you was gone, the colour of your eyes were dulled, you pretended to smile but it never reached your eyes, your hair even somehow lost its colour. You wanted to see him so badly but the you he was asking for, well she wasn’t here anymore. You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the sink as the nerves climbed higher, higher, higher..

“You okay?” Steve’s voice was soft, groggy, coming from behind you. “Wait, don’t answer that, that was stupid of me.”

You caught his reflection in the mirror as he sat up, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair, his brows furrowing the second he really looked at you. “Come here, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitched.

You hesitated before turning away from the mirror and crawling back onto the bed.

The second you were within reach, Steve pulled you against his chest, wrapping you in the kind of warmth that had been your anchor for so long.

His hand rubbed slow circles against your back, his lips brushing against the top of your head.

“Talk to me,” he murmured.

You exhaled shakily, pressing your cheek against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I don’t know how to do this, Steve.”

His arms tightened around you. “You don’t have to know.”

You closed your eyes.

“What if he’s different?” you whispered. “What if I’m different? Of course we are, and what if once he sees i’m not the same girl from when we were kids he, he…”

“Hey, stop.” Steve pulled back slightly, tilting your chin up so your eyes met his. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

You blinked, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “I just…” Your voice wavered. “I’ve waited for this moment for so long, I dreamed of it every night since the funeral, but now that it’s here, I don’t even know if I can handle it.”

Steve’s expression softened, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You can handle anything, sweetheart.”

You let out a shaky breath, nodding once.

He studied you for a long moment, then sighed. “You want me to come with you?”

You hesitated, considering it but deep down, you knew you had to do this alone. “No.” You shook your head. “I think I need to do this by myself.”

Steve nodded, not pushing, not arguing. “Okay.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a second longer than necessary, like he was trying to pour every ounce of love and strength he had into you.

“I’m proud of you, you know.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, your throat tightening. “Thank you.”

You weren’t sure if you were thanking him for the words, or for being here, or for holding you together when you felt like you were falling apart.

Maybe all of it.

Steve smiled, squeezing your hand one last time. “You ready?”

You inhaled deeply, shakily. “No.”

He laughed softly, standing and reaching for his jacket. “Yeah, you are, let's get up, you have an old friend to see.”

---

The party had been perfect.

Lily had been radiant, laughing and twirling in her birthday dress, surrounded by family, friends, and too many balloons to count.

Steve had been smiling the entire time, but you saw it.

The tightness in his jaw. The way his eyes lingered on certain moments a little too long.

You saw it because you knew what today was.

Not just Lily’s birthday, but the day he lost her.

And so, when the house was finally quiet, when Lily was tucked safely in bed, when the decorations had been taken down and the candles had long been blown out, you found Steve in the kitchen, his back to you, his hands gripping the edge of the counter.

His shoulders were tense, his head bowed, his breath shaky. A sound you had never heard before from him, a sob.

Your chest tightened. “Steve?”

He stiffened, turning his head slightly. He didn’t want you to see him like this. “Hey,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “I, just gimme a sec, baby okay?”

But you didn’t listen. You walked straight to him, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing your forehead against his back and he broke.

His hands covered yours, gripping onto you like you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

“It’s okay,” you whispered.

“I miss her,” he choked out, his breath stuttering. “God, I miss her so much.”

Your eyes burned, but you didn’t let go.

“I know..” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “I know.”

Silence settled between you, thick with grief and love, with loss and presence.

“I feel guilty,” Steve admitted after a long moment, his voice barely above a whisper.

You frowned. “For what?”

He swallowed hard. “For being happy.”

A sharp pain shot through your chest.

You turned him toward you, both hands cradling his face, forcing him to look at you.

“Steve Rogers, listen to me.” Your voice was firm, steady, unwavering. “Natasha would want this. She would want you to be happy, to love, to live, to be the incredible father that you are.”

His blue eyes burned, but he nodded, swallowing thickly.

You brushed your thumb over his cheek, offering him a small, sad smile.

He let out a shaky breath, nodding again before pulling you against him, holding you close, his arms wrapping around you completely.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your hair. “She would have loved you.”

----

The hospital feels too bright. Too clean, too sterile, too full of sounds that don’t register in your ears.

Steve pulls into the drop-off area, putting the rental car in park. He doesn’t say anything right away he just reaches over, his fingers curling around yours, his grip warm and steady. “Text me when you’re ready, okay? Take as long as you need.”

You nod, swallowing hard.

He squeezes your hand one last time before leaning in, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “Go see your best friend.”

The words unravel something in you, but before you can even process it, your mom is already getting out of the car, waiting for you.

So you go. Steve watches until you disappear through the doors.

Suddenly it's real and you’re here, in the same building as him. You close your eyes trying to force yourself to wake up but nothing happens and you’re still walking into the hospital where Bucky Barnes is alive.

Your mother is talking, her voice soft but distant. You know she’s trying to prepare you, trying to keep you steady, but the words don’t land. Because as soon as you step inside you see her.

Winnie.

She’s standing near the waiting area, wringing her hands, shifting on her feet like she doesn’t know what to do with herself, her eyes meeting yours.

All the air leaves your lungs, she doesn’t hesitate. Before you can even take another step, she’s pulling you into a hug, clutching you tight, like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go.

“Oh, darling.” Her voice is thick, breaking, filled with too much emotion to name.

You squeeze your eyes shut, holding onto her just as tightly.

For a moment…just a moment you let yourself be the kid who used to come over for Sunday dinners, who used to sit at her kitchen table with Bucky, sneaking bites of cookie dough while she pretended not to notice.

Then, she pulls back, holding your face in her hands, her thumbs brushing at the tears already spilling down your cheeks. “I didn’t tell him you were coming,” she says softly. “Just in case.”

Your heart stumbles. “Just in case?” you echo, voice barely above a whisper.

She doesn’t say it, but you know what she means.

Just in case it was too much.

Just in case you bailed.

Just in case he wasn’t ready.

Just in case this all came crashing down again.

You nod once, tight, understanding, terrified.

Winnie smiles softly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear the way she always used to when you were sixteen, the way her son had done one too many times before.

“I left to get him some water,” she murmurs, her voice gentle, steadying. “I’ll walk you in, then me and your mama are gonna get some lunch and leave you two kids alone.”

Your fingers curl into your sweater, your breath catches.

This is it.

No more waiting.

No more wondering.

No more silence.

He’s here.

You pause just outside the door, shifting on your feet, fidgeting, adjusting your shirt, brushing your fingers through your hair.

Then, your throat goes dry, and before you can stop yourself, you whisper. “Do I… do I look okay?”

Winnie freezes. And when she turns to you, her eyes are already brimming with tears. “Oh, sweetheart.”

Her hands find yours, squeezing tightly, grounding you. “You look beautiful.” Her voice wavers, but she smiles through it. “You always do.”

She inhales, blinking back tears, searching your face with something soft, something knowing. “And my boy in there?” She lets out a small, breathy laugh. “He will always think you’re the most beautiful girl…woman, in any room. Always has and always will, okay?”

Your lip trembles. You nod once, quickly, like if you linger too long in this moment, you might break. “Okay.”

She nods back, her smile watery, warm. With one last squeeze of your hands she opens the door.

Winnie squeezes your hand. “Ready?”

No. But you nod anyway.

Winnie knocks softly before pushing the door open.

“James, sweetie, I got your water,” she says gently, stepping inside. “And I have someone here for you.”

The room is dark, the only light coming from the small glow of the monitors beside the bed.

There’s a rustle of sheets, the sound of a sharp inhale, and you hear it, what once used to be your favourite sound in the world, his voice.

“Ma, I told you,” his voice is rough, raw, broken, so much deeper than you remember. “I don’t wanna see anyone unless it’s her. Please. I just…can’t.”

You stop breathing, your body feels numb, you dig your fingernails into your palms to try and ground yourself, your body glued to the doorway, unable to move.

Because he’s asking for you. Still. Even now.

Winnie sighs softly, moving to place the water bottle on the nightstand, without turning around, she reaches for your hand.

Her fingers are warm, steady, grounding, and she gives yours a firm squeeze, she looks back at him. “Good thing it’s her, then.”

You swallow hard.

And finally…finally…you step into the room.

Everything else fades away, all your nerves you had, all the negative thoughts floating through your mind because he’s there, right in front of you and he’s real, more importantly he’s alive.

For the first time since your last encounter on his driveway ten years ago, you’re looking at him, actually looking at him, not in a memory, not in a dream, but right here, right now.

Winnie says something soft, but you barely hear it before the door clicks shut behind you, suddenly it’s just the two of you.

You stare, you can't help it because it’s him.

But at the same time it's not, his hair is long, brushing past his shoulders, strands falling into his eyes. A beard shadows his jaw, uneven, a little unkempt, like he hasn’t had the strength to care.

His eyes, god, his eyes tell it all, they’re tired, dim, haunted, but they’re still and always will be your favorite shade of blue and you realize they’re staring at you like he’s not sure if you’re real.

His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again but no words come. His breath is unsteady, his eyes shining, filling, threatening to spill over.

Your own vision blurs, but you still can’t move, can’t breathe. You just watch. Watch as he pushes the blanket back, as he swings his legs over the bed, as he adjusts the IV lines without thinking. You watch as he stands, moving toward you, one step at a time, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

Your lungs lock up, because this isn’t possible. You still can’t seem to wrap your mind around it because he was gone and yet he’s right in front of you, close enough to touch.

“Y/N.” His voice breaks on your name, his hand trembles at his side.

And again so softly, so breathless, so disbelieving. “It’s you.”

You feel like you can breathe again or maybe you can’t either way you don’t care because if this was the last breath you ever took you’d be okay because you finally got to see him again and against all odds, against all reason Bucky Barnes is here and after ten long years, he finally….finally holding you again.

“Bucky.” It comes out quiet, broken, barely more than a whisper.

But he hears it.

His breath catches, his eyes squeeze shut for a moment, like hearing his name from your lips is too much and not enough all at once. “I forgot what it felt like to hear you say my name.” He whispers, his right arm wraps around you, clutching you close, holding on like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

His left arm is in a sling, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to pull you into him completely. But you’re still frozen. Your body won’t move, won’t respond, won’t process that this is real.

“Please.” His voice shakes, cracks, pleads. “Please hug me back, Y/N. Please.”

Your arms move on their own.

You wrap yourself around him, fingers digging into the fabric of his hospital gown, clutching at his back like he’s the only thing keeping you standing.

Because the second your bodies mold together, the dam finally breaks.

You sob, so does he. Neither of you try to stop it.

You don’t know how long you stand there, clinging to each other.

Minutes. Hours. Forever.

But still it’s not enough, it’ll never be enough.

He pulls back just slightly, enough to look at you, really look at you. His hand trembles as he lifts it, brushing the backs of his fingers against your cheek, wiping away the tears that won’t stop falling. “I’m sorry.”

Your brows furrow. “Bucky…”

“No,” he shakes his head, his voice raw, heavy with guilt. “I should have—”

“No.” You cut him off, shaking your head quickly, your hands coming up to grip his face. “Please, Bucky. I don’t want to do this right now.”

His brows pull together, confused, hurting.

“Just in case this isn’t real,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

“Just in case this is some sick dream, I don’t want to waste the time I get to have with you talking about all the should haves and what ifs, because I haven’t stopped thinking about those all these years” You choke out.

His throat bobs, his hand coming up to cover yours, pressing the right one tighter against his face.

His eyes never leave yours. “It’s real, sweetheart.” His voice is low, steady, certain. “I’ve been dreaming of this moment for a long time.”

A shaky breath leaves you. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

His thumb brushes against your cheekbone, his eyes scanning every inch of your face, memorizing, memorizing, memorizing.

“You’re here,” he whispers.

“So are you.”

--

The night air is cool, crisp, wrapping around you like a familiar embrace as you lie side by side with Steve on Lily’s trampoline.

The backyard is quiet, the only sound is the soft creak of the springs beneath your weight, the occasional whisper of wind through the trees.

Above you, the stars are scattered across the sky like shattered glass, endless, eternal. You exhale slowly, staring up at them, feeling so small and yet so incredibly heavy at the same time.

Steve shifts beside you, his fingers finding yours, lacing them together.

“We should do this more often,” he murmurs, his voice soft, thoughtful.

You hum in agreement, squeezing his hand, letting yourself exist in the moment. Before you even realize what’s happening, before you even have time to catch the words they slip out. “Bucky and I used to do this.”

The second his name leaves your lips, the air shifts.

Steve freezes.

You do too.

Because you haven’t said his name in years. Not like this, not in casual conversation, not in reflection. Not to Steve, not since you told him only once who the person you lost was.

You swallow, your chest tight, uneasy.

Steve doesn’t say anything right away, giving you the space to take it back, to change the subject.

But you don’t and for some reason you can’t.

So, you keep going. “When we were teenagers, we used to lie in the bed of his truck and look at the stars.”

You let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking your head. “Sometimes we talked about stupid things, like if aliens were real or which one of us would die first in a horror movie, he always said me, by the way. I beg to differ.”

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at that, but he still doesn’t speak.

You lick your lips, hesitating. “Other times…” you trail off for a second before swallowing. “Other times, we talked about the future.”

Steve’s fingers tighten slightly around yours.

“It’s hard for me to talk about him,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “It always has been.”

Steve stays silent, listening, waiting.

You close your eyes for a second before opening them again, staring at the stars, the same ones the two of you once laid under and all you see is Bucky.

“My whole life was centered around him.” Your voice wavers. “And then he blindsided me. It felt like he betrayed me and then…”

You inhale sharply.

“Then he was just gone.”

Steve’s hold on you tightens.

“There was no body, no answers, no nothing. Just… gone.”

The ache in your chest is so sharp, so deep that you have to pause for a moment, pressing your lips together. “We had these plans,” you whisper. “Dreams, stupid, beautiful, impossible dreams.”

Steve stays so still, waiting, his warmth beside you grounding you just enough to keep going.

“I found out in the worst way,” you continue, your voice bitter now, your hands shaking. “It was just days before we were supposed to leave for NYU. I went to the convenience store to get us slushies, to celebrate and I overheard one of his stupid friends talking about how he turned down his scholarship. About how he enlisted, just like his dad did.”

You let out a shaky breath.

“I dropped the slushies, I didn’t even think. I just..drove straight to his house and there he was, loading up his car in his uniform, like he was about to leave without even telling me.”

Steve’s brows knit together, his breath slow, measured.

“I was so hurt,” you continue, your voice breaking. “I told him I hated him. That I never wanted to see him again.”

Steve lets out a breath, like he’s been holding it in this entire time.

“And then… he was gone.”

Your eyes burn, your chest aching so fiercely it feels like you’re suffocating. “He wrote to me for two years.”

Steve stiffens.

“I never wrote back.”

You sniffle, wiping at your face, feeling the weight of it all settle on you like an anchor.

“And then one day, my mom called and asked me to come home for the weekend. When I got there, Winnie and my mom were waiting for me.”

Your throat tightens.

“I knew before they said it.”

Steve’s hand clenches around yours.

“He was declared MIA.”

Your voice is so small, so hollow, like you’re reading off someone else’s tragedy instead of your own.

“And after a little over a year, his unit was presumed deceased. And that was it, that was his life just gone. There was a funeral but we had no body, no nothing.”

A humorless laugh escapes you, sharp and broken.

“We were just… expected to move on. Like he never existed, like my best friend, my entire world wasn’t ripped away from me overnight.”

Steve is completely still. He doesn’t breathe, doesn’t speak. Because he never knew any of this, you had told him Bucky’s name once.

That was it. But now? Now, it’s all out in the open.

The grief, the guilt, the unbearable, all-consuming loss and suddenly, you feel so raw, so exposed.

“Say something,” you whisper.

Steve lets out a slow breath, shifting beside you.

Then, in one fluid movement, he pulls you onto his chest, holding you.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” The words are soft, heartfelt, full of something so deep you can’t name it.

You let out a shaky breath, burying your face into his shirt, letting yourself sink into his warmth.

Steve doesn’t ask more questions. He doesn’t tell you you should have moved on. He just holds you.

And as you stare at the sky, at the endless expanse of stars above you, you wonder if Bucky was up there looking down back at you.

--

Bucky is back in bed now, his body still weak, still healing.You sit beside him, your chair pulled as close as possible, your fingers curled tightly around him. His grip on your hand is strong, unrelenting.

Neither of you have let go, not since the moment you walked into this room.

His thumb traces slow, familiar circles over your knuckles, his gaze fixed on your intertwined hands as if he’s still trying to convince himself that you’re real.

That you’re here.

That after all these years of nothing, of silence, of darkness, of wondering if he’d ever feel warmth again he’s finally touching you.

Then, his grip tightens slightly. “Tell me about your life.”

You blink, startled, looking up to find his eyes already on you, desperate, pleading, like a man searching for something to hold onto.

“Bucky…”

“Please.” His voice catches, breaks slightly. “You and Ma, you’re all I thought about all these years. The only things that kept me going.”

His throat bobs.

“The thought of never seeing you again…” He trails off, shaking his head, his eyes darkening. “I couldn’t let myself think like that. I just… I held on to you. The memory of you. The idea of coming back to you. And anytime I thought about ending it, I just couldn’t imagine never seeing you again. That’s why I held on.”

Your breath hitches, your heart aching in a way you don’t know how to carry.

And when you don’t respond right away, Bucky panics—like maybe that was too much, too soon.

So, he adds..“That and Sam.”

You latch onto the name, ignoring the rest, needing a second to breathe.

“Sam?”

Bucky huffs a small breath, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips.

“Yeah, Sam. He… kept me sane. My best friend out there, though I’d never tell him that.”

You were so glad Bucky had someone out there, it hurt knowing that there was someone who was now closer to this Bucky than you were but you brushed it off, your voice is quiet, unsteady, but you offer him a small smile anyway. “I’d like to meet him.”

Bucky smirks faintly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“He’d like you, I know he would, because he pretty much already knows you.” He squeezes your hand. “I told him so many stories, told him everything about you. He said the two of you are practically best friends now.”

Then, his eyes narrow playfully. “But don’t change the subject.”

Your stomach twists, you shy away, looking down. “There’s not much to tell, Buck.”

“I don’t believe that.” His fingers tighten around yours. “Tell me about NYU. What happened? What do you do now?”

You inhale shakily, biting your lip. “NYU was… it was good. For a while. The first two semesters were great.”

His eyes light up, pride flickering in his expression. “But?”

You hesitate, you slowly look at him. “I never graduated.”

His face falls because that wasn’t like you at all, to fail, to give up on something. “What? Why not?”

You swallow hard. “Bucky…”

“No, why not?” He leans in slightly, searching your face. “Did you change your mind? Did you find another interest? It’s okay, you can tell me.”

You sigh, pressing your lips together.

“I just… after—” you can barely get the words out “After losing you, I lost a part of myself. I was failing. I wasn’t handing in my assignments, and they kicked me out of the program…I lost my scholarship.”

Bucky stares at you, his expression shattered. Like he’s watching the ripple effect of his disappearance in real-time. He never truly considered what his loss might have done to you, he knew you would be crushed but he hoped you would know that he would want you to be happy to live your life to the fullest like the two of you dreamt about all those years ago. “I’m so sorry.” his voice cracks.

“Don’t apologize Bucky” Your hand brushes his cheek wiping away the tears. “I don’t want to talk about me anymore right now.”

He studies you for a long, heavy moment.“Okay.”

Silence settles between you.

“Did you read my letters?”

Your stomach twists again.

You nod slowly. “Every single one.”

His shoulders loosen slightly, relief passing through his features.

“But,” you whisper.

His brows knit together again.“But what?”

You inhale deeply, your fingers shaking against his.

Quietly, guiltily. “I never opened the last one.”

Bucky freezes. “Why not?”

“Because then it would have been final. You would have been gone, and that would have been it. And holding onto that last letter meant you were still here…a part of you, unspoken and here.”

Your voice cracks, and suddenly, you’re sobbing. “I know it’s so stupid, I just..I could never let you go, Bucky.”

Your hands shake, your breath shuddering. “I tried to… I tried to forget you because it all hurt so much, I thought it would be easier. I thought forgetting you would take the ache away, but I don’t even remember much from the first two years after your funeral. I was so numb, it all feels like one long nightmare…I was never good at letting things go.” You laugh sadly “Steve, he helped me try to work through it all but I just…I could never get over it, I could never let you.”

Bucky sniffles. “When I was out there, I kept hoping that you were happy.”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“That you were living out your dreams,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. “Our dreams, I kept picturing you in that apartment we made up in our heads, with your new friends from school.” A sad, breathy chuckle leaves him. “Going to all the bars and having enough fun for the both of us and when we finally saw each other again, in this life or the next you’d tell me all about it.”

You suck in a sharp breath. “My dreams died with you.” You whispered

A knock on the door put the conversation to a halt, interrupting before Bucky could respond, Winnie poked her head in. Her eyes landing on Bucky then trailing down to your hands intertwined, her eyes softening at the sight “Sorry to interrupt but the nurse said visiting hours are over in a few minutes.”

You pull your hand away and Bucky winces at the loss of contact. “What time is it?” You murmur searching for your phone.

“Almost nine, darling.”

Your eyes widened, you had been here for hours, hours and it didn't feel like it, it didn't feel long enough “Oh” was all you said.

You stood up, hesitating. “I guess I should get going then.”

Bucky moving, tossing the blanket tossed to the side as he moved towards you. His right arm wrapped around your waist without permission, without hesitation, this time he didn’t need to ask you, you tossed your arms around his neck.

“You're still everything to me.” he murmured in your ear, chills running down your neck.

“I don't wanna go.” you whisper. “I wish I could stay.”

He pulls back, his lips grazing your cheek “I'll be discharged soon and heading home in a few days.” He said releasing your waist brushing your hair behind your ear. “Will you be back tomorrow?”

You nodded “Any day you want me here, Buck, I’ll be here okay?” You both hugged one last time before you kissed his cheek “I'll see you tomorrow Bucky.”

“See you tomorrow sweetheart.”

You headed towards the door, stopping to give Winnie a hug goodbye. “Steve is waiting outside for you, your Mom called him.”

“Thank you for everything.” You said

Turning around and looking at Bucky one last time you gave him a small wave and left.

Bucky sat on the edge of his bed looking at his Mom and his voice quiet “Who’s Steve?”

[lulujeno]

lowkey — park jisung ᡣ𐭩

summary : you and jisung like keeping your relationship lowkey

warnings : slight mentions of parties/alcohol 2x, other than that its fluff(?)

wc : 0.5k

a/n : gn!readerrrrr :D wrote this at like 3 am so pls lmk if there are any mistakes </3 was listening to niki's lowkey and got inspired to write this!! has a few easter eggs from the song but the story doesn't really match up with the song tho 🤕 (plsplspls lmk what you think since its my first time writing like this)

You and Jisung were shoved into your room. It was Haechan’s party and he had the genius idea of playing 7 minutes in heaven. Unsurprisingly, he somehow turned it into another one of him and his friends’ poor attempts in getting either you or Jisung to confess to each other. Ever since you joined their highschool your brother and his friends have been trying to get the both of you together. You two were shy at first but eventually got comfortable with each other since it didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon.

“Do they really not know?” Jisung asked as he sat on your king-sized bed, patting the spot next to him to tell you to sit there.

You opted to lay your head on his lap instead, feeling his fingers softly massaging your scalp. “I mean, we are trying to hide it from them. It’s better like this anyways, peace and quiet without them teasing us” you say while admiring how cute your boyfriend looks from this angle.

An aggressive knock is then heard, making Jisung jump a little. “Five more minutes!” you hear Chenle shout through the door, reminding you of your limited time together.

The boy above you notices you yawning and asks if you’d rather take a quick nap instead, letting you know that he’ll wake you up when time is up. You shake your head before letting out another yawn. Jisung lets out a slight chuckle before placing your head on one of your pillows. Too sleepy to open your eyes, you hear shuffling sounds and feel your bed dip a little next to you. The arm on your waist and hand in your hair confirming that it was your boyfriend and not another person who came in and suddenly slept on your bed.

“Stop Ji, what if they barge in on us?” you warned him, not really wanting this moment to end.

A smile forms on Jisungs face, you look so cute in his eyes right now. “That’s a problem for us to face later on. Let’s just take a short nap for now.” He says while stroking your hair softly as if you were the most fragile thing on earth.

Chenle giving a three minute warning was muffled in the background as he was too focused staring at you, not believing that you were finally his after years of desperately crushing on you. You suddenly turned around, almost giving the boy a heart attack. Luckily you were deep asleep so he didn't have to deal with you teasing him for staring.

Jisung lifted his arm from your waist, grabbing his phone that was in his pocket to check the time. It read exactly two thirty am, one minute before the seven minutes were up. Suddenly, he gave you a quick peck on your lips. The impulse coming from the alcohol in his system gave him the confidence boost. While admiring your features after, he thought that maybe it was time to be more than lowkey with you.

Perfectly at the seven minute mark he fell asleep, not caring about the vibrations from his phone and the banging on the door from his friends telling you guys that time’s up. You both can deal with it later when the sun is up.

[nothingbutsweetwords]

ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴇᴀʀ ɪᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ..."

Word count: 6000.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

Warnings: Angst.

FALLING — 7. Her.

During the first moons of her stay at the Red Keep, everything seemed new and exciting. There was some sense of freedom in not having her family around, but with each sunrise, it became more complicated, and the longing grew stronger.

The letters she received from her mother initially brought comfort, but soon they became short. No matter how many words her mother wrote about her, her siblings, and her father, it was never enough. She wrote daily, though she only sent them every three days. She would tell her about her day, always omitting her nightly outings, and tried to hide how much she missed them, and her mother, worried, always asked about Aemond's progress.

Over time, even all the letters became inadequate; they couldn't fill the void she felt. She longed to hear their voices, feel the warmth of their hugs. She questioned a few times if it had been a good idea, but she quickly dismissed those thoughts to remain resolute.

Aemond spent most of his time in the yard, both morning and evening, promising to become the best warrior for her. This caused their visits to the library to decrease. Nevertheless, every night without fail, they slept together, face to face, finding solace in each other's presence.

Her lessons with the septa became increasingly tedious, or perhaps she just grew more easily bored. She spent a lot of time in Helaena's room, who seemed happy to have her. Helaena continued to intrigue her with riddles and enigmatic phrases, making her wonder when each prediction would come true. So far, none seemed bad, so she wasn't frightened or worried. Helaena also helped her improve her embroidery technique, although there wasn't much to be done; it wasn't her strong suit. Soon, the lack of activities even led her to become interested in her insects, delighted to see her aunt’s enthusiasm.

One day, while sitting on the floor, Helaena placed a ladybug on her hand. "It tickles" she said, laughing softly as the insect walked across her palm. Helaena smiled at her, happy to share her passion with someone.

"They all have seven dots, the red ones" Helaena said, revealing an interesting curiosity. "She likes you" she added, looking her in the eyes with a slight smile. She thanked her for saying that.

"What about those?" she asked, pointing to a wooden box with a transparent lid, where several insects could be seen inside. There were some spiders and others she couldn't name.

When Helaena turned to look in the direction her finger pointed, her smile faded a bit. She took the box in her hands and allowed her to observe them from above, while the ladybug continued to walk between her fingers and fly from one hand to the other.

"I do not trust them yet" she said quietly. "I am not sure whether their wishes are for good or ill."

“Why?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Helaena pointed to a large black spider from above and said: "They weave intricate webs, and sometimes those webs can hide important secrets. I'm still trying to unravel which ones" she said, frowning. "But what I know is, we have to beware of the guardian of secrets" she warned, as if wanting to protect her from an-as-yet unknown danger. She simply nodded, hoping nothing bad would come of it.

As time passed, life at the castle continued with its ups and downs; Aemond's training, the enigmatic conversations with Helaena, the whispers of the people, and the few letters from her mother. Even through it all, she found moments of peace, and convinced herself that despite the challenges, she was exactly where she needed to be, next to him.

Occasionally, she found distraction by visiting her grandsire's room. She spent hours there, reading to him, listening to his fascinating stories about their ancestors and the old Valyria. Often, she asked for tales about her mother's youth, seeking to feel closer to her.

She had also begun to insist on Lyra's presence during every meal, finding in her company a sense of familiarity, a relief from her growing homesickness. As expected, everything began to feel cramped, and Lyra, as perceptive as ever, had noticed it, and she herself could no longer ignore it.

She missed her family terribly, and there was nothing that could ease that pain, except the obvious. She felt trapped, guilty for wanting to go to Dragonstone and leave Aemond behind, but she couldn't help it.

"Could it be that, perhaps, I've made a mistake coming here?" she asked one night, her voice filled with doubt and shame for exposing her deepest thoughts.

"I do not think things are that simple, princess. You came here with good intentions, and missing your family is only natural, it does not mean you have made a mistake" Lyra replied gently.

She nodded, acknowledging the truth in those words. "I do really miss them" she murmured, longing evident, head bowed. "No matter how hard I try, this is not my home."

"Why do you say that, princess?" After dinner, Lyra had drawn her a warm bath, and now, in her nightdress, Lyra was gently brushing her long hair.

"I've heard the whispers when I walk alone in the halls." Lyra nodded, understanding the situation and listening attentively to her words. Both were sitting on the bed, and she was with her back facing her lady-in-waiting, between her legs. "It's as if they believe me deaf. I know what they say or think, and it's not... good" she confessed, pain reflected in her voice.

Upon hearing her last words, Lyra set the brush aside and drew her close, wrapping her in a comforting embrace. Lyra was the daughter of one of Rhaenyra's ladies-in-waiting and had lived her entire life in that family. Though only a few years older, she felt a deep maternal love for the princess. 

"We must not let such foolish words disturb our ears, and if they do, let us ensure they do not enter our precious minds, yes?" Lyra said, whispering with firmness. "They mean nothing."

She nodded, and unable to contain herself, she began to cry softly in her caretaker's arms. They remained like that for a while until she could calm down. She appreciated Lyra's love and understanding, feeling fortunate to have someone like that by her side, watching over her well-being.

After some time, Lyra left the room, wishing her goodnight. This was her signal to get up, put on her cloak over her shoulders, dampen her face a bit to erase any trace of dry tears, and take the gift she had prepared so much for him with the help of her mother. With a mix of excitement and nervousness, she headed towards her destination, seeking to find another place of peace and connection amidst the storm of emotions that assailed her.

Aemond's nameday wasn't until the next morning, but she never had much patience for such things. That night, like all others, she entered the room with a candle in one hand, only now she hid the gift behind her back with the other.

Aemond was sitting by the window, his gaze fixed on the night sky. She closed the door with her hip, as both her hands were occupied, and walked over to him. Aemond's face showed signs of fatigue, even some sadness. She knew he was trying to stay awake while waiting for her, as always. The notion of time had escaped her during the shared moment with Lyra, and he always ended up terribly exhausted by his training. Seeing her arrive, Aemond settled and offered a tired smile. She circled the bed, placing the candle on the small table, and with her free hand, she took off her cloak, hiding the gift underneath on the nearby chair.

She walked towards him slowly, observing the clear sky. The moon shone over the city, enhancing the delicacy of his face.

"This is how the night was when I claimed Vhagar" he said, with sorrow. Her heart squeezed at his words, she sadly knew he would never have a flight like that again.

"What was it like?" she finally asked, cautiously. She had never dared to ask about that moment, fearing to reopen wounds, but now that he mentioned it, her curiosity stirred again.

He smiled, still looking at the sky. "I never imagined flying would feel like that" he said, his voice filled with gratitude. "Did it ever trouble you when I did?" he asked.

"What? Claim Vhagar?" she inquired, surprised by his question.

"Yes" he said softly, his voice tinged with apprehension.

She smiled at him, placing a hand on his shoulder, her eyes reflecting pride. "Of course not. It was meant for you, a warrior destined for a warrior." Her words carried a sense of admiration and certainty, a testament to her unwavering belief in his capabilities. "And that was just the beginning, Aemond. Together, you will be unstoppable" she said, her voice whispering with conviction and anticipation. "I do feel safer knowing we have you as protectors."

"Thank you" he expressed, hopeful. She knew the journey was just beginning, and the horizon stretched like a promise of all the adventures to come. "I did it on behalf of us both." She smiled gratefully, gently squeezing him.

"I know they will write books that will pass through all the ages, Aemond, about your courage and triumph" she said, walking towards the sofa.

"I'm not sure about that much" he replied, laughing lightly at her words.

"Then I will be the one to write them" she said, pulling the gift from under her cloak. "Close your eye" she instructed, with an excited smile. Aemond obeyed, but not before giving her an odd look.

"Open your hands" she indicated once she was in front of him again. He did so without question, and with a gentle gesture, she placed the gift in his hands, which lowered slightly at the unexpected weight.

"Now you can look" she whispered. Aemond did so quickly, and looked surprised at the delicate blue velvet bag. She was looking at him with excitement and a touch of nervousness. It was the first time she had given such a planned gift to someone, and she hoped not to disappoint. But even if she did, she would never find out, as he would never show it.

"It's your nameday present" she explained with a radiant smile. "I couldn't wait to give it to you on the morrow, and I wanted to be the first one to do it" she said, letting out a small laugh from her lips.

"I love it" he replied, placing the gift on his lap and looking directly at her, the faint moonlight adorning his gaze with a softness that made him appear even more beautiful.

"You haven't even seen it!" she exclaimed, softly laughing. "Come on, open it."

"I would love anything you gave me" he said laughing too, while untying the laces of the velvet bag to reveal the gift. She had a premonition that his words were sincere.

He carefully pulled the wooden case out of the bag. It was made of ebony, so its color was dark like the night, almost black, and was decorated with delicate carvings. He ran his hand over the surface, appreciating the abstract shapes as if they were a work of art. He had a slightly open mouth as he admired the case with admiration. Then, carefully, he opened it, revealing the true gift.

Inside rested a valyrian steel dagger, shining and forged with impeccable craftsmanship. Its sharp, polished blade reflected the light with a silver shine. Each side of it was adorned with intricate engravings that wound from the hilt to the edge.

His eyes lit up upon seeing it, and a sincere smile spread across his face. "It's valyrian steel" she explained enthusiastically, "so you'll always carry a piece of our roots."

The handle was equally impressive. It was wrapped in black leather, a material that, according to the smith, provided a more comfortable and secure grip. However, the highlight was the sapphires embedded in the handle. The sapphires, of a deep and radiant blue, were skillfully set into the metal, creating a vibrant contrast with the silver. Each sapphire was carefully polished, capturing flashes of light that gave the impression of small stars embedded in the hilt.

The guard of the dagger, also made of steel, was decorated with intertwining motifs that complemented the sapphires in the handle. Aemond took it in his hands carefully, observing every detail meticulously.

She had often heard him speak about Viserys's dagger, seeing the longing in his eyes when he did so, as well as the sadness knowing he could never possess it. That's why she had tried to make something unique for him, something exclusively his, perhaps even something that could be passed down to future Targaryens, always remembered as his.

He set the dagger aside and looked at the box. Inside was a sapphire too. She knew some people carried those precious gemstones as talismans, believing they protected the eyes and helped see beyond the physical. Besides, she had always thought the color matched his eyes. It seemed like a thoughtful detail, but she didn't dare mention its significance.

"My father gave me two he brought back from one of his expeditions to the Stepstones a few years ago" she explained, smiling as he held the sapphire between his fingers, admiring it in the light streaming through the window. "I have the other one" she added shyly. "So you always have a piece of sky, or sea, and I hope it always reminds you that you are destined for something big." He set the sapphire aside and continued to observe. She wondered if he would be attentive enough to explore further, and of course, he was.

The box was lined with more velvet and there was a small cushion where the dagger rested. During her lessons and visits to Helaena, she had embroidered the fabric, and the tailor had turned it into this. She had tried to depict waves and the moon in different shades of blue and teal, with some white stars. They might not have been perfect, but she had poured her heart into them.

He traced the fabric with his fingers, still not saying a word.

"I embroidered it" she added proudly. Then he put the dagger back in the case, but kept the sapphire in his hand. She waited anxiously for his words. "I’m sure it does not compare to Viserys', but..."

"It's perfect" he interrupted, his voice sincere. She let out a sigh she didn't know she'd been holding, a wave of relief and happiness at his reaction. "I..." he began, hesitating. He shook his head slightly, searching for words. Then he put the case back in the velvet bag and stepped away from the window ledge. Once face to face, he hugged her unexpectedly. With one hand he held the gift and with the other he held her tightly. She returned the embrace with a smile, now more relaxed. 

"Thank you" he whispered, holding her even tighter, their hearts almost merging in that hug. When they separated, his eye sparkled, holding back some tears, just like hers. "Let us go to bed" he said, noticing his body was cold from being pressed against the window glass. He approached a shelf where he kept some of his most precious books and now his most precious object, then headed for the bed, placing the sapphire on the bedside table after admiring it again.

Smiling, they both got under the covers, facing each other, feeling their bodies warming up again. They both reached out their hands at the same time, their hands meeting in the middle. They laughed softly and intertwined their fingers in the middle of the bed. It was their routine, talking like this, face to face, until they ran out of things to say, with their hands joined. Then they slept together, sometimes with her head on his chest, sometimes with him nestled in her arms.

"I loved it" he said sincerely. "Absolutely everything," he assured her, "no one has ever given me a better present."

She smiled proudly, happy with his words. "I'm glad you liked it."

They looked at each other in silence. It was a comfortable silence, warm even. It was at that moment, suddenly, while they looked at each other, that hundreds of thoughts flooded her mind like a torrent. Did everyone experience something as wonderful as this? Did everyone have someone to whom giving the whole world, along with their heart on a silver platter, seemed not enough? Did everyone's heart beat so wildly when looking someone in the eyes? Or was it something that only happened when it was the most beautiful face in the kingdom gazing back at them?

She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped when she saw that he seemed to want to say something too. They both remained silent, waiting for the other to speak first.

"You can go first" she said softly.

"No, you're a lady, you go" he insisted courteously.

"No, please, you tell me" she said, almost pleading with her eyes, though she wasn't exactly sure what she hoped to hear, still trying to understand the strange sensation in her chest.

"Tell me, please" he echoed at the same time, and they laughed again at the coincidence.

"You're my best friend" he exclaimed finally.

"You're my best friend" she replied, in perfect sync.

They laughed again, and as they truly heard each other's words, they smiled. She felt warmth rise in her cheeks. At that moment, everything made sense to her. That special, innocent feeling, that pure joy, so complex yet so simple, was love. She didn't need to fully understand it to know it was real, and that it was reciprocated.

They lingered for a moment, lost in each other's gaze. Aemond's eyes glowed with a tenderness that mirrored her own. Without needing more words, they leaned in slowly and shared a hug filled with affection and silent promises. The moonlight bathed the room, enveloping them in its silver glow. Every moment seemed magical, as if time had stopped just for them.

In that instant, in the tranquility of the night, they both knew that despite the challenges, they would always have that special bond that united them.

Finally, they settled comfortably under the covers, still close, their hearts beating in unison, and they embraced the serenity.

Once back in her room, she spent the day with Lyra again. If it were up to her, she would have spent the entire day with Aemond, but she knew he would break fast with his mother as usual. Later, he would be busy with his training, something that excited him especially now, with the anticipation of wielding a real sword, finally, as he had come of age for it.

At dusk, after writing to her mother and enjoying a hot bath, the woman helped her dress in the carefully chosen attire for the occasion. She opted for a flowing blue dress and some delicate jewelry. As Lyra began to brush her hair, preparing to style it up as she always did, she decided to change her mind.

Aemond had always praised her curls, often running his fingers through them in the night until he drifted off to sleep, and she thought it would be a pleasant surprise for him to wear her hair loose, something she only did in the privacy of their rooms.

When she was almost ready, Lyra was about to accompany her to the hall where the feast would take place, but they heard soft knocks on the door. Few were the times someone sought out her room, so both were intrigued. Lyra walked towards the door and opened it, while she adjusted the sandals that complemented her dress. When she looked up, she found Aemond standing in front of her, looking at her in awe, with Lyra behind him, barely able to hide her huge smile biting her lower lip.

She felt the blush rise to her cheeks, they were not accustomed to being so close in front of other people, so she didn't know how to react, a little flustered with her lady-in-waiting standing there.

Aemond's hair was neatly tied back in a half ponytail. His left side was partly covered by the patch he wore during his training, and he was dressed in a handsome green suit.

"I’ve come to escort you, princess" he murmured shyly, mindful of the third presence. She smiled and nodded, walking towards him and taking his right arm.

"Happy nameday, my prince. May you both enjoy a good supper" Lyra chimed in, opening the door for them to leave.

"Thank you, my lady" Aemond replied courteously before walking out of the room.

Once out of the enthusiastic gaze, she squeezed his arm and looked at him. "Happy nameday, my prince."

He looked at her with a smile that radiated happiness as he guided her through the dimly lit corridors by torchlight, the sun already hidden. "Thank you, my princess." The next words seemed to come with a touch of adoration and nervousness. "You look beautiful tonight... well, you always do, but tonight especially so."

She responded with a grateful smile. "You look lovely too, as always, my prince." He smiled faintly, an expression that denoted a hint of skepticism, as if he couldn't quite believe all the compliments she gave him. As they walked together, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor, she broke the silence with a curious question. "What gifts have you received so far?"

With a gleam of joy in his eyes, he replied, "my grandsire had a new saddle made for Vhagar. It's magnificent." His voice filled with enthusiasm. "My mother gave me some ancient books from Oldtown, and she also surprised me with Daeron's visit. I barely remembered his face." She widened her eyes in surprise, vaguely recalling Daeron, who was her age and whom she had seen only once. "Helaena gave me a suit embroidered by herself, with two intertwined dragons" he said with palpable excitement, hoping it meant something. "And Viserys gave me a Valyrian steel sword, with a belt that also has space for a dagger. Aegon mentioned he would give me his present later" he concluded happily. 

She smiled, glad that each gift sounded well thought out, just right for him, although still puzzled why he referred to his father by his name. As they finished their conversation, they found themselves standing in front of the imposing doors of the grand hall. Instinctively, both separated their arms as the guards opened the large doors, announcing their arrival. 

The guests stood in the center of the hall, conversing animatedly, except for the king and the Hand, who were already seated. The queen approached them with a maternal smile and planted a kiss on her son's forehead. "We were waiting for you, my dearest" she said affectionately. Then, taking his hand to guide him to his seat, she turned to her. "Princess, we did not expect you. What a lovely surprise" she added with a smile.

She felt a small knot of uncertainty in her stomach, wondering if she was intruding, but Aemond wouldn't have sought her out if that were the case. She returned the queen's smile and noticed how she gestured to the servants, who quickly added a chair and tableware next to Helaena. Helaena smiled at her and, before she could greet her, moved towards that newly added chair, giving up her place directly in front of Aemond, which she appreciated. Perhaps Helaena wanted her to sit opposite her brother, or simply preferred not to be near Aegon, an understandable preference.

She sat down with a grateful smile, though still somewhat uncomfortable. The feast began, and musicians played cheerful ballads that filled the air with a festive atmosphere. Laughter and conversation flowed along the table, and she almost forgot how much she missed her family, caught up in the distraction of the moment. She noticed that the wine jug beside her needed refilling more often than others, and wondered how long it would be before Aegon spoiled the mood. He was fun and pleasant when sober, but she couldn't say the same when he was drunk.

"Princess, I heard you've been learning High Valyrian" said the king, smiling at her with somewhat weary eyes. She smiled happily at the question, and Aemond paid attention, interested in the conversation.

"Yes, your grace. Aemond has been an excellent instructor" she replied proudly.

"She is making incredible progress" Aemond added, shyly.

"I bet it comes easy to you, just like your mother" the king said, smiling before taking a sip of wine. Perhaps to an untrained eye, Aemond's slight disappointment might have gone unnoticed, but she saw it, and understood why. She couldn't blame the king for loving his daughter so much, as her mother was a splendid person, but she felt sorry that he didn't see the fortune in having Helaena and Aemond, who were just as intelligent and kind.

"With Aemond as my guide, it's only natural for me to learn quickly, your grace" she said, smiling at Aemond. He seemed to appreciate the gesture, and the king looked pleased with the response, nodding before moving on to another conversation. Aegon's raised eyebrows and mischievous smile did not go unnoticed.

Helaena was showing her a figure she always carried, a wooden butterfly that Viserys had given her when she was a baby. She wondered if maybe that was the origin of her fascination with insects. As they continued talking, she felt an unfamiliar finger tangle in one of her curls, pulling it lightly. It was Aegon, who was looking at her hair with mocking attention.

"The Arryn blood is strong, is it not, niece?" he said sarcastically, and in a low voice, ensuring the king did not hear.

She tensed at the comment, and Helaena looked at Aegon disapprovingly. Her body stiffened, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. In that moment, she inwardly cursed herself for not wearing black and for wearing her hair loose, proudly displaying her curls. Aegon simply removed his finger and engaged in another conversation, losing interest in teasing her, but she couldn't return to her previous state.

Helaena gently squeezed her hand, offering a small supportive smile, but it did little to calm her. Aemond didn't seem to hear the remark, for which she was thankful.

She felt more alone than ever, like an uninvited guest in a place she once called home. And she came to understand her siblings' anger at such insults, not to the same extent, of course, but she did.

The rest of the dinner passed without further incidents. Some guests joined in a lively dance once the meal was over, and laughter was heard in the hall as the wine continued to flow.

Aemond glanced at her several times, concerned about her obvious discomfort. She didn't want to spoil his celebration, so she tried to offer a reassuring smile whenever their eyes met.

She found herself caught up in various pleasant conversations with the other nobles present, mostly with Daeron, who was her same age, and Heleana. She tried to keep away from Aegon as much as possible. Aemond, on his part, approached her on several occasions, rescuing her from the dull talks of the elders. He tried to distract her with amusing anecdotes from his training or asked her about stories of dragons, which she knew by heart. Though her mind was elsewhere, she appreciated his efforts to make her feel comfortable and protected.

Finally, as the feast began to wind down into the night, Aemond approached her with determination in his eyes.

"Princess, would you like to take a walk through the gardens? The night is beautiful" he suggested.

She smiled, grateful for the chance to get away from the bustle. "I would love to, my prince."

Together, they left the main hall and made their way to the quiet gardens of the castle. The moon shone above them, illuminating their flowers lined path as they walked silently along. Aemond seemed less tense now, more relaxed under the starry sky, offering her his arm courteously.

"I'm sorry if anything made you uncomfortable tonight" Aemond finally said, breaking the silence. "I hope nothing else happened" he murmured, a slight concern in his eyes.

She shook her head gently, feeling comforted by his worry. "It's not your fault, Aemond. I'm fine. Just... I'm not used to being without my family."

He nodded, looking at her with understanding. "I know. And I know sometimes people can be... thoughtless" he said, almost apologizing again.

They walked a bit further in silence before she found the courage to speak about what she was really thinking. "Do you ever feel that way, Aemond?" she hesitated for a moment. "Like you don't quite fit in?"

He stopped and looked at her directly, uncertain. His eyes, under the full moon and clear sky, seemed deeper, more reflective, sadder at her question. "Sometimes," he admitted softly, "but when I'm with you, princess, everything seems to fall into place. I do hope you feel the same."

Her heart skipped at his sincere words, feeling a twinge of guilt for longing to return to her family. "Thank you, Aemond. Should we head back? It's getting chilly."

He smiled, softening his features. "Yes."

They continued walking together, enjoying the peace and serenity of the night. As they progressed, leaving the gardens behind and climbing the keep stairs, she said, "I hope you've enjoyed your day, my prince." He nodded. Once they reached the hallway they shared, she whispered: "Should I visit you tonight?"

"Of course" he replied naturally, offering a comforting smile.

"You said Aegon would bring your gift, I wouldn't want to arrive at an inopportune moment" she said, reminding him.

He nodded, realizing he had forgotten his earlier conversation with his brother. "You're right. Maybe I should come instead. I can come right after he leaves" he suggested, and she eagerly agreed to the plan.

When they finally stood in front of the door, with no one in sight, her hands began to sweat nervously. It was just a temporary farewell, like countless others before, so she didn't understand why her body felt so restless, or why her heart was pounding so hard. And why were her thoughts centered on whether kissing him would ease her mind?

Before pushing the door, she turned to him, catching Aemond’s smile, oblivious to her internal doubts. "May I, perhaps, try something?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly, hoping she hadn't misinterpreted any signals.

He arched an eyebrow, curious at her question, but nodded in consent. Without further ado, she took a step forward and, with determination, closed the distance between them. She pressed her lips gently against his, all her questions melting away in that fleeting moment. She closed her eyes, unable to see Aemond's initial surprise.

When they parted, Aemond's face was flushed, his eye wide with astonishment, causing a flutter of concern in her chest. Before she could apologize, he mirrored her action, leaning in and returning the innocent kiss. This time, both closed their eyes, letting themselves be carried away by the moment as their hands instinctively intertwined.

As they pulled away, shy but content smiles graced their faces. The special discovery left them breathless.

"Goodnight" she whispered, a thrilling buzz inside her.

"Goodnight" he replied with equal softness and carrying the same exhilaration.

Once inside, the room was again in perfect order, something she was thankful for. Aemond always seemed to value the organization and she wanted him to feel like in his own space. Peaceful, comfortable, happy. Her chambers were perfectly illuminated by the moon and the glow of the fire burning in the fireplace, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere.

She walked to the door she used every night, leaving it slightly ajar, then shed her dress, donning her nightgown and slipping immediately into bed. She tried to immerse herself in the book on her nightstand, but her mind kept returning to the shared kiss. Touching her lips with the tips of her fingers, she wondered if it had also been Aemond's first time. She hoped it was.

Soon she realized it was futile to try to distract herself with the book. Her heart still raced, and her mind was full of questions and anticipations. She tossed and turned in bed, unable to stay still as she waited for Aemond to arrive. She was worried, fearing she had ruined everything with her impulsiveness. Or worse, that Aemond had changed his mind after that.

Exhaustion finally overcame her, her head swirling with thoughts, and she fell asleep hoping everything would be okay between them.

The sun stung her face as she began to wake, the warmth of the morning enveloping her. There were faint noises in the room, but still too sleepy to make them out, she tried to ignore them. Suddenly, her eyes flew wide open and she sat up abruptly. The bed was empty, but the secondary door remained open, an invitation to scolding from her lady-in-waiting.

Lyra soon noticed she was awake. With a sorrowful expression, she approached the bed slowly and sat beside her. The princess's gaze searched for answers, but none of her assumptions came close to the reality.

"A raven has arrived today from Dragonstone, my princess..." Lyra began softly, choosing her words carefully. She nodded, attentive and anxious to know more, urging her to continue. "Your father, Prince Leanor, has passed away" she announced.

With those words, the princess's entire world shattered once more in an instant. Tears began to cascade uncontrollably, unleashed without any permission, but she knew it was only a matter of time, a storm that had been brewing finally erupted. Her overwhelming feelings of longing for her family and the unsettling sense of being like a stranger in the castle where she had grown up intensified her anguish even more. Guilt and regret gnawed at her, constricting her chest and stealing the air in her lungs. Lyra tried to soothe her, urging her to breathe, but it was in vain. 

So many moons spent in the Red Keep, precious time lost with her father that could never be reclaimed. Now, with the loss irreversible, she couldn't even seek answers about how it happened, the trauma of Harwin Strong's death still raw. Her chest tightened, heaving, as her mind spun relentlessly, refusing to accept what her ears had heard.

Lyra enveloped her in protective arms, a bulwark against the whirlwind of emotions crashing over her as the harsh news unfolded before her. "We must leave immediately, there is a ship waiting for us" she murmured softly, aware of the princess's magnitude of pain, but to the urgency of the situation too.

Tears continued to flow unabated as she nodded, succumbing to the overwhelming sensation of loss and guilt that engulfed her. She allowed herself to be consumed by it while Lyra hurriedly guided and helped her dress. Once ready, servants entered to assist with the luggage, moving efficiently as those who understood the gravity of the moment, and Lyra asked her to wait while she gathered her own belongings.

When the lady disappeared from her sight, she, with a pounding heart, hurried to Aemond's room. Upon arrival, Queen Alicent was just stepping out, her face a mask of concern and sorrow.

"I'm deeply sorry for your loss, princess" she said with palpable sincerity in her voice, closing the door behind her, but condolences were a luxury she could not afford now. She needed to see if everything was okay with Aemond before leaving, the thought of departing without clarity on their relationship or at least a farewell filled her with unease.

"Is Aemond awake? I wish to see him" she implored softly, tears silently streaming down her face. People passed around her—members of the council, servants—all casting sympathetic glances that went unnoticed.

"He does not wish to receive visitors at the moment" the queen replied firmly.

"But it is urgent" she insisted, desperation seeping into her voice. She tried to move past her and grasp the door handle, her hands trembling but determined, but the queen stopped her.

"I'm very sorry, princess, but you must understand" Alicent said, her tone unyielding.

On the brink of collapse, with each passing second more overwhelming than the last, she pleaded, "please" but received only refusals.

Moments later, Lyra appeared carrying a suitcase, hurrying towards her. "My princess, we must depart now" she said, after offering a courtesy to Alicent.

"But I need to see Aemond" she insisted, her voice a desperate whisper. Lyra looked to Alicent silently pleading for a concession, searching for a shred of sympathy, but the queen remained unmoved, her gaze fixed on the princess.

"We can exchange letters by ravens, yes? But the ship will depart soon, princess" Lyra said, her words weighted by both empathy and urgency.

She felt frustration and helplessness engulf her, on the verge of shouting in rage. With no other choice, she took Lyra's hand and let herself be led away, each step a battle against the hopelessness that surrounded her.

@helaenaluvr @purplegardenwhispers @callsignwidow @scarletbedlam @fics-i-love-and-recommend @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me

Last part from her POV as kids!

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER SEVEN: INHIBITION (OR LACK THERE OF)

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SUMMARY ↳ The three C's (carnival, chaos, and cuddle pollen). Jon lets you drag him away, looking back to see Damian squinting at him through the mask. Making your way out of the venue you catch onto Ivy’s parting words. "In a world of violence and chaos, my cuddle pollen offers a moment of peace, a false but blissful reprieve. It's almost poetic, isn't it?" Fuck. Your. Life. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: mentions of having sex (as a joke/none is actually had), cuddle pollen (kind of non-con cuddling and kissing, but reader really doesn't mind) wc: 4.4k

Nari wakes you up by screeching in your ear. You groan and roll over, snatching him up and gently throwing him off the bed. You sit in bed and contemplate if you really have to get up and function as a normal person, but alas, you do. Grabbing your phone, your eyes widen a tad. Jesus, you slept till ten? Good thing it’s the weekend.

You have the day off from work, so it’s up to you to find something to do. You feed Nari, making sure to give him a bunch of apologetic kisses. Maybe you’ll swing by the Den today. It won’t hurt to work some more on the badassium.

You groan and stretch, doing some warm-up exercises. Nari perches on your back as you do push ups. He weighs nothing, but it’s the thought that counts. Karen pipes up from your laptop.

“I’ve done you the liberty of adding Victoria’s contact info on your phone.”

You release a fond sigh. “Bit of a meddler, are you?”

“I am simply saving us time.” You snort. You grab your phone, changing Victoria’s name and shoot her a text.

sugar mommy

whats good how we doing

i dont need anything just wanted to say hi

also its [name] btw

Her response comes a minute later.

[Name]???

How did you get my number?

karen did

shes kind of my guy in the chair

does all the super cool behind the scenes stuff yknow how it is

I thought I was your ‘guy in the chair’

fym ur my sugar mommy

Her only response is a money bag emoji, making you chuckle. She’s got personality and it makes you smile. A knock at the door catches your attention. Probably May coming to make sure you’re not dead. She’s gotten used to leaving early now. The lock clicks as you open the door.

Oh, it’s not May. It’s Jon .

“Jon!” you say, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles, a friendly one. “Hi, [Name]. I was just visiting Dami, but he seems to be in a mood… so I was wondering if we could hang out?” he asks, hopeful. “If that’s okay with you?”

You coo internally. You’ll never get over how sweet he is. “Yeah, of course. Just text me next time, yeah?”

He nods, stepping inside as you open the door for him. Nari trots over to him and rubs against his ankles. “What time did you get up? I don’t think Metropolis is that close to GC.” You feel a little evil, putting him on the spot because you know he flew here.

He pauses, thinking of an appropriate answer. “Uh, I don’t know. Six, maybe?” he winces, hoping that answer makes sense. You don’t have it in you to do the mental calculations so early in the morning, so you nod. You wouldn’t actually out him like that, anyway.

“Got any ideas are we just gonna have hot sex the whole day?”

Jon, to his credit, only lightly blushes. He’s long gotten used to your sense of humor. “There’s that carnival that just opened.”

“Mmm, maybe later. Carnivals always look better when it’s dark.”

“Then…” he thinks, “...let’s just go for a walk. See what we find.”

You grab your keychain with far too many charms on it and your other essentials, hooking your arm in Jon's. “Lead the way.”

May doesn’t have any outward reaction save for a knowing look as you exit the building. You squint your eyes at her in response. The noise of the city greets you as you walk out. People around you go on with their days, each living their own complex life.

It’s silent for a moment as the two of you walk. You take the moment to just think for a moment. You thought life was crazy when you found out you had crazy spider powers, but then you turned it around and made it into something good. You thought life was crazy when you got asked to officially join the avengers, but then you found a family in them. You thought life was crazy when you found out about the ‘spider verse’, but from that you realized you weren’t alone. You should’ve known better than to think it couldn’t get any crazier than that, but here you are. Very far from home.

You just wonder what will come out of this .

“You’re quiet,” Jon notes, voice barely a murmur.

“Just thinking.”

“That’s not good,” he jokes. You scoff and consider flicking him, but it would probably hurt.

“Just thinking how hard it’ll be for Damian to look me in the eye the next time I see him.”

Jon raises a brow. “What… happened between you and Damian? Is that why he was in a mood?”

“So crazy story, he walked in on me making out with my kind-of bully.” Jon’s eyes widen incredibly. His pace stutters and he chokes on air. You grin as you watch his flail. “Making out might be generous, but it was pretty passionate.”

You continue, “God, you should’ve seen the look on his face. He genuinely stopped functioning for a sec! He’s a bigger virgin than I thought. Or maybe it was just that it was with Tori of all people. It’s okay though, she’s not all that she seems.”

Jon stops walking altogether, accidentally yanking you to a stop as well. You blink at him.

“Ok…” he starts, “first of all, you kissed your bully?” he asks incredulously.

“Well, like I said, she's not all that she seems,” you shrug. He nods, still looking at you in disbelief.

“So… what? Are you guys… dating?” he hesitates to say the word.

You scratch your nose, looking down. “Nah… we talked it out, she uh…” you trail off, “...it was a spur of the moment thing, we’re just friends. Now, anyway.” You feel bad saying you rejected the girl who was in love with you, but you also can’t say everything that went down.

You look at Jon, seeing him also looking down in thought. His brows are furrowed, you wonder how strange it is to Damian if it’s so strange to Jon. He nods after a bit, continuing his walk. His arm holds yours a bit tighter.

“You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met,” he laughs disbelievingly.

Probably because this isn’t your universe. “Probably because I’m so awesome all kinds of people want a piece of me.”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late,” you grin.

For as drab as Gotham City is, at least this carnival provides a little bit of color. The vibrant lights provide an enchanting atmosphere. You can’t help but grin. Jon watches you with a smile.

“What do you want to do first?”

“Pie eating contest.”

He blinks. “Okay?” He’s a little confused by your quick and confident reply. Now don’t be alarmed, you usually eat three meals a day. The meals are just… well, some might argue if they’re actually meals or not. Tony estimated that you should be eating five proper meals a day to combat your increased metabolism. You’re not starving or anything as you are now, but if you ever get injured your increased healing won’t help.

“I wanna eat,” is your only explanation as you drag him to the stand.

Jon chuckles as you drag him along, his smile widening at your enthusiasm. “Alright, I’ll join you,” he smiles, matching your energy. The two of you approach the stand where a small crowd has gathered around a makeshift stage. A lively carnival barker stands at the front, rallying contestants and spectators alike.

“Step right up, folks! Who’s got what it takes to be the pie-eating champion of Gotham tonight?” the man announces enthusiastically, his voice carrying over the excited chatter of the crowd.

You and Jon sign up eagerly, taking your places at the contestant table. The rules are simple: eat as much pie as you can within a set time limit. The pies, piled high with whipped cream and fruity filling, look delectable under the carnival lights.

The contest begins, and you and Jon dig in with gusto. The pies are delicious, each bite bringing a burst of sweet flavor. The crowd cheers and laughs as you both devour your way through the pies, alternating between bites and glances at each other, each trying to outpace the other.

Jon manages to finish his first pie just as you’re halfway through yours. He wipes his mouth with a napkin, grinning at you challengingly. “You’re pretty good at this,” he remarks between bites.

You flash him a competitive smirk, determined not to be outdone. “I eat a lot,” you quip back, mouth full of pie.

The contest continues, the pace quickening as the time ticks down. Cheers and encouragement from the crowd spur you on, adding to the thrill of the competition. Despite the messiness and the rapidly filling sensation in your stomach, you keep going, driven by the desire to win and the sheer enjoyment of the moment.

Finally, the timer buzzes, signaling the end of the contest. You and Jon set down your forks, breathing heavily but grinning broadly at each other. The man approaches to determine the winner.

“And the winner is…” he declares dramatically, waiting. After a tense moment, he announces, “It’s a tie!”

You and Jon exchange a look of surprise and then burst into laughter, both of your mouths covered in pie and thoroughly satisfied. The crowd applauds, appreciating the spirited effort you both put into the contest. You fancy yourself smug, seeing as you kept up with a kryptonian.

Jon wipes his hands and face with a napkin, chuckling as he looks at you. "I can't believe we tied," he says, shaking his head in amusement.

You nod, still grinning widely. "Yeah, I can’t believe you kept up with me.” He chuckles, shaking his head.

The man hands each of you a small prize—a colorful ribbon that declares you both "Pie Eating Champions of Gotham City Carnival". You both accept the ribbons with good humor, pinning them onto your shirts proudly.

As you step away from the contest table, Jon nudges you playfully. "So, what's next on our carnival adventure?"

You glance around, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling carnival. The vibrant lights of the rides beckon in the distance, and the aroma of cotton candy and popcorn fills the air. "Let's hit the Ferris wheel," you suggest, pointing towards the towering structure adorned with sparkling lights.

Jon nods eagerly. "Sounds good to me. Let's go," he says, grabbing your hand as you make your way towards the Ferris wheel.

The line isn’t too long. The worker wishes you a good ride as the two of you step into the brightly colored gondola, slowly ascending to the sky.

As the ride reaches its peak, you both fall silent for a moment, taking in the view. The city skyline looms in the distance, a stark contrast to the colorful and carefree world of the carnival. For a brief moment, you feel a sense of peace and contentment, grateful for this simple yet memorable night with Jon. 

"This is nice," Jon remarks, leaning back comfortably in his seat. You nod in agreement, admiring the view.

Jon looks at you, thinking. There are a million things he wants to say, wants to admit to you. He wonders how you would react to each and every one of them. With only positivity, he’s sure. You’re the type to go with the flow, whatever happens, happens. He’s certain he could trust you with his life, eventually.

He takes a deep breath, unsure what’s about to come out of his mouth. “[Name]–”

The Ferris wheel rocks violently for a heart stopping moment. For the other riders, mostly. You and Jon immediately stiffen to attention, because Ferris wheels aren’t supposed to do that. Jon crosses over to you, locking you in his embrace as he looks over the edge. You try to look as well, but a simple tense of his arms prevents you.

A threatening green is making headway across the carnival grounds, sending people running. Vines bloom, crawling over stands and attractions. Poison Ivy, looking as prickly as ever, strides in gracefully.

"This carnival is a blight on this land," Ivy declares, her voice carrying over the chaos. "You trample on nature for your own amusement, but no longer. Tonight, the Earth fights back."

Oh, great. You can’t do anything because you’re stuck in the air with Jon. Jon can’t do anything because he’s stuck in the air with you. You sigh, leaning back against him.

With a wave of her hand, flowers bloom amidst the destruction, a stark contrast to the panic around her. Ivy's plants begin to dismantle the carnival, reclaiming the area for nature. Her message is clear: the environment will no longer be taken for granted, and anyone who harms it will face her wrath. Vines crawl up the Ferris wheel, wrapping around the gondolas in a nightmarish display.

���Um. Any bright ideas?” you ask Jon.

He says pulling out his phone, he pulls it out of your view and begins to type furiously. You bet a hundred bucks it’s Damian and Jon is furiously texting him to haul ass and get here now .

A vine thrusts itself into the box, making Jon yank you both to the floor in the middle. It spreads slowly, hauntingly, slowly encompassing the gondola. Flowers bloom… ah shit—

Jon shifts the two of you, blocking you from the flowers. Also putting himself directly in front of them. “Jon don’t–” you warn, because regardless of his heritage, it can still affect him. Even more so since he’s only half. He presses your face into his chest right as the flower coughs, releasing the spores right in his face.

“Don’t breathe them in,” he growls. Thanks, you weren’t planning on it anyway. You hold your breath, anyway.

He’s getting antsy. “[Name],” he mutters gravely. “Please. Close your eyes and trust me.”

You internally sigh, preparing how you’re going to act like the most aloof fool after this. You nod and close your eyes. Jon picks you up, arms under your knees and around your back. You wind your arms around his neck and rest against his chest.

Jon, to his credit, doesn’t just fly down the ride. You feel him jump down the bars of the Ferris wheel, making sure to keep you secure in his arms. His landings are precise and calculated, avoiding the chaos below. You hear the gasps and shouts from the people around you as Jon navigates through the mess of vines.

Finally, you feel the solid ground beneath you as Jon gently sets you down. “Okay, you can open your eyes now,” he says softly.

You open your eyes and find yourself standing amidst the carnage, the Ferris wheel towering above you. Vines continue to spread, and the air is filled with the panicked cries of carnival-goers trying to escape. Jon stands protectively beside you, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of Ivy.

“We have to stop her,” you blurt. He looks at you incredulously. You ignore it and look around, trying to find a way to do this without Spinnerette. Eyes narrowing, you spot something in the distance.

“There.” You point at a nearby water tower. “If we flood the area, it might disrupt her control over the plants.”

“Good plan. You should leave it to the professionals.”

You blink, turning around. It’s Robin who spoke, arms crossed and looking at you. However, it’s the sight of the 6’2 emo bitch dressed in a bat fursuit that makes you stiffen.

“Robin! You came!” Jon brightens, before coughing into his fist. “I mean. Of course you came, you’re Robin.” The urge to roll your eyes at his silliness is strong, but you resist.

Batman doesn’t react, though you’re sure he just sighed on the inside. “You should get to safety with the rest of the civilians,” he grumbles out in his Batman™ voice.

You nod rapidly. “Yup yup. Yessir Mr Batman.” You grip Jon’s wrist and drag him away. Fuck that, majorly. If he says leave it up to him, you’re perfectly fine with that. You’re pretty sure he’s gonna take what you said and connect some dots, and you don’t wanna be around when that happens. He can take his theories and shove it up his ass.

Jon lets you drag him away, looking back to see Damian squinting at him through the mask. Making your way out of the venue you catch onto Ivy’s parting words.

"In a world of violence and chaos, my cuddle pollen offers a moment of peace, a false but blissful reprieve. It's almost poetic, isn't it?"

Fuck. Your. Life.

Jon is looking just a tad bit worse for wear (you’re lying, he looks haggard) when you arrive at your apartment. May, thank god, wasn’t at the desk, so you managed to get by without having to deal with that. You  shove Jon onto the couch, wincing with a small apology. Frantically typing, you google how to deal with cuddle pollen.

The number one suggestion is to visit Gotham General Hospital, but given Jon’s less than human nature, that's a no go. Other results suggest drinking lots of water and sweating it out to dilute its affects.

You throw your phone somewhere and quickly fetch some water for Jon. Nari meows at Jon, sensing something is wrong. When you make your way back you see that Jon has trapped Nari in his arms, cooing unintelligibly at him.

“Drink,” you tell him urgently, lifting his chin. He leans into your touch, obeying. You make sure he drinks every last drop. When he finishes you turn around to get some more water, only to be yanked back. You crash into Jon’s arms, watching as Nari trots away, happy to be free. You wish you were Nari right now.

Jon nuzzles into you, humming contently.

“Jon…” you warn.

“Yeah, baby?” he hums. Jesus.

“You’re under the effects of cuddle pollen. Your mind is scrambled. Just let me get you some water–”

He hugs you tighter at the mention of you leaving, standing up with you in his arms. You try to get free, holding your own for a bit. But alas, he wins. Stupid kryptonian biology. He carries you to the bedroom, setting you down on the bed.

You blink. “Okay, hang on–”

Jon belly flops right on top of you, earning an ‘oof’ from you. He wraps his arms around you, snuggling into your collarbone. He sighs in content as he relaxes on you. There’s no hope for you to escape, is there?

“Jon, come on. Let’s… do jumping jacks or something. Sweat it out of your system. You can even hold my hand!”

Jon grumbles, burying his face in your neck. “I know something else we can do to get sweaty.”

You blink. Then snort. Damn, is that the cuddle pollen talking or is your influence taking effect? You feel Jon smile against your neck.

Sighing, you acknowledge that you’re not getting out of this situation. You hesitantly rest your arms around him. You feel his grin get wider, and then he surprises you even further by laying a goddamn kiss against your neck. You grumble and mutter, “I am going to make fun of you so hard after this.”

Laying there, you think. If you didn’t just compromise yourself to Batman, then hopefully you won’t be approached when you next patrol. Or worse, when you're just being a regular civilian. 

You blink, deciding you’re gonna be a little shit.

“Jon,” you say, “give me your phone.”

Jon reaches into his pocket, unlocking his phone and handing it to you. It’s got a couple cracks in it, and his wallpaper features a photo of a sunset over a vast farm. You scroll through his contacts, clicking the one that says ‘damian !! (stinkin loser)’. You click the call button, hoping he’s done superheroing and has time to answer.

He answers on the third ring. “Jon, you fool, what were you–”

“Damian,” you interrupt before he says something you’re not supposed to know. The line goes quiet on the other end. “I’ll keep it brief. Jon got absolutely fucked over with a face-full of cuddle pollen and he won’t let me go. We’re at my apartment, so if you can pull some rich people strings and get an antidote or something I would very much appreciate it.”

“...He won’t let go of you?”

You roll your eyes and snap a picture of Jon wrapped around you. “Help,” is all you say after you send it.

You hear him sigh. “I’ll be there in fifteen,” is all you hear before the call cuts. Jon yanks the phone away from you, throwing it somewhere in the room as he flips the two of you over. You lay on his chest now, feeling his chin rest on your head and his hands come up to rest on your waist, fingertips creeping up under your shirt.

Your phone is in the other room and you didn’t see where Jon threw his, so you’re left to stew in his arms until Damian comes. You begin to hum a song, for your own peace of mind, ignoring the way Jon’s hands rub your skin in a back-and-forth motion. Jon removes one of his hands and places it on the back of your head, pushing you into his neck. The bastard lays another kiss on your head, muttering comforting words.

Damn, you think you’re starting to fall asleep. Sue you for feeling safe in his arms, he’s literally Superboy. It doesn’t help that you're lying in bed and he's rubbing your back so softly you feel like he’s your boyfriend comforting you after a long day.

You hear your door kick open, and the only reason your fight response doesn’t kick in is because you’re still stuck in Jon’s arms, and because you know it’s Damian. Jon on the other hand, immediately sits up, glaring hard at your hallway. When Damian shows up in your doorway, bag in hand, he relaxes. He lies back down in the bed, snuggling in to you.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly.

He ignores your weak greeting, digging into his bag and pulling out a syringe filled with what can only be the antidote. You pointedly make a note to definitely not mention how the needle is green.

“Just be careful he doesn’t grab you. He’s… really strong,” you mutter.

He grabs Jon’s head, pushing it aside to bare his neck. You’re surprised Jon lets him, but cuddle pollen does leave people without inhibition. Damian sticks the needle in, making Jon groan. You watch the fluid disappear, feeling peaceful knowing that this will soon be over. Damian finishes administering the antidote and takes a seat on the bed.

“Thanks for… coming through,” you say. You don’t know what else you can really talk about right now.

Damian just looks at you. “What were you even doing there?”

He means the carnival. You furrow your brows. “Hanging out? Sorry we didn’t predict that Poison Ivy was gonna be there. Maybe you should talk to Batman about that.”

“You could have been hurt. Jon did get hurt.”

“It’s just cuddle pollen, Dami,” you reassure, placing a hand on his arm. He grasps it tightly. “You gave him the antidote, he’s not hurt.”

Damian’s grip on your arm is firm, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re lucky it was just that. It could have been worse.”

You nod, understanding his concern, but feeling a bit annoyed at the same time. “I know, I know. But we’re fine now. Jon’s going to be okay.”

Damian's expression softens slightly at your reassurance, though his concern is still evident. He looks at Jon, who seems to be coming out of the pollen's effects, his grip on you loosening. Damian then turns his attention back to you, his gaze intense.

"You shouldn't take unnecessary risks," he says, his voice low but firm. "Especially not with someone like Jon."

You raise an eyebrow at the implication in his tone. "Are you implying something about Jon?"

“Jon is… brave, but restless. Just be more cautious.”

You give him a playful smirk. "Are you worried about me, Damian Wayne? That's almost sweet."

He scowls slightly, clearly not amused by your teasing. "I'm serious, [Name]. This city is dangerous enough without getting caught up in avoidable situations."

“I promise to be more careful in the future,” you say, eyes earnest. It seems to settle Damian, for now.

Jon groans under you. He sits up, taking you with him. You fall to his lap as you look at him. He blinks for a moment, taking in his surroundings. You hear his heartbeat slowing, calming. He looks at Damian, looks at you. Stares at you, whom his arms are around, in his lap.

He freaks, shoving you out of his embrace and scrambling back. Damian catches you, growling, “You fool, Jon, careful!”

“I’m so sorry!” he cries. “I was… oh my god, I’m so sorry–”

You hold out your hands to placate him. “Jon, it’s okay! I’m fine, I don’t care. You weren’t in control. You didn’t do anything.”

“I should have left when I got hit,” he growls to himself.

You sigh, looking at Damian for help. “What’s done is done. No use in whining about it now,” he huffs, shifting you to sit up.

Jon purses his lips, looking like he wants to cry. You open your arms, “Come on.”

He hesitates, so you grab him and haul him into your embrace. He stiffens, before wrapping his arms around you. He melts into your embrace.

Damian clears his throat, making Jon pull back with a sheepish expression. “I should really get home before my parents worry.”

You nod, patting his arm. “Of course.”

He thanks Damian as well on his way out. You don’t hear the door open, so you figure he just got antsy and couldn’t stay in the room longer. You don’t blame him. You sigh when you see he left his phone, grabbing it and handing it to Damian.

“Thank you,” you mutter. You look into his eyes, he looks back. In a moment of weakness, you place a hand on his cheek and lean in, pressing your lips to his other one. The kiss is chaste, barely lasting for a second before you pull back. “You’re paying for my door.”

Damian says nothing in response, simply watching you. He raises his hand, clasping yours and gently bringing it down. He nods.

“It was nothing.” And then he and Jon are out the door. You sigh, laying down in your bed that smells like Jon now. No patrol tonight, again.

notes: jon was about to risk it all on that ferris wheel just saying

[babyjinsu]

good mother

pairing ; sungchan x fem!reader || wc ; 2.9k

warning ; angst, pregnancy themes (nothing explicit. you and sungchan just want children), infertile reader, not proofread nor edited, reader wants to kill herself (mentioned once), wrote this at 1 am because i can't get it out of my head.

when you first met sungchan, the ideology of soulmate suddenly just made sense to you. 

when sungchan first met you, his soul kinda just went, where have you been all my life?

they say soulmates are two hearts that beat in time, and that whatever happens, they are bound to be together. 

——

when you first found out that you were unable to conceive, the doctor’s voice faded into a low hum of nothing—like the world had stopped spinning around its orbits and taken a step back to give you space to break quietly. 

the moment the words i’m sorry—left the doctor’s mouth; everything had become deafen and muted. you couldn't remember what happened after that. what sungchan said to her, what she replied—you just remembered nodding politely and thanking her and apologising for wasting her time and energy. and then you remembered sungchan walking you back to the parking lot with his hand around the small of your back.

you remembered sitting in the passenger seat with your hands still folded in your lap, your thumb brushing against the other, then down—absentmindedly tracing a small circle over your lower stomach as if trying to coax something to life.

like maybe, if you were gentle enough, something might stir. you might feel a little kick, or a gentle swirling of a little life inside. some secret softness in your body might finally speak up and say, “mommy, i’m here,”

so you did that for weeks after the appointment. quiet little circles in the dark, in a crowded room, in the shower, beneath the cover, in the kitchen—that maybe, if you want it enough, you could summon a little heartbeat.

did you cry on the way back home from the clinic? 

sungchan drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting gently on your knee. his thumb brushing against your soft skin in reassurance and comfort, like he was trying to keep you tethered—that a happy family doesn’t require a child. he doesn’t want a child if it’s not with you. and that he was okay with only being a husband. 

you couldn’t remember when the thought of having a baby became everything to you. maybe it was the way you were raised—raised full of love to be a lovely person—maybe it was on your 16th birthday, when your auntie brought her newborn daughter and everyone crowded around the tiny bundle. she got more attention than the birthday girl herself but it made you realise that there might be a joy even greater than being sixteen. 

maybe it was when you met sungchan—that being a mother to his child was all you’ve ever wanted.

maybe that was the moment, or maybe it came later. 

not like it mattered anymore.

sometimes before sungchan let himself dozed off, his mind wandered back to one of your couple dates (before you were married) where a little boy no older than seven, came up to you and told you that his parents were nowhere to be found. 

you had comforted him, wiped his tears and snots with your thumbs, held his little hand as the two of you wandered around the butterfly park—searching for his parents. when sungchan offered to carry him, the little boy was more than happy to nod. one of his arms draped around sungchan’s neck, and the other was still holding your hand. 

the look on your face when the boy was reconciled with his parents in front of the customer service counter confirmed sungchan’s desire to have a family with you.

——

sungchan’s mother’s cries were a lot louder than yours the day you found out you’ll never be granted a mini-him. 

you hadn’t meant to eavesdrop that night you slept over your in-laws’. the house was still, save for the muffled hum of voices drifting through the hallway. you curled up in sungchan’s bedroom, eyes wide open in the dark, mind tangled in the weight of the news you’d just received—and sungchan’s parents' words. 

“i can’t lose my chance to see a grandchild. you promised me, sungchan. you promised me a grandchild—i’m not getting younger! i could be dead tomorrow!”

you curled your knees to your chest, burying your face in the pillow to stifle your own sobs. like a knife twisting as you heard her grief, desperation, and plead that she didn’t try to hide—all you could do was listen. 

you realised that it was never about you. the inability to foster a being in the fruit of your womb—to give her what she wanted had never been about you. you know sungchan’s mother adore you, but expectations ran deeper than bond. 

your husband never brought it up to you. you doubted he even knew that you knew. the rest of the months went by like normal, at least you pretended they were. sungchan still made dinner for two, still kissed you goodnight and shared intimacy under the sheets, still kissed you goodbye before leaving for work. 

you hadn’t told him that you heard either. didn’t tell him how you felt hearing his mother’s voice break with desperate pleas of wanting a grandchild. wanting to know how her son’s face would morph into another. you never told him how it ate at you inside out and alive, every single time she smiled at you with that pity look in her face, how her glances at you weren’t on your face, but your stomach. 

he didn’t know that every single time you saw a baby, you wanted to kill yourself. dig your nails in the centre of your stomach, rip it open, and gut yourself out. 

——

the night sungchan came home to nothing—the earth stopped rotating around the sun.

he called your name from the doorway like he always did. but tonight, the house was eerily still, save for your golden retriever greeting sungchan with his tongue sticking out. he called your name again—maybe you had gone to bed early. 

he dropped his keys into the bowl on the console table by the door and went upstairs to check on his wife. but there was no you on the bed. they were neat and made and tidy—and your clothes on your side of the closet were empty—nothing but hangers—so were your essentials, makeup, and toiletries, and your accessories. 

except for your wedding ring on the vanity.

it was the only thing left of you, and framed pictures on the wall.

nobody knew where you were. not if you were still alive or dead—countless missing person reports were made by him and your family but they dismissed it as nothing, runaway. you’re not sixteen anymore. 

you were gone for years—two, maybe three, or was it four? time had a way of slipping past when you were no longer part of sungchan’s. the world outside continued to move for him, even if you weren’t there to witness it. 

when the time came, the court grounded the divorce. 

his family said it was necessary—a formality. legal requirements. you couldn’t be found, and they declared it was a case of abandonment. although sungchan knew better that you would never. you could never. not his wife. 

he wasn’t present in the courtroom. he couldn’t be—not while the only thing he had ever wanted in his world was crumbling. 

the legal document, signed in your absence, was the final stamp: divorce granted. 

——

the first few months after getting married to the girl of his dreams, you had told him in a fleeting moment that you’d be a good mother. sungchan agreed in a heartbeat. you had become his wife, and his second dearest fantasy was to grow a lovechild in you.

one that would be raised full of love and tenderness. a son, sungchan wanted. a son so he has a buddy to play football with. a little boy so he can spend boys' nights together and educate him to be a good man. a son who would carry on his legacy, not just in name, but in the way he looked after loved ones.

a son who after sungchan’s passing would always be there to watch over his wife.

you told him you wanted a daughter. a little girl to play dress up with, dress her up in frilly dresses and white bows. to brush and braid her hair a hundred times before tucking her to bed with her jellycat bunny. to whisper secrets to as the two of you sat under the soft glow of her nightlight.

you wanted a daughter who would remind you of the warmth of love in its purest form. a daughter who would have sungchan’s smile and doe eyes (although he’d much prefer if she has your smile instead), who would have your laughter and qualities. 

a daughter to show and teach her kindness—to fill her life with the same tenderness and love that had been showered upon you. to give her motherly love like no other. 

sungchan said you’d be an amazing mother, that it doesn’t matter if your lovechild is a girl or a boy, as long as it was yours, the two of you. 

——

the countryside was a lot harsher and meaner. old, traditional folks who didn’t know your story were quick to remind you of the ticking clock—settle down, quick. before you lose your value. before men stop looking at you.

get married now before your fertility declines, and you can’t get pregnant anymore.

your grandmother never told them the truth. the truth that fertility wasn’t even a thing inside of you. and it had long since been impossible for you to bear a child. 

she hid you away in her little country home with the help of your uncle’s money, for nine long years—almost ten—she sheltered you from the world, comforted you that a woman’s happiness is not only her child, but herself. reassured you that there was something even better and greater than a baby waiting for you. 

sometimes it worked, but most of the time—beneath the weight of what couldn’t be, you couldn’t help but think of what it's like to have a daughter.

that you never had the chance to be a mother at all.

——

sungchan never stopped thinking of you even when he remarried.

he realised long after your absence that the swing moves to a rhythm his hands don’t command despite his aching and pale knuckles. that he’s not able to control fate and destiny.

he tried to build a new life—one that wasn’t defined by your silence and the years of unspoken goodbye and explanation. 

in the quiet moments when his new wife would smile at him, and the soft laughter of his daughter filled the house, he still saw you in the kitchen making breakfast. when the three of them were out running errands and groceries, when his daughter’s little hand tugged on his shirt asking politely if she can have a pack of gummies—and his wife asking him which brand was better—he saw you with your eyes lingering on the babies clothes a second too long.

he has a daughter now, just like how the two of you had dreamed of—a little girl with his doe eyes—but at what cost? she has her mother’s smile and her soft curls. sungchan couldn’t see you in her. not your qualities nor your voice, not your little tantrums nor your sulking. 

he had the family you both once dreamed of, but the dream had shifted into something that didn’t include you.

——

“hey, whoa—where’s your parents?” sungchan frowned a little as he felt a gentle tug on the hem of his shirt. he looked down to see a little boy, maybe five or six, his eyes wide and red. “where are your parents?” he placed back the soup can on the shelf before crouching down to his level, his brow furrowed in concern. 

the little boy didn’t answer right away, sniffing and clutching on his shirt for dear life as he stared up at him with his tear-filled eyes. “i… i don’t know,” he sobbed, tiny body shaking. sungchan’s heart twisted painfully, his fatherly protective instincts kicking in. he reached out to place a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder to offer comfort.

“you’re okay,” he murmured. “it’s okay… you’re safe. what’s your name?” he asked, his thumbs brushing over the boy’s shoulder joints. the boy hiccupped a sob as he wiped his cheeks with his sleeves. “ji—” 

“jinsu!” 

jinsu?

almost immediately, the boy turned around, his eyes lighting up. his face broke into something like a relief, legs moving frantically as he reached for the woman standing just a few feet away in the aisle. “mommy!” 

he wrapped his arms around the woman’s legs, his face buried into his mother’s skirt as he let out another round of sobs. 

sungchan’s world shifted. the woman wasn’t just anyone. she was you.

you crouched down to pull him into a tight embrace as his sobs now muffled against your sweater. 

sungchan stood there frozen, watching—his breath caught in his throat, heart racing as his eyes darted between the boy and you. after all these years,

you were exactly the same. like that morning before you left him. his pulse pounded in his ears as you wrapped your arms around your son, murmuring softly to calm him. his mind spun, thousand thoughts crashing together.

how could you be here? is he your son? where have you been—? married to who? the boy looks nothing like you. where did you go for ten long years? 

you still hadn’t realised sungchan there. 

“is yn with you?”

you finally looked up. the question that was not meant for you (but had your name in it,) broke through your haze. you met a woman’s face—a stranger—before you noticed sungchan was standing a few feet infront of you.  

“i told her to go to her daddy while i picked out some fruits.”

it came crashing down to the two of you like a meteor.

——

perhaps you and sungchan weren’t soulmates, but star-crossed lovers.

when the love between two people is doomed—by unfortunate circumstances—and their stars are not aligned in their favour. 

you adopted a son because that was what sungchan wanted. he prayed for a daughter because that was what you wanted. it was a cruel twist of fate, really.

neither of you had what you truly wanted.

💭 hii............ this was heavily inspired by not a lot, just forever! tbh i don't know what was in my head when i wrote this i just know i had to write it down somehow n post it somewhere lol. hope you guys enjoy ;(

[notjustjavierpena]

His

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This has been on hiatus since July. I have finally decided to finish up another chapter. I have no idea where this is going but I am just going with it at this point. They’re fun! Enjoy part 4 of mean!joel ❤️💖

Summary: After Joel kisses you, something shifts. You find out a hard truth and take matters into your own hands.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, a mishmash of feelings, dubcon-ish themes, a hint of sub!joel (?!!!!?!!??) but he is not happy about it, a hint of edging, handjobs, degradation, humiliation, riding, unprotected piv, slapping, dirty talk, empty threats

Word count: 3.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48179338/chapters/135617983

His

Something shifts after Joel kisses you and leaves. Especially because he did it in a way that made it seem like he was bolting out of a burning building, leaving you inside for the walls to come tumbling down around you. You hardly blame him for reacting like he did that night; he is the most emotionally unavailable man you have ever had the (dis)pleasure of meeting, and you doubt that he even has the vocabulary to put words to why he fled your bed like it was the scene of a crime. It isn’t like you’re going to ask him though, not even despite being curious about his reasoning and intentions. 

For you, it is not a mystery what the shift is. The arrangement between the two of you used to be anticipation, fury, and lust. Now it’s a gentle tug at your heartstrings when you catch a glimpse of him in the streets and he doesn’t look your way, knowing you should not want him in the way you do. 

How you want him is harder to pinpoint. It’s not wedding bells, it’s not children padding around on the wooden floor of your home, it’s not doing laundry for him and watching him do the dishes after sharing a meal. It’s something less complicated than love. You don’t want him to love you, but you wouldn’t mind being his only and his favorite. 

Though irony would have it that it turns out you are indeed not his only source of whatever fucked up thing the two of you exchange once in a while. 

During a short break from a late-night meeting of your patrol group (Joel had decided last week to switch to another), one of the newcomers to Jackson snickers girlishly as she tells the rest of you about how Joel Miller had made her come four times last weekend. It makes something uncomfortable swirl in your stomach, makes it drop as you feel foolish about thinking you were special. Additionally, it takes all the willpower in you to not blurt out that he had made you come seven times during one of the nights you’d spent together.

To your surprise, It isn’t that he has slept with someone else that hits you. It’s the little piece of information that your new patrol member lets slip with a giggle. 

“Such a gentleman,” she says, basking in the attention of the circle of women standing around her. Their collective sigh makes you wonder what they’d say if you let them know that Joel forced you to suck him off the first time you were together. A part of you suspect that she is lying as she continues, “They don’t make ‘em like that anymore, girls. He was just so attentive and sweet.” 

After the meeting, you feel like you’re about to suffocate if you don’t leave the building quickly. The tightening in your chest makes your heart feel caged, desperate to come out into the open and bleed all over the place from making its way past your ribs. Desperately, you push past anyone who does not jump out of your way immediately. 

Once outside, you find a quiet spot behind the community center where people only come to be alone. You rest your forehead against the side of the building, breathing deeply in through your nose and exhaling shakily as you suppress the tears that threaten to roll down your face. 

“Fuck,” you say bitterly as a droplet still manages to escape from the corner of your eye. You wipe it away with a quick swipe of your hand as if to hide the evidence from the world and yourself, “Fuckfuckfuck. What the fuck are you crying over him about?”

However, the single tear seems to have opened the floodgates because you find yourself properly crying a few seconds later. It is ridiculous, you know this, but you cannot help the shaky breaths that leave your mouth as your cheeks stain with tears. 

Joel is not anything special. Joel is rude and arrogant, bordering on narcissistic and psychotic. You’re not even sure if he can smile, if he’s funny, or if he’s capable of not ruining things when touching them. He sure has ruined you, ruined both your nights and days because they’re spent wondering about him. 

Then again, surely he must know this because he looks at you from across the room the way he does. He must know what he is doing to you, and it makes you fucking furious because how did he ever think that he had the right to pursue you? Make you want him? And, to top all of it off, how does he think he has the right to not appreciate you? 

Rage slowly builds in your chest. Your heartbeat is threatening to make you pass out with how fast it is going, but you ground yourself by taking a few deep breaths that eventually stop your tears as well. 

I’ll fucking show him, you think, and it’s the white-hot fury in you that is talking.

You stalk across the streets of Jackson, earning a few concerned glances but no warning words. It’s a relief that you look angry enough for people not to bother you, because you wouldn’t be able to articulate your reasons for wanting to implode with how furious you are. 

Your legs take you all the way to Joel’s house. You stomp angrily up the porch’s stairs, but it’s only when you burst Joel’s front door open that you realize that you actually haven’t been in his home before. It’s also only then that you realize that you have no idea what you’re going to do now that you are here, too angry and out of your damn mind to explore the many pictures on the walls, the wooden carved figures on the shelves and… is that a guitar? 

You mentally shake yourself.

“Focus on the task at hand,” you say quietly with exasperation, and then the search for your betrayer begins.

You walk through the house with determination, but you soon realize that he is nowhere to be found downstairs. It doesn’t surprise you that he hasn’t locked his door (nobody in Jackson does), but you still feel disappointed that you can’t make a big dramatic scene of throwing a plate in the kitchen or a cushion in the living room. You feel slightly like a rage-filled balloon that’s slowly losing air. 

So you decide to go upstairs whilst still clinging to your rage, planning on waiting in his bedroom for his return but realizing that Joel is already in and sleeping in his bed. It’s late enough, you suppose, and you know he has a series of hard labor tasks on certain days.

You try your hardest not to feel too intoxicated by the smell of him on the sheets, need your head clear as you slowly start to undress right in front of his sleeping form. He looks so peaceful and so unlike his usual stoic self, and so vulnerable that the opportunity is too great to miss. 

You freeze the times he stirs slightly but he never wakes up, and soon, you are down to your underpants and nothing more and you are so wet with the anticipation of both sex and power in the room, even more with Joel being so unaware of it.

The bed creaks as you crawl onto it. You manage to straddle Joel before he wakes up fully, immediately lifting his arms to grab you and defend himself but when he realizes it’s your body on top of his, he falters.

“What’re ya doin’ here?” His voice is filled with sleep but he is nowhere near panic as you had hoped. 

You lean down over him and grab at his chin with the hand that’s not holding you up. You smile down at him but Joel is already staring down at your chest as you hover above him. You shake his head slightly, “Eyes up here, you bastard.”

“Shouldn’t look so pretty then,” he retorts. 

“Heard you were screwing around with that new bimbo. I thought you liked a challenge,” you tighten the grip on Joel’s jaw, push him back into the mattress, and catch the way he is connecting the dots in his head but the time it takes him makes you realize that there has been more than her. You growl, still hovering over him, and leaning down to ghost your lips over his whilst your eyes roam over his face, “It’s a damn fucking privilege to be breathing the same air as me.” 

“Cute,” he says quietly and brattishly. 

You push down briefly before letting go. Your eyes look down at his lips but you don’t kiss him like you want to, don’t want to give in when it would seem so vulnerable to give in to that temptation. 

Instead, you reach up to hold your palm in front of his mouth. You smile innocently, “Lick it.”

“What?” He chuckles in disbelief.

“Go on. Do as I say.”

Joel lets out his tongue and wets his lips. He gives in faster than you have anticipated, licks a long stripe from the start of your wrist to the middle of your palm, and coats your hand in disgusting, hot, and dirty saliva. 

“Did she do that?” You ask. You feel behind yourself to slide a hand down into Joel’s jeans and then past the waistband of his underwear, “Put you in your place because she knows how disgusting you are?” 

Joel is already half-hard as you take him in your slicked palm, and his cock comes alive fully not a moment later. He gasps into the bedroom but still looks cocky as ever, “Which of ‘em?”

“Fuck you,” you stroke him slowly and his breaths come out in small puffs that hardly make him seem calm and composed. You realize how much you’ve needed, craved, to put your hands on him. 

“That can be arranged,” he says, trying to catch a glimpse of what you are doing to him. He starts to move, makes an effort to flip you around but you catch him before he can follow through. You tighten your grip around his cock, squeezing him around the base until he gasps softly. 

“No one but me,” you say, “Okay?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart, what is this?” He rolls his eyes and moans when you stroke him once and then twice. 

“Are you going to behave?” You ask with a harsh grip again. You let your lips touch briefly now. 

“What?” Joel looks slightly disgusted. 

“I asked,” you begin and now you start to stroke him properly, mimicking what you have seen him do to himself when he has wanted to come on your face, “Are you going to behave, Joel?”

“No,” he teases. 

“Don’t make me ask once more, baby,” you move your hand up and down quickly, almost forcing him to near orgasm before you squeeze around the base to edge him. He hisses, neck blushing with how his heartbeat must be on overdrive. 

“Fuck,” he groans, throbbing in your hand, and with his snark, you almost just want to spend hours tracing the vein along his length with your fingertip, “Whaddaya want? You want me to be your little boyfriend or somethin’? Don’t be dumb, it don’t suit ya.”

“Listen,” you say, scooting back slightly and leaving a stain of your slick on the bottom of his t-shirt, “I’ll stick your big cock in me right now and let you come in me if you say I’m your only girl. You’ll never need another pussy than this.” 

He says your name as you straighten on top of him again but you let him know it doesn’t mean anything to you. Your free hand reaches to pull your panties to the side, and then you hold his cock in place as you slide down onto it and let it stretch you by bottoming out inside of you. You try your best to look motionless but he has a girth that stings.

“Say it,” you demand, slightly out of breath at the feeling of sitting on his thighs now. 

Joel is silent. He stares up at you, looking as if he has won because he is already inside of you but when you don’t hear an answer, you start lifting yourself off of him again. Joel grabs your hips in protest, holds you down, “No.”

“Then say it,” you reply, “Now.”

“You’re my girl,” he moans helplessly as you reward him with a roll of your hips. You make a noise as well, something closer to a tiny cry for him but you aren’t going to give in just like that.

“The only?” You inquire when you regain your composure. 

“My only girl, even if she’s a fuckin’ pain in the ass,” he groans. You flex your thighs to grip him around the middle and then you squeeze his length, letting your walls clamp down and it sends his eyes rolling backward. He bucks up his hips and you moan. 

However, you still have more to say and do. You don’t move yet, “I don’t believe you.”

Joel rolls his eyes, his grip on your hips tightening but he still doesn’t force you to ride him, “Jesus Christ, what the fuck now?”

“I think you’re a liar,” you inform him, trying to ignore how much every instinct in your body is telling you to use his dick for yourself. You squeeze around him again, “I think you’ll say anything to get pussy.”

“No one’s got a pussy like yours, sweetheart. You think I don’t know that?” He bares his teeth like an aggressive, cornered dog and he groans at the feeling of your soft, wet walls, “You’re like fuckin’ cocaine. Need more each time or I’ll never recover.”

“Don’t go finishing in me, Joel,” you scold. 

“I ain’t gonna,” he bites back, “I do have some self-control.”

“With the way you’ve been whoring around?” You tut, experimentally rocking your hips forward to feel him slip almost all the way out of your cunt. You move back to let him bury himself deep once more and whine, “Riiight.”

“Watch it, we’re only doin’ this because I allow it. I could break ya spine like a fuckin’ toothpick,” he breathes, hands going up along your thighs until he lets them glide up your back as if he is going to make truth of his threat, “Don’t forget who has the upper hand here.”

You relish in his rough hands on your lower back and finally start up a pace to ride him properly, not caring about how your thighs start to burn as you seek out pleasure. It’s a fun contrast to what Joel has just told you because his eyes glaze over in a way that shows you that he wouldn’t even know how to snap you in half if he wanted to. 

His breath has quickened, each intake and exhale becoming airy, whilst he holds your soft sides in his calloused grip. You rest your palms on top of his forearms, undulating your hips until his eyes roll back. He seems like he might lose his mind this time around, so submissive in his own way now that what you are doing to him has hit him by surprise. 

He shamelessly groans your name. Its roughness spurs you on, making you lean forward a little further to give him more. You ride him as if your life depends on it until something burns delicious in your belly and his pelvic bone grinds into your clit. 

Your first proper moan leaves you, high and squeaky. The angle has you baring your teeth, your breathing shaking, from how his cockhead stabs at your front wall repeatedly. You start spitting filth to not sound pathetic even further, “Fuck, Joel, your big cock is enough to make a girl lose her sanity. Makes my eyes wanna roll back.”

But Joel says nothing as he seems pissed off by what you have made of him. Instead, he breathes hard through his nose and occasionally lets a moan fall from his mouth. It pisses you off too. He had such a smart mouth just moments ago, and now he has resorted to being spiteful. 

You make a rash decision then. You move steadily on his cock, rhythm not faltering once, whilst reaching down to his face with your dominant hand. You smack his cheek hard enough to make a point and a noise, eyes narrowed, “Snap out of your ego tripping.”

Joel responds not with words but by curling his hand around your wrist and yanking it away, and then he takes hold of your smaller body once again and starts snapping his hips upwards, crashing them into yours until you nearly topple off of him after crying out. He tightens his hands on your body whilst you hold his forearm with one hand and have the other firmly planted on his chest, and suddenly you are working together towards a crescendo. 

“Give it to me!” You yell with your eyes screwed shut from the pressure against your clit and g-spot. Joel is swearing and his chest is glistening with sweat but he gives in to your command, making you bounce in his lap until he throws his head back and yells with you. 

“Fuck, honey,” he grits out, “Gonna make me come inside ya tight pussy.”

“Oh, it talks?” You quip, trying to hold back a pathetic string of cries but to no avail. Joel smooths his hands up to cup your body just below your breasts, digging his thumbs into your rib cage. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he retorts. 

“I’m gonna come,” you say instead and furrow your brow. 

“Yeah?” He mocks but then his face goes slack and you feel him twitch inside of you, impossibly close to the edge too, “Fuuuck, I can feel ya. Choke my cock real good, Doll.”

You come hard, unable to catch your breath as you keep moving back and forth on his length. Your whole pussy pulses, tight walls gripping him even further. The fingers holding onto his forearm make little indents and your nails on the other hand scratch into his chest until red lines form. And you cry. Oh, you cry and cry for him whilst singing his name.

The clenching of your cunt around his dick makes him reach his own point of no return a moment after. He does a sharp intake of breath and when he exhales even sharper, a groan follows, and his cock releases come inside of you. 

You use your last bit of energy to ride him through it. Your delirious mind, hazy with pleasure, makes your mouth run as you slowly drag your hips to match each twitch of his length, “See? She can’t love you like I do. Is that really what you want, Joel?” 

Joel pants underneath you. He tenses up when he hears those words but instead of pulling away, he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you down, “What the fuck did you just say?”

Your eyes widen slightly at the realization. In your chest, your pulse beats rapidly, “Just ‘cause I said it, doesn’t mean that I meant it.”

Joel tightens his grip briefly but then lets go. He sighs, then reaches up to rub his forehead in frustration, “I don’t have the strength.” 

“What’s so bad about it?” You ask, figuring that you might as well jump into the conversation now that you’ve been stupid enough to start it. 

“Don’t,” he warns, letting out a noise as he moves to pull out of you. Your panties move back into place, causing you to shiver.

“Please,” you know it is weak of you.

Joel says your name, mimicking the tone of a parent who is tired of hearing their child pestering them about something. He finds your eyes but doesn’t say anything else. 

“Just let me try something,” you continue and earn a raised brow. He stops trying to move. You swallow thickly but decide to be brave. 

Carefully, you curl your fingers into Joel’s chest hair and reach for his cheek with your other hand. You close the distance between the two of you, finding his mouth with your own and kissing him with a lot less vigor compared to what you have just done.

Underneath your palm on Joel’s chest, you can feel him exhale in something resembling relief. He doesn’t fight the kiss, no, instead he moves his arms and holds your waist. He kisses you back with closed eyes and soft hands, and you try not to ruin it by becoming eager. 

A few moments pass. When you finally pull away, he looks like a deer in the headlights of a car but you talk before he can, “Go to sleep. It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything; I can see you’re exhausted.”

You move off of him to lie down at his side instead. Besides you, Joel closes his eyes without hesitation as if he needs to escape any conversation but when his breathing slows down further and you realize that he is drifting off, he looks mostly like a tamed beast. 

Ever so gently, you run a hand over his hair. He shifts only a little bit, so you do it again and suddenly you’re stroking the salt and pepper curls repeatedly.

To think that he had been ready to fight if someone touched him just half an hour ago. You continue for a few minutes before leaving the bed, heading for his bathroom to get cleaned up, and when you return again, he doesn’t react this time either.

The next day, you’re back in the same patrol group. 

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[levisolace]

[7] Expendable Hearts (Levi x F!Reader)

Chapter 7: The Breakup

WC: 9,089 Chapter Warnings: tiniest bit of steamy but bigger angst Summary: Everyone in Levi's life knows he only ever dated one girl and that she left him wrecked, bitter, and heartbroken. Many years later, she's back in his life and he doesn't know what to do. Note: Hi, I am back again. I know I said we might have smut this chapter but it didn't really feel right for it lol. Honestly, not very satisfied with the chapter but I hope you like it!

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When you woke up, the unfamiliar warmth of soft sheets and the faint scent of something unmistakably Levi brought you to a sudden clarity. This wasn’t your apartment. You blinked, taking in your surroundings—the room was dimly lit, with soft morning light filtering through the curtains. Levi’s apartment. The realization settled slowly, like ripples spreading across water.

You sat up, your head heavy with a dull ache from last night’s drinks, and as you took in the stillness of the room, memories from the last night washed over you. You groaned in annoyance with yourself. How could you let this happen? When had you been careless enough to be that drunk?

The last seven years have taken you far away from this part of your life. Perhaps it was the absence that lowered your alcohol tolerance. Perhaps it was Hange’s mix. You don’t know and you don’t remember. Well, you do remember Levi arriving and helping you in fragments.

Last night was different. There had been warmth in Levi’s touch when he carried you to his bed, something almost tender in the way he looked at you, even if only for a moment. You don’t remember anything after passing out on the bed, hopefully that was the only thing you did. He was nowhere to be seen, and as you sat there on the bed pondering, the soft creaks and sounds of the apartment settling only heightened the absence of him.

You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, feeling the coolness of the morning air against your skin, protected by the fabric of Levi’s jacket. The comfort of Levi’s presence last night had been undeniable, but now, is it bad of you to hope that the tension between you two had finally subsided? 

You stood, making the bed carefully and neatly, and made your way to the doorway. In the living room, Levi was sleeping on the single sofa, arms crossed over his chest, his head slightly tilted to the side. 

He looked… worn. Even in sleep, his body held tension, his jaw slightly clenched, arms crossed over his chest like he was still defending himself from some unseen battle. His head had tipped awkwardly to the side, and the shadows under his eyes were deep, telling the story of someone who didn’t rest easily. You remembered how he never had good sleeping habits—his insomnia was something he never spoke about in detail, but you had seen its effects more times than you could count.

Crouching down, you looked at him more closely. His sleep was shallow, restless, as if even in unconsciousness, his mind couldn’t fully let go. There were faint signs of exhaustion etched across his face—the slight crease between his brows, the constant tension in his hands, the weariness that clung to him like a second skin. 

You thought back to when you were together, the nights when you’d wake up and find him sitting at the edge of the bed or drinking tea. He rarely slept for more than a few hours, and when he did, it was never restful. 

Now, seeing him like this—curled up on that too-small sofa, lost somewhere between exhaustion and restlessness—it hit you how much Levi had endured. His eyes, which always carried that sharpness, were softer in sleep, but the strain remained. The man who was always composed, always in control, seemed fragile in these stolen moments of rest.

“…when the breakup happened, Levi didn’t take it well.”

Kuchel’s words rang in your head, settling a frown on your face. You watched him breathe, the steady rise and fall of his chest, your hand hovering close to him but not touching. This was Levi—strong, guarded, and yet so painfully human underneath it all. Seven years and this hasn’t changed for Levi. 

In this city where much has changed, you wonder what else has remained? 

Levi stirred, his brow furrowing before his eyes slowly blinked open. He blinked again, his sharp gaze instantly locking onto you crouching beside him, your face only inches away from his. His expression shifted from sleepy confusion to guarded awareness in a split second, his body tensing as though he was expecting something.

You froze, caught in the act, your breath hitching. The silence hung heavy between you, as his sleepy, narrowed eyes tried to process the situation.

“What the hell are you doing?” His voice was rough, still thick with sleep, but there was that familiar edge to it, the one that made you think he wasn’t too pleased with the unexpected proximity.

You scrambled to stand up, feeling your face flush in embarrassment. “I… I didn’t mean to wake you. You just looked…” You trailed off, unsure of how to explain why you had been crouched there watching him sleep.

He let out a slow, deep exhale, shifting his position as he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes softened for just a moment, but his guard was quickly back up, the tired lines on his face doing little to hide his discomfort at being caught like this.

“Didn’t mean to wake me?” he repeated, voice laced with skepticism, “You’re practically breathing down my neck.”

You winced, your embarrassment deepening. “I was just… worried. You don’t look like you’ve slept much.” You couldn’t help the concern that laced your voice, remembering all the times he would wake up in the middle of the night, never admitting how little sleep he actually got.

Levi’s expression shifted slightly at your words, but he brushed it off with a dismissive grunt. “I’m fine.” He stood up, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders, clearly trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. He was stiff, his movements betraying how uncomfortable that small sofa had been, but he didn’t say anything about it.

The awkward tension lingered between you as he ran a hand through his hair, smoothing down the disarray caused by sleep. He glanced at you again, his eyes flickering with something unreadable before he spoke, voice quieter now. “You shouldn’t stare at people when they’re asleep.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” you murmured, eyes lowering as you awkwardly shifted your weight from one foot to the other.

Levi’s gaze lingered on you for a second longer, then he sighed. “Do you want tea?” 

He walked toward the kitchen without waiting for your response, but the stiffness in his steps didn’t go unnoticed. For a few minutes, you stand there in the living room alone, a strange mix of emotions settled in your chest—relief, awkwardness, and something else. 

In the kitchen, Levi was standing by the stove with a tea cup in his hand. His back was turned to you, his posture rigid, his face unreadable. The warmth from last night seemed to have vanished, replaced by the familiar, distant version of Levi you had always struggled to understand.

He didn’t turn when he heard your footsteps, didn’t offer a greeting or acknowledge your presence in any obvious way. The silence between you was heavy, and suddenly, you felt like an intruder in a space that was no longer yours.

“Morning,” you said quietly, lingering by the doorway. Your voice sounded small, hesitant.

Levi didn’t respond immediately. He took a sip of his tea, still staring out the window. When he finally spoke, his tone was flat, almost indifferent. “Coffee or tea. Help yourself.”

The casualness of his words made your chest tighten. After last night, you had expected—maybe even hoped—for something more. You even joked a little in the car. But now, it was as though nothing had changed at all, as though the small, unspoken connection you had felt last night had dissolved with the morning light.

You stepped into the kitchen and prepared yourself a cup of tea, the clink of the cup against the counter louder than it should have been in the quiet apartment.

“I didn’t mean to impose last night,” you said softly, gripping the cup a little tighter than necessary. “Thanks for letting me stay and take the bed. It ruined your sleep.”

Levi finally glanced over at you, his expression neutral. “I told you it wasn’t a big deal. And I don’t use the bed much, anyway.”

You paused. “Do you still have trouble sleeping?”

He doesn’t answer. You took a sip of your tea, the taste of his premium tea leaves grounding you in the awkwardness of the moment. “Right,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “No big deal.”

The two of you stood there in the kitchen, silence filling the space between you as you indulge yourself with the warm drink. 

“Levi,” you began, your voice hesitant. You weren’t even sure what you wanted to say. Maybe you wanted to ask him why he had shown up outside your apartment, why he had seemed so different last night. Or maybe you just wanted to bridge the gap between the person you used to know and the man standing in front of you now.

But before you could say more, Levi cut you off, his voice low but firm. “You should head home after tea. You’ll feel better after you rest.”

It wasn’t a harsh dismissal, but it was enough to tell you that he wasn’t ready to talk. And maybe you weren’t either. Despite feeling wrong, you nod and turn your back on him. The years apart had created a distance that couldn’t be bridged by one day. There were too many things left unsaid, too many pieces of your lives that had moved in different directions. But you should at least try to settle some things. Besides, that talk with Kuchel really got to you. 

But something inside you refused to let this be the end of the conversation. You turned back toward Levi, your voice soft but determined.

“Levi… can we—” you hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Can we talk?”

For a moment, Levi didn’t move. He stood at the counter, his back to you, gripping the cup in his hands. The air between you grew heavy, thick with unspoken things. When he finally turned, his face was calm, but there was something in his eyes that betrayed him—an intensity you hadn’t expected.

“Talk?” he repeated, his voice low. It wasn’t sharp, but there was a weight to it. “About what?”

The directness of his question hit you harder than you expected. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

 “I just… I know things didn’t end well between us. And I want to know if we can…” You faltered, not quite sure how to finish the sentence. What were you asking for? Friendship? Closure?

Levi raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter. He looked tired, as though this conversation was something he’d been bracing for, but also something he didn’t want to face. “You want to fix things? Is that it?”

“I don’t know if it’s about fixing things,” you admitted softly, shifting your weight awkwardly. “I just… I don’t want things to be like this between us anymore.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, as though he was trying to figure out what you really meant. He let out a breath, setting the cup down on the counter with a soft clink. “You think we can just… talk and things will magically be fine again?”

You shook your head, stepping a little closer. “No. But we could at least try to talk about it.”

Levi’s expression didn’t change much, but you could see his jaw tightening. “You left without a word,” he said quietly, the frustration finally seeping through. “Didn’t even say goodbye. And now you want to talk?”

The pain in his voice was subtle, but it was there, cutting deeper than you had expected. 

You understand now that time doesn’t heal everything for everyone. If Levi, the kind person that you know he is, still holds a grudge against you like this, you must’ve hurt him immensely. If you were still as closed off as you were, you would’ve told him off for this as you did back when you first saw each other. 

But now, you flinched, swallowing hard. “I didn’t leave because of you, Levi,” you started, your voice wavering. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?” he asked, crossing his arms. He wasn’t angry—at least, not in the way he usually was when something upset him. He just looked… tired. Tired of this, tired of you bringing it up.

You looked down, your hands fidgeting at your sides. “I left because I needed to figure things out for myself. My future. My career. It wasn’t about us—”

Levi scoffed, shaking his head, cutting you off. “It was always about us. Don’t act like it wasn’t.”

His words stung, and your chest tightened. “That’s not fair,” you whispered, but even as you said it, you knew he wasn’t entirely wrong. You had left to chase something more for yourself, but in doing so, you had severed ties without even explaining. The guilt that had lingered for so long resurfaced, leaving you feeling exposed.

Levi took a step forward, his voice quiet but firm. “You just left, like what we had didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter.”

You wanted to argue, to defend yourself, but your throat tightened, choking back the words. You remembered how things ended between you—how, instead of explaining yourself, you’d shut him out completely. You’d thought it would be easier that way. You were wrong.

“I thought… I thought you’d be fine without me,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. 

Levi’s expression darkened, his fists clenching. “You thought I’d be fine?” His voice was sharp now, but it was the kind of sharpness that came from hurt, not anger. “You think it was that easy?”

You couldn’t meet his gaze, the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest. “I’m sorry, Levi. I didn’t know how to stay. I didn’t know how to…”

I didn’t know how to be enough.

Levi’s frustration flared again, but there was something else in his eyes now—something raw and vulnerable beneath the subtle anger. 

“Because I wasn’t enough for your dreams,” he snapped. “You left without looking back, like I wasn’t enough to make you stay. And now that you learn I’m successful, you want to make amends?”

You opened your mouth to respond, to explain, but the words got caught in your throat. The accusation lingered in more of an offensive way but at the same time, you get him. How could you explain something that had been eating away at you for so long? It angers and pains you that he thinks of you this way. But what can he do when it was your own fault that he had this image of you? 

“I… I’m sorry,” you said softly, your voice breaking. What were you saying sorry for? A million things. Two words are nearly not enough for your regrets and mistakes. “It’s not like that.” “You keep saying that,” he stepped closer to you, face inches away from yours. “You keep saying it wasn’t like that but I’m not hearing the explanation.” "I know it hurt you. But… it was never about us, not like you think. I just—" She faltered, trying to hold his gaze. "I didn’t know how else to handle things back then. Couldn’t we at least try to find some middle ground?" 

Levi stared at you, his breathing heavy, his frustration mounting, as if what you asked of him was what triggered his anger. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out of him, as if he was too speechless and offended.

And then, without warning, he moved. In one swift motion, he closed the distance between you, hands caging in on your face. You barely had time to react before his lips crashed against yours, silencing whatever you had been about to say.

It was intense, almost desperate, as if he was pouring all his pent-up emotions into that single moment.

It wasn’t gentle, and it wasn’t tender. The kiss was filled with everything unsaid, all the anger, the longing, the pain that had built up between you over the years. His grip loosened almost instantly as if he was giving you the chance to push him away, his other hand finding the small of your back loosely. Your mind went blank, your heart racing as you responded instinctively, your body betraying the emotions you’d been trying to suppress. You kissed him back with as much passion, a hand shooting up to rest on his shoulder.

With acceptance on your part, he presses his hand on your back, pushing your bodies closer together. Hands roamed your body, tracing the curves of your hips and the small of your back. He pressed you against the wall, his body flush against yours, as he deepened the kiss. His tongue teased the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and when you granted it, he explored your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless.

Levi’s hands slid up your body, his fingers tangling in your hair as he angled your head to gain better access. He kissed you like a man possessed, like he was trying to memorize every inch of your mouth, every sensation, every taste. It was overwhelming, consuming, and you found yourself responding in kind, your own desire rising to meet his.

For a moment, the world around you disappeared, and it was just the two of you—caught in a storm of emotions neither of you had been able to express. When Levi finally pulled away, his breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against yours.

“You don’t get to walk back into my life like nothing happened,” he whispered, his voice rough, his eyes still closed. “But I’ll accept your apology if you tell me one thing.”

You stared at him, stunned, your lips still tingling from the force of the kiss. “Levi…” you whispered, your voice trembling, unsure of what to say. You had expected an argument, maybe a cold rejection, but not this. Not the raw, unchecked passion that had just erupted between you.

You took a shaky breath, steadying yourself as the silence stretched between you. The intensity of Levi’s kiss still lingered on your lips, but you knew this moment couldn’t end like this—without clarity, without addressing the feelings that had been left festering for years. You weren’t sure how to navigate the conversation ahead, but you knew it needed to happen.

“Why did you leave?” His voice was low, steady, but you could hear the anger simmering underneath.

You froze. You knew this question was coming, had expected it, but now that it was here, you felt the weight of it crush your chest. You opened your mouth to answer, but no words came out at first. The real answer—the full answer—felt too dangerous, too raw.

“I… I needed space,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I needed to figure out things. I wasn’t ready for everything that was happening. I wasn’t ready for us…”

Levi’s eyes darkened, and you could see the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “That’s not the whole truth,” he said, his voice sharp. “You left without a word, without even explaining. And now you expect me to believe it was just because you ‘needed space?’”

You flinched at his words, but you didn’t have an answer that would satisfy him. He wasn’t wrong. There was more to why you left, but the truth felt like too much to bear right now. “It’s complicated, Levi. I—I can’t explain everything. Not yet.”

“Not yet?” Levi’s voice rose, his anger spilling over. “You’ve had years to figure it out, and you still can’t give me a real answer? After everything?” His voice echoed in your mind, the accusation laced with disbelief. 

You didn’t know what answer he wanted, what answer could ever fix the damage that had been done. You had thought about this moment a thousand times before—imagined what you might say, how you might explain why you left, why you didn’t say goodbye, why you broke his heart without looking back. But now, standing here, with his anger burning in the space between you, the words you’d rehearsed felt hollow.

His next words cut deeper. “You ran,” he said, and you flinched, the truth of it like a slap. “You always run when things get hard.” You felt your pulse quicken, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. He wasn’t wrong. You did run. You ran from him, from the life you thought you couldn’t have, from the overwhelming fear that you weren’t enough, that you couldn’t hold it all together.

“You know what Hange told me when she first saw you again? You cried. You cried in her arms like a child. Don’t expect me to believe that meant nothing but missing a friend.” 

You closed your eyes, remembering the moment you saw Hange again. The way everything you had been holding in, all the grief and guilt, came rushing out the moment she hugged you. It wasn’t just missing a friend—it was the overwhelming realization that you hadn’t let yourself feel anything for so long. You had locked it all away, telling yourself that it was better this way, that you were stronger alone. But seeing Hange again had broken the dam. You had cried because, for the first time in years, you realized how much emotions you’ve been hiding away. And in that moment, you realized just how much you missed the people you had left behind—how much you missed the old you. 

“You always run when things get hard. And you always leave me behind like I don’t matter.” Hearing him say it out loud—it crushed you in ways you hadn’t expected. Because he wasn’t wrong. You had left him behind, not just physically, but emotionally.

That stung. “That’s not true,” you snapped back, your voice trembling. Deep inside, you know he’s right. But you didn’t want to accept it. You’ve put on multiple walls for the past seven years and even before that. You don’t know how to accept yourself and that’s the truth. But he never meant nothing to you. Not in the slightest. 

“I’m the one lying?” Levi’s voice was filled with disbelief. 

You didn’t want to admit it to Levi—not now, not when he was standing there, looking at you with so much anger, with so much pain—but he was right. You had left him behind like he didn’t matter, even though he had been the only thing that mattered for so long. You couldn’t deny that, no matter how much you wanted to.

But what could you say to him now? What could you possibly tell him that would make this any better? The truth was too complicated, too messy. You had run because you didn’t know what else to do. You didn’t know how to stay, how to let him in. And now, all these years later, you still didn’t have the answers he deserved.

You could feel the conversation spiraling, slipping out of control. The more Levi spoke, the more you could feel the anger and hurt from both sides surfacing. “I didn’t know what else to do!” you shot back, your voice louder now, matching his intensity. “I thought it was the right thing at the time.”

“Well, it obviously wasn’t!” Levi shouted, stepping closer to you, his eyes burning with frustration. “You didn’t give me a choice. You just insulted me and let me figure it out on my own.”

The words hit you like a slap in the face, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The air was thick with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid for years. You could see the pain in Levi’s eyes, but beneath it all, there was still something else—something vulnerable that he was trying to hide.

You opened your mouth to speak, to try and explain again, but before you could get a word out, Levi grabbed you. His hand gripped your arm, and in an instant, his lips were on yours—rough, urgent, cutting off whatever you were about to say again. 

“Stop it,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “Stop making excuses or I’m going to kiss you again.”

Your breath caught in your throat. His words hung in the air, and the tension between you was palpable. The heat of the moment was overwhelming, his nearness pulling you in despite everything. 

“It’s your choice,” he repeats.

You searched his face, trying to find the right words, something that would break through the anger and pain, but the look in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t in the mood for more of your excuses and vague words.

“Levi…” you whispered, but before you could say anything more, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze dropping to your lips, the threat of another kiss looming between you. You knew he meant every word, and the intensity of it all made your heart pound even harder.

His voice was rough, but there was something raw beneath it, something unspoken that you couldn’t ignore. “I’m serious. One more excuse, and I won’t stop myself.”

You swallowed hard, torn between the instinct to push him away and the undeniable pull that still lingered between you. The anger and hurt were still there, but so was everything else—the longing, the lust.

The room felt smaller, the space between you shrinking as Levi’s words echoed in your mind. The look in his eyes dared you to say something more, but the weight of everything kept you silent. And maybe it was the way he had already kissed you two times that you yearned for more. 

Maybe it was how he looked awfully beautiful in his in-house morning clothes. Maybe it was the way his lips looked soft enough as a pillow that you want to lie on. Maybe you just missed his touch that you weren’t able to think straight. Maybe it was the pain—the longing that threw all the rationalities out of the window. 

“Kiss me again.” 

Levi’s eyes widened for a moment, a flash of pain across his glossy eyes until it was replaced by clouded lust. 

He leaned in with his eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched, as if he was fighting his own desires. You almost flinch when his head drops on your shoulder, subtly nuzzling his nose on the skin of your neck.

“Then at least tell me this,” he mutters. “Are you really okay now?”

Tears fill your eyes and you let out a deep exhale.

“Yes,” I whisper while nodding, looking straight ahead. “Yes, I am.” 

And that wasn’t a lie. He knows that.

With a soft groan, he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. 

His tongue dances with yours, his hand sliding up your back to cup your head, pulling you even closer. His other hand moves to your waist, his fingers gripping your hips as he deepens the kiss. 

You start letting out soft grunts as if trying to tell him how pleasurable it is for you, as he latches his lips to the curve of your neck. You gasp for air when he sucks on your sensitive skin, only the ceiling in sight as your eyes roll to the back of your head. It had you holding on his shoulder for dear life.

"Levi," you moan, shivering and grasping at his hair as he attacks your neck with open-mouth kisses. Levi nips at your jaw next, harsh as if he was devouring you.

His roaming hands finally made their way to your chest, palm over your breast. He squeezes once, slowly but hard. Realizing your shirt was getting in the way, his hand slips inside the skin tight cloth to the clasp of your bra. 

And then he freezes. 

As if he was thrown ice-cold water, he pulls away. He stumbled back a step, his breathing uneven, his eyes wide in shock. His gaze flickered between you and the space between you, as though he was trying to make sense of the moment. You stare back at him, breathless and probably looking like a mess. 

You blink, your own breathing labored, and the reality of what just happened hit you like a wave. 

You continued to stare at him, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. The tension that had been building, the unspoken emotions, the years of unresolved feelings—it had all come to a head in that kiss. And now you were both standing there, stunned by the gravity of what had just happened.

Levi ran a hand through his hair, his jaw clenched. His usual composed self had cracked, and you could see the confusion and regret warring in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, shaking his head slightly as if he couldn't find the right words.

The silence was unbearable. You wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension, but nothing came out. You just stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, realizing that the line between you and Levi had just been blurred in a way you hadn't anticipated.

Levi finally broke the silence, his voice rough and barely above a whisper. "I... Sorry." His eyes dropped to the floor, as if he couldn't bring himself to look at you. “I think we got carried away.” 

You couldn't find your voice, your mind still reeling. You knew he was right—this wasn't supposed to happen. But it had.

And now everything feels even more complicated than ever before.

When are you going to make the right decision?

Levi’s grip on the counter was tight, his knuckles white, as if holding onto something solid could stop the whirlwind of emotions spinning inside him. His broad back was tense, shoulders stiff like he was bracing himself for something. You watched him, feeling the weight of the silence between you both, the air thick with everything left unsaid. The view of his back reminded you too much of that night—the night you walked away, leaving him with his heart shattered, and now here you were again, uncertain, fragile.

Your heart raced in your chest, waiting, praying for him to break the silence. You needed him to speak, to say something, anything to ground you in the moment, to pull you away from the memories. Then, after what felt like an eternity, his voice broke the quiet, low and careful.

“I can offer friendship,” `he said, his voice strained, as if the words were dragging out of him. “Slowly. If you want it.”

Your stomach twisted at his offer. Friendship. The idea felt both like a lifeline and a blade. After everything, all the history, the love, the pain, he was offering you the safety of friendship because that’s what Levi did—he built walls to protect what was left of himself. You could hear the fear behind his words, the hesitation, like he was terrified of opening himself up to you again. And yet, part of you understood. Starting over felt impossible; you’d both been broken by what happened, and it scared him just as much as it scared you.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper as you spoke. “Is that what you want?”

His shoulders shifted slightly, but he didn’t turn to face you. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice almost too quiet. “But I know I can’t… risk everything again. Not right now.”

His words stung, but you couldn’t blame him. The kiss had stirred things up, emotions both of you had buried long ago, and now you were both standing on the edge of something dangerous, something you weren’t sure either of you could survive if it went wrong again.

You took a shaky breath, your mind racing as you tried to make sense of what you wanted. Did you want friendship? Could you even be just friends with him after everything? The thought seemed impossible. But maybe he was right. Maybe it was all either of you could handle right now.

“Okay,” you whispered, unsure if you meant it, but needing to say something. “Friends, then.”

Levi exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding his breath the entire time, but he still didn’t turn around. The silence stretched on again, heavy with the weight of everything left unspoken between you. You could feel it in the air—the unresolved hurt, the lingering desire, and now this fragile truce you were trying to build, one step at a time.

The sight of his back still haunted you, a reminder of all the ways you’d hurt him before. But this time, as painful as it was, you stayed. You weren’t walking away. Not again.

You stepped closer but not approaching him entirely, careful not to break the chance given to you. You don’t know what to do with yourself—how to step outside yourself. But you were willing to try.

“I’ll make it up to you, Levi,” you whispered, loud enough for him to hear. 

Those words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of promises that neither of you knew if you could keep. The truth was, you didn’t know how you’d make it up to him. How could you? After everything that had happened, after all the years you’d spent apart, it felt impossible to bridge the distance between you. But you had to try. He was giving you this—friendship, the smallest of openings—and you would take it, even if it hurt. Because it was Levi.

Levi, the one person who had meant more to you than anyone else.

And now, standing in his kitchen, the same man who had once been your entire world was offering you a lifeline, even if it was wrapped in his own fear and hesitation. You could feel his reluctance, the way he was trying to protect himself from being hurt again. But you could also sense the vulnerability beneath it all, the part of him that still cared, despite everything.

You didn’t expect him to answer right away. Levi was always slow to speak when it came to his feelings. He wasn’t the type to lay everything out in the open. You knew that about him. But still, the longer the silence stretched on, the more anxious you became. Maybe you had said the wrong thing. Maybe he didn’t believe you could make it up to him. Maybe he didn’t believe in second chances.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice low and controlled, though you could hear the cracks in his composure. “Alright. Make it up to me.”

Levi felt her drifting away. 

It was in the middle of the last semester before they graduated. Obviously, their schedules were hectic. She was barely around to study with him. Before, even if they were as busy as this, they would find time to be together, and even if they were not remotely doing anything romantic per se, they were still together, spending time and feeling each other’s warmth. Levi couldn’t even keep up with what she’s doing anymore, always running around somewhere he doesn’t know about. Whenever he asks, you do tell him but it’s not like he could force you to stop. Before he knew it, things were piling up on him too. 

That night, Levi hadn’t seen you for over a week. Your conversations had become few and far between, your texts cold and distant. But he convinced himself it was just stress. You were busy; you both were. He planned a quiet evening together, something to help you both relax and remind you that everything was going to be fine.

You just needed a break, that’s what he told himself. 

So when the doorbell rang unexpectedly, his heart skipped. Maybe you’d missed him as much as he missed you. The past weeks had driven him crazy. All he wanted was to see you, to hold you, to feel like you were still okay. With him, with the two of you.

Levi opened the door, excitement barely contained in his movements. There you were, standing still and quiet on his doorstep. Without hesitation, he pulled you into a hug, a rare gesture from him, one he reserved almost entirely for you. But something was wrong. Your body was stiff, unmoving in his arms. It felt like hugging a mannequin—cold and unresponsive. It worried him but hasn't addressed it yet.

“I’m almost done cooking pasta,” he informs you, guiding you to the kitchen. You follow him quietly, grim and almost soullessly. It was time that he had enough of you looking like that. He needed to know what was on your mind.

“Baby?” he whispered, worry creeping into his voice.

He stepped back, reluctantly letting you go, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of warmth, of familiarity. But there was none. You look up to face him with an expression he didn’t recognize—cold, distant, like a stranger. His heart dropped.

Levi repeated by calling your name, this time more carefully, as if saying your name too loudly might shatter you. His voice was soft, pleading, hoping for some sign that this wasn’t what it looked like.

“Levi,” you said, but your voice was distant, detached. You said his name like it was unfamiliar, like you’d never said it before, as if you were reading it off a page.

A knot twisted in his chest. “Baby… what—are you okay?”

You closed your eyes for a moment, as if gathering strength, and when you spoke again, your words came out softly but with an edge that cut straight through him. “I… I can’t do this anymore.”

His heart sank further. “What do you mean?” His voice was calm, but inside, he was fighting the panic rising in his chest. He knew what you were saying, but he wasn’t ready to face it. As he says that, he leans on the kitchen for support for whatever you had to say.

“This,” you said, gesturing between you two. “Us. It’s not working.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” he snapped, frustration bubbling up inside him.

“Us, Levi. We’re not working,” you said quietly, but with a firmness that left no room for misunderstanding.

Levi didn’t respond at first. He just stared at the floor, the tension between you thick and heavy. You weren’t sure if he hadn’t heard you, or if he was just trying to figure out how to respond. But then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

“I don’t understand,” he shook his head, his voice growing desperate. “Don’t be like that. Tell me what’s wrong. I—I’ll make it work.”

You shook your head, your expression unchanging. “You.”

“Me?” His jaw clenched, frustration and hurt swirling inside him. His voice was low, controlled, but you could hear the edge of frustration underneath. “What do you mean, me?” 

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. He can see that you were having a hard time. “I don’t see you anymore,” you said, your voice cracking just a little.

He scoffed, pushing off the counter and taking a step toward you. “Of course you don’t! You’ve been pushing me away! I’ve been trying to see you, to be with you, but you’ve shut me out. Is that all this is?” 

“No, Levi, that’s not what I meant,” you said, exasperation seeping into your voice. 

“Then what?” he demanded, his voice rising as the desperation took over. 

You hesitated, your breath shaky. “I don’t… see you in my future.”

The room fell silent. The air grew thick with the weight of your words. Levi’s eyes widened as he processed what you had just said, each word feeling like a punch to the gut.

“What?” His voice came out weak, barely above a whisper. “What?” He repeated, louder this time, his disbelief palpable.

“My plans, your plans… they don’t align,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to the floor as if the weight of the words was too much.

His jaw tightened, and he shook his head slightly.  “I’ll make them align. It’s not as hard as you think.” 

“It’s not that simple,” you replied, your voice steady, but the finality in your tone sent a shiver down his spine. 

“Yes, it is! You just don’t want to take the risk, do you? You don’t want to take a chance on us, on me.” Levi’s eyes flickered with something—hurt, anger, disappointment—it was hard to tell. 

“…No, I don’t,” you admitted after a long, agonizing pause.

A bitter laugh escaped Levi’s lips. “So that’s it, huh? You think so little of me?”

“I do,” you said, your voice unwavering. “You don’t have a plan, Levi. You’re getting a business degree because you don’t know what else to do. You don’t have dreams, not like I do. I can’t afford to take that risk with you,” you babbled on, your frustration bubbling to the surface.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you said softly, feeling the weight of your own words crushing you. “But I can’t stay.”

His breath caught in his throat. “Have you always thought this about me? Always?”

“Yes,” you said, without hesitation.

Levi’s face hardened. He turned away from you, his back tense. “Is that why you’ve always put me last? Because you think I’m just some spoiled, grumpy brat?” 

“Yes,” you said, your tone flat, emotionless.

“So I’m supposed to believe you never loved me at all?” His voice cracked, anger and heartbreak bleeding into each word.

Levi stood still, his hands gripping the edge of the counter so tightly his knuckles turned white. For a moment, you thought he might say something—anything to make you stay. But when he turned back to face you, his eyes were cold, detached.

“No,” you whispered. “I did love you.”

Levi’s heart sunk more than it could. Did. So you don’t even love him now? He doesn’t understand. He wants you to make him understand.

“Then why?” he asked, voice trembling. “Why are you throwing us away?”

Your eyes finally lifted to meet his, and the softness in your gaze returned, just for a moment. “Because I have to. You’re the only part of my life I’m willing to let go.”

The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Levi stood frozen, his back still at you, his world crumbling around him. 

The weight of that sentence crushed him, making him feel small, insignificant, like everything he’d thought you two had built meant nothing. Out of all the things in your life—the stress, the pressure, the struggles—he was the easiest to discard. It was as if his presence, his love, had been optional all along, something you could abandon when things got too heavy. 

He had always tried to be your constant, your steady hand when everything else felt out of control. And now, hearing that he was the only part of your life you could afford to lose, he realized just how replaceable he’d been to you. It tore at him, leaving him feeling hollow and questioning whether he’d ever really mattered at all. 

But what can he do when you’ve made up your mind?

And so, even though it hurt more than he ever thought it would, he let you go.

“Fine,” he said, his voice low and bitter. “Do what you need to do.”

He just stood there, watching you go, the start of the distance between you two that would only grow as the years go on.

He could still remember that night vividly, the finality of your words sinking in as you walked out of his apartment, out of his life. He replayed every moment over and over, trying to understand where things had gone wrong. How had he not seen it coming? He thought everything was fine, maybe strained, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed. He was wrong.

Everyday went on like he was dragging his feet. You would not even look at him on campus, making it so that his schedule would not align with yours. 

Hange and Erwin were torn. They were his friend first but you had already wiggled your way into their hearts. Despite you hurting him, he hoped that it was something temporary—a lapse of judgment, one could say. So, he gestured Hange to still accompany you at times, making sure you’re eating right and taking care of yourself. Even at a distance. He believed that he could make it happen. He would just have to wait for you.

That was until you left without a trace. 

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the empty streets as Levi made his way to the bar. Erwin had called earlier, insisting they meet for drinks—something Levi had been avoiding ever since you left. It had been a few weeks since graduation, and Levi still wasn’t ready to face the world outside of his apartment, let alone his friends. But after persistent texts and missed calls, he’d finally relented. He didn’t want to talk, but maybe being with Erwin and Hange would help distract him.

As he pushed open the door to the bar, he immediately spotted them at a corner table, Hange waving him over with her usual exuberance. Erwin gave a more subdued nod, his brow slightly furrowed as he watched Levi approach. Levi sat down without a word, not bothering with the pleasantries.

“Glad you could finally make it,” Hange said with a smile, though Levi could see the concern behind her eyes. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. “How’ve you been holding up?”

Levi shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “Fine.”

Hange exchanged a glance with Erwin, who leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “You don’t have to pretend with us, you know,” Erwin said gently, his voice calm but firm. “We know about what happened. We’ve been worried.”

Levi stiffened, his gaze dropping to the table. He hadn’t talked to anyone about the breakup. The thought of explaining how you’d left him, how you said he wasn’t part of your future, was unbearable. But Erwin wasn’t going to let it go that easily.

“Levi,” Hange said, her tone softening. “We know she’s gone.”

Levi’s stomach dropped at the sound of your name, and he finally looked up, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean, ‘gone’?”

Hange blinked, taken aback. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

Erwin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “She’s left the city, Levi.”

Levi’s heart skipped a beat, and he felt the air leave his lungs. “What?”

Hange bit her lip before leaning closer, her voice gentle but hesitant. “I went to her place. You know, to check on her. I was worried when she hadn’t been around, and… well, it’s not her place anymore. There’s someone else living there now.”

Levi’s chest tightened as the words sank in. You hadn’t just broken up with him—you’d left. Without a word. Without telling him. “What do you mean, someone else is living there?” His voice was low, almost a growl, but Hange didn’t flinch.

“I spoke to the new tenants,” she explained. “Apparently, she and her grandma moved out a while ago. Sold the place. It’s like she… disappeared.”

Levi felt a cold chill run down his spine. He had known something was wrong when you broke things off, but he hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected you to leave everything behind. “Why didn’t she say anything?” His voice cracked slightly, betraying the emotion he’d been trying to suppress for weeks.

Erwin sighed, his hands clasped on the table. “We don’t know, Levi. I wish we had more answers.”

Levi’s mind raced, trying to piece together what could’ve happened. He knew you’d been under a lot of stress, but he never imagined it would lead to this. Moving out of the city, selling the house you shared with your grandmother—that wasn’t just a breakup. That was cutting ties completely. Why would you do that? Why didn’t you tell him?

“I don’t understand,” Levi muttered, more to himself than to them. His thoughts were spinning out of control. The cold distance in your eyes that last night, the way you’d told him he didn’t fit into your future—it all made sense now. You had been planning this for longer than he’d realized. He’d been so focused on trying to make things work between the two of you that he didn’t see the signs of something much bigger happening in your life.

Hange leaned forward, her voice softening. “Levi, maybe… maybe there was something else going on. Something she didn’t feel like she could talk about.”

“Like what?” he snapped, but immediately regretted it. Hange didn’t deserve his anger. She was just trying to help.

Hange hesitated, glancing at Erwin again before speaking. “We don’t know. But people don’t just disappear like that for no reason.”

Levi clenched his fists, his mind going back to all the moments he had missed, the times you had pulled away or brushed him off. He thought you were just busy, just stressed about school and your future. But there had been more, hadn’t there? And he had been too blind to see it.

“She didn’t even tell me,” Levi muttered bitterly, the betrayal cutting deeper now. “She didn’t even tell me she was leaving.”

Erwin placed a hand on Levi’s shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. “That doesn’t mean she didn’t care, Levi.”

Levi shook his head, pulling away from Erwin’s touch. He couldn’t accept that right now. You had walked away from him, from everything, and hadn’t looked back. How was he supposed to believe you cared? If you had, you would’ve told him. You wouldn’t have left him here, in this city, to find out from someone else. Was he so repulsive that you would leave a city you told him you would never leave? 

The café was suddenly too quiet, too suffocating. Levi stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back. “I need some air.”

Hange opened her mouth to protest, but Erwin held up a hand, signaling her to let him go. Levi walked out of the café and into the cool night, the sounds of the city barely registering in his mind. He stood on the sidewalk, staring blankly at the passing cars, his thoughts spinning in a million directions.

You were gone. Really gone.

And for the first time since that night, it felt real. The hope he had clung to—the hope that maybe you just needed space, that maybe you would come back—it was gone. You had moved on, left the city, left him behind.

Levi pressed a hand to his chest, trying to steady his breathing. The ache in his heart was unbearable, the weight of it pressing down on him until he could barely stand. He had been fooling himself, thinking that this was something you both could fix. But it wasn’t. You were gone, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He thought back to all the times you’d talked about your future, about the things you wanted to accomplish, the life you wanted to build. He had always assumed he’d be a part of that. But now, standing on the cold street outside the bar, Levi realized that he never had been. You had left him behind long before that final conversation.

Levi ran a hand through his hair, feeling the anger and sadness churn inside him. You were meant for bigger things, and he… he was just a part of the life you left behind. He felt insignificant, like a small chapter in your story that didn’t matter anymore. And the worst part was, he couldn’t blame you for it.

The day after you left, Levi didn’t even get out of bed. He lay there staring at the ceiling, the weight of your absence pressing down on him like a lead blanket. His mind swirled with disbelief. He could still hear your voice, still feel the coldness of your touch when you said you didn’t see him in your future. It felt like his entire world had crumbled beneath him, leaving nothing but emptiness. Levi wasn’t one for breakdowns, but that morning, he didn’t have the strength to face anything. Not the day, not the world, not even himself. He was too stunned, too shattered.

Days blurred into weeks, and Levi found himself trapped in a cycle of withdrawal. He barely left his apartment, hiding away from everything that reminded him of you. His phone buzzed now and then, messages from Hange or Erwin, but he ignored them. What was there to say? He knew they would ask about you, and he wasn’t ready to explain, to admit that you were gone for good. The thought of telling anyone made him feel nauseous, like acknowledging it out loud would make it even more real than it already was.

At first, Levi convinced himself that you just needed time. That’s what he kept telling himself. Maybe you’d come back, maybe you’d realize you’d made a mistake, and things would go back to the way they were. But with each passing day, that hope dimmed until it was nothing more than a flicker in the back of his mind. You weren’t coming back.

And it was his fault, wasn’t it? He had never been good enough for you. You were destined for something bigger, something more than what he could offer. He was just… Levi. Some guy getting a degree in business because he didn’t know what else to do. He wasn’t like you, with your drive and your dreams. You’d always been so full of ambition, talking about all the things you wanted to accomplish, all the places you wanted to go. And him? He didn’t have that. He was fine with just being by your side, supporting you in whatever way he could, but he should’ve known that wasn’t enough.

Levi spent hours sitting in his living room, staring blankly at nothing in particular, the silence of his apartment suffocating. He’d barely eaten in days, and his sleep was restless, haunted by memories of you. There was still your perfume on his dresser, and every time he caught a whiff of it, his chest tightened painfully.

© levisolace. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only on my ao3 account. reblogs, asks, and comments are also greatly appreciated. thank you.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: What use is honor in war?

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

*Clouds of ash part to reveal burnt out husks of barracks complexes, shatter communication towers, and looming over all of it was the crumbling structure of the once proud command center itself.*

*Setting down in front of the command building a small squad of human soldiers approach and form a cordon to either side of the lowering boarding ramp.*

*General Marius Fimble slowly walks down the ramp flanked by a pair of black clad honor guard. His robotic left foot slamming against the ramp with a resounding cannon like echo until he reaches the bottom*

Colonel: *Salutes* General.

Marius: *Returns salute lazily while scanning surroundings* Colonel.

Colonel: You can relax sir; we’ve cleared the area of all resistance.

Marius: Complacency breeds overconfidence; never forget that.

Colonel: Sir!

Marius: Do you have him?

Colonel: We are keeping him in the main building to prevent escape.

Marius: *Confused* Have they made attempts?

Colonel: First one he killed three and injured twelve.

Marius: First?

Colonel: Second he killed seven and injured six, then again three hours later with eight injured.

Marius: He’s tried escaping three times already?

Colonel: Oh no.

Colonel: Those were all within the first seven hours of capture; we’re on twenty seven attempts by now.

Marius: *Grunts*

Marius: Let’s get this over with then before he kills any more of my men.

*Colonel escorts the general and his guards inside the command center. Descending three flights of stairs the group comes to an armored door guarded by twenty soldiers and an auto turret pointed at the doorframe*

Marius: Open it.

*The armored door slowly creeks open as all twenty guards take aim at the opening. The auto turret slowly begins spinning its turrets in preparation to fire as the general walks by.*

Marius: *Waves his bodyguards* Wait here.

Colonel: I would not recommend that, sir.

Marius: *Walks past Colonel and into the room* Noted.

*The door slams behind Marius as he takes in the surroundings. A single light hangs from the ceiling illuminating a lone figure secured firmly to the ground my numerous heavy chains*

Marius: Commandant Fring, we meet at last.

Fring: *Spits out glob of purple blood at Marius’s feet*

Marius: *Steps over it without acknowledging it*

Marius: I had heard tales of the great Grung military back in my academy days and I must say after fighting you, I am deeply underwhelmed.

Fring: *Low growl*

Marius: *Circling the room* Over a thousand years of military prowess and I took you apart in less than a day.

Fring: YOU STRUCK WITHOUT HONOR!

*Fring lunges at Marius who doesn’t flinch. The chains straining under the sudden pressure with Fring just out of reach of Marius’s throat*

*Marius watches in silence as Fring continues for several minutes before relenting*

Marius: I never understood that.

Fring: What?

Marius: Honor.

Fring: You do not understand it because you have never held it.

Fring: You preach of taking down our military when you attacked like cowards and thieves in the dead of night! Slaughtering my warriors while they slept rather than dying by their hands on the field of battle!

Marius: The purpose of war is to win.

Marius: Everything else takes a back seat to that one concept; because if you don’t win nothing you were fighting for matters.

Fring: And yet it is the manner of how you fight that defines who you are.

Fring: And you are a coward!

Marius: So you justify your incompetence by claiming I am a coward?

Fring: You dare!?!

Marius: You were unprepared for an attack despite declaring war on my people. They should have been mustering for war and already onboard troop ships heading out of system; instead they were…how did you put it? Ah yes, they were sleeping.

Marius: *Leans in close to Fring who lunges again only to be grabbed by the general’s hand*

*The general’s grip is iron and Fring claws at it as he gasps for air. There is no emotion behind the eyes of the human leader as he watches his foe*

Marius: Honor, is a novelty for those who can afford it. A justification to fight in a manner of combat they prefer regardless of how many souls die by the outdated ideal that is “Honor”. I fight to win wars, and though my victories seem beneath you I ensure that my men, my soldiers, will return home safe and sound because I fought using my head and not my heart.

*Marius let’s go of Fring who collapses to the ground*

Marius: *Looks down at Fring* You fought with your heart and you lost five field army’s worth of soldiers in a single night.

Fring: Do you keep me alive just to mock me? End me then, for I will hear none of this.

Marius: *Chuckles* I’m sure I had a reason for keeping you alive, but seeing you now I can’t for the life of me wonder why I thought it was worth the effort.

Marius: *bangs on door and the door opens*

Marius: *motions to the soldiers* kill him.

[ms--lobotomy]

@liar-anubiass-blog hi! Tumblr has a habit of deleting the very ask I want to write for when it is its turn. Here's your Emps being a bit of a silly billy.

---

summary: you are a poor unfortunate immortal who the emperor happened to take an interest in before the whole imperium of man thing. have fun with that

word count: 1353

content warnings: a bit of gore, a bit of longing for death, a very yandere man (god?) thing, also this shit is TOXIC toxic so beware, also he uses female words so if youre not a girl just pretend he used masculine pronouns i guess

---

It all started when you were minding your own business, crossing the street sometime in the 3rd millenium. It was late at night, and you were walking alone to your car, parked a little ways away from your workplace. You started to cross the street. A car barrelled towards you, moving haphazardly through the street. You barely had time to turn your head before it collided with you, flattening your frail body. Bones cracked open, flesh fell apart and blood poured from every opening.

After the offending car had frantically drove away, you felt your bones moving back to where they should go and fresh blood oozing back into your form. Soon you were standing up right where you had been before you were struck, work uniform and all. You raised a hand to your cheek. The blood was inside, where it was supposed to be.

You never told a soul about the event. After all, who would believe you? But this was not the only thing you found strange. As you grew older, you never aged. It was a little strange around your 30s or 40s, but you knew something was up once you hit 50. Faking your death was challenging, but you somehow made it work, ready to start life in a new city.

And city to city you roamed, never staying in one place for too long. You began to hate, loathe this curse that had been put upon you. One part of humanity that everyone else had shared was no longer yours. You wanted to die, you wanted it to end when your time was up. But time marched on, and so did you.

You'd moved onto your next city, ready and resigned to this process you had carved out for yourself. Get some crummy job serving slop to people who sometimes yelled obscenities at you, find a place to rent for a little while, and hunker down and hope your secret would be safe.

But something was different about this city, you felt a pair of eyes on you no matter where you went. You weren't sure where they came from, but you now walked a little brisker and you certainly now slept a little less soundly. You requested, you begged to work at the back of the seedy restaurant you worked at, a request which was never granted. So you toiled away at the front, ever cautious to remain inconspicuous.

But all of that would be for naught in the end. You were once again walking home from work, complete with a disheveled uniform. He was a taller man who hadn't had to do much to keep up with your brisk place. He was adorned with long black hair, honey-brown eyes and golden skin. His voice was deep and commanding.

"I know what you are." He put a hand around the back of your neck, his index finger tapping it lightly.

You froze. He stopped walking next to you, looking down on you. "Hell of an opener," you said after a few moments of silence. "Ever introduce yourself?"

"You'll know who I am soon enough," he replied. He tightened his hand around the back of your neck. How tall was he? Maybe around seven or eight feet? "Keep quiet and follow me or I'll snap it."

You felt a lump form in your throat. You'd been very careful to keep your secret from the outside world. If your neck was snapped in broad daylight and you somehow came back from it, there would be no more secrets to keep.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

You walked through the busy streets, never meeting the gazes of the city folk. Some of them looked at their feet when you stared back at them, some of them kept looking. "What a lovely couple!" exclaimed an older lady before meandering past the two of you. You thought your feet were going to fall off before the strange man turned into a more suburban area of town. "Not too far left to go," he said, the corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk.

As soon as you felt you couldn't do it anymore, he led you up the steps of a beaten-down two-story house. His grip was tight enough that you couldn't even consider running away. With his free hand, he pulled a key out of his pocket and inserted it into the door. As he turned it, his hand trailed town towards your waist, grip tight as ever.

"Welcome to your new home," he smirked.

"My rent is due tomorrow," you remarked.

"You're not going to need it ever again," he said, pushing you into the house. This strange man had a maximalist aesthetic, little decorations were crammed into every corner of the place. He closed the door and led you through the halls, going slow to let you take in every little bit of it.

"So you're kidnapping me," you said flatly.

"That's a bit of an unkind way to put it, don't you think?" he asked. He pulled you close to him. You felt your heart beating in your chest. Not now, you thought.

"Think about it this way. You have a secret. A secret that I have as well. Don't you want to hide? Don't you want to slip under the radar?" he asked again. His hand slipped off of your waist and he knelt towards you, taking your hand in his.

"Do I know you?" you asked. You tried to pull away, but his grip was so tight it was bound to leave a nasty bruise.

"You may not know me, but I know you to your heart," he replied. "I've seen all that I need to see. You working long hours at that dead end job all but broke my heart. Those customers didn't see what I saw. I saw a beautiful individual stuck in a terrible existence. I saw you before me, living in fear. Don't you think you deserve to be freed from that existence?"

Your mouth hung slightly open. "You were the one following me," you said softly. "How did you have the time for that?" You pulled your hand away from his, and this time he relented.

"You can't explain the day you died and came back, can you?" he asked. "It's a little bit like that, don't you understand? I'm like you. I can help you. I can save you."

Your expression softened. "How?" you asked.

He stood up. He towered over you still, casting a shadow over you. "How about we head upstairs," he suggested, grabbing your arm and tugging you up the wooden stairs.

His bedroom was just as cluttered as his house was, if not more. There may have been around a dozen pillows on his bed, partially obscured by silky curtains. Light filtered through a window on the side of the room, illuminating books and statues and other little pieces of art.

"Where did you get all of this?" you asked. His hand trailed down your arm to meet your hand, engulfing it.

"I've lived a long time," he replied, leading you to the bed. He sat on it, pulling you onto his lap. "Longer than you have. Longer than you could comprehend." You could hear your heart beating in your chest again as he wrapped his arms around you. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, and you sat there for a moment, still. The curtains to the window fluttered slightly, the light made its way onto the both of you.

You weren't supposed to feel safe. You'd never seen this man before today, he all but kidnapped you. But you thought of your old life, hiding in nooks and crannies that the world couldn't find. Even if you would have to leave this area one day, you knew you weren't the only person afflicted with this curse.

You leaned back into his touch. You relaxed, going limp in his arms. He turned and planted a kiss on your exposed neck, just above where your collar ended.

"Good girl," he said.

[puzzled-pegasus]

Percy and Leo hcs because nobody frickin talks about them

Percy is a Staring Into Your Soul Audhd and Leo is a Avoids Eye Contact Audhd so when theyre in conversation percy will just be like 🟢_🟢 and it kinda freaks Leo out

They have literally the craziest conversations because both their hyperactive brains go all over the place and they just be saying shit

They say their intrusive thoughts out loud to each other sometimes and everyone around is like 😨

Sometimes when they both get mood swingy or overstimulated at the same time they have dumbass arguments and get grumpy at each other and then feel bad later and apologize

Both sensory seeking like crazy so togeyher they make the craziest food combos and eat em

Percy keeps extra sodas under his bed at camp and mostly theyre for him but he'll give them to his very good friends if they want some caffiene. He'd give one to any of the seven but Leo is his biggest taker

They never go to sleep at sleepovers they alwasy are like "ok we should go to sleep now" but then they keep telling stories and making dumb jokes until whoops it's 3:47 AM and neither of them have slept a wink

Leo and Percy and Piper all have a 7 year old's sense of humor when it comes to bathroom jokes

Piper and Leo also have a 12 yo sense of humor w sex jokes and Percy also laughs at those jokes but gets like flustered and it's hilarious

Percy n leo share fidgets with each other

I feel like they would start a crocheting hobby togetehr?? Idk

Both are pretty good at video games idk maybe theyd play together

Leo helps Percy w his math hw sometimes or like explains concepts to help him understand how it works

They have a running joke/quirky thing where they leave mini rubber ducks and other such fun knickknacks in each others space as a wholesome prank

They probably have a very silly secret handshake

Leo is sometimes very good at pulling out Percy's secret inner cringe/dork side by way of committing to his antics really hard and makijg the worst jokes and Percy can't help laughing even though he feels embarrassed as hell and it's such a good vibe lmaoo

Like it's very often that Percy has to hide his face in his hands after Leo makes a god awful joke because he feels so ashamed for laughing

Its good for percy tho cus he likes to be cool and tough skater boy and whatnot but yk hes just a dork ass nerd with a horrible sense of humor just like Leo

They tease and banter to each other like brothers sometimes trying to be as obnoxious as possibke but they're actually trying to show affection lol