#SORRY i couldn't help but make it soft at the end

[missmaymay13]

complete mess - w.smith

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w.smith x fem!oc | 3k

masterlist

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The rink is cold. Not just the kind that stings your nose and cheeks—this cold is bone-deep. Lonely. The kind that settles in your chest and makes your heart feel hollow.

Will leans against the boards during warmups, his stick clutched loosely in one gloved hand. The San Jose Sharks crest weighs heavy on his chest tonight, heavier than it ever has. He should be proud—rookie year, NHL dream realized, playing on the biggest stage in the world.

But all he feels is empty.

Because when he glances up at the stands, he knows she's not there.

She used to be. Every game. Every practice, when she could swing it. Always in that same hoodie—his hoodie—her coffee clasped in both hands like it was the only thing keeping her warm. Or grounded.

April Murray. The girl who knew him before all of this. Who sat with him through draft night, who helped him pick out his first apartment, who walked him through his first panic attack when the pressure of being Will Smith, top pick, future of the franchise became too much to breathe through.

And he let her go.

No—he pushed her away.

He doesn't even remember when it started. Maybe it was after the third game of the season when the headlines started turning. Promising, but inconsistent. Maybe it was when the media began comparing him to players he'd grown up idolizing, asking why he wasn't already there yet. Maybe it was the fourth night in a row he stayed late watching film, trying to be everything for a team that didn't even know how to support him back.

He started canceling plans. Ignoring her texts. Tuning her out when she tried to talk to him about anything not hockey. He blamed it on stress, on timing. On things she couldn't understand.

But she did understand. She always did.

And eventually, she stopped trying.

"Will, I'm not asking you to give it up," she'd said once, quiet and careful. "I just need to know that I still matter to you. That we still matter."

He'd scoffed. Cold. Tired. Empty. "I don't have time for this right now, April."

"Right. You never do."

She didn't cry. Not in front of him.

She just left.

He thought she'd come back. She always had before.

But this time—she didn't.

It's been three weeks since she moved out. Since she left her key on the counter and didn't say goodbye.

And Will? He hasn't scored a point since.

The team says it's a slump. A rough patch. The media calls it nerves. Rookie inconsistency. But Will knows what it really is.

He's a mess without her. A complete f*cking mess.

The kind that can't be taped over or fixed in the weight room. The kind that doesn't go away with a win.

She was the only thing keeping him grounded, keeping him human. And he treated her like a footnote to his career.

Now he's skating on autopilot. Eating alone. Sleeping in a bed that feels too big and too cold. Going home to a condo that still smells like her shampoo and can't be aired out, no matter how many windows he opens.

After the game, he sits in the locker room long after the others have cleared out. His head in his hands, the sharp scent of sweat and gear clawing at his throat.

His phone is on the bench beside him. A message unsent. It's been there for days.

"I'm sorry. I miss you. I don't know who I am without you."

He doesn't send it. Because it's too little, too late.

And maybe she's already moved on.

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Will used to call her his "safe zone." Not to her face—he didn't know how to say that kind of thing back then. But she was. Every time the weight of being Will Smith, the phenom, got too heavy, he'd end up at her off-campus apartment. No questions. No lectures. Just soft music playing from her speaker, ramen on the stove, and her voice cutting through the noise like sunlight through blinds.

It didn't matter that she had three midterms the next day. Or that she'd been pulling double shifts at the campus bookstore just to make rent. When Will called—she answered.

Always.

The first time he cried in front of her, he was sitting on her tiny futon, head in his hands, the pressure of the Frozen Four and NHL scouts looming over his shoulders like ghosts.

"I'm not ready," he'd said. "Everyone thinks I'm ready, but I'm not. I don't even know who I am without hockey."

April didn't try to fix it. She didn't tell him he was wrong or feed him the same lines his coaches did. She just crawled in beside him and pulled his head into her lap, running her fingers through his curls until the shaking in his chest finally stopped.

"You're still Will," she whispered. "You're still mine."

And for that night, it was enough.

She missed her sister's wedding to fly to Denver for the Hockey East semifinals. She called in sick to her internship when he had food poisoning and was throwing up between classes. She sat in hospital waiting rooms when he got concussed freshman year—even though no one would tell her if she was "family."

She was. She always had been. She just never needed the title.

And what did he do when he finally made it?

He forgot.

He let the weight of the NHL chew up his time and spit out his patience. She became background noise—until one day, she was gone, and the silence was deafening.

Now he walks through his condo like a ghost, brushing past memories like cobwebs. Her hoodie still hangs on the coat rack. Her mug is still on the counter. The photos are still framed on the mantle—Boston, Denver, Nashville.

She was always there.

Until she wasn't.

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The worst part wasn't that Will forgot their anniversary. Or that he left the pasta she made untouched on the counter three nights in a row. It wasn't even that he stopped texting goodnight.

The worst part was how he used to care.

Back then, it was little things.

Him dropping off coffee before her 8 a.m. class. Reminding her to eat during midterms. Crawling onto her dorm bed with his laptop open just so she wouldn't feel so alone during late-night study marathons.

"I'll quiz you," he'd offer, head on her stomach, eyes fluttering half-shut from practice. "Just don't make me read the long-ass definitions."

She'd laugh. Toss a pen at his forehead. He'd grin like she hung the stars.

That Will—the one who saw her, who wanted to take care of her too—that's the one she fell in love with.

But the version she followed to San Jose? The one that let hockey consume him? That Will barely remembered she existed.

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She tried to be understanding. God, did she try.

He was under pressure. Rookie year. Big expectations. So she didn't say anything when the late practices turned into full nights at the rink. Didn't complain when he forgot to call. Didn't show him the tears after another solo dinner eaten over the sink.

She told herself it was just a phase.

He loved her. He was just overwhelmed.

So she picked up the pieces. Of him. Of their life. Of herself.

Every rescheduled date, every night he stumbled in hours after midnight with nothing but apologies and excuses—she forgave.

She was fighting her own battles too. Online school had been brutal. Isolation made it worse. Her professors didn't care that she lived on Pacific Time. Her friends were all back in Boston. She'd built a whole life there—one she gave up for him.

But she didn't tell him. He already had too much on his plate.

So she swallowed the words every day until they burned holes in her chest.

Then one day, the letter came.

She almost didn't open it—thought it might be another bill or course notice. But her hands shook as she peeled it open.

"Congratulations. You have fulfilled all requirements for graduation..."

She reread it six times. Finished. Done. Four years of work in two and a half. Through COVID. Through relocations. Through loneliness.

She looked around their apartment—no, his apartment—and realized he didn't even know she'd been close. Hadn't asked. Hadn't cared.

The excitement turned bitter in her mouth.

So she did what she never thought she would. She packed a bag. Called the one person she knew would understand.

Grace.

Will's sister picked her up from the airport that night.

Neither of them spoke for the first five minutes of the drive. Then Grace reached over and took her hand.

"You should've told me sooner."

April's voice cracked. "I didn't want to make you pick sides."

"I would've picked you anyway."

April didn't leave a note. She didn't need to.

He wouldn't have read it.

And to this day, she knows he still doesn't understand.

He knows he pushed her away—knows he f*cked up—but he doesn't know what day it was. Doesn't know the meaning it held. Doesn't know that he missed her biggest moment—because he never thought to ask.

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The air was crisp. Familiar. Healing.

April stood in her cap and gown, surrounded by the people who mattered. Grace. Her old roommates. Her professors. People who saw her, celebrated her, even when she wasn't holding anyone else up.

They took a photo.

Grace posted it later that night.

"Proudest sister moment. Congrats to April for finishing her degree in record time. You're everything and more."

April's smile in that photo was real.

She never saw Will's reaction.

But Grace did.

And she never took the post down.

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Will wasn't even looking at Grace's Instagram when it happened.

One of the rookies was scrolling beside him on the team plane, laughing about some TikTok when he paused and went, "Yo, isn't this your sister?"

Will looked over.

And there it was.

April. In a cap and gown. Grinning, radiant, unrecognizable—in the worst way.

"Congrats to April for finishing her degree in record time."

The words blurred.

Four years. Two and a half. She never told him.

He didn't even know she'd finished.

Didn't know the day she left was the day she got that letter.

Didn't know anything.

His stomach twisted into knots.

And worse—Grace knew. His own sister knew and never said a word.

The next few days, Will couldn't get the image out of his head.

She looked so proud. So sure of herself.

So gone.

His hands shook every time he picked up his phone, hovered over her name. But he never hit send.

When Grace and the family came to San Jose for a home game, it started civil.

Until it wasn't.

It was after dinner. Everyone had gone back to the hotel except Will and Grace. The air was stiff, sharp with unsaid things. Grace stood at the window, arms folded, jaw tight.

Will broke first.

"You couldn't tell me?" His voice cracked. "You let me find out on fcking Instagram*?"

Grace turned slowly, face hard. "You didn't exactly ask."

"Are you serious right now?" he snapped. "She graduated, Grace. I didn't even know she was close!"

"And whose fault is that?"

His hands clenched. "You knew. You picked her up from the airport and didn't say a word. That's—" he choked, voice rising, "—that's a betrayal."

Grace's eyes burned. "No, Will. You betrayed her."

The silence cracked like glass.

"You think I wanted to keep it from you?" she spat. "I had to pick up her pieces because you left her so f*cking shattered she couldn't breathe without crying."

Will staggered back like she'd punched him. "Grace—"

"She used to be everything to you," Grace pushed forward, voice shaking. "She gave up her life, her school, her friends—for you. She didn't ask for much, Will. Just to be seen. Just to feel like she still mattered."

"She did matter," Will argued, weakly.

Grace laughed, bitter and cold. "Then why didn't you act like it?"

He couldn't answer.

"She didn't tell you how hard school was getting," she continued, relentless. "She didn't tell you how alone she felt. You stopped asking. You stopped caring. She cooked you dinners you never touched. She sat alone in your apartment every night waiting for you to come home—hoping you'd remember she existed."

Will turned away, chest heaving, blinking hard against the sting in his eyes.

Grace wasn't done.

"She left on the day she got her graduation letter. You didn't notice. You didn't text. You didn't even call."

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I didn't know—"

"Exactly," Grace snapped. "That's the problem. You didn't know. You didn't even try to know."

Will dropped into a chair, like the weight finally hit him. Hard.

"She won't go near a rink," Grace added, quieter now. "Not even to watch me coach. She says it makes her sick. You make her sick."

Will stared down at the floor.

"She loved you so much, Will. And you broke her."

The room buzzed with silence. A silence full of anger. Of grief. Of truth.

Will couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The guilt closed around his chest like a noose.

He wanted to scream. Cry. Take it all back.

But the past didn't give do-overs.

That night, he didn't sleep. He sat in the dark of his condo, scrolling through old photos, old texts, old videos.

April in Boston. April on the beach. April half-asleep in his hoodie, laughing at something he'd said off-camera.

He didn't even know that version of her anymore.

And she sure as hell didn't know this version of him.

He was a complete mess. Without her. Because of her. Because of him.

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Three Years Later

The Boston air smelled like old memories. Like the streets they used to walk, fingers laced between them. Like the rain that had soaked their jackets on late-night campus runs. Like the laughter that once echoed through the Smiths' home when everything still felt whole.

Will was back, older now. Calmer. The NHL didn't rattle him anymore. He'd weathered the pressure, the slumps, the spotlight. But no matter how far he came in his career, he never quite got over her.

He didn't even try.

He never fell in love again. How could he, when no one else even came close?

Grace's engagement party was loud—too many people packed into their childhood home, voices overlapping, champagne flutes clinking. Everyone was glowing, buzzing with joy.

Everyone except Will.

His chest had been tight the entire night, breath caught just under his ribs. Because she was here.

April.

She hadn't changed—at least not in the ways that mattered. Still graceful without trying, still holding herself with that quiet strength. But she was sharper around the edges now. More careful with her smiles. Especially when they were aimed at him.

She didn't look at him the way she used to.

He spent half the night trying to catch her eye. Half the night staring at the empty spot next to him at the dinner table where she should've been. Where she used to always be.

And the other half? He spent wondering if she hated him.

He caught glimpses of her—drifting between rooms, helping Grace in the kitchen, laughing softly with people he didn't recognize. But every time he inched closer, she slipped away. Like a ghost. Like muscle memory.

He almost gave up.

Until he saw her again—alone—in the kitchen.

She was restocking a bowl of crackers, hands moving mechanically, a furrow in her brow like she was willing herself to focus on anything but the memories pressed into these walls.

And then she froze.

She didn't need to look. She felt him.

Will stood in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, voice barely above a whisper.

"Can we talk?"

She didn't answer right away. He thought she might say no. Thought she might walk past him the same way she had all night.

But finally, she gave a small nod. Reluctant. Steady. And without a word, they climbed the stairs—like muscle memory.

His childhood room looked exactly the same.

Posters on the wall. Hockey trophies collecting dust. The twin bed still creaking under the weight of too many conversations never finished.

April sat on the edge, hands resting in her lap. Will sat across from her, just barely touching the opposite end of the mattress. The space between them felt like a chasm.

He couldn't look at her at first.

Couldn't even breathe.

He wanted to say so many things—had rehearsed them in the mirror, in hotel rooms, on empty plane rides across the country. But now, nothing came out.

Until—

"Congratulations," he said quietly. "I never got to say it to you. Not on the day. Not in person. But... I want you to know I'm so proud of you. I was then. I still am now."

April's eyes flicked up. Just barely.

He kept going.

"I don't know how I f*cked up so much that I let the one thing that was always so good to me slip away. But god, April. I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve any of that."

His voice cracked.

"You were always there. Always. And I—I took that for granted. I let the game chew me up and spit me out and I just... I let you disappear without ever realizing what I was losing. And by the time I did—it was too late."

He finally looked up. She was watching him.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn't cry. Not yet.

"I replay that year in my head all the time," he whispered. "And I think about everything I missed. Everything I should've seen. The way you kept trying. The way you kept choosing me. And I didn't even see how much it cost you to do that."

His hands trembled in his lap.

"I should've asked. I should've noticed. And I didn't. I didn't even know you graduated until I saw it on Grace's f*cking Instagram. And I should've been there. For that. For all of it."

The silence between them buzzed.

Then April's voice, soft but sure:

"It's okay, Will."

He blinked.

She was staring at her hands. Then she looked up.

"I used to think it would never stop hurting. That what you did—what you didn't do—would follow me forever." She paused. Swallowed. "But I grew up too. And I see it differently now. We were young. You were drowning. And I was too scared to admit that I was, too."

She looked down again, her thumbs rubbing circles over each other.

"You hurt me. A lot. But... I know you didn't mean to."

They stayed like that for a long moment.

Then slowly, like gravity pulled them together, they leaned forward. Their foreheads touched, eyes closed. Breathing in the moment. The years. The ache.

His voice came out like wind through a cracked window—shaky, fragile, but certain.

"I still love you so much, April. I never stopped. And I'm sorry I did that to you."

He felt her inhale, felt her hands twitch against her thighs. Then:

"I still love you too, Will."

It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It didn't need to be.

Because even after all this time— Even after all the distance— They were still in sync.

[httpsdana]

Hi girl! Idk if i already send this request but even if i did i'm requesting again :) . Can you do one that Kenan always watch reader doing her skin care so one day he ask her to do in him and she proudly do it . Very fuffly w a lot of kisses plss

Teenage Skin~Kenan Yildiz

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: I did get the previous request and I was already working on it!! enjoy <33

Kenan was used to watching her. While her nighttime routine was doing her skincare, his was sitting by her side and watching her enjoy how her skin glowed. At first he said it as a joke (kinda)

“Can you put that on my face?” he asked, trying to act casual, when all he wanted was to feel her smooth hands rub the cold products on his face.

“Huh?” she raised her eyebrows, her fingers stopping their motion on her face. She turned to look at him, as he stepped inside the bathroom.

“Those things…” he pointed to the several things on the bathroom counter, “Can you use them on me?” he asked, almost shy.

“You want me to put my skincare products on your face?” she asked again, trying to bite back a smile.

He nodded shyly, reaching to hold her moisturiser in his hand.

“I mean yeah” he shrugged. “Have you seen my face? I’m pretty sure my skin thinks I’m still 15 or something”

She giggled at his words, quickly washing her hands and turning to him.

“I’ve been wanting to make a skincare routine just for you for a while now but I didn’t think you’d down for it,” she said, opening her drawer and pulling out a headband.

She placed it in hands, while he looked at the fluffy two-eared headband in his hand. When he looked up at her and saw the excited smile on her face, he let out a sigh.

“Am I gonna regret this?” he asked, his lips twitching up in a small smile.

She put her finger on her chin, as if thinking, before she hummed.

“Probably. But not after your skin starts glowing,” she grinned, leaning up and pecking his lips quickly before pushing him down to sit on the closed toilet lid.

She helped him put his headband on, pushing his hair away from his face then she tied her hair in a ponytail and pulled the sleeves of her hoodie up to her elbows.

First off, she grabbed the cleanser, applying some on a cotton pad then wiping it across his face.

“Oh this is cold,” he hummed, letting out a sigh in satisfaction.

“And it's definitely removing all the dirt from your face,” she pulled a face, showing him the cotton pad that had darkened a bit.

“I showered in the morning!” he said, chuckling slightly.

“mhm this is normal. These things get stuck on your face without being visible,” she said, throwing the cotton in hand.

“wash your face love,” she instructed, before grabbing the next thing.

Kenan washed his face, and dried it with the soft towel that hung next to the mirror.

Next step: toner.

She placed a few drops on her hands, rubbing them together before patting it gently on his face.

“I might fall asleep like this,” Kenan murmured, opening his eyes to look at her.

He couldn't help but smile at the way her tongue poked out of her mouth, her eyes focused on his face.

He quickly reached up, pecking her lips quickly, making her squeal.

“you're gonna get this all over me!” she protested, but her smile proved that she didn't mind it.

“sorry you just look so cute,” he mumbled, his lips tugging up in a bigger smile when her cheeks turned into the brightest shade of red.

Then, she opened the next drawer this time pulling some…stickers?

“what're those?” Kenan asked, his eyebrows raising.

“pimple patches,” she stated, “you've got some pretty nasty pimples baby”

Kenan looked at his face in the mirror, noticing the big juicy pimples in his face, which made him wince.

“tell me about it,” he muttered to himself, turning to see her holding the first star patch.

Kenan sighed, but let her put it on his face. His forehead, below his lips, on his cheek. At the end, he had four yellow stars on his face, and he looked adorable as hell.

“Oh you look so cute,” she squished his cheeks with her hands, kissing the tip of his nose lightly.

Kenan giggled, his nose scrunching up. He wrapped his arms around her thighs, as she stood between his legs and grabbed the pink serum he loved.

“I love this one,” he pointed out, making her chuckle.

“I know you do, because it's pink,” she said, putting a few drops on his cheeks.

She patted them slowly on his face, careful to avoid the pimple patches she had put previously.

Then she noticed the way Kenan was looking at her, his eyes half open, full of adoration making her heart melt.

“What?” she mumbled, tilting her head to the side.

“I love you so much,” he said, his eyes widening as he processed what he just said.

It wasn't the first time he said it, but it was the first time he said it so randomly, so casually but still sincerely.

She felt her cheeks heat up, eyes looking away to avoid his. Then she hummed.

“are you trying to get some kisses?” she teased, putting the serum back in its place and grabbing her moisturiser.

“maybe” he shrugged, “is it working?”

She turned to him, her seriousness melting away at the pout on his face.

“maybe” she muttered, leaning down to press a few kisses on his lips, then on the top of his head.

Kenan grinned widely, tightening his arms around her.

“okay last thing. moisturiser. you'll be getting a free massage today sweetheart,” she joked, applying some of the stuff on his forehead, cheeks, chin and nose.

Then she started to gently message it, with upward and downward movements until his skin absorbed it all. Then she moved to his neck a bit, making sure some of the product reached it too.

Kenan sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as her hands did their magic.

A few moments later, her hands left his face and his eyes opened.

“okay! all done. you're glowing Kenan,” she cooed, moving so he can see himself in the mirror.

Kenan stood up, stepping closer to the mirror to admire his now shiny skin.

She grabbed her lip balm off the counter, twisting the cap off, swiping it across her bottom lip slowly, then the top. Then, with a playful smile, she turned toward him and held it out.

"Want some?" she offered.

But before she could even lift her hand, he leaned in without a word and kissed her, firm and confident, stealing the taste right off her lips.

When he pulled back, a faint shine of balm smudged at the corner of his mouth.

"Got it," he said with a smug little grin, wiping the corner of his mouth with his finger.

She blinked, heat rushing to her cheeks immediately.

"i hate you."

"thank you," he murmured, brushing his thumb across her warm cheek, "i love you too baby."

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @joaosnovia @ilovebarcaaaa @f1lover55 @jajajhaahaha @universefcb @mariejuli (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[pip-see]

Originally this was supposed to be a nicest fic where they went to an author meet and greet that Lin Ling likes but ig it turned into this so like the beginning of how Lin Ling found the books series.

Lin Ling clutched onto things like a desperate man trying to stay a float in harsh and dark waters.

Moon had been one of those things. She had given him strength with her words and Lin Ling felt like he made it through the days just only by seeing her face through flashing pixels through a screen. Hearing her voice saying words of encouragement made him feel like he had ample energy to go on with life and live.

She had given him hope and Lin Ling clung to it with all he had.

Moon had been the main thing that supported him through the last two years of his life, the other thing beside her was not as well known and popular as the hero's. But rather a simple books series.

Lin Ling had thought it childish at one point that he clung desperately to words written on paper. He still thought that but not as much as he did before.

-

He saw the books in a small little bookshop window the place was squeezed in between a tiny Arcade and an out of date record shop. The books were worn in use, the spines creased, the pages an soft mix of white and yellow. Lin Ling had taken interest as soon as he caught the glimpse of the book.

Lin Ling walked in the shop without thinking, grabbed the book that was on display, and began to read the synopsis that was on the back.

He didn't notice the shop keeper had walked out from somewhere in between the shelves, but a small graying lady looked at him and smiled. “ I enjoyed that series when I was quite young,” she said, her voice startling Lin Ling, making him jump and almost drop the book.

“I'm sorry I didn't mean to disturbed you.” He apologized, his heart going back to a steady pace after the sudden scare. “It's just that the cover fascinated me.”

Blue and white intricate details were wrapped around the spine and cover of the book emitting a whimsical and calming vibe that Lin Ling had been drawn to immediately at the sight.

“You're fine dear. You're actually the first customer to come in here today in no bother at all really” The lady gestured to the book. “Did you read the summary? If it doesn't interest you I can help you find something more suitable for you. I know people nowadays aren't interested in Found family books.”

His grip tightened about the book but he didn't make a move to put the book back.

Lin Ling shook his head. “No, it's interesting. It's just I was never much of a reader before.”

“Ah,”She shook her head in understanding. “ I understand. Those books are very beginner friendly. A little hefty read with four books in the series but quite compelling.”

Four books in the series, she said and Lin Ling thought of his steadily draining bank account and knew he couldn't afford that. The book was interesting, the summary had drawn his attention and the quick flip through of the pages seemed that the writing style was simple and easy. But four books seemed like a lot which meant a lot more money.

The lady must've seen something flick in his eyes and she spoke up. “There on sale. Everything's on sale.” She looked sad as she said this and Lin Ling felt back about accidentally bringing it up. “We're closing at the end of this month. Not enough attention and we used to have. 130 Yuan for all of them.”

130 Yuan wasn't bad, maybe it stopped him from getting the expensive ramen he got for lunch but he could go to the cheaper one.

The ramen was good in his stomach but the books would cure boredom. And as much as his boss wanted him to work, Lin Ling wanted something for himself. Something that he could enjoy. Something to forget what he did at work and then sneers he received from his boss and co-workers.

He wanted something that was entirely his own.

He grabbed the other three books and put them on the checkout counter.

“I'll buy them.”

[loop-lover-central]

A Grave Visit

Siffrin makes a late night stop to see an old friend.

No warnings this time! Just kinda sad.

Siffrin rolled over for what must've been the tenth time, or maybe the eleventh? The sleep wasn't coming, was the point. They shouldn't have expected to have an easy time setting foot back in Dormont, even if it had been years.

Even though they were tired from the trip, even though the were tired from spending all day with Mirabelle, it felt almost suffocating being in this place. It was like the sweetness still lingered in the back of his throat, trying to choke them out.

During the day he was with Mira, at least. Her warmth and comfort brought enough distraction from the worst of it. But now, alone, in this dusty old clocktower, their worst thoughts dragged themselves from the abyss to whisper at them. Mirabelle had told him that if things got bad he was always welcome to come back to the house and stay with her.

But the house at night... They felt a shiver run through them at the thought.

Siffrin finally sat up and shook his head. He couldn't see Mirabelle but... he had another friend here, didn't he? He climbed from the bed and quickly changed from of his sleeping clothes.

Once his cloak was secured around him he quietly slipped out. They silently stepped through the town, making sure to try and not draw any attention. He stopped briefly in front of the Flower Growing One's house. They carefully plucked one of the flowers from one of the pots outside, knowing nobody would ever notice.

The well worn path from before still looked the same. Siffrin's stomach flipped at the familiar feeling but he shook it off and walked faster. 'Focus on your breathing', They reminded themselves.

When they had arrived at the Favor Tree some little part of them hoped, maybe even prayed(but definitely not wished. Never wished), that Loop would be there. But the dark canopy was void of their gentle glow.

"Flower for you," He said softly, as he laid it right were Loop usually sat.

He sat in his old spot in turn, sure that if time had never reset they would have worn a groove into this root. He stared at the empty place in front of them.

"Hey Loop. It's been a while."

Silence.

"... That's ok. You can just listen to me talk this time! I know you didn't get a lot of chances to just listen."

Nothing but the soft rustling of leaves.

"It's been about... six years now? I'm sorry I haven't been back to visit you sooner. I really wanted to but I just wasn't strong enough yet."

Nothing but the chorus of bugs performing their songs.

"Bonbon's grown up so much. They're even taller than me now! Can you believe that? And I got to meet Nille. She's really cool... I think you would have really liked her."

Nothing but the soft croaks of frogs.

"Isabeau ended up back in Jouvente... But he never went back to the defenders. He's working at this huge boutique. Every time I visit he likes to make me model. I'm his second favorite pin cushion!"

Nothing but laughing at his own lame joke.

"Odile's settled back down in Ka Bue. She's actually kind of a professor now, studying and helping others with craft??? She complains about her students all the time but... she's really happy. I think teaching Bonbon while we were on the road really resonated with her somehow."

Nothing but the breeze whistling by softly.

"Mirabelle is probably on the fast track to being Dormont's next head housemaiden, I think. If anyone is suited for the job it would be her. She's really coming into her own! And handling her anxiety and depression better. She's really inspirational actually? ...Is that weird, Loop?"

Siffrin leaned against the trunk of the tree and sighed when it really sunk in they weren't going to get any sort of reply. They squeezed their eye shut.

"... I hope wherever you ended up is better than what we had before. I really do. If... you're even still around somehow."

Siffrin felt tears start to roll down his cheek.

"... You're probably making fun of me right about now. 'Ew stardust! You look so pathetic when you cry like that!' ... 'You should just let me go already. I'm dead. I'm not coming back.' ... 'I told you you'd have to be ok with it when people leave you.' ..."

Siffrin curled in on himself and hid against the tree. The only piece of them left besides that blinding coin.

They didn't care that the bark was rough and uncomfortable.

"I'm trying so hard to do what you wanted, I swear, but... this hurts Loop. It should have been you, I think. It should be you here with them. You deserved it so much more than me," They hiccuped, "...And I miss you so much. Everyday I wake up and, yeah, it's a new day but is it even worth it when I know you never got to see it too!? You did so much, sacrificed so much, for me and never even got so much as a blinding consolation prize for doing it! It's not fair! It's just not fair!!!"

Siffrin growled and slammed the side of their fist into the tree.

"...Ow."

".... 'You should take a breath, stardust.'.... That's what you'd say about now, right?"

Siffrin took a deep breath and held it a little while before finally letting it go. Like a fawn clinging to its mother's side, Siffrin stuck to that tree like a lifeline. A strong force shielding them from the outside world. Maybe when he finally does kick the bucket he'll have himself buried here. This tree is Siffrin's grave after all!

... That wasn't as funny as he hoped.

"I want to stay with you a little longer. I know I'm being annoying, but I just want to stay with you tonight."

He slowly knelt down into the grass and curled up onto his side.

"... My guiding star. My mirror. Loop. Siffrin. Whatever your real name was... I'm sorry," He whispered as he tugged at a fist full of grass, "I'm sorry I'm still so miserable and pathetic despite everything you did for me."

Siffrin sank further against the ground.

"I'm sorry your heart has to live on in my chest, beating for a stupid ingrate that talks to a blinding tree in the middle of the night hoping it would accomplish anything."

Siffrin finally rolled onto his back, and stared up at the tangle of branches and leaves. They wiped their sticky, tear stained face with their sleeve. At least getting all that out of their system was enough to finally get them to dose off. Amongst the roots and dirt and grass Siffrin finally found some kind of rest.

"-frin?"

Siffrin's brows furrowed.

"Siffrin?"

Siffrin slowly blinked awake and sat up, immediately rubbing at their head. Stars.

"Mira?"

"Siffrin what are you doing out here? I couldn't find you."

"Sorry. I just... wanted to spend some time outside. I guess I fell asleep!" He chuckled, "You know I can resist a good nap in the grass."

Mirabelle shook her head and sighed, "You could get sick if you sleep out here at night."

"Sorry."

Mirabelle's expression softened and she offered her hand to help them up. Siffrin took it and pulled himself from the grass. Mirabelle giggled and picked a piece of grass from his hair and flicked it away.

"Oh. Do I got anymore?"

He turned around so Mirabelle could get a good look.

"Nope! All good!"

"Good," Siffrin smiled, "Wouldn't wanna drag an entire lawn of grass back with me."

Mirabelle chuckled, "Definitely not! You wanna get some breakfast at the Boulanger's?"

Siffrin nodded, "Sounds great, Mira."

[pillow-coded]

To Have and To Hold — Chapter 3

Summary: After a quiet night message turns into a soft promise, Reader invites Spencer to the park. A toddler’s breakdown nearly derails the day, but it’s Spencer who meets her exactly where she is — and suddenly, they’re all a little less alone.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Slow Burn Series (NSFW, 18+)

Content Warning: Emotional toddler meltdown, real awkward ending, plus so much fluff (it hurts).

A/N: I meant to post this earlier this week, but I've had a shitty week so sorry about that. anyway, this one is really cute and kinda awkward towards the end, but still.

Word Count: 5.8k

Series Masterlist

The apartment was quiet—finally.

Maddie’s hand rested over my heart like always, warm and sticky from the bedtime banana she’d refused to finish. Her little fingers curled and uncurled with every soft exhale, grounding me more than the weight of any blanket ever could. She never meant to anchor me. But somehow, without even trying, she did.

I shifted just slightly, careful not to wake her as I reached into my nightstand drawer. Wet wipes. My saving grace since day one. There’d been too many late-night messes, too many diaper blowouts and milk spills and crayon smudges on my pillowcases. I’d learned better than to be caught unprepared.

I dabbed gently at the tacky spot on my chest, trying not to laugh. That girl could turn anything—fruit, felt tip pens, an empty laundry basket—into a memory. She should’ve been asleep in her own bed. Usually, she was. But tonight she’d asked to stay with me. Something about how happy she was, how the day had been “like ice cream in the sun.” Whatever that meant. All I knew was that her smile hadn’t faded since we’d come home.

Maybe it was the Library, or the Cafe. Maybe it was the way he’d made her laugh. The way he looked at her with such fondness.

I blinked against the dimness, trying not to think about it. About him.

But then my phone buzzed softly under the pillow.

I slid it out with one hand, careful not to jostle her. The screen lit up the room in a faint glow, barely illuminating the messy bun I’d half-heartedly tied at the crown of my head.

Unknown number.

I blinked at it.

[23:19] Unknown Number: Hi, it’s Spencer.

I sat up a little. Thumb hovering.

[23:19] Unknown Number: Just wanted to let you know, I had a good time today.

A pause. Then another message followed.

[23:20] Unknown Number: Thank you for lunch.

That one made me smile. Not because it was overly sweet or bold or flirty—but because it was him. Direct. Polite. A little awkward. Very much him.

I stared at the screen longer than I meant to, rereading each message like it might offer more if I tilted the phone or looked closer. It didn’t. But it did make my chest feel weird—tight and warm at the same time.

I typed out three or four different replies, deleting each one.

Then finally:

[23:22] Y/n: It was nice seeing you again. I think Maddie had more fun than she does on her birthday.

Send.

It took less than a minute.

[23:23] Spencer: She’s... really great.

I smiled. And then, because I couldn't help it:

[23:23] Y/n: So are you.

I hovered over the unsend button.

But didn’t press it. Instead I deleted it.

The message disappeared, swallowed by the screen like it had never existed. Still, the words hung in the air like breath on a mirror.

So are you.

Too much. Too soon. I wasn’t sure if I meant it platonically or not—and that uncertainty was a little terrifying.

Before I could spiral further, my phone buzzed again.

[23:25] Spencer: She’s... really great.

My heart softened.

So he was still thinking about her. About today. About us.

I smiled and let myself reply, more confident this time.

[23:26] Y/n: She hasn’t stopped talking about “The great wizard Spencer”

The bubble popped up almost immediately.

[23:27] Spencer: That’s a pretty solid title. I might put it on a business card.

That made me laugh. Like, an actual out-loud laugh that made Maddie stir against my arm. I stifled it quickly, brushing a strand of hair off her forehead.

[23:27] Y/n: I’ll let you know if she starts asking for autographs.

Another pause. Longer this time.

[23:29] Spencer: Would it be alright if I saw you both again sometime?

My heart did that fluttery thing it hadn’t done in way too long.

[23:30] Y/n: Of course. We’d like that.

[23:30] Y/n: She’s obsessed with the park by the old church. The one with the ducks. We’re probably going next week.

A beat.

[23:32] Spencer: Let me know when. I’ll bring more magic tricks.

I smiled down at the screen. Warm. Stupidly warm.

[23:33] Y/n: Maddie’s gonna love you if ducks and magic are involved.

[23:33] Spencer: I’m okay with that.

The reply hit harder than I expected.

I didn’t dare move Maddie—her head was still tucked against my chest, one hand limp across my ribs—but I did kick my feet a little beneath the blanket. A stupid little wiggle like I was fifteen again and someone had just texted “I like your smile” between classes.

I bit down a grin and locked the screen, hugging the phone to my shoulder like a secret. Like I could fold myself around it.

Like maybe I already was.

Then, I tucked my phone away and curled myself around Maddie. Her breathing deepened again, steady and small.

And this time, when I closed my eyes, I didn’t feel so alone.

═══════

“Mommy! Mommy! I want to feed the ducks!”

She was already running before I could finish tying my shoe. Hair bouncing, little legs wobbling across the grass like she’d been launched from a cannon.

“Hold on, Maddie!” I called after her, one hand digging for the crusty ziplock bag of old sandwich bread I’d shoved in my coat pocket. “Wait for me!”

We’d barely been at the park for ten minutes. I'd imagined a peaceful morning—sunlight on the pond, maybe a moment to sit and breathe while she ran around chasing butterflies or scaring pigeons. But no. We’d seen one cartoon episode of Peppa Pig where they fed ducks, and suddenly this was a mission.

By the time I caught up, she was already pressed against the wooden railing by the water’s edge, bouncing on her toes.

Her whole body thrummed with purpose. And maybe it was ridiculous, how serious she looked in her little sneakers and her sparkly hair clips. But I knew that look.

She took ducks seriously. Like, seriously.

Ever since that one spring we got caught in the rain walking home from daycare, and took cover under the big oak near the pond. She was barely two, still in that phase where she called umbrellas “brellas” and clung to me like I was her only anchor in the world.

We sat on a bench under my jacket while the rain came down, and out waddled this duck. So calm. So… bold, really. Like she was the one letting us take cover in her park.

Maddie was mesmerized.

She pointed and whispered “duckie” like it was holy. And then the duck quacked—loud, short, ridiculous—and Maddie burst into laughter so hard she hiccupped. She talked about that duck for weeks. Drew it. Named it. Told anyone who would listen about that duck. Even though back then all she could say about the situation was “duckie” and “rain”,

She loves ducks.

And I should’ve known—should’ve remembered—that with Maddie, joy is always right on the edge of disaster.

“I need the bread!”

“Here,” I panted, pulling out the bag and handing her a crust. “One piece at a time, okay?”

She nodded like she was listening. She wasn’t.

The first piece went fine. A duck quacked. She squealed with glee. I smiled—right up until she tried to rip a second slice in half and it crumbled entirely in her hands.

Her face froze.

“Oh no,” she whispered, staring down at her hands.

The crust had crumbled. A soft, torn mess now instead of the perfect piece she’d carefully picked. She blinked down at it once, twice—then her lower lip started to wobble.

“I didn’t mean to break it,” she said, her voice shaking like a cup about to spill. “It was for the baby duck.”

That was all it took.

Her shoulders curled inward, little fists tightening around the useless crumbs. She wasn’t loud—not really. Just crushed. Her eyes filled fast, lashes clumped with tears that slid down before I could wipe them.

“Maddie, hey,” I murmured, already crouching beside her. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You can still give it to them. The ducks don’t mind if it’s—”

“But I wanted to do it right,” she choked. “It was supposed to be a big piece. For the littlest one.”

I felt my chest ache. Because of course it wasn’t just about the bread. This was about doing it right. About getting the moment just the way she imagined it in her head.

Maddie wasn’t the kind of kid who melted down often. She didn’t throw things or stomp or scream. When she fell apart, it always looked like this—quiet, crumpled, like she thought she’d ruined something important and couldn’t figure out how to fix it.

Sometimes I feel like she’s too much like me… and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

That soft kind of perfectionism, the one that doesn’t make a scene but still bruises you from the inside out—that’s mine. She must’ve picked it up without me even realizing. And now here she was, four years old and already trying to carry disappointment like it was her fault.

I rested a hand on her back, rubbing gently in small circles.

“It’s still a gift,” I whispered. “They’ll still love it. You were being really thoughtful.”

She sniffled, trying to blink away the tears. But she was still trembling, overwhelmed in that way only a little kid can be—feeling everything all at once with no place to put it.

I exhaled through my nose, brushing hair from her face as she started to sob.

“Mads, I know it’s hard. It’s just bread, baby. The ducks are still going to love it, okay?”

She wasn’t hearing me. Not really. She was too deep in it now—splotchy cheeks, hiccupping breath, the kind of cry that meant her logic center had officially left the building. I sat back on my heels and rubbed a hand up her arm, unsure if I should wait it out or—

“Hey.”

The voice was soft, careful. I turned.

Spencer.

He was walking toward us slowly, hands tucked in his coat pockets, eyes trained on Maddie like she was something fragile—like he didn’t want to step too hard and shatter her.

He crouched beside us, not directly in front of her, but angled. A little to the side. Not taking up too much space. Not pushing. Just… there.

“Did you know,” he said, voice low and steady, “ducklings sleep in a line, and the last one watches for danger?”

Maddie hiccupped mid-cry.

Spencer glanced at her. “They take turns. The one at the back is like the brave little lookout. And when that one gets tired, they all shuffle around and a new duckling takes over.”

Her breathing slowed.

Not stopped—but slowed. She looked at him. Her brows were still pinched, lips still trembling, but her eyes were on him now.

“Really?” she sniffled.

He nodded solemnly. “Mm-hmm. They’re very organized. I don’t think they cry when their bread breaks.”

Her bottom lip twitched—almost a smile, almost a sob. She wiped her face on her sleeve and looked down at the crumbs in her palm.

“I was gonna give it to the baby duck,” she whispered.

Spencer reached over, gently gathering the soft little bits of crust from her hands like they were something worth keeping.

“I think the baby duck will still like it. Maybe even more.”

She didn’t answer. Just nodded slowly, eyes darting to the pond where the ducks were still floating, completely unfazed by the emotional crisis unfolding beside them.

I looked at him—at this man with too-long sleeves and a napkin in his back pocket and somehow, somehow, the exact right words for her. He met her where she was. Not above her. Not behind her. Right there.

My throat felt tight, watching them. Not romantic, not yet. Just… grateful.

He glanced at me.

“She okay?” he asked quietly.

I could only nod.

She was still sniffling, but the storm had passed. And he—he had been the one to calm it.

Spencer leaned back on his heels and looked down at her gently. “Come on, Maddie,” he said, his voice low. “Let’s go sit for a bit.”

She nodded solemnly, still clutching the now-crumbled crust in her palm like it was important. Like she’d earned it.

The three of us made our way to a sun-warmed bench just off the path. Maddie plopped beside me for all of thirty seconds before spotting a stick and toddling back into the grass with renewed purpose.

“Stay where I can see you,” I called after her automatically.

“I am here,” she chirped, not looking back—already dragging her stick through a patch of mud like she was etching runes only she could read.

I smiled, shaking my head, then glanced at Spencer. He was sitting beside me now, arms resting on his knees, eyes still half-watching her.

Maddie had wandered a few feet off the path, turning slow circles in the grass. Her cheeks were still blotchy, her nose pink, but her energy had returned with that stubborn, sunlit determination only kids seem to have. She hummed softly to herself, poking at a leaf like it owed her an explanation.

The quiet between us wasn’t awkward. If anything, it felt… earned.

“Thanks again,” I said gently. “For what you said to her. I don’t think I would’ve gotten through to her like that.”

Spencer shook his head, eyes still following Maddie’s slow loops through the grass.

“Of course you would’ve,” he said, like it was fact. “You’re her mom.”

There was no teasing in his voice. No patronizing edge. Just this calm certainty, like he didn’t even question it—like being her mom meant I had all the answers, even on the days I felt like I was making it up as I went.

I didn’t say anything at first. Just watched Maddie squat to poke a stick into a puddle, her brow furrowed in deep concentration.

“She really wanted to do it right,” I murmured.

“She did.”

His tone was so sure, so full of quiet admiration that I had to glance over at him.

“You’re good with kids,” I said.

He shrugged. “I read some parenting books. Once.”

I laughed under my breath. “You studied parenting?”

Spencer nodded, like that wasn’t a strange thing for someone without kids to do. “I thought… maybe, one day.” He paused, then looked down. “And it helped. Knowing things, I mean. Back then.”

Something in the way he said back then made my smile falter. Just a little.

There it was again—that curiosity I can’t seem to shut off. The kind I usually try to smother when it comes to strangers. But he wasn’t a stranger, not really. And he didn’t owe me anything. He’d only met me twice. But still… the way he spoke around things, softened the edges of certain truths—it made me lean in.

The parts he was awfully vague about glowed to me, and as always, I was attracted to that glow.

“Maybe one day?” I pry. God, I hate myself for it, but I can’t help it.

He looks taken aback for a second, like he didn’t expect me to ask. Then his gaze drops again, quieter this time.

“I just… always thought I’d have kids someday. I guess it just won’t ever happen.”

There’s a shrug at the end of it, but it feels forced—like he knows better than to hope, so he’s trying not to want. Like wanting hurts too much.

I don’t answer right away. Because what do you say to that? You still could? Never say never? None of it would land right, and I’m not sure I’ve earned the right to reassure him.

So I just sit with it. With him. Letting his words settle like dust between us while Maddie hums in the distance, dragging her stick across a tree root like she’s solving a puzzle only she understands.

I turned my eyes back to Maddie. She was trying to balance her stick on a rock now, humming to herself like she hadn’t just had a meltdown fifteen minutes ago.

That’s the thing about kids. They rebound faster than the rest of us ever learn to.

The silence stretched between us, but it didn’t feel empty. It felt like something was being carefully made—not spoken, but built all the same.

The breeze picked up, rustling through the trees, scattering a few dandelion tufts past our shoes. Maddie tried to catch one, missed, and laughed like she hadn’t missed at all.

“Maddie, come here sweetheart,” I called gently, not because she was far, but because I wanted her a little closer. She looked up, blinked, and came skipping back without hesitation, stick still clutched in one hand.

She settled on the grass by my feet, twisting the hem of her shirt, perfectly content.

I looked at her. Then at Spencer.

“Mads,” I said, brushing a bit of hair behind her ear, “why don’t you take Spence on a hunt for dandelions?”

Her head popped up, instantly intrigued.

“The one who brings me the most wins.”

It was a lighthearted prompt, but I meant it. Not the game itself—but what it could give him. A small piece of something I could tell he thought he’d lost.

I didn’t know what he’d say. But part of me hoped that maybe if he felt just a little needed—if she looked at him with that wide-eyed kind of wonder only she could pull off—then maybe it would lift the weight he was carrying. Even just a little.

Maybe it would help soothe whatever part of him still ached from wanting more.

Maddie gasped like I’d just handed her a treasure map. “Come on!” she squeaked, grabbing Spencer’s hand with both of hers.

He barely had time to react before she was tugging him toward the grass, already scanning the lawn like a detective on a mission.

Spencer stumbled a step, startled, then let out a soft laugh—more breath than sound—as he glanced back at me with wide eyes, like Is this normal? Am I being kidnapped by a preschooler?

I just smiled and waved them off. “No mercy, Spencer. She plays to win.”

He shook his head, still smiling as Maddie dragged him deeper into the dandelion hunt—stick in one hand, Spencer in the other.

I watched them go—his long, unsure stride trying to match her bouncing steps, her chatter already spilling out in enthusiastic bursts. Something about which flowers counted and which ones were didn't have enough fluffy petals as if that were a rule.

Spencer looked completely out of his element and, somehow, like he belonged there anyway.

It did something to me.

Something warm. A little sharp around the edges.

Because I hadn’t expected to see that look on his face. Not so soon. Not here. But there it was—genuine, soft, and just the tiniest bit overwhelmed in a way that made me ache.

He didn’t even notice he was still holding her hand.

And Maddie didn’t either.

She just pointed excitedly to a patch near a tree and pulled him along with that same relentless certainty she had when she knew exactly what she wanted.

And for a second, I let myself wonder what it would look like—really look like—if that image in front of me wasn’t temporary. If this wasn’t just a moment, but a beginning.

That image is quickly scratched off when my brain comes back to the real world, and remember this is my third time seeing him.

I leaned back on the bench and closed my eyes for half a second, letting the sound of her laughter and his quiet responses drift through the breeze like music I didn’t know I’d been missing.

That softness barely had time to settle in my chest before reality tugged it back out. Because this was only the third time I’d ever seen him.

I let out a breath and leaned back on the bench, closing my eyes for half a second—just long enough to take in the sound of Maddie’s laughter and Spencer’s soft replies. It all drifted in on the breeze like music I didn’t know I’d been missing.

Their voices got louder before I opened my eyes.

“We found so many!” Maddie announced, bursting back toward the bench like she was returning from war with trophies. Her hands were full—dandelions, leaves, a stick or two for good measure.

Spencer followed behind, looking slightly winded and holding his own handful of flattened stems and dandelions with missing petals. His hair was a little messier now, a leaf stuck to his elbow, and he looked... happy. A little confused by it, but happy.

“I think we cleared out half the park,” he said, glancing at me as he approached.

“She said we have enough,” he added, gesturing to Maddie. “Her exact words were, ‘This is too many for a crown.’”

Maddie dumped her collection into my lap like a florist with no concept of restraint. “You have to pick the best ones,” she said seriously.

“I���ll try,” I smiled, already sorting through the tangle of greens and golds. “But I might need a caffeine boost first.”

Spencer hesitated. Not dramatically. Just for a beat—long enough that I noticed.

Then: “Do you want to grab a coffee? There’s a place just across the street. I mean—if you’re not in a rush.”

He said it casually, but there was something hopeful tucked inside the words.

I looked at Maddie, who had now moved on to weaving blades of grass together like she was inventing rope.

“I think we’ve got time,” I said, glancing back at him. “Especially if they have chocolate milk.”

Spencer smiled—really smiled—and offered his hand to help me up.

“Then it’s a date.”

He blinked, like maybe he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

I didn’t correct him, just smiled.

The café was familiar. The kind of place I used to seek out during long layovers and quiet Saturday mornings. Warm lighting. Muffled conversation. A low hum of espresso machines. It should’ve made me feel grounded.

But nothing about being around her ever felt grounded.

Y/n ordered Maddie’s warm chocolate milk like it was second nature—“just a little foam, please, not too hot”—and I couldn’t stop watching the way her hand hovered protectively near her daughter’s back while she spoke. Easy. Confident. Effortlessly cool, in that way people are when they don’t know you’re watching.

I stepped up to the counter, said my order too quickly, and regretted it immediately. Black coffee. Four sugars. I should’ve asked for something else. Something less... revealing.

We moved to a table by the window. Maddie climbed into her seat like it was a jungle gym. Y/n slid into hers with a kind of fluid calm that made me hyper-aware of how long it took me to sit down.

The moment I touched my cup, I was already wrapping a napkin around it. I always do. It wasn’t even about the heat. It was the texture. The condensation. The smudges. I didn’t like the way paper cups felt.

Across from me, Y/n was watching.

“That’s a lot of sugar,” she murmured with a smile. I couldn’t tell if she was mocking me or just amused.

I should be better at telling the difference. I’m a profiler, for crying out loud… but I just couldn’t.

It didn’t help that her voice was so gentle. Or that her smile wasn’t mean—but it wasn’t entirely neutral either. It lingered in this space I couldn’t read. And I hate not being able to read people. Especially when it’s her.

I looked down at the cup, at the napkin crinkled under my fingertips. “Four and a half,” I said quietly. “Sometimes five.”

“Wow,” she replied, leaning back with wide eyes that might’ve been mock-horrified, but still kind. “You don’t strike me as a sugar guy.”

I shrugged, bracing for the joke. “You’d be surprised.”

She didn’t laugh at me. Just took a sip of her drink and tilted her head like she was trying to figure something out about me. And it made me want to explain it. Like if I could just offer enough context, maybe I wouldn’t feel so exposed.

“It’s just… it balances the bitterness. I don’t like sweet drinks, but straight black coffee is too acidic. Sugar dulls that. And it’s not like I drink a ton of it—just… every morning.”

She smiled again. “Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to justify liking your coffee weird. I drink mine with a little too much milk. It's okay for it to be weird.”

I blinked. “It’s not—”

She raised an eyebrow.

Okay. It’s weird.

I flushed and looked back down at my cup, fingers tightening slightly around the napkin.

I glanced to the side—Maddie had gotten up and was now twirling slowly near the edge of our table, holding her warm milk in both hands like it was some sort of magic chalice.

Her voice was soft and distracted as she spun, “This is a potion… for frogs and wishes and—and sparkles—”

I smiled without meaning to.

Y/n did too.

And for a moment, I thought maybe this wasn’t so strange after all. Maybe this little pocket of normalcy—this table, this coffee, this conversation—was something I could belong in.

“I think it’s endearing,” she added after a beat. “The sugar. The napkin. The whole—” she gestured vaguely at me, “thing.”

The whole thing.

I wasn’t sure what that meant. But she said it like it wasn’t bad.

And that... that kind of terrified me.

She didn’t allowed me to overthink it too much, because she quickly switched the subject.

“What do you do for a living?”

I blinked.

It was such a normal question. One I’d answered a hundred times. But for some reason I felt like answering it would make her run for the hills.

Because this—whatever this was—felt like the first thing in a long time that I didn’t want to screw up.

And telling people what I do usually has a way of screwing things up.

Not immediately, not always. But there’s a shift. Their eyes go a little wider, their questions get more cautious, the air between us starts to carry weight. They picture blood and bodies, serial killers and endless darkness. They imagine me as some hardened version of myself—someone who can’t possibly fit into a soft, ordinary world like this one.

They don’t see the way it costs something. Or how much of myself I’ve had to wall off just to keep doing it.

And maybe the worst part is, I don’t even blame them.

So yeah. I hesitated.

Because Y/n doesn’t feel like someone passing through. And I don’t want her looking at me like I’m another thing to be careful around.

I just want her to keep looking at me like this—curious, a little amused, like I’m someone she actually wants to know.

“I, uh...” I hesitated. Then frowned slightly. “Why are you asking?”

She raised an eyebrow, sipping her drink. “Just curious.”

Before I could respond, there was a sharp gasp and the scrape of a chair leg against the floor.

I turned just in time to see Maddie—spinning, laughing—bump full force into a woman carrying a tray.

The tray jolted. A to-go cup teetered. A lid flew.

Coffee sloshed dangerously close to the edge before the woman caught it, steadying everything with an almost superhuman reflex.

Maddie froze mid-spin, eyes wide. Milk dripping from the rim of her cup.

I stood up without thinking, already reaching for the napkins.

Y/n was faster. She was by Maddie’s side in a second, one hand bracing her daughter’s arm, the other already offering an apology.

“Oh my god—I'm so sorry,” she said breathlessly. “Maddie, hey—baby, slow down, remember?”

The woman blinked, then laughed. Not sharply—kindly. Like someone who’s been there.

“It’s okay,” she said, smiling at Y/n. “I’ve got three at home. They’re always so hyper.”

Then she crouched slightly, looking Maddie right in the eye. “Just gotta be careful with coffee, sweetheart. Grown-ups get very dramatic when their caffeine disappears.”

Maddie gave a quick, serious nod like she’d just been handed ancient scrolls.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“No harm done.” The woman stood, tray still in one piece. Then she looked up—at me, at Y/n, at all three of us standing around this tiny table like something sacred had just been spilled.

“You guys make a cute family,” she said.

Y/n opened her mouth—just slightly—like she might explain. But nothing came out.

I didn’t say anything either.

Our eyes met. Just for a second. Maybe two.

But it felt longer.

She didn’t smile. I didn’t, either. There was no soft laugh, no quick deflection—just that look. Still, quiet, sharp at the edges. Like we were both holding our breath under it.

I should’ve laughed. Said something. Cleared the air before it turned into something neither of us was ready to touch. But my throat felt tight. My mouth didn’t move.

And the worst part?

I didn’t want to correct the woman.

Because in that moment—just for that fleeting, fragile second—it didn’t feel wrong.

It felt like something we’d almost earned. Like a dream I hadn’t let myself have, standing there, looking at her holding Maddie so gently, like this was their rhythm and I’d just... joined in.

Her eyes were the first to flick away.

But not far. Just down—to Maddie. To the hand still curled lightly around her sleeve.

She didn’t say we’re not. She didn’t laugh it off either. And I knew Y/n, Well, at least I knew enough. She was quick-witted, sharp. She always had something to say.

The fact that she said nothing? That spoke louder than anything else.

My grip on the napkins tightened. I didn’t realize I was still holding them.

I wanted to ask what she was thinking. If she felt it too—that strange pull between us, like a truth neither of us had the right to claim yet.

But Maddie broke the silence before I could.

She looked up at both of us, blinking slowly. Her voice came out in a whisper, fragile and curious.

“We’re a family?”

It hit me like a pin to a balloon.

And that was it. The moment fractured.

Y/n’s expression changed instantly—like someone had flipped a switch. That softness in her eyes vanished, replaced by quiet panic. Her voice came quickly, too quickly.

“No, sweetheart…” she said, crouching slightly beside Maddie, her hands smoothing down the child’s arms as if that might ground them both. “Spencer’s our friend.”

She smiled as she said it. Gentle. Reassuring.

But it was the kind of smile you put on when something needs to be undone.

And she was right. Of course she was right.

We weren’t a family.

I had only just met her. Twice, technically. Maybe three times, if you count the bookstore. And already I was letting myself entertain some ridiculous narrative like I belonged in this picture—like I could fold myself into their life without warning or invitation.

God. I really should’ve said something.

I should’ve corrected the stranger. Should’ve stepped in before Y/n had to. Should’ve done something to stop that little ache in Maddie’s voice before it landed in the middle of us like that.

Instead, I just stood there. Silent. A napkin still balled in my hand like I didn’t know what else to hold.

I wasn’t her dad. I wasn’t her partner. I wasn’t even really their friend.

I was just some guy who got too comfortable in a moment that didn’t belong to him.

We eventually sat down again. Maddie was calm now, sipping what was left of her milk and humming quietly to herself, as if the moment had never happened.

But I could still feel the tension clinging to my spine like static. Y/n didn’t look at me. She just wiped her hand on a napkin and sat back in her chair, her face unreadable.

Then—too casual, like she was trying to smooth the silence with a joke—she said, “Most dads would’ve panicked with a spill like that.”

It hit harder than it should have.

“Sorry—I didn’t mean to imply that you were implying that I was. I just—sometimes people assume things, and I didn’t want it to sound like I thought—”

I stopped. Inhaled. Shut my eyes for half a second.

God. Stop talking.

Y/n didn’t say anything right away. Just stirred her drink with the little wooden stick, slow and unbothered.

“I wasn’t implying anything,” she said finally. Calm. Simple. Kind, but not comforting. “It was just a comment.”

Right. Just a comment.

And I’d made it weird.

I nodded, even though it didn’t feel like enough. I didn’t know how to say I didn’t mean to get weird about it because the truth is I wish I belonged in that picture. So I didn’t say anything.

I just folded the edge of my napkin tighter and stared at my coffee like it had the answer I’d missed.

“She’s funny,” I said instead. My voice came out quieter than I meant.

Y/n finally glanced over.

“She likes you,” she said. And her tone had changed—not playful, not distant. Just… honest.

And somehow, that made it worse.

Because I liked her too. Too much. Too soon. And I had no idea what to do with that.

So I didn’t do anything.

Not when she looked away. Not when Maddie reached for her hand. Not even when I thought, for the briefest second, about reaching for it too.

I just sat there, fingers fidgeting with a damp napkin, trying to act like I hadn’t already imagined what it might feel like to belong here.

To be part of their little world.

To be hers.

Maddie giggled at something only she understood, milk still clinging to the corners of her mouth. Y/n smiled at her, soft and real, and I felt it hit me in the chest—how easy it came to them.

How hard it was to sit across from that and pretend I didn’t want in.

The sunlight had shifted, hitting the table just right. I watched the reflection of her hand on the glass.

And let it stay there, just out of reach.

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taglist : @smithieandy @kspencer34 @person-005 @diffidentphantom @23moonjellies @reidssoulmate @imaginationfever13 @measure-in-pain @Reidrs @un-messed @rhinelivinglife @Skye-westwood @xxfairyqueenxx @alrat13

[ridiculously-over-obsessed]

Bechloe and a kiss on a falling tear please 🥺 thank you!

oh that's soft, I have Feelings about this specific concept 🥺🥺🥺

(6) kiss …on a falling tear.

Beca's hands twisted in her lap, her eyes fixed on them as she finished speaking. It had been a long, awful day, and the last thing she had wanted to do was talk about it, but she hadn't been able to help it once she started. Her cheek still throbbed from earlier, her head hurt from trying to make sense of it all, and most of all her heart felt heavy in her chest. She didn't understand how she'd gotten here, how it had ended up like this. Things had been strained for years but...

"Hey."

Beca looked up from her hands eyes meeting the impossibly blue ones that were looking at her with nothing but concern and that same unwavering support she had always had for. She didn't know what she'd ever done to deserve being looked at like that, that unconditional, ever-present admiration and love that had been there from that very first day.

That's what had made all of this so much more confusing to her. Chloe loved her, even if Beca didn't understand why a lot of the time, she loved her, and always had. Always defended her even when she was wrong. Always made her laugh, made her smile, made her feel safe. Why was she supposed to believe that it was wrong?

"I'm sorry..."

Chloe's hand gently reached out and took one of Beca's, stopping her from picking at the hangnail she had been working at the entire drive back, the habit she always fell back into when she was stressed. Chloe had never yelled at her about, never chastised her or made her feel stupid for it, she always just gently took her hands in hers, or passed her something to occupy her hands with instead, always so calm and gentle with her, even when Beca was at her lowest.

So gentle, so loving, even now. Even when Beca had told every awful thing they had said about her. Every admittedly true flaw and problem with Beca that was going to ruin this. Chloe had sat and listened to it all, and still she looked at her like that. Like she was perfect, and wonderful, and somehow worthy of being with her, even if she was none of these things.

"What are you sorry for?" Beca mumbled, eyes falling to her hands again, unable to bare the way she was looking at her. Unable to bare that love she saw in her eyes.

"That they can't see you like I do."

Her tone was level, calm, quiet, a stark contrast to how the rest of her day had gone. Of how loudly the memories of it had played in her head over and over as she drove back home. Back to Chloe. Back to calm, and safe, and serene. Back to being loved, even if she didn't deserve it.

"That you had to go there, and listen to all of that awful stuff on your own."

That wasn't Chloe's fault. She hadn't been allowed to bring her. They told her not to because they didn't like her, didn't approve of her influence over Beca, thought she was a bad influence on her. Today hadn't helped with that.

She was used to them talking that way about her, used to all the barbed compliments disguised as "constructive criticism", the jabs about how she dressed, how she looked, how she walked, talked, breathed. But hearing those things directed at Chloe? At the perfect, sweet, kind, bubbly woman who made her feel safe and unconditionally loved for the first time in her life?

It made her angry. Made her palms sweat, made her stomach twist, her heart pound. They didn't know Chloe. They didn't understand how good meeting Chloe had been for her. And they certainly didn't get to tell her how bad and awful Chloe was when they'd never even tried to meet her.

"They're wrong Beca."

Chloe's hand reached out and cupped Beca's cheek. The one that still ached from earlier. The one that had still been red even after the four drive back. The one that Chloe had wordlessly gotten ice for even though Beca knew she wanted to ask questions about it.

She couldn't help the way she flinched slightly at the touch. Chloe would never hurt her, she knew that. It didn't even really hurt that much anymore, but still the memory of the hand that struck her so hard she had fallen to the floor flashed in her mind. Her mom's hand. Her mom's hand.

"There is nothing wrong with you."

Beca felt Chloe move closer, feeling her bottom lip start to tremble, her resolve beginning to crumble. She had held it in. All the way home. Through the agonising description of the day that had unfolded. Beca hadn't broken, hadn't shown weakness, hadn't let them see it. She had just left. Just left. But now, she was starting to fall apart.

"You are beautiful, and smart, and so so perfect."

Chloe's hand on her cheek gently guided Beca's head back up so that she could the sincerity in her expression, could communicate just how deep her love for her went. Beca was starting to shake with the effort of holding herself together, hating falling apart in any circumstances, even here with Chloe. Hated being weak. She was sick of being weak.

"I told her I was happy. That I was in love."

Beca's voice cracked as Chloe's thumb gently stroked along her sore cheek. There was no disappointment in her eyes, no anger or contempt. Beca wasn't used to being looked at like that.

"And she hit me. She got angry with me because I'm happy."

Her bottom lip trembled, a stray tear slipping down her cheek. She could hold it in. She could keep being strong, unaffected, never letting it break her. She'd done that all her life, she could do it now too.

Chloe lent forward, gently kissing the tear away from her now bruising skin, and that was all it took to break the dam. Beca started to sob, letting Chloe pull her into her embrace, choking on her tears as she wept into her chest.

"Why doesn't she love me Chlo?"

The words were gasped out through her tears, the response to them simply Chloe's arms tightening around her, cradling her. Beca was falling apart, showing weakness, everything she had grown up being taught not to do and it terrified her. But here, in Chloe's arms, with her fingers carding softly through her hair as she pressed soft kisses to the crown of her head, she didn't feel like she was doing something wrong. For the first time in her life, Beca felt safe to be weak for a change.

"What did I ever do wrong?"

"Nothing Becs." Chloe mumbled into her hair, "Absolutely nothing. This isn't your fault, this isn't something you've ever done wrong. It's her, it's always been her."

"I don't get it... I... I just wanted her to love me."

"I know baby." Chloe sighed softly, holding her tighter, "I'm so sorry."

Beca continued to cry into her chest, letting out every emotion that she had bottled up not only today, but every day for the last twenty years. This was her safe place, Chloe was her safe space, and for the first time in two decades, Beca could feel her emotions without fearing attack or reprisal for it.

As her tears finally eased, Chloe's tight embrace never did, grounding her, making sure that she knew that she wasn't going anywhere, that Beca was safe. Safe. It shouldn't be such a foreign concept to her.

"I love you."

Chloe's fingers continued to run in a soft, steady rhythm through her hair, not breaking stride as she spoke her gentle reassurances against her head.

"I will always love you Becs, just the way you are."

"Why?" Beca whispered, sniffing softly, "My own mother doesn't. So why do you?"

"Because I'm not a blind idiot." Chloe scoffed a little, "Because I can see how strong you are. How beautiful you are, how kind, and selfless, and thoughtful, and goofy you are. I love you, every single part of you, exactly as it is. And if she doesn't? Well, that's her loss. It just means more of you for me."

This managed to elicit the softest of laughs from Beca, sniffing again as she curled tighter into Chloe's embrace, closing her eyes as she listened to the steady beat of her heart. The heart that loved her, that had picked her, that continued to pick her over and over again.

Chloe picked her. Chloe loved her. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.

[elliezato]

ᢉ𐭩⋆♱ Repentance and Desire ♱⋆ᢉ𐭩

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Reader

-Modern au

Summary: You grew up in a very conservative household and when you found your love for women your parents send you away to a conversion camp. You soon find out you're roomed with a girl who was just your type. Stupid for paring two lesbians alone in a cabin all summer.

You knew who you loved and this place couldn't pray the gay out of you no matter how hard they tried.

Ellie was perfect. Late night smokes, hiding from the counselor by the lake. Holding her close under the sheets. You knew you were having too good of a time at a place where your'e supposed to be repenting. It was bound to end soon.

Word Count: 1,645

𓇢𓆸

a/n: I've been gone for a year now but I had this idea and needed to get it out. maybe i'm back from my hiatus for good? Also, sorry for not completing Summer With You but tbh I didn't know where I was going with it. If you still want another chapter let me know.

Anyway, this fic will have the same vibes and will be much better. I love this story so much and I am open to feedback and I want to hear what you guys would want in the story!

𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷

You pack your things for conversion camp. Why can't your parents accept the fact you like girls. It's not something new to them considering you room is covered in posters of Billie Eilish, sapphic movie posters and letters from your past relationships. I guess they've learned this isn't a "phase" and needs to be "fixed"

Shoving your clothes into a suitcase, you realize it's not enough space for a whole summer. Your closet is packed with clothes and shoes. How is it all going to fit?

Eventually you pack one suitcase and 3 duffle bags into the car. Who cares if you're "over packing". It's better to have too many outfits than not enough I guess. You get in the car and wait for your dad

He gets in and smiles "This is going to be good for you. Don't think we hate you because we're making you go to this camp. I promise you'll be happier after."

You sigh and look out the window as the car drives down the driveway. It's a long drive. 3 hours to the mountain and an hour up the mountain to the campsite. Small talk of how this summer will be good and blah blah blah fills the silence during the drive.

Not soon enough, you pull into the site. Your dad helps unload your bags and a counselor comes up to greet you.

"Hi! Welcome to Camp Renew!" She takes some of your bags and starts to talk about the significance of the camp but you tune her out.

Your dad looks at you and comes in for a hug. "Your mom and I will miss you very much but we know this Is for the best. Have fun, I love you!"

He drives away and you follow the counselor with your bags as she's leads you to your cabin. The camp is very pretty, you can admit. The sun reflecting off the lake in the distance is somewhat peaceful.

The cabins are very small. She stops as cabin #9 and drops your bag. A girl is slouched on the railing holding a cigarette between her fingers. Her hair in just above her shoulders and tied into to a half up hair-do.

"Ellie! what did we talk about the cigarettes! Put it out now." She turns back to you. "That's your roommate for the summer. You two will be sharing the cabin and will be partners for all the activities coming up." She sets your bags down. "I will be in the dining hall helping the incoming guests if you have any questions."

You walk up the stairs and meet your new roommate. The closer you get you notice the freckles on her nose and the tattoo on her arm. Why would they room you with her? She's everything you look for in girls. How were you supposed to convert from being gay when she's your roommate?

"Hi, I'm y/n" You give her a soft smile.

She doesn't smile back but nods and she takes out another cigarette from her pocket. Her face glows as she lights it. She takes a hit as she introduces herself. "Ellie." The smoke blows bast your face as you look into her pocket.

"Do you have any more?"

"You smoke?" She asks with a shocked expression.

"She hands you a cig without an answer. You take it and put it in-between your lips. Ellie leans in closer and lights it for you while you hold your hand against hers to prevent the flame from going out. You make eye contact before the takes a small step back.

"So, why are you here? Do you have a smoking problem? Drinking? Or are you just gay?" She asks while putting her lighter back in her pocket.

You look at her confused. "What do you mean? I thought this place was just a gay conversion camp."

She laughs, "No, this place is for everyone who "needs help". But I guess that answers my question." She leans against the railing and she takes another hit. "Do you want to be helped or were you just sent here by your family?"

"I don't want to be helped... My parents made me come here because they believe I need to be saved from my sins and become who God made me to be or whatever." You roll your eyes and look at Ellie. "Although, considering this place is to convert me, I don't know why they paired two lesbians together."

"Hey, what makes you assume I'm gay?" Ellie grins as she pretends to look offended.

"Uhh idk, maybe the button up and jorts with the carabiner." You say sarcastically.

She nods her head and laughs "Mm, I see. Anyway, I guess they think putting me with some fem looking girl who comes from a religious family will help me." She looks at you with a straight face.

"Well putting me with an attractive lesbian isn't going to help me so." You put out your cigarette but you feel her eyes on you.

"You think I'm attractive?" She grins and playfully smiles at you.

You give her a stare before looking her up and down. "I mean yeah, you are attractive, doesn't mean I'm attracted to you." Starting to pick up your bags and bring them into the cabin, you glance behind you at Ellie, still slouched on the wood railing. "Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I'm in love with every girl I encounter."

She stands up straight and begins to follow you in. "Yeah, heard. I've said that sentence many times before." She smiles and grabs your other bags while walking into the cabin.

The cabin isn't as bad as it looks on the outside. There are two beds on either side and lots of windows. Ellie's side is covered in posters and personality while yours is still very empty. There isn't much room to work with but It's doable considering you'll only be here for 2 months.

"Shit-" You look around and realize you didn't bring any posters or things to fill your space with.

Ellie looks at you confused. "What?"

"I only brought clothes and the necessities. I didn't even think to bring things to decorate. I didn't know that was allowed." You rummage through your bags trying to find something to put up.

"It's okay, most people don't bring anything for decor. I've been here a few times though, so I've learned it's better if I make this space more comfortable." She walks towards her side of the cabin and sits on the bed.

"You've been here before? Why have you kept coming back" You look at her a little bit in fear that you'll have to be back too.

"Well, my family doesn't believe that I'm "cured". I fake it for a few months here, they fall for it, then send me home. But once I'm home I don't really change." Ellie looks at you with a smile but you can tell something is bothering her. "My parents made me drop out of college until I successfully converted because they found out that I was hooking up with girls at parties and living a college life..."

You frown hearing that information and start to walk over to her. "Im sorry. My parents are kinda doing the same. I start college this year and they're making me spend the summer at this camp to ensure I won't be like that at school." You sit down on the bed next to her. "If I come back the same they won't let me go."

"Damn." She turns to you and looks down

"How old are you anyway" You ask about of pure curiosity.

She looks almost shocked at the question thinking it was obvious you were around the same age. "I just turned 20."

You figured. "I'm turning 19 in August."

Ellie looks at you like she feels bad. "So you'll be here for your birthday?"

Everything stops for a moment. You didn't even think about that. The camp ends 5 days after your birthday. All the plans you made in your head for your 19th is ruined. You had talked to your friends about renting a place at the beach for a weekend but I guess that's over.

You look down "Yeah, I guess so..."

Ellie sits there for a moment letting you catch your thoughts. "It's okay. Honestly if you're good at acting straight here it's not so bad. We can figure something out" She gives you a reassuring smile.

"We can deal with that when the times comes" You get up and starting walking to your side of the cabin. "Is there any good food here. I'm actually starving"

"Yeah, they have a cook out tonight for everyone arriving. We can start making our way over if you want?" Ellie lays down on her bed staring at the ceiling.

After spending some time getting ready. You leave the cabin to see what this camp is all about. The sun is starting to set and string lights are lighting up the site. The smell of food fills the air as the two of you get closer to the cook out. Ellie walks closely next to you bringing a sense of comfort to the foreign area. Maybe with Ellie here, the summer won't be as dreadful as you had thought.

𓇢𓆸

a/n: This was a very short chapter just to see were I want this story to go. I'm super excited about writing this I hope it will be enjoyable to read! Like I said, pleaseee give feedback. I would love to see what you guys want to read and how you want this fic to go. I have lots of ideas but I love taking suggestions! I will update with another chapter very soon!<3

[sturniolo04]

could you make a fic where chris and his girlfriend are trying to get pregnant but can’t, and nick and matt know about it.

A/n:  ofc! I put a little spin on it! I absolutely love these requests I have coming in, you guys are amazing!! I hope you love it! And remember to leave requests in my inbox! If you don’t like the pre added name in my works you can simply put in your own or don’t read it, it up to you :)-Charli

dividers: @issysh3ll

You not sure what it was whether it was your body or his body all you knew was this cycle of trying to get pregnant was frustrating.

I mean you and Chris tried everything. You guys even tried IVF and still no luck you were honestly loosing hope and chris could see it.

Here you were yet again staring at yet another negative pregnancy test.

'another negative its hopless chris"

you huff out throwing the test away in the trashcan.

"its not hopless we just have to keep trying okay"

chris reassures you.

"we have been trying for months chris its never going to happen"

you huff out trying to keep the tears at bay.

You two were so lost that you ultimately gave up on the whole conquest not thinking it was even possible at this point since you had been trying for so long. Chris saw that you were not only giving up on this but giving up on yourself as well and it was scaring him.

"hows the baby making going"

nick jokes out not really sure where you two had fallen on that spectrum since chris hadn't really said anything more about it outside of what he told them before which was that they were trying to have one after being married for a couple years.

"are we going to be uncles"

matt chimes in as chris lets out a soft sigh as his brother look at him with concern written on their faces.

"not good guys its like we keep trying and nothing"

chris states as nick face morphs into sadness for his brother.

"im sorry to hear that chris thats not good I mean how long have you to been trying"

nick asks softly.

"months we lost tracked"

chris huffs out letting his head fall on top of his arms on the table.

"well do you think maybe you need get yourself check out maybe its something with your dick not trying to be mean but like you never know"

matt asks cautiously.

"i have and its not me"

chris replies.

"well then its her"

nick adds on asking him further. Chris shakes his head 'no' that its not her.

"thats weird"

matt states.

"yeah maybe it just not out time yet I dont know guys"

chris sighs out nervously twirling his wedding band around on his ring finger.

"well maybe you two need to just got out or go on a trip take your mind off of things or something"

nick states thinking that might be a good idea for idea which chris willingly agreed to.

Chris decided you two would take a staycation up at the cape cod house for the weekend.

"hey thanks for doing this im sorry I have been difficult lately its just"

you state to him as he simply shakes his head and bringing you into a hug.

"its okay my love lets just enjoy this weekend okay and not think about this right now okay"

chris states bring his hand up to your face to rest underneath your chin lifting it up to place a sweet kiss on your lips as you simply nod you head agreeing the terms.

You two ended up enjoying your couple of nights at the house you two ended up going out to dinner on that Sunday and you couldn't deny that you felt better about life and just everything in general.

"you looked really pretty tonight"

chris states out of the blue as you two finally walking into the house from after having dinner. you turn around giving him a soft smile because this was the first time in a while where you could agree with him about feeling pretty. The whole pregnancy journey made you not feel pretty or worthy of anything so to hear that now felt different. everything felt different.

"thank you"

you softly let out as chris nods his head. Your not sure how the air thickened after the simply statement. All you ask was for chris to help you get out of your dress. Its not like he hasn't done this for you before but it just felt different.

Chris lets out a shaky breath as he unzipped your dress as you let it fall to the floor leaving you in your matching bra and underwear. Chris lets his lips ghost over the sensitive part of your neck causing you to slightly gasp at the feeling. You didn't want him to stop with whatever he was doing. You two stripped each other down until there was nothing in between you.

You reach your hand back to trail your fingers through his hair as he trailed his hand to cup your breasts, squeezing them softly. You immediate turn around so your back was not facing him admiring the boy in front of you. You pull chris into your lips as chris carefully lifts you up by the thighs to wrap your legs around his torso not breaking the kiss as he walked you two over to the bed.

You were so focused on him making out with him you didn't feel his length split you open. it simply was the perfect fit like always.

"fuck"

he groans out from above you feeling every inch of you as if it was your guys first time all over again. You tipped your head back felling him bottom out completely. Chris slowly and steadily began rock his hips into yours, your hips meeting each other every time. It hadn't even been that long and you already felt your high starting to wash over your senses.

"fuck dont stop"

you moan out reaching to grab onto arm to ground yourself. Chris didn't stop. After a couple more thrust you two reached your high together, you two were a moaning mess as you let each out ride it out.

The next morning you geuninely felt sick to your stomach and you weren't quite sure what it could have caused that.

"chris i dont feel too good"

you whine sitting up in the bed holding your stomach tightly.

"im sorry thats not good is it your stomach or"

chris asks you geuninely concerned. You couldn't respond to him feeling the immediate need to vomit. You rush to the connected bathroom opening the toilet and spilling everything into the toliet.

"oh princess"

chris coos out holding your hair out of the way. Your brain was to busy retracing everything you ate from the last 48 hours because what would you be throwing up randomly like this unless.

"what"

chris states looking at your face as if a light bulb came on.

"chris maybe do you think"

you stutter out hoping he figures out what you were talking about. Chris' eyes light up at the thought but how could they be so sure they didn't want to get their hopes up but they always wanted to know if that is the case or not.

"do you have any here you can take right not or do I need to"

chris trails off as you lean over to open the sink cabinet to find some tests in there. you immediately pull one out.

"okay the moment of truth"

chris sighs out as he turns off the timer that was ringing on his phone to let you two know the results were ready for the test.

"chris what if-"

you trail off with a soft sigh.

"hey hey its okay if its not we will keep trying okay"

chris reassures you as you simply nod your head flipping over the test.

"Chris"

you trails off looking at the intersecting lines. it was positive test.

"no way"

chris exclaims as you begin to sob.

"i told you it was going to happen"

chris states bring your sobbing figure into a hug comfortingly running his fingers through your hair. After all of the struggle you could definitely say that it was worth it.

Taglist🗂️

@mintsturniolo @spicymuffins03 @dirtylittleheart333

@stayingstromboli @wh0resstuff @ksturnz @chaoswithus @emely9274 @ivysturnss @sturniolo-szn2 @lezleeferguson-120 @courta13 @chrepsi @lyingonchris

@tezzzzzzzz @babytomatoes21 @sturniolosymphony @zenithsturniolo @bernardsbendystraws @sturnioloslut101

[lluxentzz]

Shots & Swings.

Part 3. Read Part 1. & Part 2. if you haven't already! A Caitvi story in which Caitlyn goes to the undercity again ends up at a bar and see's (her ex) drunk pit fighter vi. Swings like punches and shots like alcohol/bullets. Caitlyn is blue Vi is red Tobias is green. Warnings : Cursing, Kissing, Vi helping Caitlyn "relax", Eventual Sex, Oral !c receiving, Desperate Vi kinda...??, Getting caught, Caitlyn being a yapper, bro idk what warnings to add kinda rusty with this, Not proof read so sorry if there's a lot of errors (remember this was a rp so it might be a bit confusing sometimes), etc... Words : 8.4k

As the light from outside creeped along her face, her eyeslids slowly adjusted to the new light source, and as she lifted her head slightly she was met with a pounding in her head instantly, making her slump back into the soft pillows below, her tried to shift her weight only to be met w a slight weight on her torso. Violet opened her eyes slightly, looking down at what could be on her, she shifted her head down abit; still not wanting to move from her peaceful state completely yet she looked at the forearm that had around her waist, her eyes flickered to who's hand it was - everything from the night before was abit of a blur, taking her a minute to recount what happened. She looked up the arm n to the womans face across from hers - messy yet beautiful navy hair draped over the others defined features, the slight light that came I'm from behind her and sun-kissed the others face. Vi's heart basically skipped a beat, a soft smile creeping onto her sleep driven face. Vi snuggled into the pillows once again, basking in the moment before a sharp pain slowly started to stab her temple. Violet tried to squeeze her eyes shut once again for a wink more of sleep but couldn't, yet refused to move incase she disturbed the beautiful dictator infront of her, letting her head pound as she stayed in place.

A bit had passed and Caitlyn's eyes fluttered open to the soft light creeping across her face, and she immediately yawned slightly. She paused, blinking in confusion as her eyes adjusted to the light. She glanced down at Vi, who had a faint smile lingering on her face as she shifted slightly, clearly content in the stillness. Caitlyn's heart softened as she simply watched the woman beside her. It was rare to see Vi like this—calm, peaceful... not on edge. With a gentle breath, Caitlyn finally spoke, her voice quiet but warm.

"You know, you could have at least warned me you planned on stealing all the covers." Caitlyn said jokingly but with a soft, fond smile. "You really know how to make yourself at home, don’t you?" As she said that Caitlyn leaned back into the pillows, her hand resting lightly on Vi's arm. She smiled to herself, the quietness of the moment oddly comforting. Despite the fact that she could hear her heart beating rapidly there was something about having Vi this close that made her forget about everything. After a beat, Caitlyn sighed and looked down at the arm she still had wrapped around Vi's waist.

"I think we both need some water." Caitlyn murmured, her tone affectionate but laced with a little bit of concern. "But I suppose if you’re going to stay in my bed, you could at least let me get up without making it a struggle."

Violet had been staring at her for what felt like hours, her gaze shifting abit as the other woke - not wanting to look like a complete creep staring at the other while she slept - even if...thats what she was doing.. As the other began to speak she weakly nodded abit before she tried prop herself up for a moment, only getting her one arm up before pain flashed across her face for a moment, making her squeeze her eyes shut abit, the sudden yet slighy movment had resurfaced the pounding that had never gone in the first place

"Mm..if..your doing that - if you could - can you get me..something for me head?" her voice was nothing more then a murmur, slightly hoarse due to the constant nights out and drinking without rest. Her powder blue eyes cracked open to look at Cait, her pupils slightly dilated as she opened them "I feel like if I move I'm gonna be sick" she said before she reached her one hand over, her fingertips grazing the forearm that wrapped around her waist, drawing shapes on Caitlyns arm. Vi once again plopped her head down onto the pillows again and exhaled before mumbling something under her breath.

Caitlyn’s brows furrowed slightly as she watched Vi struggle, her usual composure giving way to a flicker of concern. She shifted just enough to meet Vi’s half-lidded gaze, her voice soft but steady.

"Vi, you really should rest." Her free hand gently brushed against Vi’s forehead, a subtle check for fever or anything worse. She glanced around the room for anything that might ease Vi’s discomfort, but her attention never fully left the woman in front of her.

"I’ll get you something for your head. Just stay still, alright? The last thing we need is you overexerting yourself..." Pressing a brief kiss to Vi’s temple, Caitlyn pulled away getting up out of bed to go downstairs to find something to help with Vi's hangover.

Vi's heart skipped a beat when she felt the others lips connected to her temple, her whole body felt as if she was slowly sinking back into the bed "You really are my personal angel" she mumbled incoherently as Cait walked out, the shirt she had given vi slipped off of her shoulder exposing her back as the edge rested against her collarbone as she criss-crossed her arms below the pillow, now laying on her stomach. Violet's - once again - pink hair fell infront of her face, she stared at the door for a moment before she started to relax again and let her mind wander.

Something in her felt wrong abt sitting there and doing nothing; the feeling as if she was freeloading off Cait started to creep onto her, the feeling washing down her back like acid. Though she listened and didn't move she knew at some point she'd do something to make it up to Caitlyn later one way or another.

A few minutes passed, and Caitlyn entered the room as she carried a glass of water and rummaged through her drawer for something that could help with Vi's headache. She glanced over at Vi, noticing the slight shift in her posture, the way her hair fell across her face—looking like someone who could use a little more rest. "Hey, sleepyhead." Caitlyn murmured, her voice steady but warm, as she placed the water on the nightstand. She pulled out a small bottle of painkillers pouring a few into her hands and setting them beside the glass, in the container cap before she gave Vi a gentle nudge on the shoulder. She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, her gaze lingering on the way Vi was cradling her pillow.

Cait noticed the slight shift in Vi's demeanor.. Vi was the kind of person who never stayed still, always feeling the need to do something. "I know what you’re thinking." Cait continued, eyes narrowing a bit in understanding. But don’t even try to make it up to me right now. You’re no good to anyone running yourself ragged." Cait reached out, tucking a stray lock of Vi’s hair behind her ear. "Just... let yourself rest for now. If it helps, think of it as me making sure you don’t end up in more trouble than you already are."

She let out a light, teasing breath and gave Vi a soft smirk, but the affection in her eyes was undeniable. With a final glance at the water and meds, Caitlyn stood before saying one last thing. "And next time, you’re treating me to something nice. I don’t care if it’s just a cup of coffee." She stepped back toward the door, but before she left, she added with a smile "I’ll be back to check on you, don’t go getting into more trouble while I’m gone."

Vi's heart fluttered as the woman basically read her mind, letting her mind rest of the worries that buzzed around her still very much pounding head. Vi's eyes rested on Cait as she tucked the strand of hair behind her ear, a soft smile painting onto her face as she received the gesture. She sunk into the pillow she was cradled around once again - secretly wishing to replace its warmth with Caitlyns- Violet quietly cleared her throat to reply to the womans words "A cup of coffee it is then, cupcake.. just let me know a time n place" Violet mumbled under her breath, her gaze remaining on the woman as she walked away and slip out of the room After a few minutes she shifted her weight and reached out to take the medication that sat in the cap on the table beside her and tossed them into her mouth, a dry and rough crunch could be heard as Violet started to chew the powder capsules, she made a face before she grabbed the water to flush it down her throat... she doesn't know how to swallow pills does she ? - it was clear she had gotten used to the chalky and gross flavor that they gave off instead of simply swallowing them ... are pills even a regular thing like medication in zaun other than shimmer being literally the only "healthcare" or are the pills down there only drugs of sort ?.. besides the point - she slumped into place after she set the cup back down, taking a long breath before her body sunk into the sheets and mattress below her, her body dragging her into the deep sleep that she would never admit she needed dearly.

After a bit she awoke again, this time the sunlight from outside had crept along the room walls to about half point - it had been a few hours probably around noonish now by the time she awoke. She slowly sat up and stretched, the familiar soreness setting in. She slung her feet off the bed and groaned slightly as she started to search for her black skinny jeans. After finding them - nicely folded - she swapped the shorts she had been wearing, then started to look for the bandages that wrapped her chest. A few moments passed before she remembered she had discarded them in the bathroom. She did NOT want to walk out of Caitlyn's room in case she A) made Cait upset Or B) An awkward interaction with Caitlyns father...

She looked at the shirt she was wearing in a wardrobe mirror, the sleep shirt definitely wasn't a long lasting style but it worked - she started fidget with the neck of it trying to make it stay but soon just let it hang off her one shoulder. She scanned the room for something to do - not wanting to venture out of Cait's room - she soon spotted a book laying on Caitlyns desk, Violet walked over and grabbed it, flipping through the pages quickly. She hummed slightly before she stepped away to the bed again, this time propping herself up and cracking open the book to the first page, the random book, want anything important just a realistic fiction book of some sort, vi wasn't usually into that stuff she liked the stuff like fairy tails or the stories Vander used to tell her but she gave it a shot cause Caitlyn liked it - n she was bored with time to pass until Caitlyn came to check up on her.

Time passed and Caitlyn opened her room door yet paused in the doorway, looking at Vi, who was curled up with a book she probably wouldn't have picked up under normal circumstances. She couldn't help but smile softly at the sight, the familiar warmth of her feelings toward the other woman stirring inside her. "Well, well..." Caitlyn’s voice was gentle, her smile still there as she crossed the threshold into the room, her eyes lingering on Vi for a moment longer than she intended. "I never thought I'd see the day you’d willingly crack open a book like that. I guess my influence is rubbing off on you, huh?" She took a step closer, before placing herself on the edge of the bed as she reached over to gently adjust the book in Vi’s hands, her fingertips brushing against Vi’s skin for a brief moment.

"Glad to see you’re getting comfortable. Did the pills help your headache? She asked tilting her head to the side slightly. "Now... coffee. Time and place, huh?" Caitlyn snorted as she spoke.

A/N: (i loved making her snort I can't </3 But the coffee thing she didn't reply when vi had said it so she's replying now so that doesnt confuse you guys)

"I’ll make it easy. I’ll come to you. We can talk more about... well, whatever’s on your mind." Her eyes lingered on Vi for a moment longer before she turned her head to look out the window.

Her (Vi) gaze followed the woman as she smirked slighted at the comment the other made "Yeah among other things n.. yeah the meds helped - thank you again" she laughed and smiled up at the navy haired woman abit before she bookmarked the page and set the book to the side, pulling her full focus to her woman - the woman infront of her. She stared at the woman for a few moments before she spoke again "I'm thinking about alot actually... about my arrest ... my fights - my losses - if I'm being honest..uhm.. everything you've done for me ; just those among things" Vi's voice lowered into a mumbled, her gave now turned towards the window

Cait raised an eyebrow, her expression softening as she moved away from the edge of the bed moving to sit closer to Vi. "You've been through a lot, Vi." She said as she took a moment to look at Vi as she thought of a way to phrase her words "It's okay to reflect on everything but don’t let it weigh you down. The fights, the losses... They don’t define you. What matters is how you move forward from them. And as for everything I’ve done—" She paused, smiling slightly "That’s what we do for the people we care about. You don’t need to thank me. I’m here, always. But you need to remember that you’ve got a lot of strength in you. Don’t lose sight of that." She said as she punched Vi's shoulder lightly.

TIMESKIP !

Caitlyn entered her room, her posture weary, her uniform slightly disheveled from a long day of work. She closed the door behind her with a sigh, rubbing her temples as she took off her Jacket looking at Vi who had been sitting on her bed reading. The room was quiet, and for a moment, she stood still, allowing the silence to swallow her frustration. She soon collapsed onto the bed moving closer to Vi, her legs dangling over the side. She let her head fall against Violet's lap, eyes staring at the ceiling.

Her voice was a quiet murmur, almost as if speaking to herself. "Another day of chasing down criminals, trying to keep this city from falling apart... and yet, nothing changes. It’s like a never-ending cycle. Yet the people in power—they just don’t get it." Caitlyn shook her head, rubbing her forehead as if trying to ease the headache building there. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a heavy breath before continuing.

"I’m so tired. I don’t know how much longer I can keep running on empty, just to keep this place safe." Her voice trailed off, the weight of her words sinking in as she let the exhaustion wash over her. "But, I guess… this is what I signed up for. This is what I do for the people I care about." She paused the thought hanging in the air. She exhaled deeply again, feeling the tension in her shoulders loosen just a little bit more as she allowed herself to be still as she just rested her head.

Violet moved the book to the side as the other's head made contact with her thighs, her hand instantly tangling into her locks and gently brushing the long navy hair out of her face, listening as she spoke.. Vi's other spare hand went to the womans collar, fidgeting with it, making it look neat again since her long day had made it wilt "Well your doing a great job, I see it - the council definitely sees it Cait.. now I can't tell you to take a break or to just relax cause I know what your gonna say -'Oh the city needs to be protected if no ones at front things wont corporate -' blah blah blah. - But what I am gonna say I can be here to help - do something if you need me to fill in - hear you on anything - just talk to me, i can do more then just lay around and read your books Cupcake" Violet smiled down at the woman, gently brushing a few strands out of her face

Caitlyn let out a small sigh, her gaze softening as she relaxed into Vi’s touch. She tilted her head slightly as she opened her eyes to look at Vi. As her hand absently traced the fabric of her collar where Vi had been fixing. "I know you mean well, Vi. And I know you’re right... I’m not the best at stepping back. It’s hard to trust that anyone else can handle things the way I would, but—" She paused, biting her lip in thought. "I guess... maybe that’s why you’re here, huh? To remind me that I don’t have to do everything on my own."

Her fingers lightly brushed over Vi’s hand before she let it fall back to her side, the weight of the day still lingering but somehow easier to bear in the quiet of the room. "But I can’t just stop. The city needs someone to keep it in check, someone who knows what’s at stake. I’m not sure how to do that and still take care of myself, but... I’m trying. Just don’t let me forget I’m not alone in this."

Violet laughed, her hands cupped her face abit as she stared down at the other, her eyes soft "That's what I just said Mongoose, you always worry about everything like its gonna crumble in your hands if you blink or turn away from your work" The pink haired woman moved her one hand to gently massage her shoulder "You need to intrust in a second in command - or something to take over cause you can't have the whole city literally weighing on your shoulders" Vi's voice lowered, her gaze flickering over Caitlyn's face, scanning her lips and pretty blue eyes, her gaze cracked into a smile as she looked down at the other, her eyes looking down at the woman half lidded

"Vi, you know I can't just... step back. I can't afford to leave the city hanging, not when so much is at stake." Her voice was calm but firm, the weight of responsibility evident in her words, but there was a subtle warmth in her tone as she looked up at Vi.  "I trust you more than anyone else. But it’s not just about delegating—it’s about making sure the job gets done right. Still..."  she paused for a moment a small frown on her face "... I don't know. Maybe you’re right. Perhaps I should learn to trust a bit more. But if you ever let anything happen to this city, you’ll have me to answer to." Her voice held a playful warning, yet there was an undeniable affection in the way she spoke.

She stared down at the woman for a few seconds, letting her words sink into her mind, She blinked and scoffed abit before she spoke, her voice laced with slight disbelief "'you' ?- 'you' mean as in - me? - i mean i can get the job done and i know how you'd want it" the pink haired woman giggled for a few moments before continuing " - am I really the only other person on the whole chain of command that you trust in enough to put in that headstrong of a position?" Violet questioned, her voice wasn't like a question it was more like a confirmation - a tone in her voice lingering in the air. Her calloused hands cupped Caits face, her thumb gently grazing over the skin of her lips as she awaited for her answer "I mean I don't completely despise the offer but - are you sure?"

Caitlyn’s gaze softened just a touch as she looked at Vi, clearly considering her words. Her voice was steady, but there was a hint of something more beneath her usual composure. "You’re not the only one I trust, Vi, but you’re the only one who’s got the guts to handle it the way it needs to be done." She leaned in slightly, her tone firm, but not unkind. "If you weren’t up for it, I wouldn’t be offering." Her eyes met Violet’s, unwavering as always, but there was something deeper there, something unspoken. "You’re more than capable. Just don’t forget that.. Moving subjects though- Have you done anything but stay in my room all day?"

She paused, looking away from her for a moment again, then back at the woman, her eyes scanning over the others face before a slight smile emerged on her face "I've been here reading the books on your shelf, thinking of you then napping most of the time - I keep myself occupied many ways; Dont you worry cupcake." Violet let out a soft giggle as she finished her sentence, her hand moved down to gently draw small shapes on Caitlyn's neck abit, rubbing a soft rhythm into the others skin.. vi gently close the distance between them and pressed her forehead against the other woman's head "I hate how much time your works takes you away from me, I get withdrawals due to how long your gone for" She huffed out slightly, and playfully rolling her eyes before she huffed, her eyes closing as she made contact against the others forehead .

Caitlyn sighed softly, her shoulders lowering as she let go of the composure she so often wore like armor. Her voice was quiet, tinged with guilt, as she finally spoke. "I'm sorry Vi.." Her gaze flickered up to look at Vi, earnest and searching, before closing again, the weight of her words pulling her down. "I’ve been so caught up in work, so wrapped up in trying to fix everything out there... that I didn’t stop to think about your feelings."   She opened her eyes again and looked back up at her before she gently reached for Vi's hand, her grip firm but tender.

"You don’t deserve to feel like you’re second to anything—especially not my job. You’re more important to me than any case, any badge, or anything else in this city. And I hate that I’ve made you feel otherwise." Her lips twitched into a faint, apologetic smile as she spoke before looking at Vi again "If you’ll let me, I want to make it up to you. I don't know how or when but I promise I will"

Violet licked her lips, wetting them as the other talked, her powder blue eyes flicking to the other woman's lips as they spilled out words, watching how they move, how perfect they looked while they did so. Vi had to basically hold herself back from leaping onto the woman and smothering her lips against the others with her own, but she'd never admit to such a thought "Well...we've got time now...dont we?" Her voice hummed as she spoke, her voice soft but still comfortable. Violet's light blue eyes flickered up again, locking with the other womans, a playfulness laced in her eyes and her lip nudged into a smirk

Caitlyn’s lips parted ever so slightly as she caught the subtle shift in Vi’s demeanor. She stood her ground, her violet eyes steady and piercing, though there was the faintest flicker of something softer beneath them her head tilting just a little to let her curiosity show.  “Time, yes.” she murmured “But I wonder… what is it you plan to do with it, Violet?” Her gaze dipped—just for a fraction of a second—to Vi’s lips before meeting those bright blue eyes again, as she smiled slightly. “Because if you’re trying to distract me, I’d suggest you try a little harder.”

She scoffed as the words rolled out of the womans lips, she inhaled before she quickly closed the space between them, her lips smashing onto the others, Violets one hand cupped the womans face and sliding into the back of her head Violets fingers tangling slightly into the womans hair, vi had her other arm wrapped around the long her partners waist, pressing herself against the other's body, not wanting a single moment away from her now Vi's teeth gently grazed the other womans lower lip as she kissed Caitlyn, she pulled away slightly before she hungrily kissed and nipped down Caits neck

Caitlyn’s breath hitched at the suddenness of Vi’s movement, her sharp composure momentarily breaking as their lips met. For a moment, she froze. Not from hesitation, but from the sheer intensity of Vi’s kiss. . . Cait let her hands instinctively find their place. One resting lightly on Vi’s shoulder, the other curling around the small of her back, pulling her even closer. When Vi’s lips left hers to trail down her neck, Caitlyn exhaled shakily, her voice barely above a whisper. “Violet…” Her tone was caught somewhere between admonishment and breathless amusement, though the slight tilt of her head to allow Vi better access betrayed her resolve. She then let her fingers trail up Vi’s back, tangling gently in her hair.

Vi pushed Caitlyns shirt down her shoulder to give her more room to mark up the womans collarbone and neck, Violets hand that rested on Caits face moved to tangle into her hair, vi gently grabbed a fist full of hair and -gently- yanked back caits hair to reveal her jawline and bare neck to her, she wasted no time closing space and nipping and marking at the skin awhile leaving rough kisses once she was one with the one spot. The grip on Caitlyns waist loosened as Vi shifted her weight around, her other spare hand moved down to rub and gently massage the navy haired womans thigh, rubbing shapes into it with her thumb while Violet.. did her artwork... she purred a response to her name, her eyes flicked up to the taller woman's before she licked abit of the womans throat were she had just made a mark, all while still keeping eye contact with Caitlyn.

Caitlyn let out a slow, measured breath, her pulse betraying her as Vi’s lips and hands explored with a mix of roughness and care. She could feel the heat rising beneath her skin, her thigh instinctively almost trying to wrap/close???   Vi's touch sent a shiver down her spine despite her best efforts to remain composed.

Her fingers twitched against Vi’s arms before she finally moved, her hands sliding up to cup Vi’s face, thumbs grazing over sharp cheekbones as she forced Vi’s gaze fully onto hers. Before she hesitated and then pulled Vi's lips to her as she kissed her again. She didn't know why but she felt riled up. She wanted Vi and it seemed as if she was going to basically eat her alive.

Her hand went to hold Cait's hair and let her hand slide down to her shoulder, letting it rest there as she bit and sucked the taller womans lower lip, her tongue grazing the womans upper lip after she gently let go. Violets eyes fluttered shut as she kissed Cait, her hand remained on her thigh still, tracing small hearts into her skin but ever so often she'd gently massage the area and rub up and down the navy haired woman's leg, her hand slid down the womans shoulder and around Caitlyns boob. Vi wasn't the most silent kisser at that, she huffed out soft gasps each time they pulled away for a split second of air or a soft moan and mumble of affirmation that slipped out, she tried to attempt to push Cait back and get some control with their shared kiss.

Caitlyn let out a soft, surprised hum as Vi successfully pushed her back, the sudden shift leaving her momentarily pinned beneath the other woman. She could have resisted. Could have easily flipped their positions again, but the glint of determination in Vi’s half-lidded eyes made her pause. A small smile tugged at the corner of Caitlyn’s lips as she let herself be pushed back and she settled against the pillows, her navy hair fanning out beneath her. Her hands remained at Vi’s waist, not stopping her, just resting there, feeling the heat radiating from her skin. Vi's boldness was… amusing to say the least. Endearing, even. She was so unpracticed yet so determined. And Caitlyn? Well, she was more than willing to indulge her.

"You're more vocal than I thought you would be." she murmured Her eyes flickered over Vi’s face, watching every microexpression—the way her lips parted slightly, the way her breathing changed each time they pulled away or they slightly shifted.

Vi Vi's hand lifted off of the womans leg and moved her hand to her shoulder to support her weight, Vi moved forward as soon as she leaned back, slinging her leg over the womans thighs and straddling her hips. The hand that rested on her shoulder instantly went back to the side of her face. Vi's kisses were hungry, intense, passionate though - She inhaled sharply between kisses, literally leaving herself breathless at times, her lips broke away for a second to mumble out a coherent sentence

"Fuck Cait - You don't know how much I've wanted just to -" She cut herself off to lean in again, her lips connecting again to continue their.. lustful dance before she broke away again, pressing her forehead against the others, looking down into Caits blue eyes "-- feel you again. God - I've sat here thinking about you for hours - So forgive me if.. I'm not the quietest cupcake-" Vi laughed abit breathlessly before she leaned in again, Her teeth grazing Caitlyns lip every few minutes at this point

Caitlyn let out a soft, breathy chuckle against Vi’s lips, her chest rising and falling beneath the weight of her lover. The heat between them was impossible to ignore, and the sheer need in Vi’s voice sent a shiver down her spine. Her hands, which had been resting on Vi’s waist, tightened slightly—fingertips pressing into the fabric of her shirt as if grounding herself, as if containing herself. But stars, Vi was making that difficult.

"Hours, hmm?" Caitlyn murmured, her voice silk-smooth but tinged with warmth. Her lips were already tingling from Vi’s relentless affection, but she wasn’t about to stop her. "I'm a bit surprised... I would’ve expected a bit more restraint from an ex-convict." A teasing smirk played on her lips before Vi silenced her with another feverish kiss, all teeth and heat and unspoken longing. Caitlyn let herself melt into it for a moment before pulling back just enough to meet those deep, hazy pink eyes staring down at her.

"And not the quietest?" She tilted her head slightly, lips brushing against Vi’s in a whisper of a touch. "I was wondering if you had a volume setting. But…" her fingers trailed up Vi’s spine, slow and deliberate, "I think I quite like you like this." she paused thinking before speaking again "Now, are you going to keep talking, or are you going to do something?

Her (Vi) back arched slightly as she felt the others fingernails scratching up and sliding up her back, she started to kiss down Caits neck hungrily once more, her teeth grazing against her as she left husky teeth marks on the paler woman's skin, her fingers tracing down to try and fidget and rip Caits shirt off of her. Vi's other hand tried to slide her own shirt off of her own body, but - she's rushing and excited - so she's making abit of mistakes, she gave up own shirt eventually and focused on lifting Caits above her head

"God dammit, Cupcake -kiss- I need you - -kiss- So so so Badly. - kiss- I get dizzy thinking of you...your fuckin' intoxicating Cait" She mumbled into her skin before she bit down on the womans collarbone.

Caitlyn let out a sharp breath, her head tilting back against the pillows as Vi’s teeth sank into her skin, leaving behind heat and the faint sting of her mark. Her hands, which had been resting lightly on Vi’s waist, flexed—fingertips pressing just enough to ground herself as Vi’s mouth worked against her neck, desperate and unrelenting. She felt the clumsy tugging at her shirt, Vi’s fingers fumbling in her impatience, and despite the fire pooling in her stomach, Caitlyn couldn’t help but laugh a bit. Vi was all hunger, all instinct, rushing ahead as if afraid this moment would slip through her fingers. It was endearing, in a way. Amusing.

Her hands trailed lower, tracing slow, deliberate patterns down Vi’s sides, a stark contrast to Vi’s urgency. The feeling of Vi's lips and teeth against her collarbone sent another wave of electricity through her, but she remained composed, watching Vi through partially half lidded eyes. Vi was dizzy? Good. Caitlyn tilted her head, her lips brushing against Vi’s ear as she finally lifted her arms, allowing her to pull the fabric free - but not before whispering, voice low, teasing, but dripping with something close to satisfaction. "Then show me just how badly you need me."

Vi's hands found their way to her lovers - erm friends.. uhm... Caitlyns chest, her fingers sinking into the mound, the flesh pouring out around her fingers, Vi looked down to Caits chest, stars were basically in her eyes as she looked down, she leaned forward, her tongue gently licking an area before she cupped the flesh with her lips, leaving more marks on her new canvas, dark marks showing were she once was. Violet whined slightly and looked up at the other as she took Caitlyns nipple into her mouth, her tongue rolling against the bud in her mouth, her other hand lightly grazed down her lower torso and to her abdomen.

Caitlyn’s breath stuttered, her chest rising sharply beneath Vi’s touch. The sensation of Vi's lips and tongue against her sent a wave of something heady through her, her lashes fluttering as a quiet, unsteady exhale escaped her lips. Her body responded before her mind could catch up her back arching slightly, (ONLY A TINSY BIT. just a lil bit) pressing into the warmth surrounding her as a faint shiver traced its way down her spine as Vi’s hands roamed, fingers grazing sensitive skin, her touch both reverent and desperate at once.

The quiet, breathy sounds Vi made sent another rush of warmth through Caitlyn’s veins, a tingling sensation that left her skin hypersensitive to every movement, every press of lips, every minor touch.

Violet shifted her weight and pulled off Cait for a second, grabbing her thighs and raising both of them so they were at her shoulder height before she propped them on her neck, she looked at Cait between her legs. "Can I Cupcake?- Please - I wanna make you feel good -" her reddish pink hair fell in front of her face, her eyes staring into the ones across from hers, soft and lustful "Your so beautiful - tell me what you want my love - " her hands slide up her side and came to cup the sides of her tits, remaining near her armpits and rubbing soft motions into the flesh, Vi's one hand traced up to cup Caitlyn's face again before pushing her body/pelvis closer to Cait's.

Caitlyn’s breath hitched, her thighs tensing slightly beneath Vi’s grip. Her chest rose in slow, uneven movements, the weight of Vi’s hands on her skin making it harder to think, harder to focus on anything but the moment. Her lashes fluttered, breath catching in her throat as she just looked down at Vi. The way she (vi) looked at her it just made something tighten in her chest. Her hand lifted, fingertips brushing over Vi’s cheek, a silent affirmation in the way she lingered there. Her eyes softened, lips parting slightly as she gave the smallest nod-subtle, but sure.

She quickly moved down; keeping her thighs on her shoulders and leaving soft kisses down her stomach before she reached the top of her pants, slowly hooking a finger on them, gently pulling them down. Violets eyes never leaving Cait's - wanting to see when she didn't like something or when she did like something, she left kisses along her skin again she as she pulled down her garment, turning her head to kiss along the thighs that were wrapped around her head basically Vi huffed against her skin, plopping her head against her thigh as she finished moving the rest of her pants off of her ankles, literally just leaving Cait in her underwear and Vi fully dressed, her fingers gently traced the hem of her garment, playing with the rich lace and pretty designs "Seems like expensive fabric Ms Kiramman~" she mumbled against her skin, Vi lips grazing the skin as she spoke, a soft laugh escaped her as she basically just teased Caitlyn

Caitlyn’s breath was slow but unsteady, her chest rising and falling beneath Vi’s lingering touch. The warmth of her lips against her stomach sent a subtle shiver through her, her fingers flexing at her sides as fabric slipped lower. The teasing, the careful pace—it was intentional, and Caitlyn knew it. Still, the way Vi watched her, waiting for every reaction, every shift in expression, made her heart beat just a little faster. Her thighs tensed slightly where they rested on Vi’s shoulders, the soft press of lips against her skin leaving a warmth that lingered longer than it should. When Vi spoke Caitlyn exhaled sharply through her nose trying to relax She glanced down at Vi. Her body gave her away more than she liked—the tension in her abdomen, the way her breath caught between movements—but she refused to look away. If Vi was going to take her time, Caitlyn would make sure she felt the weight of her gaze just as much.

She pushed aside the cloth without looking at her hands or the fabric, Vi's eyes staying locked with Caits as she exposed her to the cold air of the room, she leaned down forward once again to kiss the skin she had just revealed before she slowly dipped her tongue into the slit below Violet's breath went heavy with excitement, but also abit of nervousness, Slowly, Vi's hand wrapped around her thighs pulling Cait closer as she continued her...artwork with her tongue basically nose deep at this point... Meanwhile the other hand raised up to grab the mound of flesh on her chest with her full hand, pinching her index and middle finger to gently twist her nipple in her grasp, Vi also still wasnt the quietest.. her whines and slight mumbles muffled slightly but what she was...preoccupied..with

Caitlyn’s breath hitched, her fingers curling into the sheets as warmth spread across her skin. The cool air against newly exposed skin sent a shiver through her, in sharp contrast to the heat of Vi’s touch. Her chest rose and fell in uneven waves, her body responding instinctively, drawn into the moment without a second thought. Her thighs tensed beneath Vi’s hands, a quiet gasp slipping past her lips before she bit down, stifling it. The teasing, the careful touch—it was overwhelming in a way she hadn’t expected, every sensation heightened under Vi’s deliberate pace. Her fingers twitched before finding Vi’s hair, not guiding, just holding, grounding herself as her pulse quickened.

The sounds between them, the way Vi moved with a mix of eagerness and hesitation, sent another sharp breath through Caitlyn’s lungs. Her head tilted back slightly, lashes fluttering before shutting for a brief moment as she let herself sink further into the feeling, into the weight of Vi’s hands, the warmth of her presence, the quiet intensity of the moment itself.

She (Vi) leaned into the hand in her hair, her eyes fluttering half shut for a moment before her tongue found Caitlyns clit now heavily focusing on that spot, closing her lips around the bud and sucking and teasing against it. A few minutes passed and Vi looked up at Cait with her hazed eyes, Violet quickly yanked Caitlyn closer by one arm wrapped around her thigh, lifting her ass off the bed slightly due to Vi's shoulders, also breaking the vacuum seal as they moved Vi had against her clit to only dive her tongue back into the moist slit below, she had been feeling Caitlyn's thighs tense around her face and shoulders and took that as a sign that she must've been doing -something- good..

Vi's mouth letting a loud whine escape as she thought of it The hand she had wrapped - no, gripped; around Caitlyn's tit that had been somewhat roughly massaging Cait's tit and nipple slowly snaked down her torso and her hand came down to her crotch, teasing the area with her index finger and middle digits, looking at Caitlyn's eyes as she slowly pushed her fingertips past the wet folds, curling her fingers up as slowly started to thrust her digits out back and forth into the navy haired woman, Violet was was beyond happy in her spot, soft -muffled- whines, praises and well - sounds of sesbian lex (had to say it) escaping when they could, Vi continued to eat out Caitlyn literally the best she could for her dictator, I mean lover, she wanted to hear her, see her, feel her - do any just to show her she fuckin loved her

Caitlyn’s breath caught in her throat, her body reacting before she could fully process the sensation. Her fingers tightened in Vi’s hair, a sharp inhale slipping past her lips as heat pulsed through her. Instinct took over, her grip firm as she tugged Vi closer, thighs pressing in around her as if to keep her exactly where she wanted her. The intensity sent a shiver up her spine, her back arching slightly against the bed, chasing more of the feeling that was quickly unraveling her composure. Her free hand gripped at the sheets, knuckles paling with the effort to ground herself as every deliberate movement sent another wave crashing through her. Her thighs tensed again, locking Vi in place as she tilted her head back, biting down on her lip in a desperate attempt to stifle the soft, breathless sounds escaping her. It was too much and yet, not enough—her body reacting to the slow, methodical rhythm that had her gasping for air. Her chest rose and fell in uneven waves, her grip on Vi's hair tightening with every pulse of warmth that coursed through her. The sheer determination in Vi’s touch, the way she moved with such focus, sent Caitlyn spiraling...

Each deliberate motion making it increasingly impossible to hold onto whatever restraint she had left. Her fingers slipped from Vi’s hair, trailing down to her shoulder, grasping at anything solid as her body trembled beneath every sensation Vi was pulling from her. Her lips parted, a ragged breath escaping as her back arched again, the tension building with every carefully placed touch. A sharp gasp finally broke free as her head tilted back against the pillow, every nerve alight, every thought dissolving into nothing but the overwhelming intensity of the moment. The world outside blurred into insignificance. There was only Vi.

Tobias Kiramman a few letters written to his Daughter in his hands. A thick black one with a red seal laid ontop of the stack, his face painted with slight urgency as he searched for Caitlyn, since she had become a main member in the council he hadn't been hearing from her alot and was abit worried at times like when she'd come back late and immediately walk into the study after battle onto to investigate for hours on end. Caitlyns Father had been pacing the halls, the library, the study the main commons, the dining room, the gun room the kitchen, anywhere he thought Caitlyn would be.

Tobias' voice calling out - quietly - for his daughter every time he entered the space, soon he decided to head towards her room, assuming if anyplace she'd be there, not wanting to go there first incase he disturb her, he understood its been a hard few weeks and months since well this wife - her mother died - He didn't want to overwhelm her with crowding in her space in a time of grief and mourning, letting her come to him if she wish to spoke, but this time it was urgent. He walked up to Caitlyns door, hearing what he thought were sounds of a conversation, thinking he finally found the navy hair woman, he gripped the doorknob turning the handle and stepping in without a thought.

"Hey Caitlyn, Ambessa wrote to you the oth- fuckin sweet mother of hextech - Jesus chirst -" His eyes had seen the scene infront if him, he instantly turned on his heel around now facing a painting that was set beside the door, he stared at it then looked down to the table as he spoke his back sweating and hot with embarrassment and awkwardness "Alright- Uhm Cait I- I'm just... gonna leave these letters here- and see my way out - sorry girls aha--" He said before he put the letters down and instantly stepped out and basically rushing away from the scene - forget it ever happened riggghttt...ahah.. ha.

Caitlyn froze. Every muscle in her body went rigid, her breath catching so violently in her throat that she almost choked on it. Her mind blanked, utterly incapable of processing what had just happened. One second, she was completely lost in the moment, and the next—her father’s voice. Her father’s voice. In her doorway. In her room. Her heart nearly stopped as her head snapped toward the door, eyes wide with pure, unfiltered horror.

The sight of her father standing there—seeing—was enough to make her soul attempt to escape her own body. A mortified squeak barely managed to escape her lips as she scrambled for anything to cover herself, nearly toppling over Vi in the process. Her entire face burned so fiercely it could rival a sunstone, her hands clutching at whatever fabric she could grab, yanking it over herself in sheer panic.

She opened her mouth—nothing came out. Not a single coherent word. Only a strangled, incomprehensible sound somewhere between a gasp and an attempt at speech. Her father had already turned away, clearly just as traumatized by the situation as she was, muttering something about leaving the letters before practically fleeing the room. The door shut. Silence. Caitlyn didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just lay there, her brain completely fried, staring at the spot where her father had just been. A moment passed. Then another. And then, finally—

"Oh My God.."  She slapped both hands over her face, groaning into them, her entire existence now defined by sheer secondhand embarrassment. How the hell was she supposed to face him after this?

As the door opened she (Vi) froze- her staying head between his (Tobias) daughters thighs, she slowly her hands peeled off Cait and back to herself. Once the chaos had setted, Vi busted out in giggles but she had stayed put... since she had been fully dressed she had saved unknowingly saved herself from the embarrassment that had been a surprise at the end after her giggles escaped her chest she crawled over the bed to be closer to Caitlyn again, her toned arms wrapping around the sheets that had a Caitlyn shaped lump under it and gently buried her face in the neck divot, Vi's breathing heavy as she embraced the other.

"It's fine - Your gonna be fine - it happens to the best of them" she tried to soothe her girlfriends - uhm. Yeah girlfriends embarrassment, even going as far to tell Cait her own embarrassing moments so she wouldn't literally like the only one she gently kissed the fabric that wrapped around her shoulder before speaking again "Did I uhm...do good...did I make you feel good?" she murmured slightly, almost a whisper at that, her eyes flickered to scan over Cait for a reaction

Caitlyn, still absolutely mortified, peeked out from beneath the covers just enough to glare at Vi, who was laughing. Laughing. As if Caitlyn’s entire world hadn’t just imploded before her very eyes. Her face was still burning, and she groaned again, pulling the sheets tighter around herself like it could somehow shield her from reality. "Vi, I am never leaving this bed again. Ever. I will simply perish here." But despite her horror, as Vi curled into her, warm and comforting, Caitlyn exhaled a shaky breath. The steady rise and fall of Vi’s breathing against her neck helped ground her. Though it did nothing to erase the memory of what had just happened. Still, the soft kiss through the fabric of the sheets made her heart stutter, and she sighed, pressing her forehead into Vi’s shoulder. And then, at Vi’s next question— Caitlyn nearly choked.  "Violet!" she hissed, smacking her arm lightly before burying her face into her chest, as if she could physically escape the embarrassment.

"You do not get to ask that while I am still processing the fact that my father just walked in on us!" But even as she grumbled listening to Vi as she shared her own embarrassing moments, her grip on Vi tightened slightly, her body instinctively curling into the embrace. And, reluctantly, her voice barely above a whisper—  "… But yes, you did good."

We love our little lesbians!! Please do not post this anywhere but on tumblr or use it as your own. If you want to ask for permission if denied then no is a no <33

[loveydovey-leviathan]

(for your recent post)

hmmm how about mal and reader were having an argument or sumn then he's like " hmph let's not talk to each other for now >:( " so you grant him some space/or silent treatment and mal is like dramatically waiting for u to talk to him for HOURS in his room just brooding there and when he realize you're still ignoring him, he's like a pathetic sad wet cat needy for ur attention now bcs he couldn't stand being apart from u.

im sorry for the basic ass idea lol 😭 im just a sucker for silent treatment scenarios like this

malleus x gn! reader

a/n: written as romantic -> FOAMING AT THE MOUTH, IM A SUCKER FOR THESE TOO 😔😔 hope i did this justice

.

one of the many things malleus adores about you is your stubbornness. the way you don't back down against what you think is wrong is something that will always set him ablaze with admiration for you.

though he doesn't quite like it when that pride is directed at him.

he's realizing this now when scornful words are spat between the two of you in the living room of ramshackle. clouds and lighting are beginning to gather as a response to his irritation and annoyance. he doesn't even know what this silly argument was even about or why it started in the first place, and unfortunately, malleus can be just as stubborn as can be.

"since you insist on being childish, i think it's best for us to not talk for a while," he isn't even looking at you as he says this, so when he disappears into pretty green firelights, he misses the hurt expression on your face as he leaves.

this is stupid, you think, but you bite your lip in worry as you walk upstairs and lay in bed, grim beside you snoring away. you said things you didn't mean so perhaps it's best to give him space, though how long that will go on is unknown to you since your lovely dragon is a fae with a rather skewed perception of time... whatever, he knows where to find you as soon as he decides he's comfortable enough to talk this out.

unbeknownst to you, malleus is now brooding in his room, lying face down on his pillow. the clouds around nrc have gotten worse, static brushing against the air as he waits for a phone call from you. preferably a sincere apology since he obviously deserves it after the things you've said.

...

well, he supposes it wasn't entirely your fault. he uttered words all to anger you as you did him, though none of them were true. you weren't childish, the opposite in fact-- having to take care of that first-year duo and that cat you're always hanging out with, taking precious time away when you could be stroking his hair and kissing his hands and petting his horns. as you do.

that's another thing he likes about you. even if you don't spend as much time together as he'd like, what you do to him is more than enough to compensate. you know he likes being kissed on the neck, you know he loves it when you take of his gloves and hold his hands, you know he loves when you lightly blow on his ear. you always look so happy when you do it too-- like seeing him smile makes you-

wait, isn't he supposed to be angry at you? he humphs and pouts when he realizes you still haven't called. he turns his head, eyebrows crossed and he stares at the phone on his desk. the only reason he learned how to use a phone was so you could contact him and send him texts and "memes" like you do with the rest of your friends.

he considers going to you himself but immediately shoves the idea away. he's still mad at you after all.

...

...

...

...

the clouds start pouring rain.

it isn't even the raging, storming kind-- the ones with howling winds and thunderous claps of lightning that illuminate the very sky. it's sad and cold that heavily drops on your already straining roof. your dampened mood worsens and you decide to get out of bed and make a hot drink to help you sleep.

you briefly glance at the alarm on your bedside table and see that it's 2:31 a.m., way too early to do anything at all.

just as you reach the bottom of the stairs, you hear 3 heavy knocks at the front door. any normal person would panic and call a friend for help, but your friends ace are usually the ones getting kicked out, so you figure something similar happened.

imagine your surprise when you see your boyfriend in all his 202 cm glory. his hair sticks to his face in an unfairly handsome way considering he's absolutely soaked, and somehow the look accentuates the pretty green hue of his eyes that have only ever looked at you like you were everything and more, even when he's angry at you.

...did he walk here?

you continue staring at him for a while and your realize that while your lover is incredibly beautiful- so much so the word beautiful could never begin to describe him- he is also very. pathetic. if only people knew how much of a wet cat he was. he even bumps his nose against yours as an act of affection sometimes.

and that fact is ever prominent right now. his arms are crosses and his lips are jutted in a cute pout, refusing to say a word.

"..."

"..."

"..."

you don't know what to do exactly, considering there isn't a manual for 'what to do when your draconic boyfriend stands outside your front door in the soaking rain while he remains completely silent', so you slowly turn and walk through ramshackle's living room and into your dainty little kitchen.

heavy footsteps follow close behind you, followed by a light thud of a closing door and the muffling of the rain. malleus continues to follow you when you boil enough water for two, when you take out your tea bags (gifted by kalim) and seep it into the water. you take the occasional glance here and there, wondering if you should speak before ultimately deciding against it. maybe he doesn't want to talk right now.

he sits closely next to you- so close your knees touch when you rest yourself on one of the seats against the table. your fingertips briefly touch when you pass him the newly brewed tea and it's almost like he wants to reach out to hold your hand, but he pulls away at the last second.

from there, you sit in silence. the heat of the mug spreads from your cold fingertips and you warm up as you drink your tea. already, your becoming tired. you look at mal once more and he still has that adorable pout on his face, but his eyebrows aren't as furrowed as before. usually, you'd gladly offer a cuddle during a rainy night, but tonight's been strange.

so when you try to leave your seat, a hand suddenly stops you. it's the first time he's looked you in the eyes the entire night and good god it's cute, lame and pitiful all at the same time. truly, a stray kitty in a box out in the rain begging for attention. his eyes look up at you in the saddest way possible and you swear you see a wet sheen-- and that damn pout that's going to be the fucking death of you one day is still there.

"i'm sorry," he mutters, and he shifts from one hand holding yours to two. "i can't stand being apart from you." the apology is blunt, honest and sincere, just like him.

you gently lift the hand he wasn't holding to his cheek and he nuzzles into it, closing his eyes as he enjoys your petting. something deep rumbles in his chest and you realize he's purring again.

"m' sorry too, mal. shouldn't have said what i said."

almost immediately, the heavy rain lessens before quickly coming to a stop. there's a smile on his face and the all-too-familiar, tell-tale blush on his cheeks. you place your finger under his chin and tilt his head before kissing him softly. he's dormant and still, like he's afraid of breaking this moment, but he tightens his grip on your hand like he's afraid you'll leave.

malleus chases your lips in hopes for more when you pull away all too soon. he's staring at you with a look as sweet and delicate as spun sugar.

"let's go to bed, mal."

he chuckles like he always does. "if you insist, my love." like he wasn't waiting, hoping you ask him.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[saymio]

In Ho headcanons | (NSFW)

Pairing: Hwang In-ho (player 001/the front man) x Fem!reader

Genre: headcanons, smut

Warning: dead dove do not eat, manipulation, dub/noncon, age gap, might be more but im too lazy to write it down

A/N: not proof read. thanos story in the works rn!! I have writers block so to help a little I'm making some hcs 4 this baddie (prob ooc)

hwang inho, the man that protected you from Thanos and his stupid friend during the first day of the games. he shoo'ed them away. stopping their harassment and took you with him with the rest of the group

hwang inho, the man that gives you his milk. reassuring you every time that its okay for you to have it, and it'll help you get stronger.

hwang inho, the man that checks up on you throughout the night. standing over you to make sure you're getting your nights rests. making sure no creeps try touching your delicate skin.

hwang inho, the man that lets touches linger a little longer than they should, whether its on your hands, thighs, waist..his touches feel more than platonic

hwang inho, the man that tells the guards to make sure you stay safe, to kill a player that hasn't broken the rules if they had to. anything to make sure you stay safe.

hwang inho, the man that would excuse himself to the bathroom just to touch himself to the thought of you. whether its your calm voice or plush hands that feel so soft and delicate...he just couldn't help it.

hwang inho, the man that squeezes your thighs when no ones looking...and when you express discomfort he used his past generosity as an excuse for it.

hwang inho, the man that will kiss you in the middle of the night with no warning. telling you to be quiet and take the kiss because if it were any other man it would've been worse.

hwang inho, the man that will find the perfect timing to sneak away from everyone else with you. he'll make you strip for him in the bathroom. savoring every inch of your body before he sends you away, leaving him in there alone to masturbate.

hwang inho, the man that wont let you sleep. he'll grope and squeeze your thighs, tits and ass. feeling you up while you hold in tears.

hwang inho, the man that reminds you this is your fault when you cry to him during a bathroom strip session. expressing how uncomfortable this makes you and how you don't want it anymore.

hwang inho, the man that will tell you nothing in the world is free. and your body will be the payment he receives for being so generous with you.

hwang inho, the man that gets hard thinking about your age gap. how youre only 19 and he's in his 40's..he loves it.

hwang inho, the man that slips his fingers inside of you when the lights are off, fingering you aggressively. reminding you once again that it'd be so much worse if he wasn't such a nice man.

hwang inho, the man that captures you during the raid against the guards. forcing you to stare into the eyes of your past friends as he kills them.

hwang inho, the man that keeps you as his pet after the games end. reminding you you're lucky because he spoils you with money.

hwang inho, the man that doesn't let you socialize with anyone after he's gotten his grip on you.

Another not: this one is pretty short compared to my last fic, this was to just try n get me out of writers block. expect a Thanos fic to pop up tmr. sorry if this sucked/was ooc, I tried my best T T~~

[artficlly]

lessons in lovemaking

marvel au bucky x blackwidow!reader You and Bucky Barnes go undercover as a married couple, but when a fake kiss gets too real, he unexpectedly finishes in his pants—leaving you both stunned.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, dry humping, grinding, soft dom vibes reader, soft sub vibes bucky, bucky is touch starved, premature ejaculation, reader has dubious methods of emotional control, vague mentions of previous sa, ex black widow reader, mentions of red room, very consensual, safe words, kissing, panic attacks, bucky barnes needs a hug, if you squint, there's some plot, fluff, angst, mentions of past violence, death and war, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 8.4k

A/N: hey guys, i'm a woman possessed. i've had so much motivation to write recently, so here is a quick one-shot. i'm sure this concept has been done before but i just couldn't stop thinking about touch starved bucky :( ! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist | series masterlist

You never would’ve agreed to this mission had you known Barnes was going to be this squeamish. You’d seen the man slit throats without a sound, drop bodies with cold efficiency, and unload an entire chamber of bullets without so much as flinching. He hadn’t even blinked when aliens from outer-fucking-space rained hell upon Earth. But holding your hand? Letting his fingers brush your waist? Anything a devoted ‘husband’ ought to do? The super soldier looked like he’d rather swallow glass. He couldn’t even meet your gaze, for god’s sake.

What the hell had Fury been thinking?

You had to yank him away before anyone noticed the strained—Help me, I’m being held hostage by this incredibly attractive, incredibly capable woman who, might I add, is supposedly my wife—look on his face.

This gala, a weeklong jerkfest for the wealthy and villainous, was meant to be a stroll in the park. Your bread and butter, even if the Red Room had been... regrettable and against your consent, it had taught you an array of useful skills. Yet Barnes was ruining it, turning what should have been a simple infiltration into a goddamn babysitting job. The plan was airtight: pose as a glamorous Russian couple, collect incriminating evidence, and dip at the end of the week. Except Barnes wasn’t holding up his end of the deal. Instead of charming your way through the crowd, you were covering for his stiff, awkward pauses and the fact that he looked less like a besotted husband and more like a man being forced at gunpoint to stand beside you.

By some miracle, you managed to drag him away to one of the empty floors, a tucked-away space littered with stacks of unused tables and chairs. He was wound tight—shoulders squared, jaw clenched, eyes flicking across the dimly lit room like he was expecting death itself to emerge from the shadows. You didn’t bother with subtlety. Tearing the small recording device from between your tits, you fumbled with the button until the tiny red light blinked off. Whoever ended up reviewing the footage later wouldn’t need to hear the verbal onslaught you were about to unleash. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” you hissed, keeping your voice low, though the sheer force of your frustration was enough to strip paint off the walls.

Barnes clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring as he refused to meet your eye. It reminded you of a scolded dog, all pouty and pathetic. You might’ve found it cute under different circumstances. “You’re making this incredibly fucking difficult.”

“I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal—”

“Because it’s our cover, Barnes.” you snapped, incredulous. “We’re supposed to be married, not some fucking timid virgin couple. PDA makes people uncomfortable; they look away, and we have less eye on us to, I don’t know—do our fucking job?”

Barnes looked down at his clenched fists, swallowing hard. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. The dangling diamond earrings you had hanging from each lobe tinkled slightly, and you ran a hand through your perfectly styled hair, resisting the urge to throttle him.

“You’re unbelievable. Fury should’ve just sent me alone—” you muttered, but the words barely left your lips before your eyes caught movement.

A group. Heading straight for you. Purposeful.

“Fuck.”

With haste, you tucked the small recording device back into your cleavage. Barnes noticed immediately, clocking your distress. His brows knit together, hand twitched toward the hidden knife tucked into his suit jacket.

“No.” You scolded. Catching his wrist, you guided it elsewhere—your hips. He stiffened instantly, making a noise of protest, but you kept him locked in place, pressing in until your chests brushed. Too close. Not close enough.

“Play along,” you murmured. “Kiss me. Now.”

“Wha—” His breath hitched, barely enough time to form a response before you rose onto your toes and sealed your mouth over his.

Barnes froze. Stiff beneath your touch, lips rigid like you’d just planted one on a slab of granite. He still tasted like toothpaste—spearmint—and the faint trace of his aftershave clung to his skin. If you’d been trying to salvage some believability, some small thread of natural chemistry, it was impossible now. It was like kissing a statue.

An aftershave-scented stone statue.

The passing group chuckled, one of them murmuring, amused, “Ah, young love.”

Maybe it was the murmured chuckles of the passing guests, or maybe Barnes had finally remembered how to act, because his grip on your hips suddenly tightened, fingers digging into the fabric of your dress with unexpected force. The silk pulled taut against your skin, trapping heat between you, and then—

A sound.

Low. Strangled. A rasping, utterly pathetic groan against your lips.

You barely had time to register it before something else stole your attention. In the tight press of your bodies, you felt it—hard, insistent, pressing against your pelvis.

Oh.

The realisation sent a flicker of shock through you, but you schooled your expression, keeping your face composed as you lingered just a second longer—just enough to ensure your audience was convinced. Then, finally, you pulled back.

Barnes didn’t move.

For a moment, he just stared, pupils wide and unfocused, a blissed-out haze dulling the sharp blue of his eyes. But then, like a lightning strike, awareness snapped back into him. Horror overtook his dazed expression, his breath hitching as he seemed to realise—

Did he just—?

You both looked down at the same time.

And there it was.

The medium grey of his suit pants betrayed him entirely, darkening at the crotch with an unmistakable wet patch.

You gaped, lips parting in stunned silence. No fucking way.

Barnes didn’t wait for a reaction. With the sheer force of a man fleeing for his life, he ripped himself from your grasp and marched away, stiff-backed and utterly silent, leaving you standing there, speechless.

—

It had been twenty minutes, and Barnes still hadn’t left the goddamn bathroom.

It had taken you all of thirty seconds to track him down, but the moment you found the door, it was locked. Of course it was. You twisted the handle, rattling it in frustration, then resorted to pounding your fist against the heavy wood—subtly, of course, but with enough force that he knew you weren’t going anywhere.

“Barnes.” You hissed his name through gritted teeth, pressing closer to the door. Nothing. Not a shuffle. Not a breath. Absolute fucking silence.

You exhaled sharply, trying to keep your expression neutral as a pair of guests passed by, casting you a curious glance. Yeah, you knew exactly how this looked—lipstick smudged, breath uneven, standing outside a locked men’s bathroom like a woman scorned. You must’ve looked thoroughly debauched.

Your pulse hammered in your throat. This was insane. A simple, fake kiss had made him short-circuit so hard that he fucking came in his pants? Twenty minutes ago, he looked repulsed by the mere idea of touching you, and now he was hiding away like some panicked virgin?

You let out a long, slow groan, dropping your forehead against the door.

“Barnes,” you muttered, knocking again—your patience wearing thinner by the second. “Open the damn door.”

Silence.

You straightened, glaring at the wood as if you could will it into splintering apart.

“Barnes, I have been patient.” You gritted your teeth, knocking harder. “If you don’t open this door in the next five seconds, I will break in.”

Silence.

Motherfucker.

"Alright, I’m coming in," you announced, your voice low but firm.

You cast a quick glance over your shoulder, ensuring no one was watching, before slipping a bobby pin from your hair. Years of practice made the process effortless; your fingers worked quickly, blindly, jamming the pin into the lock and feeling for the mechanism. A few precise twists, a satisfying click, and—

"Make sure you're decent, Barnes—"

The words were halfway out of your mouth when you pushed the door open, but whatever half-hearted joke you'd meant to make withered before it even reached your tongue.

Barnes was not decent.

Not in the way you’d expected.

He sat hunched on the closed toilet lid, head in his hands, his entire body drawn in tight like he was trying to fold in on himself. His knee bounced erratically, the rapid motion almost violent in its rhythm. He had ripped off his suit pants, leaving himself in nothing but his boxers, his bare thighs tense, twitching. His fingers dug into his hair, gripping at the strands like he wanted to rip them out, and when his bloodshot eyes flicked up to you—

You felt your stomach drop.

Panic. Raw, unfiltered, choking panic.

Tears welled along his lash line, his chest rising and falling in uneven, barely contained pants. He looked like a man caught in a cage, seconds from tearing himself apart just to escape it.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry, and stepped in, shutting the door softly behind you before flipping the lock.

"Hey, Barnes…” Your voice was hesitant, softer than before.

He shook his head, eyes fixed firmly on the floor, his hands trembling as he dragged them down his face.

“I don’t—” His voice cracked, breaking on the words. "I don’t want you in—"

You moved before he could finish, lowering yourself to the cool bathroom tiles in front of him, as if making yourself smaller would make you any less intimidating.

"Hey," you murmured, tone careful but steady. "Look at me."

“No.” It came out sharp, like a whip, a defence mechanism honed over decades. His entire body went rigid, his breathing ragged.

“Barnes, you need to breathe.”

Your voice was steady, firm without being harsh, each syllable carefully measured as you crept forward on the cold tile floor. The dress, the dirt—none of it mattered. It wasn’t your dress, anyway. Tony Stark could foot the bill for a replacement if this one got ruined, all this fancy wear was on his dime.

“In through the nose,” you instructed, voice softer now. “Out through the mouth.”

By some miracle, Barnes listened.

He sucked in a ragged breath, chest expanding beneath his half-unbuttoned dress shirt, and then exhaled through parted lips. It was shaky, uneven, but it was something. You watched in silence, waiting. His limbs still trembled, his fingers clenching and unclenching against his thighs, but the worst of the violent, full-body tremors had eased.

“There you go,” you murmured, voice barely above a breath. “Keep breathing, just like that. You’re doing so well.”

Slowly, you inched forward, shifting across the tiles until you sat in front of his knees. His skin was warm, radiating heat even through the thin fabric of his boxers.

“Barnes,” you hesitated, watching his face carefully. “Can I touch you?”

His whole body tensed.

“What?” His eyes darted up, sharp and startled, as if the very question had knocked the breath from his lungs.

“Is it okay,” you rephrased, slower this time, gentler, “if I touch you?”

Barnes hesitated. His gaze flickered away, jaw clenching like he was at war with himself. But then, after a long, tense beat, he gave a small, stiff nod.

You inhaled, steadying yourself. Then, with slow, deliberate care, you reached out and cradled his face between your hands.

The moment your fingers touched his skin, he flinched.

Not violently. Not like he was afraid of you. But enough that you felt it—felt the way his muscles coiled beneath your fingertips, the way his throat bobbed in a hard swallow. The cool metal of your fake wedding ring grazed his cheek, and his breath hitched, like he had just been burned.

“Keep breathing,” you reminded him, voice low and steady. “Nice and slow.”

Barnes obeyed, dragging in another breath, and you felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. The hard lines of his face softened just slightly as he leaned into your touch, nuzzling—actually nuzzling—against your palms.

“There you go,” you murmured, your thumb stroking in slow circles over his cheek. “Look at me.”

His eyelids flickered, resisting for a moment, but then those storm-blue eyes finally met yours. He looked exhausted. Frayed at the edges. But grounded, at least. Present.

“Tell me one thing you can smell right now.”

Barnes blinked. A hint of confusion crossed his face. “Smell?”

“Yes, smell.” You nodded, keeping your voice soft, coaxing. “Just one thing. Keep breathing and tell me.”

He hesitated but then took a deliberate inhale through his nose, his bouncing knee slowing. “I guess… whatever shitty fucking chemicals they use to clean this place.”

A quiet laugh left you, your thumb tracing a swirling pattern along his cheekbone. “Good. You’re doing good, Barnes. Now, tell me two things you can feel.”

His breathing had steadied, his inhales and exhales falling into rhythm with yours. For the first time since you’d walked in, he wasn’t shaking as badly.

“This suit jacket,” he muttered after a pause. His metal fingers twitched against the fabric at his arm. “It’s too fuckin’ tight. They always are with my arm—”

His breath stuttered, his body tensing again. Immediately, you leaned in, close enough for him to feel your warmth. “Just breathe, remember? You’re doing so well. One more thing you can feel.”

Barnes swallowed thickly. His gaze flickered down, just briefly, before settling back on your face. 

“You,” he admitted, voice quieter now. “I can feel you. Touching my face.”

“Good.” You nodded, thumb gliding over his cheek again. “Are you okay with that?”

“Yes.” He exhaled, and for the first time, it wasn’t shaky. “It feels… it feels nice.”

Something in your chest clenched at the confession, but you pushed it aside. You smiled at him, soft and small, and kept going. “Now, three things you can see.”

Barnes’ eyes scanned over your face, searching.

“You,” he said, still quiet, still certain. His gaze lingered on your mouth. “Your lipstick is smudged.”

"Two more," you breathed, keeping your voice calm and steady, resisting the urge to comment on why your lipstick was smudged in the first place. No need to remind him of that right now.

Barnes' gaze flickered across the small, dimly lit restroom. His body had almost fully relaxed now, his mind preoccupied with the task you'd given him.

"Uh…" He scanned the space, brows furrowing in concentration. "The awful wallpaper… and the sink, I guess?"

You nodded approvingly, finally withdrawing your hands as you eased back onto your knees. The cold tiles bit through the fabric of your dress, but you barely noticed.

"Well done," you murmured. "Now, how about we keep breathing and get you sorted, huh?"

At that, Barnes stiffened slightly. The panic that had been receding just moments ago flickered in his eyes again, his hands twitching where they rested on his thighs.

You reached out, grounding him with a gentle touch to his knee. Your voice softened even further. "I’m going to turn around and face the door. I need you to clean yourself up—use the sink, use the soap."

His throat bobbed. "But my—my boxers, they’ll get all wet—"

"There’s a dryer on the wall, see it?" You tilted your head toward the small, dingy dryer meant for hands. "Use it to dry them. Then get dressed, and we’ll head back to the hotel early, okay? Order some shitty takeaway, watch bad TV. Just forget about all this for tonight. How does that sound?"

Barnes blinked as if thrown by the simplicity of the offer. His mouth parted, closed, then opened again, his voice small. "Yeah. Okay."

"Good." You flashed him a reassuring smile before pressing your palms against the sink, pushing yourself to your feet with a small wobble in your heels. "I’ll be right here. Just let me know if you need anything. Keep breathing, alright? Everything’s okay."

Turning, you crossed your arms over your chest and faced the door, giving him the privacy he needed. You tried not to listen too closely. Tried not to glance at the mirror reflecting the scene behind you.

The rustle of clothing filled the quiet, then the tap sputtered to life. You leant your forehead against the cool wood of the door, closing your eyes as you focused on the steady stream of water, the faint squeak of the soap pump, and then the soft sloshing and scrubbing of fabric.

The sound of fabric wringing out echoed softly against the tiled walls, followed by the steady hum of the hand dryer sputtering to life. You kept your forehead against the door, listening as Barnes manoeuvred through the motions, drying his boxers first, then his suit pants. The wet fabric slapped lightly against the metal dryer as he held it up, shifting awkwardly as he worked.

You didn’t rush him. Didn’t make a sound. Just stayed where you were, giving him time.

Eventually, the rustling stopped. A sharp inhale, then the familiar slide of fabric as he pulled his clothes back on. The quiet click of a belt buckle being fastened. The creak of leather shoes shifting against tile.

Then—

Barnes cleared his throat.

You turned.

He stood stiffly, suit now back in place, though the fabric still carried faint traces of dampness. His jacket was slightly askew, his tie loosened just enough to be noticeable. You took a slow step toward him, scanning him up and down with a careful eye. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move—just stood there, watching you warily, as if expecting a comment.

You didn’t give him one.

Instead, you reached up, grasping the edges of his tie. He stiffened but let you work, your fingers smoothing the silk fabric, tightening it properly against his collar. His pulse thrummed beneath your fingertips as you brushed against his throat, and though he remained still, you caught the way his breath hitched slightly at the contact.

“There,” you murmured, satisfied.

You turned towards the mirror, angling yourself slightly to the side. Your reflection was a mess—lipstick smudged, hair slightly dishevelled. You sighed, wetting your thumb with your tongue before dabbing at the edges of the stain, then reached into your clutch to pull out a small tube of lipstick.

Barnes hadn’t moved.

You could feel him behind you, his body heat pressing against your back in the cramped space. His gaze was heavy, following your movements as you leaned closer to the mirror, carefully reapplying the pigment to your lips. You didn’t look at him. You just smoothed the colour in place, pressed your lips together, then capped the tube and tucked it back into your bag.

Finally, you met his eyes in the mirror.

“Ready to go?” you asked.

There was a pause. A hesitation. His jaw clenched for half a second before he gave the smallest of nods. “…Yeah.”

You turned fully, flashing him a small, knowing smile before reaching for his arm. He didn’t resist when you looped yours through his, guiding him towards the door. With an easy tug, you led him forward, your heels clicking softly against the marble floors. His arm remained tense beneath your touch, but he didn’t pull away. Didn’t let go.

You glanced at him briefly, lips twitching into a small smirk. “C’mon, sergeant. Let’s get out of here.”

Barnes exhaled through his nose, shaking his head ever so slightly. But when you reached the bottom of the stairs, he followed without question, letting you steer him towards the exit, away from the crowded room—away from prying eyes.

—

A small, muffled whine stirred you from sleep. You blinked groggily, rolling onto your side as the cool sheets tangled around your legs. The plush hotel mattress dipped beneath you as you buried your face into the pillow, willing yourself back into slumber.

A low, panting groan cut through the silence, soft at first, then growing in volume. Your brows knit together, heart thrumming uneasily. Something about the sound was… strange. It wasn’t just a groan—it was strained, needy. Erotic.

Your eyes snapped open.

The room was cloaked in darkness, save for the dim red dot of the fire alarm and the faint reflection of the turned-off TV. You remained frozen for a few beats, your ears straining to catch the noise again. It came, louder this time—a choked whimper thick with desperation.

Was someone in the room? Adrenaline slammed into your veins as you rolled off the bed in one swift motion, bare feet hitting the floor without a sound. You had heard stories of creeps breaking into hotel rooms, preying on women while they slept. Had one made the mistake of picking yours?

Another sound. Low, breathy, utterly wrecked.

Your hand darted to the bedside table, fingers curling around the hilt of a knife, its leather grip smooth beneath your palm. Not even yours, Barnes’—

Barnes.

Your breath caught as your gaze snapped towards the couch, knife slipping from your grip and landing on the carpet with a soft thud.

There, bathed in shadows, was the writhing mass of the super soldier. His blankets lay discarded on the floor as though he’d tossed them off in his sleep. The two of you had agreed to take turns—one in the bed, the other on the couch—to keep up appearances. A stupid arrangement, courtesy of Fury and Stark’s meddling.

You flicked on the bedside lamp. The warm light spilt over the room, casting soft amber hues onto Barnes’ form. His face was twisted in torment, and his lips parted around quiet, breathless whimpers. Sweat clung to his skin, catching the glow of the lamp and highlighting the sharp lines of his body. His metal arm whirred faintly as he twitched, fingers flexing against the cushions.

Your stomach dropped when your eyes drifted lower. He was shirtless, his broad chest rising and falling erratically. The thin fabric of his boxers did little to hide the evidence of his dream—more than half-hard beneath the cotton. Was he really that big?

The realisation hit like a freight train.

He was having a sex dream.

Jesus.

You swallowed, throat suddenly dry. You should’ve looked away, should’ve given him privacy. But then his hand twitched, drifting downward—

“Barnes.” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the haze like a blade.

He jolted awake, body seizing as his eyes snapped open. For a moment, he was utterly lost, chest heaving, pupils blown wide with confusion. Then his gaze landed on you—standing there in your thin nightgown, face unreadable.

His eyes flickered downward.

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath, panic flickering across his face as he yanked a pillow over his lap, shifting awkwardly as if that would somehow erase what had just happened. A string of curses left his lips, voice still wrecked with sleep.

You tilted your head, studying him. His expression wavered, part shame, part something else, something raw and vulnerable. You exhaled slowly, pressing your fingers into your temples. There was a pattern here. A man whose body wasn’t his own, whose skin felt foreign, whose touch-starved existence had left him unravelling at the seams.

What in God's name was Fury thinking sending him on a mission like this—or did Fury not know? How could he not? That one-eyed bastard had a habit of knowing everything. Hell, he probably knew the colour of your underwear before you even picked it out for the day, the all-seeing prick.

“H.Y.D.R.A really did a number on you, didn’t they?” you muttered.

Bucky flinched. The words struck deep, sinking into something fragile beneath the surface. He didn’t say a word, just recoiled, fingers gripping the pillow so tightly his knuckles turned white. A moment later, he was scrambling off the couch, making a beeline for the bathroom.

“Barnes, we’re not doing this again. Let’s just talk—”

The door slammed.

Then, the soft click of the lock.

You exhaled through your nose, arms crossing over your chest as you stared at the wooden barrier now separating you. Asshole. You knew you should’ve been more sympathetic. Should’ve handled it differently. But after a long, exhausting day, dealing with Bucky Barnes’ second puberty was not on your list of priorities.

You stepped closer, pressing a palm against the door; your voice quieter now. “I know how you’re feeling.”

Silence.

You could picture him inside, hunched over on the edge of the bathtub, fists clenched, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. “I understand what it’s like to be in a body that doesn’t feel like your own.”

A pause. No response.

“It must be hard,” you continued softly. “Not knowing who you are. Not recognising yourself anymore. And then... feeling things you don’t understand.”

Another pause. This one stretched longer.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of trying to navigate that.” The silence that followed was heavier than before. You didn’t push, didn’t say anything else. Just rested your forehead against the doorframe, waiting. 

You had spent the better part of your life under the Red Room’s control, under Dreykov’s control. Every breath you took, every move you made, had been dictated by someone else. Orders given. Orders followed. It was all you had ever known. And then, one day, it was gone. Just like that.

You remembered the moment with eerie clarity: standing in the open air, staring out at the horizon, the sunset bleeding colour into a sky that suddenly felt too vast. The question had gnawed at you, quiet but insistent. What comes next? Who comes next? Because you didn’t know. You didn’t know who you were beyond a weapon, beyond a machine engineered for death and seduction. Two decades of programming, of conditioning, of being nothing more than an asset to be wielded and discarded at will. And then, without warning, you were handed something you were told was freedom.

But what did freedom mean when you didn’t exist?

There were no real records of your birth, no true identity to reclaim. The Red Room had scrubbed that away long ago, erasing every trace of the girl you had once been. No family. No home. No belongings that weren’t issued to you by those who had owned you. And yet, you were expected to smile—to accept this newfound autonomy without question, to embrace the illusion of a life you had no blueprint for.

But how could you, when you weren’t sure if the body you inhabited was even your own?

So even if Barnes thought you were bluffing and just trying to relate for the sake of kindness, he was wrong. Because you understood.

Terrifyingly well.

The difference was that you had refused to let it consume you. You had forced those feelings into the farthest corners of your mind, locking them away where they couldn’t touch you. Because if you let yourself linger on them for too long.

“Go back to sleep.” Bucky’s voice finally broke the silence, muffled through the bathroom door.

You sucked on your teeth, exhaling sharply through your nose. “Yeah, not happening.”

“I know the others give you crap about not dating, but you don’t have to let them pressure you,” you continued, keeping your tone light. “You don’t have to force yourself into a role that makes you uncomfortable. It takes time.”

“Back in the day..." His voice was quieter this time, tinged with something that almost sounded like regret. “I used to be a real flirt.”

A humourless smirk ghosted across your lips. You could picture it, all smooth charm and effortless confidence. The kind of man who could wink at a girl across a dance floor and have her swooning in seconds. But that wasn’t the man behind this door. That man had been stripped away, piece by piece. 

“I just don’t know anymore,” he admitted, voice raw. Your chest tightened. You could almost hear him weighing his words, picking them apart, and deciding how much of himself he was willing to give away.

“When I was the Winter Soldier... they made me do things.”

A slow, twisting knot formed in your stomach.

“It’s all… fractured in my mind,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “Scattered. Broken.”

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply.

“I’m sorry,” you said, and you meant it. “I understand that. More than anyone. The Red Room… they didn’t just use us for assassinations and espionage.”

There. You had said it. Pulled a piece of yourself from the grave and placed it between you.

For the first time, the door cracked open.

Bucky stood there, dishevelled and breathless, still only in his boxers. A faint sheen of sweat clung to his skin, catching the dim hotel light, while his metal arm twitched slightly at his side. His hair was a mess—damp and curling at the ends, sticking to his forehead. His chest rose and fell unevenly, as if he hadn’t quite caught his breath, muscles taut beneath the weight of exhaustion.

“Why are you being kind to me?” he asked suddenly. His voice was rough, tinged with suspicion, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

You tilted your head, studying him.

“Because you’re hurting,” you said simply. “And obviously, you haven’t fully processed any of this.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. Without another word, he turned and stalked past you, out of the cramped bathroom and into the main space of the hotel room. You followed at a slower pace, arms crossed as you watched him sink onto the couch, scrubbing a hand down his face. He was hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees, his metal fingers tapping restless patterns against his flesh palm. His body had settled now, no longer betraying him with signs of arousal. That part of the moment had passed, but the turmoil in his head remained.

With a quiet sigh, you slid down to the floor, settling against the base of the bed across from him. Your legs stretched out in front of you, arms loose at your sides as you let the silence settle between you. 

“Have you spoken to Steve about this?” you asked after a moment, voice soft but firm. “Sam?”

Bucky scoffed, shaking his head. “God, no.”

“Why?”

“I dunno,” he muttered, fingers threading through his damp hair. “It’s just... awkward. I feel like a fuckin’ schoolboy.”

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “I could teach you.”

His eyes snapped to you, wary. “What?”

“I could teach you,” you repeated, voice steady. “How to make love. Fuck. How to gain control over your life again. You’re just sensitive; you need a bit of exposure therapy.”

Bucky’s expression darkened, jaw clenching. “Why the hell would you do that?”

You exhaled slowly, gaze drifting to the patterned carpet beneath you. “Do you know how many men I’ve fucked and not felt a thing?” you said quietly, barely above a whisper. 

“I wasn’t just an assassin or a spy. Not like Natasha or Yelena. I was a swallow, Barnes. A honeytrap.” His expression flickered, eyes scanning your face as if searching for something, some hint of insincerity.

You swallowed, pushing forward. “It’s why Fury sent me on this mission with you. This is all I’ve ever known.”

Bucky’s breath hitched slightly, his hands curling into fists against his thighs. “Fury knows what they did to you, and he still continues to—”

“I agreed to it,” you cut in, your tone clipped, controlled. “He just wanted our sham marriage to be believable. He wasn’t asking me to fuck you, just to perform. That’s what I do. Perform.”

Bucky huffed a bitter laugh, shaking his head. 

“Look, I don’t know you,” he muttered, voice low, rough. “I don’t want your baggage, or for you to fuck me out of pity or... I don’t know, self-sabotage.”

The words hit like a slap, sharper than you expected. You recoiled—actually flinched—before you could stop yourself. It wasn’t just what he said, it was the venom in it, the way he threw it at you like a blade meant to wound. And damn it, it did.

Bucky saw it, too. The way your shoulders stiffened, the flicker of something raw crossing your face before you forced it away. His breath hitched slightly, fingers twitching at his side, but he didn’t take it back. Didn’t soften the blow. Maybe he regretted it, maybe he didn’t, but either way, the damage was done.

Your expression hardened like cooling steel, every crack that had formed between you quickly sealing shut, any semblance of vulnerability buried beneath layers of carefully placed armour. It was instinct—second nature, really. You’d spent years perfecting the art of locking yourself away, of making sure no one could reach the parts of you that still bled. You’d built it, brick by fucking brick, until you were fully encased, isolated from anything that might harm you. 

Bucky wasn’t the first to speak to you like that. Wouldn’t be the last.

You swallowed down the sting, inhaled slow and deep through your nose, and then let it out in a steady breath. When you spoke again, your voice was quiet, devoid of emotion, a perfect imitation of indifference. “It was just an offer.”

Nothing more. Nothing less.

You held his gaze for a second longer, searching for something, anything, that might suggest he regretted it. But Bucky just stared back, face unreadable, jaw tight. Then, without another word, he turned away, stretching out on the couch with his back to you.

Fine. Message received.

—

The rest of the week had been nothing short of torturous. After the argument, the air between you and Bucky had turned to ice. The two of you barely spoke. Not outside of necessity, not outside of the roles you had to play. At the gala, he did what was required—he held you close, leant into your touch when needed, murmured sweet nothings in your ear to sell the lie. But you felt the restraint in him, the hesitance in the way he brushed a thumb over your knuckles, the barely-there tremors in his fingers when he smoothed a hand over your waist. It wasn’t as if he was walking on hot coals anymore, but there was still that same, underlying hesitation.

Back at the hotel, the silence stretched long and unbearable. Shower, eat, sleep—repeat. Conversations were reduced to one-word exchanges, curt and impersonal. At least by morning, this miserable charade would be over. You’d gathered the intel you needed at the gala, and in a few hours, you’d be free of this place. Free of this suffocating, awkward tension. Free from Bucky’s constant, looming presence. 

God, the man had a staring problem.

You had noticed it before, how he always seemed lost in thought, his gaze heavy with some unreachable burden. You had assumed it was just brooding, the kind of silent, empty-headed angst that men like him fell victim to. But now you realised—he wasn’t staring through you. He was staring at you.

You saw it when you dressed for the gala, slipping into silken dresses and heels, when you pinned your hair into elegant styles, when you traced the lines of your lips with lipstick, perfecting the illusion. You’d catch his reflection in the mirror, eyes fixed on you, dark and unreadable.

Once, he had been so caught up in his daze that he nearly left without putting on his suit jacket. You had to press it into his hands, dragging him out of whatever spell he was under. He had taken it stiffly, mumbling a quiet ‘thanks’ but the heat in his face was unmistakable.

And now, as you sat cross-legged on the bed in a loose nightgown, the fabric riding high on your thighs, the same damn stare was drilling into the side of your face.

The TV flickered before you, an incoherent blur of colours and sound. You weren’t even sure it was in English. It didn’t matter. You weren’t watching it anyway. You were too focused on not focusing on Bucky, who stared at the side of your face like he intended to burn a hole through the flesh.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, running your thumb over your knee. The sheets were soft, the mattress more forgiving than the couch you’d been forced to sleep on last night. At least tonight was your turn back on the bed, though ideally, you’d be back in your own apartment by now, wrapped in high-thread-count luxury courtesy of Tony Stark’s absurd wealth.

God, you missed Egyptian cotton.

Bucky was still staring at you. You couldn’t help it, annoyance, filthy and venomous came pouring out of your mouth before you could stop it. “What? Is there something on my face?”

Bucky startled, his whole body tensing as if you had physically struck him.

“Nothing—” he stammered.

You arched a brow, unimpressed.

“No. There’s obviously something you want to say.” You shifted on the bed, your frustration mounting. “Go on, spit it out.”

He hesitated, his jaw working like he was biting down on whatever words were lodged in his throat.

You didn’t let up. “You sure had a lot to say earlier in the week. What, do you want to dig the knife in further? You might as well just call me a whore while you’re at it—”

“I’m sorry.” Bucky cut over you, his head dipping. You paused, momentarily stunned. He was doing that thing again, where he looked like a scolded dog. Adorable, but not the fucking time.“I shouldn’t have said that, it was inconsiderate of me, especially after... after all you’ve done.”

You frowned. “You don’t owe me anything, Barnes.” The words left your lips quieter this time, but still firm. 

“I snapped at you. And I shouldn’t have.” he admitted. His voice was low, restrained.

You let out a slow breath, pressing your fingers to your temple.

“It’s okay. I understand,” you said, a little softer. “I haven’t exactly been… the kindest either.”

A bitter chuckle escaped him, his fingers twitching against his knee. Then, after a long pause, he asked, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Act like everything is okay. Like it’s normal.” His voice was strained, like he wasn’t even sure if he believed in what he was asking.

You let out a short, almost nervous laugh. “I’m probably not the best person to ask about this—”

“But you get it, right?” He looked at you now, something almost desperate in his gaze. “To not know… who or what you are? Sometimes I… I just want to be normal again.”

You frown deeply, weighing his words carefully. You understood his sentiment, but you knew it was futile. There had never been anything normal about your life—not anything you could remember, at least. The Red Room had seen to that. Your earliest memories were of drills, of ballet, of suffocating discipline, and of the erasure of self. Even now, you weren’t normal; you were an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D for fucks sake, a woman barely pardoned of her crimes, existing in a liminal space. The world's governments couldn’t quite confirm you existed. You were a ghost, a fucking shadow of a person. 

“I don’t think people like us get to be normal,” you said finally, choosing your words carefully.

His expression twisted slightly, like he had already known that answer but had hoped for something different.

“But I think,” you continued, “it would serve you a world of good if you let people in. Steve… Sam. You don’t have to face this all alone—Natasha, Yelena, and I look to each other all the time to process it all and patch together the missing pieces. There’s no shame in it.”

Bucky’s face creased, his body drawing in on itself slightly. You moved before he could shrink further, slipping off the bed and kneeling before him. 

“It’s okay,” you reassured, voice steady. “Just tell me... what is it you need right now?”

His lips parted slightly, then pressed into a thin line. He fidgeted, his fingers clenching and unclenching as if struggling to force out something that had been sitting at the edge of his tongue all week.

Finally, he exhaled, jaw tight.

“I want to take you up on your offer.”

You tilted your head. “My offer?”

Bucky swallowed, eyes flickering to the floor before darting back to you. His voice was hesitant, low—like he was worried some invisible presence might have overheard. “Lessons. Lessons in… love-making. I want to be able to look at a girl without... you know. This fucking week has been torture seeing you—”

He cut himself off, warmth flooding to his cheeks. A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it—light, amused, genuine.

Bucky stiffened, eyes widening slightly, horror flashing across his face as if he thought you were mocking him.

You shook your head quickly, reaching out to place a hand on his knee.

“Of course,” you murmured, smiling. “Thought you’d never ask.”

—

“Is this okay?” you asked softly as you swung your leg over, settling onto Bucky’s lap. The mattress dipped beneath you both, the quiet creak of the hotel bed the only sound between you for a moment. He sat beneath you, legs slightly spread, his hands hovering uncertainly at his sides. You dug your knees into the bed on either side of his thighs, anchoring yourself against him.

His breath hitched, sharp and uneven. “Yes,” he murmured, though there was a noticeable tremor in his voice, like he was still convincing himself.

“Just breathe,” you encouraged, smoothing your hands over his broad shoulders. His muscles were tense beneath your fingertips, wound tight like coiled steel. He swallowed hard.

“What’s worrying you?” You asked gently. “Is there something I can do to make this more comfortable for you?”

Bucky shook his head, a shuddering breath leaving him as his hands finally found purchase on your hips. His grip was hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to hold you. “No,” he said, his voice rough. 

“This is great, I—” He cut himself off, pressing his lips together in frustration.

You tilted your head, studying him, before offering a reassuring smile. Your fingers kneaded into his shoulders in slow, soothing motions, attempting to melt away some of the tension knotted there. “Talk to me,” you coaxed.

His gaze flickered downward, shame creeping into his expression. “I just… don’t want to embarrass myself. Again.”

Your heart clenched at his vulnerability, but you refused to let him linger in self-doubt. Instead, you leant in, your lips curling in a playful smile. 

“You’re cute when you say things like that,” you teased, running your tongue over your lower lip before continuing. “Don’t worry about any of that. Just stay here, in this moment, with me.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he obeyed, focusing on the warmth of your body pressed against his. Slowly, his grip tightened on your hips, fingers kneading into the flesh more firmly this time. His thumbs traced cautious circles against the fabric of your clothing, testing. You let your hands drift from his shoulders down to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“Now,” you murmured, keeping your tone soft but steady, “if you get overwhelmed, or if you need to stop, what do you say?”

“Stop,” Bucky answered without hesitation.

“Good,” you praised, smiling warmly. “And if you can’t speak? If the words won’t come?”

His fingers flexed on your hip before he squeezed in a deliberate rhythm—three distinct beats. You nodded in approval. “Perfect.”

His blue eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching. 

“What about you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more earnest. “If you want to stop?”

You demonstrated by tapping three times against his chest, just over his heart.

“I’ll do the same thing,” you assured him. “Just like we discussed.”

For a moment, he just breathed. His lashes fluttered as he exhaled a slow, measured breath, his hands steadying against you. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible nod, he whispered, “I’m… I’m ready. I think.”

You smiled, fingers tracing a soft, reassuring path along his jaw. 

“Okay. I thought we’d start with kissing, since you seem worried about it. Nice and simple, no pressure,” you murmured, your voice low and reassuring as your fingertips ghosted along his jawline. Bucky swallowed thickly, his adam’s apple bobbing as he leaned into your palm without thinking, nuzzling it like a touch-starved thing. His blue eyes, dark as the ocean in a brewing storm, flickered with something hesitant, something fragile.

“I’m sure you kissed plenty of girls back in the day,” you teased, lips curling as you brushed your thumb over the sharp edge of his cheekbone.

“Oh yeah,” he exhaled, the words dipped in self-deprecation, “until Steve became… well, the Steve he is now. None of the girls spared me a second glance after that.”

You let out a soft laugh, breathy and genuine, and felt the way his body tensed beneath you at the sensation. It was funny how a man who could tear through steel and strike terror into the hearts of the world’s deadliest enemies could turn so shy at something as simple as your laughter.

“You know…” he hesitated, voice quieter now. “You were my first kiss since… well, everything.”

Your teasing grin faltered slightly. You tilted your head, gaze flicking between his eyes and his lips, close enough now that you could feel the steady heat radiating from his skin. 

“Well,” you murmured, the ghost of a smirk curling your lips as you shifted closer, “now I’ll be your second too.”

And then you kissed him.

It was slow at first, a testing press of your lips against his, feather-light and coaxing. Bucky inhaled sharply through his nose, his breath hitching as though he was bracing for impact. But when you didn’t pull away, when you lingered just a little longer, he melted into you—hesitant at first, but eager.

His hands, large and trembling slightly, hesitated at your waist before gripping your thighs as if he wasn’t sure whether to hold you or let you slip away. The warmth of his palms bled through the thin fabric of your nightgown, spreading across your skin like wildfire.

You deepened your kiss, tilting your head to slot your lips more firmly against his, and a quiet sound rumbled in his chest—halfway between a sigh and a groan. Encouraged, you shifted, rocking your hips, the new position pressing your bodies flush together.

Bucky tensed beneath you, fingers digging into your flesh instinctively as you settled against him. His own hips bucked in response, and you could already feel him growing hard against your inner thigh. He pulled back slightly, panting, his lips swollen.

“Am I doing… okay?” he asked, his voice rough.

You smiled, smoothing a hand through his dark hair, tugging him gently forward again. 

“More than okay,” you whispered against his lips before capturing them once more.

This time, he kissed you back without hesitation. His hands gripped your hips, anchoring himself to you as he parted his lips, following your lead. You swept your tongue into his mouth, slow and purposeful, teasing along his lower lip before deepening it. A groan rumbled in his chest, muffled against your mouth.

You rolled your hips, grinding against him with a slow, deliberate rhythm, savouring the way his breath hitched and stuttered beneath you. Even through the layers of clothing, you could feel him—hard, straining, likely aching for more. His fingers dug into your skin, a bruising grip that only added to the heat blooming in your core.

You pulled away from his lips, shifting your attention lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, down his neck. You could feel his pulse hammering beneath your lips, quick and erratic. He tipped his head back, surrendering himself to your touch, a quiet curse slipping from his mouth as you sucked at the sensitive skin below his ear.

“You’re doing so well,” you hummed against his skin, your voice warm and indulgent, laced with soft praise. His body trembled beneath you as he bucked his hips up to meet yours, desperate for more friction, more of you. You rewarded him with a soft, breathy moan, letting him know just how much you enjoyed this too.

“I—” He tried to form words, but they crumbled before they left his lips.

The tension in his body coiled tighter and tighter, like a bowstring pulled taut, ready to snap. His hands clutched at you, grounding himself in the sensation, like the overwhelming pleasure was building too fast for him to control. His breath came in short, needy gasps, his hips stuttering as he lost the rhythm.

“I’m gonna—” His voice broke, his head tilting forward as his entire body tensed beneath you. A strangled moan escaped him, deep and wrecked, as he came undone. His grip on your hips tightened, his thighs trembling slightly beneath yours as his climax overtook him. His body fell back against the sheets, a soft exhale leaving his lips as the last waves of pleasure wracked through him.

You perched above him, still straddling his hips. For a moment, he just lay there, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath. His eyes were half-lidded, dazed, and his lips parted as if he had more to say but couldn’t quite form the words.

“I didn’t mean to finish so early—” he started, his voice hoarse, cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and lingering pleasure. Leaning over, you flipped your hair to one side as your face hovered over his. You silenced him with a lingering kiss, slow and reassuring. He groaned softly into your mouth, still sensitive but already melting into the warmth of your lips. When you pulled away, his shoulders had loosened, the rigid tension gone from his body.

“You did so well,” you murmured, brushing your fingers through his hair. “How do you feel?”

“Good.” 

You grinned, sliding off him and stretching languidly before settling back onto the bed. You exhaled, content. Bucky turned his head to look at you, still slightly frozen in place, as if unsure what to do next. His brows furrowed slightly. “What… what about you? Don’t you want to…?”

You snorted. “That doesn’t matter. This was about you, not me.”

He hesitated, clearly still unused to receiving something without feeling obligated to return it. “But I feel bad leaving you—”

“I’m fine, trust me.” You hummed, closing your eyes as you nestled into the warmth of his arm. “We have a long way to go before you need to be thinking about that.”

Bucky went quiet. You could feel his gaze lingering on you, unreadable.

For a moment, you weren’t sure if he would say anything at all. But then, after a beat of silence, you felt him shift beside you. A hesitant hand—warm and slightly calloused—ghosted over your arm before settling on your waist, drawing you in closer.

“…Thank you,” he murmured at last.

PART TWO

[flux1563]

Seeking attention ft karina

Words :7k

Tags : squirt, titfuck, creampie

"You're not listening to me, Karina," groaned her friend Winter, her voice cutting through the buzz of the crowded cafeteria.

Karina's eyes snapped back to Winter, a hint of annoyance flashing across her face before she plastered on a smile. "Sorry, what'd you say?"

"I said, you're not listening again," Winter repeated with a knowing look. "You've had your eyes on him all week."

"Him?" Karina played coy, but her cheeks betrayed a soft blush as they turned towards the figure Winter indicated—Y/N, the enigmatic scholar who sat at the corner of the room, nose buried in a book. His tall frame and chiseled features made him the center of attention without even trying, yet he remained oblivious to the whispers that followed him. "What about him?"

Winter rolled her eyes. "Come on, Karina. You can't ignore the fact that every guy in class wants a piece of you, but you're pining over the one who barely notices anyone exists outside of his textbooks."

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch and the start of another dreaded afternoon class. Karina's heart skipped a beat as she gathered her books, her thoughts racing. Winter's words echoed in her mind—everyone else saw her as the object of desire, but she only had eyes for the unattainable. The one who didn't seem to care about her curves or her smile. The one who was perfect for her, yet so out of reach.

As the students shuffled out, Karina took a deep breath, steeling herself for the challenge she was about to undertake. She had to get Y/N's attention somehow. She had to make him see her beyond her body. An idea began to form in her mind—she would ask him for help with her homework. It was a simple plan, but it was a start.

That evening, Karina found herself standing nervously outside Y/N's apartment, her heart pounding in her chest. She had sent him her address earlier in the day, hoping he wouldn't think it strange. The door creaked open, and there he was—his piercing gaze meeting hers, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"Hi," she managed to squeak out, her voice betraying her nerves. "I, uh, I need help with my homework."

Y/N looked at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a curt nod, he stepped aside to let her in. "Follow me," he said, his voice low and even.

The apartment was small but meticulously organized. Textbooks and notepads lined the shelves, and a faint scent of coffee lingered in the air—a stark contrast to the chaos that was Karina's own living space. She followed him to a clutter-free desk, her eyes scanning the room for any personal touches that might give her a glimpse into his soul. But there were none, just the cold embrace of academia.

He sat down and gestured for her to take the chair opposite. "What do you need help with?"

Karina's mind went blank. The words she had rehearsed on the way over escaped her. "Everything," she blurted out, feeling like a fool.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing at the corner of his lips. "Everything is a broad subject. Be specific."

Her cheeks burned as she opened her book to a random page, her thoughts racing. This wasn't going how she had planned. "Just...just math," she stuttered. "I'm really bad at math."

For a brief second, she thought she saw a flicker of something warm in his gaze before it was gone, replaced by the cold detachment she had come to expect from him. "Alright," he said, pulling out a notepad and pen. "Where shall we begin?"

And so, the night of tutoring began—a dance of numbers and formulas that Karina stumbled through, eager to impress him with her ability to learn. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more she needed to do to capture his heart. Little did she know, the real lesson of the evening was just about to start.

Y/N's patience was unyielding, breaking down complex problems into bite-sized pieces that she could digest. His eyes never left her face, watching as she struggled, nodded, and finally, clicked with the material. It was as if he could see into her mind, understanding her thought process and gently guiding her to the right answers. The way he spoke—so calm, so certain—was like a balm to her frazzled nerves.

As the hours ticked by, Karina's mind began to wander. The way Y/N's fingers moved with precision across the page, the way his tongue darted out to moisten his lips as he concentrated, the way the light hit his sharp jawline—it all painted a picture of a man who was more than just intellect. He was a masterpiece of focus and discipline, and she found herself drawn to him in ways she hadn't anticipated. Her thoughts grew hazier, and the room felt hotter, her heart racing as she stole glances at his strong arms.

The math grew simpler, but the air grew thicker with tension. Each time their eyes met, there was a spark—quick and fleeting, but it was there. Karina's cheeks flushed, and she swallowed hard, her pulse quickening as she wondered if he felt the same. She tried to shake off the thoughts, telling herself to focus on the task at hand, but it was no use. The more he taught her, the more she found herself adoring him—not just for his brains, but for the way he made her feel seen.

Her bladder finally decided it had had enough of the emotional rollercoaster and interrupted her thoughts. "I need to go to the bathroom," she said, a bit too loudly, her face flushing deeper.

Y/N looked up from the book, his eyes briefly meeting hers before he nodded towards a hallway. "First door on the left," he said, his voice a bit gruffer than usual.

In the bathroom, Karina took a deep breath and stared at her reflection in the mirror. The idea that had popped into her head in the cafeteria now seemed silly and desperate, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she needed to do something drastic. With a shaky hand, she turned the faucet the wrong way, watching as the water spurted out and drenched her shirt. Her heart raced as she called out, trying to sound more panicked than she felt. "Y/N! Help, the sink's broken!"

The footsteps grew closer, and the door swung open. Y/N's eyes widened at the sight of her, his expression a mix of concern and confusion. "What happened?"

"I...I don't know," she lied, trying to look as flustered as possible. "It just sprayed everywhere." Water droplets clung to her lashes and trickled down her neck, her shirt clinging to her skin.

Without a word, he stepped in, his movements efficient as he turned off the faucet and began to mop up the mess. The tension in the room was palpable, and Karina felt her breath hitch as his arm brushed against hers. This was it—her chance to get closer, to show him she wasn't just a pretty face.

He handed her a towel, and she took it, her eyes never leaving his. The fabric of her shirt had grown translucent in the dampness, the lacy outline of her black bra visible beneath it. She knew he could see it, could see the curve of her breasts and the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

Summoning all her courage, Karina took a step closer, her hand shaking slightly as she reached out to him. Before she could second-guess herself, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was tentative at first, a soft brush of skin on skin, but as he didn't pull away, she grew bolder. She felt the towel drop from her hand as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

Y/N's body stiffened for a moment, but then, to her surprise, he relaxed into the embrace. His hands found their way to her waist, holding her gently as he returned the kiss with an intensity that made her knees wobble. Karina's pulse raced as she felt his warmth envelop her, his scent overpowering the lingering smell of ink and coffee in the room. It was everything she had hoped for and more.

Breaking away, she whispered, "Just touch my breast, dear." Her voice was a breathy plea, her eyes searching his for any sign of rejection. For a moment, she thought he might push her away, that she had crossed a line she shouldn't have. But instead, his eyes searched hers, as if looking for an answer she hadn't given. Then, ever so slowly, his hand moved up, his thumb brushing the fabric of her shirt before sliding beneath to graze the sensitive skin of her collarbone.

"Ahh," Karina moaned as his hand finally reached its destination, cupping her breast gently. The feeling was exquisite, and she leaned into his touch, her breath hitching. His thumb traced lazy circles around her nipple, eliciting a whimper from her lips. The warmth of his hand seeped through her damp shirt, sending shivers down her spine.

Without breaking eye contact, Y/N reached behind her and deftly unclasped her bra. It fell away, revealing her full, round breasts to the cool air. He took a step back, his eyes drinking in the sight of her exposed flesh. The look of amazement on his face was all the validation Karina needed—she was more than just a pretty face.

"You should be proud of yourself, Y/N," she murmured, her voice filled with passion. "Everyone in this university wants my body, but they can't have it because I've fallen in love with you."

Y/N's gaze remained locked on her, his expression unreadable, but his actions spoke louder than words. His other hand found its way to her other breast, kneading it gently as he bent his head to take her nipple into his mouth. The sensation was heavenly, and Karina's back arched as a soft moan escaped her. She had dreamt of this moment, of feeling his warm breath against her skin, his lips wrapped around her sensitive flesh. His tongue danced around the peak, flicking and suckling, sending bolts of pleasure straight to her core.

Encouraged by his responsiveness, Karina grew bolder. She reached for the button of his pants, her trembling hand slipping it free and pushing the fabric down just enough to reveal his thick, hard erection. She couldn't believe what she was seeing—nine inches of pure masculine beauty, the girth of it making her mouth water. "Oh, my god," she murmured, her eyes going wide.

Y/N's eyes snapped to hers, a mix of surprise and arousal. He didn't protest as she guided him to sit on the edge of the tub, his back against the wall. "What are you doing?" he breathed, but she could see the desire in his eyes.

"I never knew you had such an...impressive size," Karina said, her voice a seductive purr. She knelt before him, her eyes never leaving his as she wrapped her hand around his shaft, feeling the heat and power of him. "It's like you're holding a piece of the universe."

Y/N's cheeks colored slightly at her words, and he couldn't help the smug smile that tugged at his lips. "I've never had anyone...measure me up quite like that," he said, his voice thick with desire.

Karina's hand looked almost comical around his length, her fingers not even coming close to touching her thumb. "Look, my hand can't even wrap around it," she said, her voice filled with awe. "You're just too big."

Y/N's smile grew wider, a hint of pride in his eyes. "I've been told I'm...gifted," he said, the word rolling off his tongue with a hint of arrogance.

Karina couldn't help but laugh, the sound echoing through the bathroom. "Gifted is an understatement," she said, her hand still stroking him. "But I'm going to need two hands for this."

With a sly smile, she leaned in closer, her ample breasts pressing against his thighs. "Do you like it when my boobs wrap around you?" she asked, her voice playful and full of mischief.

His eyes widened, and he swallowed hard. "I...uh...yes," he finally managed to say, his voice strained.

With a knowing smile, Karina leaned in closer, her breasts pressing against his thighs as she began to move her body up and down in a rhythmic motion, her nipples grazing his shaft with every pass. The feeling was exquisite, and she watched with rapt attention as his expression grew more intense. Her breasts moving faster and faster around his thick cock.

"Karina," he gasped, his eyes squeezed shut as she worked him with her body. "I'm gonna cum."

"Cum on my boobs," she whispered, her voice a siren's call. "I wanna feel it on me, I wanna feel you in me."

The words were barely out of her mouth when she felt him tense, his hands tightening on her shoulders as he let out a deep groan. Warm, sticky cum shot out, covering her breasts and chest in a hot, pulsing wave. She moaned in pleasure, feeling the warmth spread over her sensitive skin. It was a sensation she had never experienced before, and she reveled in the power she had over him in that moment.

Panting, Y/N opened his eyes, looking down at her. His gaze was a mix of shock and lust as he took in the sight of her cum-covered breasts. "I've never..." he trailed off, unable to find the words to express his thoughts.

"It's okay," she murmured, standing up and reaching for him. "We're just getting started."

Their clothes discarded in a pile on the floor, Karina led Y/N to the bedroom, her eyes never leaving his. The air was charged with desire as they tumbled onto the bed, their bodies entwined in a passionate embrace. His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve and valley, worshipping her in a way she had never felt before.

He kissed her again, his tongue delving into her mouth as she straddled him, her wetness coating his stomach. His cock was still semi-hard, and she felt it nudge against her inner thigh, sending a thrill through her. She wanted more—needed more.

With a seductive smile, Karina slid off him and lay down on the bed, her legs spread wide. "Keep playing with me," she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper.

Y/N's eyes darkened as he complied, his fingers moving back to her swollen clit. He teased it mercilessly, circling and flicking, watching as she writhed and moaned beneath him. Her hips rose and fell, seeking the friction she craved, and he took the opportunity to glide his fingers down her body, tracing the path of her curves before returning to her core.

Her breath hitched as he pushed a finger inside her, feeling the warm, wet embrace of her pussy. It was tight and slick, and he could feel her muscles contract around him as he began to move in a slow, deliberate rhythm. He watched her face, memorizing every expression that played across her features—the way her eyes fluttered shut, the soft moans that escaped her lips, the way her cheeks flushed a deep pink.

He added another finger, curling them inside her as he continued to rub her clit with his thumb. Karina's moans grew louder, her body trembling with the effort of holding back. "I'm close," she panted, her eyes squeezed shut. "So close."

"Cum for me, Karina," he urged, his voice thick with need. "Let go."

And with that, she did. Her body arched off the bed, a high-pitched scream tearing from her throat as she came, her pussy clamping down on his fingers. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever felt before—intense and overwhelming. It was as if every nerve ending in her body was on fire, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her.

As her orgasm subsided, Y/N didn't give her a moment to catch her breath. He kissed his way down her body, his mouth finding her sensitive clit once more. He began to suck and lick with renewed vigor, his tongue swirling around the swollen nub in a way that made her hips buck against his face.

"Oh, fuck," she gasped, her eyes flying open. "Oh, oh, oh!"

Y/N felt the warmth of her climax flood over his face, a salty sweetness that only added to his own arousal. Karina's body convulsed above him, her legs trembling and her toes curling as she squirted like a fountain, her juices spraying across his cheeks and chin. It was a sight he had only ever seen in porn, but here it was, happening in real life. He lapped at her, eager to taste every drop, his cock pulsing with need.

Her body finally went lax, her breathing ragged and her skin glistening with sweat. Y/N sat back, wiping his face with the back of his hand, a look of wonder on his own. "I've never seen that before," he said, his voice filled with awe.

Karina giggled, a lightness to her tone that hadn't been there before. "I've never done that before," she admitted, a shy smile playing on her lips. "But with you, it just feels...right."

He leaned in, kissing her deeply, tasting her on his tongue. His hands found her hips, pulling her closer to him. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

The words sent a thrill through her, and she felt a newfound confidence bloom inside her. This wasn't just a physical attraction anymore—it was something deeper, something she hadn't even realized she craved. "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes searching his for any sign of doubt. But all she saw was desire—pure, unbridled lust that mirrored her own.

Without another word, Karina swung her leg over him, straddling his waist. His cock stood at attention, and she took it in her hand, feeling the weight of him, the heat and power of his arousal. She positioned herself over his tip, her heart racing as she lowered herself down. The first inch was tight, a slight burn that made her gasp, but she didn't stop. She wanted all of him—needed all of him.

Y/N watched with bated breath, his eyes never leaving hers as she took him in. His hands found her hips, guiding her, urging her to take more. She felt the head of his cock push against her tight entrance, and then with a sudden, desperate need, she slammed herself down onto him. The pain was there, but it was overshadowed by the pleasure—a white-hot spark that ignited within her.

"Ahh, you're so deep," Karina screamed, her voice echoing off the walls of the small room. His cock filled her completely, stretching her in a way that she had never felt before. She paused, panting, trying to adjust to the feeling of being so completely filled. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she began to rock her hips, sliding up and down his length.

Y/N's eyes rolled back in his head, his hands gripping the bed sheets tightly. "You're so tight," he groaned, his voice strained with the effort of not losing control. "So fucking tight."

Karina's nails dug into his chest as she took him deeper, her body moving in a rhythm that was both agonizing and exhilarating. Each time she slammed down onto his cock, she felt him hit a spot deep within her that no one else had ever reached. It was a feeling she had only dreamed of, a feeling that made her feel alive. "Ahh, so good," she moaned, her voice breathy and full of need.

Y/N watched her, his eyes dark with desire. He could feel her walls tightening around him, her muscles clenching as she grew closer to the edge. "Cum for me again, Karina," he ground out, his own release building.

Obeying his command, Karina raised her pace, her hips moving faster and faster as she chased the elusive orgasm. She could feel it building, the pressure growing until it was all she could focus on. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she threw her head back, her long hair cascading down her back.

Then it hit her—a wave of pleasure so intense that it stole her breath away. "Ahhhh," she screamed, her pussy spasming around Y/N's thick cock as she squirted against his belly. He watched in amazement as a gush of liquid spurted out, painting his stomach and chest with her essence. The sight was erotic, and he couldn't hold back anymore.

"Now it's my turn, Karina," Y/N growled, his eyes dark with need as he raised his hips to meet her thrusts. "Let's come together."

His words sent a jolt of excitement through her, and she eagerly leaned into his rhythm, her body moving in perfect sync with his. She could feel him swelling inside her, the heat of his climax building with every stroke. The room was a symphony of moans and skin slapping together, the sweet scent of sex hanging heavily in the air.

With a final, powerful thrust, Y/N buried himself to the hilt, and Karina felt his warmth flood her as he came with a roar "AHHHHHH". Her own orgasm crashed over her, a second wave of pleasure so intense it left her trembling. She threw her head back, her mouth open in a silent scream, as she felt herself squirt again. It was as if her body was claiming him, marking him as hers.

Collapsing onto his chest, Karina tried to catch her breath, her heart pounding like a drum in her ears. Y/N's chest heaved beneath her, his cock still hard and pulsing inside her. She felt the sticky warmth of their combined releases, the evidence of their passion smearing between them as she moved.

They lay there for what felt like an eternity, the only sounds in the room their heavy breathing and the distant hum of the city outside. The weight of his body was comforting, anchoring her to the world. The feel of his heart beating against her cheek was reassuring, a steady rhythm that matched her own racing heart.

Finally, Y/N pulled out with a groan, and Karina felt a sense of loss as his cock slipped from her. He rolled to the side, taking her with him, and they lay there, their limbs tangled together. She could feel his softening length against her thigh, the stickiness between her legs a constant reminder of what they had just shared.

The silence grew heavier, and Karina felt a twinge of nerves. What came next? Would this be a one-time thing, or had she finally broken through his icy exterior? She turned to look at him, his eyes closed, his face a picture of peace. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

Y/N's eyes fluttered open, and he looked at her with a softness she had never seen before. "For what?" he asked, his voice low and gruff.

"For making me feel...important," she said, the words spilling from her lips before she could stop them. "For noticing me for more than just my body."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. "You're more than just a pretty face, Karina," he whispered, his breath sending shivers down her spine. "Much, much more."

The words were a balm to her soul, and she nestled closer to him, her heart swelling with happiness. The night had started as a simple homework session, but it had turned into so much more—a confession of feelings she had never dared to hope would be reciprocated.

But as the reality of what had just happened sank in, Karina felt a flicker of fear. This was uncharted territory for her—she had never been with someone who valued her mind as much as her body. Would she be able to keep his interest? Would she be enough for him?

Y/N must have felt her tension, because his arms tightened around her, pulling her closer. "Don't worry," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "I've noticed you for a long time now. And I like what I see."

The words sent a shiver of pleasure through her, and she let herself relax into his embrace. For now, she was content to lay there, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking and the promise of what was to come.

But as the moments ticked by, Karina grew restless. She knew she couldn't just lie there forever—there was still so much to explore, so much more of him to experience. With a sultry smile, she rolled off of him, her body still sticky with their combined arousal. "Now get all on fours," Y/N said, his voice a command that sent a thrill through her.

Without a second thought, Karina did as he asked, her hands and knees sinking into the plush comforter. She felt his body shift behind her, the heat of him a stark contrast to the coolness of the room. "What kind of stamina do you have?" she asked playfully, peeking over her shoulder at him.

Y/N's eyes never left hers as he lined himself up with her wet, pink opening. "Let's find out," he replied, a smug smile playing on his lips. With one powerful thrust, he pushed into her, filling her completely. Karina gasped "ahhh", the sensation of his thick cock stretching her was almost too much to handle. It was a feeling she had never experienced before—like a mix of pleasure and pain that left her breathless.

He didn't give her any time to adjust. Instead, he began to pound into her, his hips moving with a fierce, almost brutal rhythm. His hand found her hair, and he gripped it tightly, pulling her head back as he slammed into her again and again. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through her body, making her toes curl and her nails dig into the bed. "AHHHH!" she screamed, the sound a mix of pleasure and surprise.

Karina felt herself stretching to accommodate him, her body adjusting to the relentless onslaught of his thick cock. It was a delicious pain, a feeling she had never experienced before. Each time he hit the deepest part of her, she felt an intense pressure that bordered on unbearable—but she never wanted him to stop. "Yes," she panted, her voice barely audible. "Harder, Y/N. Just like that."

Y/N complied, his movements becoming more forceful. He could feel her body tensing, her muscles clenching around him as she grew closer to climax. He watched her in the mirror, the sight of her bouncing breasts and arched back making him even more determined to push her over the edge. "I'm gonna squirt again," she screamed, her voice echoing off the walls.

He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back as he whispered in her ear. "Do it, Karina. I want to feel you come all over my bed."

And with that, she did. Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her body with a force that made her see stars. Her pussy spasmed around him, gripping his cock like a vice as she squirted uncontrollably. The bed beneath her grew wet, the fabric soaking up her juices as they spurted out in a torrent.

Y/N's hand didn't stop moving, his palm connecting with her ass cheek with a loud smack. She yelped, the pain mixing with pleasure, sending another bolt of sensation straight to her clit. It was a delicious cycle—each spank making her cum harder, each orgasm making her more sensitive to his touch.

"Yess..." she gasped, pushing back into him. "Spank my ass, baby."

He complied with a smack that was harder than the last, and Karina's eyes rolled back in her head, her mouth forming a perfect O of pleasure. "U like that, don't you?" he taunted, his voice a dark growl.

"Yes, I do," Karina moaned, her body begging for more. Each slap of his hand against her flesh sent a fresh wave of arousal through her, making her pussy clench around his cock.

"You're such a good girl," Y/N said, his voice thick with satisfaction as he continued to pound into her. "So responsive to pain."

The smacks grew more intense, each one sending a jolt of electricity through her body. Karina could feel the beginnings of another orgasm building, the pressure in her pussy growing tighter with every hit. "AHHHHH," she screamed, her voice raw and needy. "Y/N, I'm gonna cum again!"

He leaned down, his teeth grazing her ear. "Come for me, baby," he murmured. "Come all over my cock."

With a final, hard spank, Karina's body shattered into a million pieces, her orgasm consuming her completely. She screamed his name as she squirted once more, her pussy flooding him with her release. Y/N groaned, the feeling of her tightening around him too much to resist. He thrust into her one last time, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself deep inside her.

Their bodies went still, both of them panting and trembling with the aftershocks of their shared climax. Y/N leaned down, kissing her neck and shoulder before slowly withdrawing. Karina felt the emptiness acutely, a sudden coldness where he had been so warm and hard.

They lay there for a moment, their limbs entangled, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. Then, with a soft groan, Y/N rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so she was nestled against his side.

Karina lay down beside him, her heart racing. She looked up at the ceiling, trying to process what had just happened. It was more than she had ever dreamed of—more than any of the fantasies she had concocted in her loneliest moments. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "For giving me an orgasm that no one else ever has."

Y/N's eyes searched hers, his expression unreadable. "It was nothing," he said, but the tenderness in his voice belied his words. He stroked her hair, his touch gentle and soothing. "You're welcome to come over for homework help anytime."

The room was quiet, the only sounds their breathing and the distant hum of the city outside. Karina felt a warmth spread through her, a sense of belonging that was new and exhilarating. "I will," she said, her voice filled with promise. "As long as you don't mind me...distracting you like this."

A smirk played on his lips, and he leaned in to kiss her forehead. "I don't mind," he said, his voice low and intimate. "In fact, I might just enjoy it."

With that, Y/N pulled her to her feet, scooping her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing. Karina giggled, her arms wrapping around his neck as he carried her back to the bathroom. The cold tiles against her back were a stark contrast to the warmth of their bodies, and she felt a thrill of excitement at the thought of what was to come.

He set her down gently, his hands sliding down her body to grip her ass. "Bend over," he ordered, his voice firm and commanding. Karina complied eagerly, her hands braced against the cool porcelain of the sink. She felt his cock nudge against her wetness, and she pushed back, eager for more.

Y/N didn't disappoint. With one swift motion, he plunged into her from behind, his cock filling her completely. Karina gasped, her eyes squeezing shut as she felt him stretch her open. He began to move, his hips slapping against her ass as he fucked her with a ferocity that left her trembling.

Each thrust was punctuated by a smack, his hand coming down hard on her ass cheek. The sound echoed through the bathroom, mingling with her cries of pleasure. "Oh, fuck," she moaned, her body writhing beneath his touch. "You're so rough."

"You love it," he grunted, his hand coming down again, this time harder. "You love it when I spank your pretty ass."

And she did. The sting of his hand only made her more aroused, her pussy clenching around him as she pushed back to meet each of his movements. The mirror in front of her was foggy with steam, their reflection distorted but unmistakable. She watched as he claimed her, his hand rising and falling in a rhythm that matched his strokes.

Her body felt alive, each touch a spark that ignited a fire deep within her. She could feel another orgasm building, the pressure in her core growing tighter and tighter with every smack. "Yes," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Keep going."

Y/N's hand never stopped moving, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. Karina's legs began to shake, her body on the edge of something she hadn't felt before. It was as if every nerve ending was alight, every inch of her skin sensitive to his touch.

And then it hit her—a climax so intense it felt like a supernova. Her pussy clamped down on him, her body convulsing as she screamed his name. He didn't stop, his hand never faltering, his cock plunging into her with a relentless pace. "Cum for me," he growled, his voice a dark command that sent shivers down her spine.

And cum she did, her pussy spasming around him as she squirted once again. Y/N watched in amazement, his own release building until he couldn't hold back any longer. With a final, brutal thrust, he came deep inside her, filling her with his warmth.

They stood there, panting and shaking, for a long moment. The only sound in the room was the dull thud of their hearts and the distant rush of the shower. "You're mine," Y/N murmured, his voice a gentle rumble in her ear.

Karina leaned back into him, her body still trembling. "Yes," she whispered, the word a declaration of ownership. "I'm yours."

Their bodies were slick with sweat, their breaths mingling as they held each other close. The world outside didn't matter anymore—all that existed was the two of them in that small, steamy room.

But eventually, the moment passed, and reality began to creep back in. "We should clean up," Karina murmured, her voice still shaky with the aftermath of pleasure.

Y/N nodded, his arms sliding from around her waist. He stepped back, giving her the space to stand up straight. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said, his voice a mix of satisfaction and concern.

Karina felt a blush creep up her neck as she turned to face him. She had never been so exposed to anyone before, not even herself in the mirror. But with Y/N, she felt a strange sense of vulnerability that was thrilling rather than terrifying. She watched as he grabbed a towel, his own body still flushed with arousal.

He wrapped the towel around her waist, tucking it in gently. "Come on," he said, taking her hand and leading her to the bathroom. The cold tile felt good against her hot skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the room they had just left.

Y/N turned on the shower, the water spraying hot and steamy. He stepped in, pulling her in after him. The water cascaded down their bodies, washing away the sweat and cum that had painted them both. He took a washcloth, his movements deliberate and tender as he began to clean her. The sensation of the cloth moving over her skin, combined with the warm water, was almost too much for her to handle. "You're so gentle," she murmured, her eyes drifting shut.

He didn't respond, his focus solely on her. He washed her thoroughly, taking his time to pay special attention to her breasts and pussy. His touch was soft but firm, as if he was afraid to break her. Karina felt her body responding to him again, her arousal building once more.

But she knew they couldn't go on like this forever. "We should get out," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "We're going to turn into prunes."

He chuckled, his eyes meeting hers. "You're right," he said, turning off the water. He stepped out first, grabbing two towels from the rack and handing one to her. They dried each other off, the silence between them a comfortable one.

Once they were both dressed again, Y/N turned to her, his expression serious. "I need to tell you something," he said, his voice low.

Karina felt a sudden knot in her stomach. What was it? Had she done something wrong? "What is it?" she asked, her voice small.

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching hers. "I didn't just do this because you're...beautiful," he began, his words tentative. "I did it because I care about you, Karina."

The confession was like a weight lifted from her shoulders. "I know," she said, her voice firm. "And I care about you, too."

He leaned in, his hand cupping her cheek. "I want us to be more than just...this," he whispered, his thumb brushing against her bottom lip. "I want to get to know you—all of you."

Karina felt a warmth spread through her chest. "I'd like that," she murmured, standing on her tiptoes to press her lips to his.

The kiss was sweet, filled with all the unspoken promises of a future together. When they pulled away, she knew that this was just the beginning. "Let's go back to the living room," she suggested, taking his hand. "We have the whole night ahead of us."

Y/N nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "I've got an idea," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "How about we start with a movie?"

They settled onto the couch, their bodies still humming with the aftermath of their passionate encounters. Karina curled up against him, feeling more content than she had in a long time. The TV flickered to life, but neither of them really watched it. Instead, they talked—about their hopes, their fears, their deepest secrets.

And as the night grew darker outside, their bond grew stronger, weaving a web of trust and desire that neither of them wanted to break. For the first time in a long time, Karina felt truly seen—not just for her body, but for the person she was inside.

Y/N pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her in a fierce embrace as they lay down on the bed, their limbs intertwined. The scent of their lovemaking still lingered in the air, a potent reminder of the passion that had just transpired between them. Karina's heart fluttered in her chest, the feeling of his naked skin against hers both familiar and new.

The sun had just begun to peek through the blinds, casting a soft glow across their entwined bodies. The light danced across Y/N's features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the softness in his eyes. He leaned down to kiss her, a gentle pressure that spoke of affection rather than lust. Karina felt her heart melt a little more with each brush of his lips.

"We should get ready," Y/N murmured, reluctantly breaking the kiss. "We don't want to be late for class."

Karina groaned, burying her face in his chest. "Just five more minutes," she begged, her voice muffled. But she knew he was right—they had to face the world outside of this cocoon of intimacy.

With a sigh, they both sat up, the cold air of the room hitting them like a slap in the face. Karina watched as Y/N stood, his cock still semi-hard and glistening with their combined juices. The sight made her stomach flutter, and she couldn't help but admire the way his muscles rippled as he reached for his boxers.

They dressed quickly, the act of putting on their clothes almost mundane in comparison to the intensity of the night before. But even as they stepped into the crisp morning air, Karina felt a newfound lightness in her step.

They walked together to the university, her hand in his, their bodies close enough to feel the heat of each other. As they passed other students, she noticed the glances thrown their way—a mix of surprise and envy. Y/N had always been the quiet, brooding genius, and she had always been the flirty, popular one. But now, they were something more—something she hadn't even known she wanted.

Men's eyes followed them, lingering on Karina's curves and the way she leaned into Y/N. They whispered among themselves, their voices filled with disbelief. "How did he get her?" she heard one of them murmur, the words sending a thrill through her.

Y/N seemed oblivious to the attention, his focus solely on her. He held the door open as they entered the lecture hall, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. Karina couldn't help but feel a sense of pride, a swell of happiness that he was hers—at least for now.

As they took their seats, she couldn't stop herself from laying her head on his shoulder, her hand wrapping around his arm. He tensed for a moment, then relaxed, his hand coming up to squeeze hers. It was a silent declaration, a promise that no matter what the day brought, they had each other.

The professor droned on about calculus, but Karina's mind was elsewhere. She was lost in the sensation of Y/N's warmth beside her, the feel of his muscles shifting as he took notes, the way his eyes would occasionally flicker over to hers. It was as if their night of passion had forged an unbreakable bond between them, a connection that went beyond the physical.

But she knew it wasn't all rainbows and butterflies. They had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed, and she couldn't help but wonder how it would affect their dynamic outside of his apartment. Would he still be cold and aloof in class, or would he treat her differently? And what about the other students—would they whisper and gossip?

Karina pushed the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the steady beat of Y/N's heart beneath her ear. For now, she was content to bask in the warmth of his presence, to revel in the knowledge that she had managed to crack open the shell of the enigmatic student she had been pining for so long.

The rest of the world could wait—for now, all that mattered was the here and now, and the promise of what was to come.

---

Winter's words played on a loop in Karina's mind as she sat in class, unable to focus on the lecture. "I think you got what you wanted, Karina," Winter had said, her voice filled with a knowing smile. "Tell me your stories." Winter's curiosity was palpable, and Karina felt a blush creeping up her neck as she thought of the tales she could now share.

Her thoughts drifted back to the night before, the way Y/N had looked at her with such intensity, his eyes dark with passion. It had been more than just a physical connection—it had been a meeting of minds, a melding of souls that had left her feeling both exhausted and invincible.

Karina leaned back in her chair, her eyes glazing over as she remembered the feel of Y/N's cock sliding into her, the way he had filled her so completely. It had been more than just sex—it had been a declaration of intent, a claiming that she had never experienced before.

But Winter was waiting, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Karina knew she had to tread carefully, to choose her words wisely. After all, this was new territory for her—how did you explain to your best friend that you had not only slept with the guy you've been crushing on for months but had also managed to break through his stoic exterior?

---

"So, what happened?" Winter asked eagerly as they met up for lunch, her eyes wide with anticipation. Karina took a deep breath, her heart racing as she recounted the events of the previous night. Winter's jaw dropped, her eyes never leaving hers as she listened to the details of their steamy encounter.

"You've got to be kidding me," Winter whispered when Karina finished, her voice filled with awe. "You actually did it. You got him to crack."

Karina couldn't help the smug smile that played on her lips. "It wasn't easy," she admitted, "but I think I've figured out the trick."

"Well, spill it," Winter said, leaning in. "I want to know everything."

Karina took a sip of her soda, her mind racing with the memories of Y/N's gentle touch, his fierce passion, and the way he had made her feel. "You just have to be...persistent," she said finally. "And vulnerable. He's not like other guys—you can't just throw yourself at him and expect him to catch you."

Winter nodded, her gaze thoughtful. "So, you had to show him that you're more than just a pretty face," she mused. "That you actually care about him, not just his body."

Karina nodded, feeling a warmth spread through her. "Exactly. And once he saw that, he couldn't resist."

The cafeteria buzzed with the chatter of students, but the two of them sat in their own little bubble, lost in their conversation. Winter's eyes were filled with admiration, and Karina felt a sense of pride that she had managed to do what no one else had.

[tbaluver]

Hewoo! I'm so so soo weak for your family fluff headcanons aaa can I request a scenario of the little kiddies of LADS men sneaking off with reader's phone and made a video call to their papas because they've been away from home and/or simply making a silly video call to brighten up their papas day? 🥺🫶🏻

˗ˏˋ Incoming Baby Call!˗- The Love And DeepSpace Men

featuring ( in order ): xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb genre: fluff fluff summary: your child(ren) sneak off with your phone to call them a/n: hihi anonnie! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ WAHHH THANK YOU MWAH i love writing them as dads like i fear i want no husband as long as its them .·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·. this one is not beta read so i apologize for any mistakes! i have so much wip of them as papas that i hope to post soon <3 anyways i hope i did this request with justice ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ i hope you enjoy reading! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Xavier was exhausted and hungry, his mission dragging on longer than he’d hoped. He couldn’t wait to get back home, pick up some dinner for his family, and finally relax. He couldn’t wait to wrap up this mission and be back home with you both.

Just as he refocused on tracking the wanderer, a soft ringtone caught his attention. Without a second to spare, he answered once he saw your name flash through his screen. But instead of you, his little boy appeared instead holding his plushie-shaped cookie.

“Hi, little buddy.” Xavier smiles softly. His son, as usual, flashes a cute peace sign in front of the camera. It was a little habit he did whenever there was a camera around and it’s a habit that you both hope he’d never outgrow.

“Papa,” his son whispers, holding up the tiny plushie to the screen as if he were offering it to him.

“Are you offering me a bite?” Xavier asked, playing along as his son nodded eagerly. “Thank you. It tastes great,” He adds, pretending to chew thoughtfully and giving a mock critic nod. “I think we should get more of these.”

It warmed Xavier’s heart to see his son share food even through the screen. Perhaps it’s something he’d watched you both share meals often and picked up on it. “Don’t forget to share with mommy too, okay?” His son nods enthusiastically, his chubby cheeks puffing out. “By the way, where is mommy?”

His son placed a finger to his lips to quietly shush him as he tilted the phone to the side, revealing you peacefully napping close to him, a plushie tucked under your arm. Xavier chuckles softly, not wanting to disturb you.

“Alright, let’s keep it quiet so we don’t wake mommy up okay?” He whispers, “If you take a nap now, I’ll be home before you know it.”

His son nods sleepily as he snuggles up closer to you. Even in such a small and simple moment, Xavier couldn't help but feel grateful. It reminded him just how lucky he was to come home to a family with so much love.

Zayne:

It was another busy night at the hospital. Multiple reports to go through before checking up on several other patients who are waking from surgery in a few hours. Another stressful night, but he’ll manage like he always does. Just as he was about to settle down in his seat, he checked his phone.

11 missed calls

Concern floods his body as he immediately calls you, only to find your baby daughter on the other end. “Papa!” She coos, her sweet little smile makes him feel slightly relieved. 

“Hi my love, where is Mommy?”

“in the bafroom,” She replies casually, his heart easing. That would be correct, her snowman pajamas tell him that you both should be getting ready for bed right about now. “Papa! I miss you..Are you going home now?” She pouts into the screen and Zayne only chuckles into the camera, adjusting his glasses. 

“Not yet my love.” He says softly, her pout deepening further. “I’m sorry but it seems that I’ll be here for a while.” His heart twinges at his own words. As much as he hates to disappoint his daughter, he knows this is a part of his job, something she’ll understand better as she grows older.

“But whyyy? Can’t you work here instead? You look tired papa.” She whines with pleading eyes, hoping this time she can make her father come home early again. 

He chuckles, he must’ve heard you both talking about his reports in the morning and mistaken it for something like homework. “Not tonight my love. Unfortunately, some patients need me right now”

She pouts, her head turning away, and he can’t help but feel worried. Did he upset her? He would hope not, he would want her to sleep well tonight. Maybe he should come home early or he can make it up by getting secret sweet treats together again.

“Papa, how about I read you a book then?” She asks, breaking his thoughts. She held up a book that she’s been practicing with. Maybe she noticed the bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep and is trying to cheer him up in her own little way.

“Of course,” A smile tugs on his lips as he adjusts the phone so he can hear her better. She opens the book, sounding out each word with Zayne occasionally helping her with the tricky ones. His heart swells as he watches her, she’s already growing up so fast.

She stops reading when he hears your voice in the background, asking her what she’s doing. “I’m talking to papa, mommy! I’m reading to him right now” You chuckle, thinking she was talking to a picture of him on your phone again but don’t realize she’d manage to call him this time.

“Sorry, Zayne! We can call you another time!” You quickly grab the phone to see your handsome husband’s face on the screen. You know at this hour isn’t his break but before you can say anything more, Zayne gently cuts you off.

“No, it’s fine. Stay, please. Let her keep going. I haven’t taken my break yet anyway.” His voice softens with a chuckle when he hears her cheer in the background. You smile, adjusting the phone and settling her on your lap. Together, you both help her continue reading her story before you say your goodnight’s.

Rafayel:

Boredom isn’t even the word to cover it. Rafayel felt tired, drained, from the endless back and forth conversations with multiple collectors, sucking away all the energy from him. The more he conversed with them, the heavier his eyelids became. He wanted to yawn, to make it clear how uninterested he was in their never-ending rambling. However, if he did, Thomas would surely give him an earful later or worse another due date for another art project.

He glanced around the room, jealousy gnawing at him as he watched a group of an artist's family admiring art together. He wished you and the kids were here with him. He would’ve had you here if he hadn’t procrastinated to accept the invite, the room’s capacity was already maxed out and the lists of invites were soon closed.

As the collector rambled on, Rafayel could feel his eyes slowly drooping, surely soon enough the glass in his hands would drop. Luckily, just when he thought he might lose the last bit of focus, his phone ringing caught his and the collector’s attention.

“Excuse me, it’s my wife.” The collector nodded, walking away, giving Rafayel the perfect opportunity to slip into a private bathroom.

As soon as he answered the phone, his heart lifted. On the screen were his little bundles of joy. “My little glubs!” A wide grin spread across his face, his eyes lighting up as the kids' tiny smiles beamed back at him. “What are you guys doing? Where’s Mama?" He asks, tilting his head, hoping to catch a glimpse of you through the screen.

“She’s cleaning!” One of the kids chirped, earning a playful shushing from her siblings. Rafayel chuckled, they had definitely taken your phone again.

“Papa, can you come home now? We’re bored and we miss you!” Their pleas echoed from each other, hoping he could understand that they really missed him. His heart ached, he could practically feel their tiny arms reaching out to him through the phone.

“Just a couple more hours and I’ll be home, I promise. Then we can play all night long, yeah?” He raised a brow, tilting his head.

“No Daddy! We made something for you!” One of them piped up, excitement bubbling in his voice.

“Yeah! We made our own art...ex..exa? examission?” The word came out cute, and Rafayel’s sure he meant to say was exhibition. Rafayel didn’t know yet but they had planned to surprise him with their own little art show that you were secretly setting up in the living room. You figured it would be a good idea to cheer him up after a long day without his family. However, you didn’t know the kids would take your phone while they ran off to go ‘play’.

“Papa, you have to come soon or else we’ll close!” His youngest insisted. Raf smiled, realizing this was one of their clever little ways of getting him to hurry home before they had to go to bed.

He paused for a moment, tapping his finger on his chin. His kids waited in anticipation, a playful grin spreading across his face as an idea sparked in his head. “Got it!” He said, snapping his fingers. “I’m coming home now!” The sounds of cheerful giggles erupted on the other side of the line.

Rafayel quickly exits out of the bathroom, Thomas follows behind closely while he asks where does he thinks he's going. Rafayel mentioned briefly that he had another art exhibition that was way more important than this one, making it enough to leave Thomas confused and stop in his tracks.

Sylus:

There’s nothing more infuriating when the tradesmen don’t want to cooperate even if they’re tied up. They whine and complain but the moment they realize no one’s listening, they cry out for help. But before their pleas can even form properly, Sylus silences them with a single look, fear flickering across their faces.

“One moment,” He says, raising an index finger to quiet them. Everyone's attention shifts to his ringtone, a melody of a childish tune unexpectedly playing from the speakers. The tradesmen freeze, exchanging confused glances at each other.

“Bossman said one moment!”

“Yeah, one moment!” Luke and Kieran chimed in, nodding as they let Sylus step away

Sylus taps the green button, his brow furrowing as he sees your name and contact photo flash on the screen. A wave of concern washes over him, did something happen while he was away? But that worry disappears when he sees his daughter's bright, familiar face light up on his screen.

“Daddy!! Hi daddy hiii!!” She chirps, waving excitedly at him.

“Hello, my little dove. What’s going on? Are you and Mommy alright?” He feels the tension in his shoulders ease when she nods rapidly, her little pigtails that you tied bouncing up and down. His heart melted at the sight of her, she looked almost identical to him, with white hair and red eyes yet her personality reminded him so much of yours.

“She’s in the kitchen,” She whispers as if she was sharing a secret. He assumes that she’s taken your phone in secret again. It should be fine, he has taught her to use the phone for emergencies. This wouldn’t count as much as one but he needed to take a step away before he caused one. “Papa, are you okay?” Sylus pauses, taken aback by just how perceptive she is. Perhaps it’s the vein on his forehead that’s threatening to pop. She’s sharp just like her mother.

He exhales deeply. “It’s just a rough night sweetie.”

Her brows furrowed with concern and her pout deepened, pitying her father. How she wished to hug him through the screen. “Papa, how about I sing you a song!” She offers, earning another soft chuckle from Sylus. He always sings her to sleep or cheers her up with a song so it’s no wonder she picked up the habit from him.

“Go ahead, my dove.”

Her vocals were very much like her father’s. When she spots his grin, her confidence grows, making her sing even louder.

“Make it stop!” One of the tradesmen suddenly screams, his voice cracking in desperation. “I’ll give you whatever you want- just please make it stop!” He cries, making Sylus’s ears twitch, the vein in his forehead threatening to make a reappearance.

“Papa, what was that?” She asks, tilting her head innocently.

“I think it was your audience dear. They seemed to enjoy your performance.” Her face immediately lights up, letting out a gleeful cheer.

“Can you give me a moment sweetie? I’ll be right back,” He quickly mutes the call and shuts off the camera. Quickly he extracts the necessary information before the men are lifted from the ground, their feet dangling helplessly in the air as red tendrils swirl around them. Despite their begs and cries, they vanished into thin air, leaving the room finally quiet.

With the problem dealt with, Sylus flips his phone back on. He hears your daughter’s cheerful greeting from the other end of the call, her innocent enthusiasm makes his smile return.

“Looks like you brought some good luck little dove. It seems we’re heading home early tonight.”

Caleb:

It had been a long, grueling shift in the skies. Nothing but endless stretches of blue with a few clouds to break the dullness. The minutes dragged by, each one feeling longer than the last. Caleb sat in his cockpit, his elbow propped on the console and his chin resting on his hand as he gazed at his screen. He could handle a shift here and there but ever since your family has grown, miles away from everything he cared about, it weighed on him.

That’s when a familiar, cheerful ringtone broke through the silence.

Caleb immediately perks up, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips when he sees your name and a photo of you flash on the screen. However it wasn’t you on the other end, it was someone much smaller and cuter and very much identical to him.

“Dad, dad!” The little boy grins ear to ear. Caleb couldn’t help but grin back, the weariness from his shift fading away.

“Hey there, squirt! What’s up?” Nothing seems to be wrong as he reads from his son’s facial expression. “Where’s mom? Everything alright there?” But of course, he just had to make sure. He would not hesitate to fly this ship back around.

“Yeah! She’s in the kitchen cleaning up. I ate all my vegetables just like you said!” His son beamed, making Caleb chuckle, shaking his head fondly.

“Good job! Don’t forget to thank your mom too, alright?” Your son nods enthusiastically, his eyes sparkling but Caleb couldn’t figure out why he could be so hyper until he held up a thick book about the Jurassic era.

“Dad, I finished this whole book!” He said, flipping through the pages to show his dad the pictures. “Did you know black beetles are one of the only creatures that survived the Jurassic era? We should go find some!” His tiny finger lands on a picture of a massive beetle, his eyes wide with awe.

Caleb chuckled, his heart melting at how much his son was almost like him. “That’s awesome buddy. You know, I think-”

Before Caleb could say anything more, a soldier by his door interrupts him. “Colonel, sir-!” Caleb’s fingers twitched, slamming the door shut before he finished his sentence. 

He returned his attention to his son, letting him continue his chatter about dinosaurs, and beetles while Caleb would chime in, sharing a little fact or story like how he used to tell you when you were walking on your way to school or just to help you fall asleep at nights.

Time seemed to slip away as Caleb listened to his son’s excited ramblings, the hours of his shift seemed to go faster than he realized. Even though he still had a while to go, hearing the voice of his family was enough to keep him going.

ʚɞ cr. for the divider @/ cafekitsune

ʚɞ my other works if you want to check it out! Love And DeepSpace Masterlist, Pg. 2

[scribblemesylus]

What they need to hear from you

The one where you comfort him : Caleb, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus, Xavier

Hello! This is my first official writing of the LaDS characters; I hope you enjoy it! comments and reposts and love are most appreciated! 💕 The reader is the MC in this one! Angsty (but happy endings) No other warnings.Thank you to my friend who helped me find some inspiration for this post <3

Caleb

Caleb always tried to be the Caleb you remembered, even if he could not remember it that well, he searched through the little memory he had left to piece himself together. Because it was for you. He saw your face that day, the day you told him you didn't need him. That look in your eye, he didn't know exactly what it was; disgust? Pity? Terror? He couldn't recognise it. So, instead of acting like it never happened, he tried to make himself better, just so you would never leave his side again... you liked him before, right? So, it shouldn't be too hard... right?

Turns out, it was harder than he had ever imagined, after all the time he had not seen you since you were released from his fleet, everything between the two of you became suffocatingly awkward. Neither of you knew what to do, what to say, he was beginning to believe that even with the silly coupon (he didn't find it silly... not really), there was no salvaging what the two of you had.

He had destroyed it all in desperation to have you.

So, even though whenever he was near you, he felt like as if is chest was caved in from shame; he stayed by your side. Letting himself silently suffocate because that is what he deserved for letting you down -- or so he believed. It wasn't until you came back injured from a mission, where he ran to you, but he didn't dare touch you, his hands just sort of... hovered over your injuries, his eyes darting around, his brain trying desperately to find a way he could help you without terrifying you again. You sighed and watched him before slowly reaching toward his hand, your fingers brushing against the top of his hand "Caleb..." You whisper, your now strained relationship was hurting a lot more than your physical injuries "Caleb, I am not scared of you... I need you to help me." You push and look at him "Please.." It was true, what happened in Skyhaven was behind you and even though it was killing you with how different the two of you were compared to before, you aren't able to clean all these wounds yourself.

Caleb's eyes softened immediately, and he nodded. "Of course, Pipsqueak, you must be hurting a lot; I'm sorry." He quickly got up and grabbed the first aid kit as he slowly sat you down gently and began to look at your injuries, taking a deep breath before he peeled your sleeves away. "Pips... where did you go to... to get these types of injuries?" He asked gently, but when he was met with nothing but silence, he let out a sigh. "Please, prioritise your safety..." He muttered before continuing to help you as you focused on other wounds. You turn to him and nod "I do, it's just-" He didn't need you to explain, "I know." Was all he said before finishing up and packing the first aid kit "Do you... uh.." He scratched the back of his neck. "Need help with anything else?" He asks gently, but when you shake your head, he just gives you a soft smile and lets you be.

He stood in the kitchen and sighed gently as he slipped the first aid kit back into the cupboard. It wasn't easy to see you like this, in pain and uncomfortable. He just wanted to fix everything; he was good at it whilst he was younger, so why wasn't he good at it now?

He knew you had to do this; you had to save the people the way that you and he weren't in that catastrophe, but he wondered if you were trying to prove something to yourself, too. Caleb wanted to push them, tell you that saving the world wasn't your responsibility, but he has just got you back; you're finally not scared of him anymore; he couldn't ruin that. All he could be is glad that you were here now, that you came to him after all.

He closed the cupboard and prepared a small cup of hot chocolate for the two of you, and sat in the sitting room, waiting for your return.

After getting changed into comfier clothing, you nestled into Caleb, your heart racing slightly in fear he would reject this form of affection after so long... after what you said to him. But, he welcomed it and wrapped his arm around you. "I want to go back to how we used to be.." You say softly, looking up at his big purple eyes. "A-At least, start working towards it... You're my home, Caleb... I don't want this... awkwardness anymore."

You swore you could almost see him levitate off the couch as he practically shone with happiness as if those were the only words he ever needed to hear. "Anything you want, Pipsqueak, I am yours to command."

Rafayel

Rafayel was not an insecure man. At least, that is what everyone else thought. Rafayel, on the other hand, was not so sure. It is not that he felt insecure; it's more he felt this emptiness inside of him, and he had no clue what to fill it with. After all these years, he had you in his grasp once more, so close, yet so far. Because he remembered everything, he even knew what was to come, but you? You're so clueless. He knew how he lost you, how he would lose you and how he could lose you. And he had to deal with this pain and anger all alone.

His past failures jabbed into him as if he were Prometheus, constantly being pecked by a bird. He lived between what was his life and the life he had before, dealing with the betrayal he caused, all for the one he loved, for you, but you didn't know. You will never know.

A part of him did not want you to ever find out what kind of monster he was, afraid he would scare you away, like the otherworldly beast he is, but the other part of him was so tired of carrying this alone.

He wasn't insecure in himself, but insecure for what he could do for you, insecure in his love for you. Would it be enough for you to stay? For the two of you to finally have an entire lifetime together? Would it be worth plunging his people into darkness?

It was a constant spiral he had since you came back into his life, like a rollercoaster, but forever stuck on the loop, the happiness that he finally has you and the pain of what he was - it was a never-ending cycle. That a part of him didn't want to escape; he deserved this pain after all, didn't he? For what is a God who does not live in shame for causing suffering to his people?

But, deep down, he was just afraid he would become unloveable in your eyes. That was his deepest, darkest fear, the one that drowned him in darkness once the night time hit.

You knew something was wrong. It seems silly but when your world was a bit duller, when the grey clouds seemed more prominent or when the lakes and seas swayed as if it was heavy, you knew Rafayel was not himself. So, with a spare bag of seashells in hand and some of the rare materials you knew he liked, you headed over to his place.

The plastic bag twisted against your fingers, almost cutting off circulation entirely as you made your way through the streets and to the beach, slipping your spare key out of your pocket and into the keyhole of the gate, twisting it a few times to unlock the gate.

You gently swished the bag beside you as you made the way to the door, and you imagined your boyfriend's smile when he saw you. However, your heart fell to your stomach as Rafayel's 'organised' mess was scattered and ruined across the floor. The studio was a mess and unkempt; it was almost like an abandoned building.

"Rafayel?" You called out and looked around the place before you saw him sitting on the balcony.

He turned to you, his eyes screaming emotions at you that you had never seen on him before "Cutie..." He whispered meekly.

You fell to your knees by his side once you approached his side and cupped his face "Darling? What has happened? Are you struggling to paint?" You ask as you caress his cheek, your heart fluttering as he leans in as if he hadn't been touched by you in weeks (he saw you yesterday)

"Will you still love me, no matter what I become?" He asked you suddenly, and you froze as you looked at him; the two of you had silently loved each other until now, finding other ways to highlight your love rather than saying it.

"Of course you wouldn't." He muttered bitterly and turned from you, missing how your brows scrunched together with a mix of confusion and anger

"What-?"

"How could an angel like you love a monster like-" "I love you." You blurt out and make him face you, "I wanted to say it in a more romantic way, in a way that you will always remember.... but I love you, Rafayel, no matter what you become.." You smile softly and place a kiss on his cheek and caress it into his skin as if to heal him.

Rafayel's hand slipped down from above yours to your wrist as he searched your eyes for any deceit.

"Promise?" He asks, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly as he anticipates your answer.

"I promise, my heart has always been yours and always will be.

Rafayel may have a piece of him missing, but he was sure it was to be filled by you.

Zayne

Zayne is a man who craves control, not over anyone else, just over himself. He had to, because if he was void of control, there would be cracks and the cracks he could not let you see. If you saw his cracks, how could you trust him as your doctor?

He had let you down once, all those years ago when he left you, abandoned you, even if it was not his choice. But he had a choice now and he would use it to make sure he never let you down again.

So, every single crack he kept to himself, stayed up later, worked later until he could fill them all up again before he could see you. However, as he scribbled down notes on his research, the memories of his nightmares played in his mind, taunting him, punishing him, and he came to accept he deserved it. He shouldn't have let all those people come to die, he was a doctor, and a doctor's role was to save a life, not to let it fade away, yet with every year, the list of his letdowns grew.

Everyone told him that it was expected: that to save a life, you were bound to lose a few; it was how life worked. But not for Zayne, not at all, because with every name that appeared on that list, he was afraid it was a name closer to yours.

He couldn't have that, not when he gave up the life he wanted for yours to prevail.

You, on the other hand, were becoming increasingly worried and slightly frustrated with your doctor because this was the third time you tried to coax him out of his office. You have tried everything; cake, macaroons, sweets... all came to a disappointing ending. You thought that trying something as harmless as sweets wouldn't highlight your increasing worry, and it was small enough so you could get a small look at him.

It had almost been two weeks now, and so you made your way to the hospital. You just wanted to know that he was okay and maybe scold him slightly for shutting you out... again.

Once the doors slid open, you gently greeted Yvonne and walked to Zayne's office after making sure he had no more patients to see. You looked down at the box, a small muffin for Zayne, before inhaling and knocking on the door.

Gosh, you hope he doesn't reject you because as your knuckles collide with the door, It dawns on you that he might be avoiding you because you might have done something wrong.

"Come in."

You gulp down and hold the small box a little tighter in your hand, causing it to crease slightly before opening the door. You shifted on your feet as he was too immersed in his work to even look up at you.

"Hi." You greet him gently and slip the muffin on the table, and his eyes instantly break away from the paper at the sound of your voice

"I thought that since you wouldn't come to me for the sweet treats, I would just come to you because I know you cannot go too long without them." You say lightly and place yourself on the chair opposite his desk.

"Thank you." He says softly and looks between you and his work a couple of times before bunching the papers together in a neat pile and slipping them away. "Did you just come from a mission?" You raise a brow. "Are you not going to explain why I haven't seen you in two weeks? I know being a doctor is exhausting, Zayne, but you normally tell me ahead of time-"

"I didn't want to worry you over something foolish. I have it under control."

"Under control? What is under control? Why aren't you talking to me? You know that I am here." The words fall out, conveying your desperation. You had felt empty without him, alone, and you didn't want to feel that again. "It does not concern you, Y/N." He retorts, "If I thought you needed to know, I would have told you." You bite back your words and nod "Alright.." You sit there silently. You would've typically left, but something told you that this time, you needed to stay, that he needed you.

After a few beats of silence, you try again. "You don't have to keep it all to yourself... I know it may not concern me, but that doesn't mean you have to lock it away."

He tensed up. He hated how you could still see through him, even after all this time. He pulled away from his computer, which he was only looking at to control his anxiety for nearly scaring you away. He released the tension in his shoulders and took the muffin. "I lost a patient... two weeks ago."

Sylus

'What a fool' is all he could think as he sat in his office, piles of vinyl scattered across his usually clean office. No tune or genre was calming him. After all this time, after sensing you like he did, after preparing this life for you, he had scared you away.

He couldn't bear to think that because of who he was, his reputation, and who you believed he was made him lose you, not after all this time, not after the promise the two of you shared, not after what you went through.

He was a fool for pushing you too quick, too hard; his excitement and desperation had blinded him; why was he so hellbent on making you remember if he could just build new memories with you? Foolish.

You not remembering a thing, he could get behind, it made sense, but your hatred, your disgust. That he could not get behind, no matter what you believed about him. All he wanted to do was to have you in his arms and to show you what he had made. It might not be the cave you had a lifetime ago, but it was spectacular in this lifetime. A lifetime he built for you, and you didn't even want it.

He supposed he could understand. You did think he killed your family, even though he would never. All he would do would be to keep you safe. It pained him to understand your point of view, to see him as a monster. He was in his last life, so it only made sense that he was in this one.

But he had made you fall in love with him once, and back then, he was truly a monster, so he could make you fall for him again. He just had to give you the choice to choose him.

So, over the next few weeks, he let you choose him, come back to him. Not pushing or pulling, he didn't need to; the door was always open, and you knew that.

That didn't stop his heart from doing flips in his chest each time he saw you walk through the base's doors.

Tonight, you were also expected to come through the doors; he had the twins make sure the base was clean and tidy, that your room was prepared, and that security was at its highest. It was something he always did when you were coming over.

However, you never showed; you were on a mission, so maybe you went home and forgot; that would be reasonable... except come rain or shine, injury or no injury, if you said you were coming, you were always there.

He knew there was something more to your tardiness; without another thought, he sent Mephisto to look for you, and when he came back, the air was knocked out from Sylus' lungs.

You were found passed out, just outside of the base; it didn't take him a second to cross the base and have you in his arms "Oh, kitten.." He brushed the hair from your face, his heart breaking as you weakly opened your eyes.

"Sylus, I am sorry, I tried to call, but..."

"Shh, it's okay. You're safe now." He tried to use his usual tone with you, but his voice was softer, almost as if he was trying his hardest not to let it break.

He worked quickly to get you patched up, swallowing down his worries and quite possibly his tears as he did so, not even letting the twins near you. He sat with you, putting on your favourite vinyl softly in the background as he waited for you to wake up, not leaving your side, his hand placed on yours, afraid that if he let you go, he would lose you like he almost did tonight and the guilt was eating him alive.

"Stop looking at me like that." You mutter and glance toward him. "You're looking at me like your cat just died." You smirk slightly, and he lets out a chuckle "Kitten, why didn't you ask me to pick you up?"

"I assumed you had business to attend to-" "You should've called me. What happened if you never made it here, if we never found you, if you never came back to me, do you think I could live with myself."

You slowly sit up and look toward him "Sylus, I will always come back to you, always. I will always find myself here. You need to trust me on that."

"I do. It's just tonight seeing you like that made me feel-" "Scared?"

He huffed through his nose and pinched the bridge of it "Something like that..." He brushed the hair out of your face "Call me next time." You nod and smile "I will."

A few days later you were back fighting wanderers, but this time Sylus was by your side, his evol swirling around his arm and his hand "You sure about this, Sweetie?"

You nod "I'm Sure, I am safe by your side."

Sylus smiled; you were safe with him; you chose him, and fighting beside you was the greatest honour to have, so he made sure you left the mission without a scratch.

Xavier

It wasn't unusual for you to not see or hear from Xavier for days; you were sure he would pop up at one of the most convenient moments to be by your side. Or, pop up just before you were assigned another partner by Captian Jenna.

This is what happened; before you, the captain, could even mutter another person's name, Xavier appeared, literally faster than the speed of light beside you. Jenna sighed and cleared her throat. "Y/N, your partner will be Xavier for today's mission.

You didn't even look at him before you went to collect what you needed from the information room, and Xavier didn't seem to mind this. He just followed you obediently and read through the information quickly.

You were brought out of your focus when you suddenly heard his voice.

"Aren't you even going to ask where I was for the past few days?" He questioned and tilted his head, unsure why you're not interrogating him like you usually do.

You shrug and turn back to the tablet sitting in your hands. "Why should I? I trust you. If you want to let me know, you will when you need to."

To you, it was just a simple establishment of trust that you assumed you both knew of, but to Xavier, it was everything, and quite clearly, as little lights started to float around him, there was a slight smile on his face.

Trust was a big deal to him; after meeting you for the second time, he almost felt guilty about how angry you were at him for leaving you behind like he did. Not only that, but he failed his planet and the people on it, as well as the people he dragged here, to try and save you... He had failed them all and probably even you to the point where he believed he wasn't even worthy of trust.

You two didn't make a comment about it from that point. It was almost like, 'What is said in the information room stays in the information room.'

You watched him stand there and fiddle with the protocore between his fingers before, like always, crushing it into oblivion.

"Why do you always do that?" You ask, but he does not answer; he just walks you home. "Xavier, are you feeling okay? You've been silent the whole walk home.."

"I'm alright." He shot you a small smile like he always did and went inside. It was yet another protocore that was a waste, another step further from home, another disappointment to the people relying on him... but, at least, you trusted him.

So, he walked down the stairs and to your apartment and knocked on the door. He didn't even have to say a word, you just let him walk in and sit down, plating up some food for him.

You sit opposite and begin to eat, speaking about trivial things with him before he speaks up, "I don't expect you to understand me fully, but I need to find something, and I can't find it, and it's driving me mad."

"I can help-" you pipe in, but he just shakes his head, causing you to deflate, but you understood him in a way; you had things to do, personal missions to complete that you wouldn't want anyone to touch either. You clear your throat. "Well, if you ever need someone to help cheer you up or clear your mind, you can come here. If I can't help you with your mission, I want to at least help you after them." He smiles and looks at you, placing a star-shaped dumpling into your bowl and nods. "That'll be nice..."

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