#X y/n

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

Wakey Wakey!

Wife Sevika x Female Wife Reader (Fluff)

Waking your wife after a long nap with a surprise (browniesss).

Content: Modern setting. Sevika has both arms :)

Proofread || Note: Hi I’m back… 😅

Neatly placing the brownies on a plate, you carry it to your shared bedroom. The curtains closing off any sunlight from the window, causing the room to be dimly lit. Only illuminated by the light coming the open door, which you closed after entering.

Your wife was laid on the bed, her soft snores breaking the silence as she’d been sleeping for about three hours now. You approached, placing the plate onto the nightstand before sitting on the edge of the bed. A hand brushing hair back from her forehead as you took a second to admire her relaxed face.

Her brows no longer furrowed, her lips parted, and her body still, and limp. Sevika had came come home from work and had knocked out on the couch, you had to prepare the bed for her half-asleep self to crash onto. After a long while, it was time for her wake up. And, to surprise her, you made her favourite. Brownies. She’d sot on the bed and gobble them up in under a minute, always stuffing her mouth while scrolling on twitter.

“Baby? It’s been a while. Wakey wakeyyy.” You lightly tapped on her— causing her to jolt up into a sitting position. “Woah! Baby—“ “What the f— Is something wrong?!”

…

You bursted out laughing.

“No.. no, baby!” A hand over your mouth as you tried composing yourself. “Oh.” Her voice raspy, slightly shaken aswell. Sevika gave you a look of confusion before staring off at the closed door; possibly trying to wake herself up. “I made brownies, and you’d been sleeping for a while so.. I thought I’d wake you up.” You flashed her a smile, brushing your hands against her arm; which made her relax. “Thought someone broke in.” The woman returned a smile before watching you position the plate in her lap.

“For me?” The woman’s lips curled up into a grin, even if she tried masking her excitement it was quite obvious. She took a piece in hand before biting, her brows raised as she chewed. Your eyes met her averted ones as she chewed, looking down at the other three pieces with a fat smile on her face. “You didn’t have to,” “yeah, well I wanted to.”

Sevika always had a soft sport for your brownies, giving you extra affection after seeing you place the tray in the oven. She knew how to make them herself, she had the recipe, but eating the ones you made with your pretty hands? Now that was pure magic. She swore it some sort of witchcraft, how your brownies always turned out perfect.

A groan left her lips, her eyes flickering to you, and then back to the sweet in her hand. “It’s really good, how the hell?…” your wife seemed to be in awe. “Gets better everytime y’make them.” Her husky voice muffled as she took another huge bite. Sevika was really enjoying herself, her attention fixated on the plate in her lap as she munched on each piece. “Glad you like them, baby,” you wipe away a crumb from the side of her lip. “Thought I’d surprise you.” Your cheeky, proud grin making your girlfriend flash one back. “I like them? Holy shit, I love them. Did you make more?” Of course she asked. “A bucket load, I’ll get some.”

“Mm, wait,” your wife took her sweet time chewing, all the while holding onto your hand. “Kiss.” A finger pointed to her lips and you pressed a brief kiss there. “Seriously?” The woman ended up holding the back of your head all the while making out with you for a few more minutes.

Well, making out with you until she was satisfied. Which, would be never.

[morganakang444]

𝑑𝘰𝑛‘𝘵 ℎ𝑎𝘵𝑒 𝘵ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑟 || 𝑙𝑒𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑒𝑠��𝑢𝑛𝑔 (𝑝𝘵 1) ౨ৎ

꒰ ꒱ྀི lee heeseung x fem!reader

☆゙ ↳ main masterlist

☆゙ ↳ prev | next

☆゙ ↳ synopsis: you don‘t want me? fine. the two of us can play that game.

the heartthrob of the campus had finally set his eyes on y/n. she was going to be his next victim, to fall for him and assume she can fix him moments before she finds herself ghosted. but y/n knew all too well…too bad she only captures heeseung‘s heart after beating him at his own game. that’s when she learns: don’t hate the player. hate the game.

☆゙ ↳ wc: 6741

☆゙ ↳ genre/warnings: a lil bit smutty, kinda fluff (?) cursing, sexual harassment (not from heeseung), heeseung tries to touch up reader, pining, fuckboy heeseung, y/n is a virgin, a few typos…if i missed anything pls lmk!!

"okay, okay, we‘ve had monica, brittany, and mina this week alone, yeah?" karina snickers, jotting down the names of lee heeseung‘s newest side quests.

the two best friends, karina and y/n, were huddled together in their university classroom (sitting the furthest away from everybody of course), as if they were little high schoolers gossiping about who kissed who.

however, what they were doing wasn’t far from immature, childish gossip. here, they were strategizing who lee heeseung—the school‘s fuckboy—would go for next. it was like a fun little game to the girls, the excitement of seeing how right their guesses could get making them giggle every time.

although it was only the beginning of sophomore year in uni, mr. fboy heeseung had already had his way with nearly half the school, so y/n and karina knew their time would come soon. the only difference between them being karina was open to a night with heeseung. no strings attached, of course. it’s been a month since her messy breakup with her former girlfriend yunjin, and she knew heeseung was the only person who‘d give her a good night with no feelings, guaranteed.

then there was y/n. not to say she’s "not like everyone else," she does find heeseung attractive and well, a little charming—she hates the idea of being with anyone "no strings attached." and heeseung‘s version of adding strings to his puppet was dating them for a week after hooking up before inevitably ghosting them. and unfortunately for y/n, that wasn’t enough.

y/n nods at karina‘s question, holding up three fingers to represent each of heeseung‘s playthings.

"and how about abby? the blonde one with big boobs? classic bimbo," y/n inquiries quietly, "have they gotten together yet?" karina lets out a noise similar to a "pfft" before nodding her head, answering. "a few times, actually. he really likes her.." karina trails off, shaking her head.

"i just…don‘t know who else.." y/n trails off, biting her thumb in thought. "bianca martinez?" karina nods.

"yeji?" karina nods once more.

"damn—minji?" and again, karina nods.

y/n lightly palms her face in disbelief.

"i guess this one will be a surprise, hm?" jokes karina, a playful smile lingering on her lips.

y/n sighs, defeated. "guess so."

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

"remember, guys! tutoring begins 3pm today! if you‘re late then your extra credit points are docked!" spoke mr. glenn as class ended, reminding y/n of her duty she needed to fulfill later on today as a top student. with a groan, she stood up and grabbed her baby pink bag, lightly slinging it over her shoulder.

"oh you‘ll be having fun teaching those dumbasses.." teased karina, tickling y/n‘s side with a grin as the two girls exited class together.

"ugh, i know.." laughed y/n as karina tickled her. "i‘m gonna be stuck here for two whole hours kari.." y/n whined, pouting as she leaned her head on karina‘s shoulder, walking towards their dorm room.

"you‘ll be okay, i‘ll buy you lots of food after, hm?" karina said as she stroked y/n‘s hair, feeling her head nod against her.

a couple hours later, y/n arrived inside mr. glenn‘s dim-lit classroom, ready (but annoyed) to teach a bunch of frat boys and sorority girls who are falling behind.

coming in with a fake smile, y/n shot mr. glenn a small wave as she strutted inside the classroom confidently, sitting down at the table sectioned off to help students with english. pulling out her phone, she laid her head down, scrolling through tiktok to pass time before students came in.

and just as she predicted, a student was already approaching her table for help.

"hey, beautiful.." spoke an almost familiar voice, tone sultry and flirtatious. "wanna help me get this english grade up?"

y/n looked up from her phone to meet eyes with the boy who was seemingly so eager to get his english grade up. but when y/n saw him, her breath slightly hitched and she had to clear her throat to regain her faintly lost composure. because being face to face with lee heeseung was not what she expected.

"um..heeseung.." y/n spoke hesitantly, grabbing her english textbook. swallowing, her elegant hands flipped page through page, trying to find the section they last left on in class.

"do you need help with what we‘ve recently been doing?" y/n asked, trying to ignore that sensual expression heeseung wore on his face.

"sure." heeseung shrugs. "i haven‘t been doing much in class…" he trails off, grabbing the textbook from y/n, his soft, pale hands brushing against hers.

y/n refused to show any reaction to heeseung‘s touch, which he took note of. poor y/n, she has no idea heeseung likes a challenge.

"well i can guide you through the notes we‘ve been taking this week on literary theory and textual interpretation. it sounds pretty difficult but i can guarantee you it’s easy." y/n‘s voice remained fairly monotone and pretty professional, heeseung‘s charm starting to wear off on her. that shyness from a minute ago was no longer present.

y/n grabbed her english notebook from her bag, opening it to a page filled with notes. heeseung scoffs as y/n opens her mouth to speak, interrupting her.

"oh, you‘re cute.." he smirks, laying his hands on her page of notes, tapping up and down with his finger.

"i didn’t want you to actually teach me, my dear." his voice lowers to that of a whisper. "i have a proposal." his lips curl up into a smile in contrast to y/n‘s frown.

"which is..?" y/n questions, her tone a bit irritated. she crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair.

"you do my work…and i‘ll pay you." heeseung speaks confidently.

"how much are we talking?" y/n asks, seemingly annoyed. but that doesn’t break heeseung‘s cocky demeanor.

"oh i‘m not talking about money, love.."

y/n can only roll her eyes at his suggestion, already knowing where this would go.

"i‘ll fuck you for every assignment you do, hm? whatever you want. there‘s nothing i haven‘t done, afterall." he slightly bites his lip, leaning back in his seat, now manspreading.

"and that’s exactly why i won‘t take up that offer…" y/n‘s voice holds a note of offense. "glad to know that’s what you think of me…" y/n rolls her eyes, completely finished putting up with heeseung‘s attitude, starting to pack her stuff up.

"oh, come on, baby. i‘m not saying you‘re a slut—i can tell you‘re a virgin. you‘re so uptight." heeseung gestures his hands towards himself. "i‘m offering you something over half the girls on campus would die for."

"heeseung, you don’t even know my name." y/n retorts, standing up to leave.

"y/n!! leaving so soon?" mr. glenn calls out, noticing y/n ready to leave.

y/n nods, telling mr. glenn she has an emergency at home. but before she walks off, heeseung grabs her wrist gently, but firm enough to turn her around, her eyes locked on his.

with a smirk heeseung says, "now i do, y/n."

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

with a groan, y/n slams shut her dorm room door, back pressed against it as she let out a frustrated sigh.

"damn, they really got you so bad you had to leave early, hm?" karina teases, putting down her phone and sitting up on her purple sheeted bed.

y/n hangs her head down, a vexed smile on her face as she let out a breathy laugh, making a piece of her hair fly slightly forward. she shot karina a knowing look.

"you won‘t fucking believe who the hell i had to tutor for like—five minutes today…"

y/n threw herself down on karina‘s bed, right next to the raven-haired girl.

"who?? oh my god — was it that one guy who practically stalked you last year?" karina lets out an unbelieved laugh.

y/n shakes her head. "no..this guy was somehow almost worse." she scoots ever so slightly closer. "lee fucking heeseung.." y/n snorts as she laughs, covering her giggles with her hands as karina mimics, both of the girls laughing in disbelief.

"no way! i doubt there was much tutoring going on…" karina says behind her hand that slightly muffled her words.

y/n shakes her head. "yeah. for lack of a better word at i least 'tutored' heeseung."

y/n sits up, holding air quotes around the word tutored.

"did he say anything? like…" karina lowers her voice to a whisper as if there were other people around. "does he wanna fuck you?"

y/n‘s eyes widen and she lets out a small gasp, slightly taken aback by the question her brown-eyed best friend asked her. but she quickly fixes herself, answering, "yeah. he offered to dick me down if i did his assignments…" y/n tossed herself back-down on karina‘s soft bed, laying flat as she looked up to the blank, white ceiling, eyeing the spinning fan.

"sooo..? did you take up the offer?" karina asks with the most curious tone, laying down indirectly on top of her best friend in order to pry an answer out.

"nooo.." y/n spoke shyly. "i don’t wanna lose my virginity to an asshole fuckboy." y/n scrunches her nose, disgusted at the idea.

"well if you won’t take him…" karina then slowly pointed to herself, suggesting that she should get a piece of hee.

y/n pushes karina‘s shoulder, causing the pale woman to fall on her back. y/n sits up. "no, karina. you need to get back with yunjin…you guys broke up for a stupid ass reason. she needs to realise you weren‘t flirting with another girl, and move on. with you…"

karina slowly moves her eyes down in the direction of her phone before she picks it up, hand grasping her silver case.

"about that…" karina‘s face shows mischief before showing y/n messages between karina and yunjin.

yunjin: i miss u, rina 🙁🙁 so much.

karina: yunjin, you broke up with me, if you want me back so bad you have me…

yunjin: maybe i do. but what you did wasn’t ok, rina. i hate that stupid bitch heather and you still spoke to her

karina: baby pls…i‘ll do anything to make it up to you, i am so so sorry..

yunjin: then let me come over tonight. then maybe you could show me how sorry you really are.

karina: fine…does around 9 work?

yunjin: yeah. get y/n out of there tho. i wanna be alone.

"oh my god…rina..!" y/n said, a bit shocked. "she misses you! this is good!"

karina curls her lips up a bit. "either that or she wants some pussy tonight."

y/n playfully rolls her eyes. "which you‘ll glady give her, i assume?"

karina hesitantly nods, a smile falling from her lips.

"well, i guess i‘ll be going out tonight.." y/n gets up, going towards her vanity to take her hair out of its pink claw clip, running her cream colour brush through her soft locks.

"maybe you could help out heeseung, hm?" karina goaded y/n.

y/n turned to karina with an unamused look, still brushing her hair. "never. i have better things i could do…" y/n trailed off, her expression softening when she realises that was a total lie. she really put her academics over everything, and outside of karina had a social life of almost zero.

"we both know that’s not true, y/n," spoke karina as if she were reading y/n‘s mind.

karina scoots, now sitting on the edge of her bed. "come on, y/n—you don’t have to fuck him, but you can fuck around with him, right? it‘ll be fun!"

y/n thinks for a moment, considering karina‘s words. "but i‘m not seductive—i wouldn’t know what to do! i can’t flirt.." y/n covers her face slightly, brush still in hand.

karina snickers. "y/n, he‘s already come onto you and gotten a piece of your attitude. if he didn’t want you, would he have approached you? think about it! you don’t have to be some master of seduction to woo heeseung."

y/n removed her hands, knowing deep down karina was right.

"but…i don’t know…how do i do something like that?"

"easy." karina smirks. "remember what i did to that guy dylan?"

y/n nods, intrigued. "lead heeseung on?"

"similar to that. tonight, you head over to his dorm—look cute but not too cute to where he knows you put in that effort for him. tell him that you‘re going to take him up on his offer, come inside and do some work." karina stands up, getting really into describing her plan. "let him tease you; get bold, tease him back…let him touch you, make you feel good, but only! only you get to feel good. as soon as he thinks he‘s getting what he wants…you‘re going to get up and leave, hm? he‘ll be wondering what the hell happened…and he‘ll yearn for you evermore." karina shrugs. "the rest is up to you."

god, y/n wondered why she was suddenly so excited.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

after contacting a mutual friend she and heeseung shared, karina was able to track down where heeseung‘s dorm was, making y/n realise just how real this happening all is.

and so with a five minute walk, y/n had her hair down and pin straight, wearing a matching baby pink, tightly knit matching set, hugging her body just right, her hips swaying so perfectly as she strutted down heeseung‘s hallway in her little ugg slides. with a tiny knock on his door, y/n took little breaths to calm her nerves. *you‘re not going all the way…* she had to remember.

after a small moment, y/n was greeted with heeseung‘s delicate face, a flirtatious smile forming on his lips as his eyes wandered over her.

"so you did want to see me afterall, y/n.." heeseung gazed at y/n‘s beautiful face, she was so stunning even without makeup…just curled lashes and clear lip gloss was all she needed to sparkle.

heeseung leaned against his doorway, his biceps flexed against the frame as he gestured y/n to come in.

without reacting to any of heeseung‘s words, y/n came into heeseung‘s dorm, surprised he was alone and without his friends or a hookup laying in his bed.

she stood near his desk as heeseung strode over to her, sitting at the chair paired with his desk.

"sorry, love…i have no extra chairs." heeseung sighs in mock apology.

"it‘s okay, i‘ll just stand," y/n politely smiles, placing her off-white shoulder bag on his desk, pulling out homework material.

heeseungs tsks, gently placing his hands on y/n‘s hips, gartering her attention.

"or you could always just sit on my lap.." heeseung toyed with the hem of y/n‘s pants, but she quickly smacked his veiny hand away.

"i‘m good." she gave a smug grin when she saw heeseung‘s slightly taken aback expression. he let out a small sigh, clearly growing frustrated.

"you‘re so uptight, you know that?" heeseung leaned back, his tone not angry but teasing.

y/n turned her body to face herseung. "oh yeah?" she placed a hand on her hip with a raised brow.

"yeah. you should relax. don’t you have a vibrator or something? i heard that can help…" he snickers at her shocked reaction.

"i don’t use those things—you‘re so crude!"

"ah..so your hands aren’t doing the job right?"

y/n feels her face heat up, blush creeping onto her cheeks.

"what i do isn’t your business, heeseung."

y/n‘s voice was firm, arms now crossed.

heeseung held up his hands in a surrendering motion, his legs much more visible to show off his manspread.

"you‘re right, you‘re right. i‘m just trying to offer my word of advice to a woman in need.."

y/n rolls her eyes. "i‘m here to teach you, heeseung! keep this up and you won’t get anything." she bends down so she is eye-level with the black haired boy, her eyes meeting his clearly turned on gaze. her voice was brash, and authoritative, her finger pointing at heeseung, her acrylic fingernail poking his solid chest every few words.

heeseung slightly bit his lip once he caught a glimpse down y/n‘s tight little jacket, her cleavage in perfect view. heeseung could only swallow, trying to not make it super obvious where his eyes were locked.

and lucky for him, y/n didn’t seem to notice as she stood back up, towering over heeseung‘s sitting figure.

"sit on my lap and i‘ll be good, hm? i‘ll leave you alone my dear y/n.." heeseung speaks quietly, gently patting his thigh.

y/n hesitates, thinking about karina‘s words—to just tease…make yourself feel good, then leave when he thinks he‘s getting something…

with those words in mind, y/n slowly lowers her round ass onto heeseung‘s thigh, sitting sideways on his lap. his hands immediately gripped y/n‘s waist, slowly caressing her slim sides up and down, fingertips ever so slightly reaching under her little jacket, gliding over her soft, bear skin. she shivered, the foreign feeling of his hands on her ignited something small within her. but she shakes any thoughts of pleasure out from her head, pulling out homework material from her bag, flipping through annotated packets and mindlessly organising them, just trying to distract herself from heeseung‘s hands trailing further up her torso.

"you almost done..?" heeseung asks quietly, his warm breath against y/n as he moved her hair away from her neck, whispering against the soft skin. y/n quivered, letting go of the packets she held. y/n nodded, clearing her throat as she adjusted herself on heeseung‘s lap. she heard a low groan fall from his lips, and she spun her head around with a small gasp, not believing what her ears just heard.

"did you just…?"

"yeah..sorry.." heeseung faintly whispered, sounding like he was holding something back. "that felt nice.." heeseung squeezed y/n‘s sides placidly, like he was giving her a massage.

y/n blinked in response for a moment before she practically scoffed, her assertive facade coming back to her. "fucking horndog…" she whispers, looking heeseung up and down like he was a vermon.

heeseung‘s grip tightened, groping her sides more aggressively in response, sucking in air through his teeth. "yeahhh…just for you, babe." heeseung chuckled breathily to himself.

y/n rolls her eyes, swatting heeseung‘s arm. "and every other girl you make eye contact with. surprised you don’t have an std by now.."

heeseung faintly flinched at y/n‘s little swat, not used to a woman defying him like this. but he didn’t mind. in fact, heeseung likes a chase sometimes.

"it’s called condoms, dude. i don’t go raw on anyone," he lets out that same chuckle from earlier.

"heeseung, i really don’t care," y/n retors, smacking his head with a packet. "now are you going to let me teach you or are you going to touch me all over this whole time?"

heeseung raises a brow, locking eyes with the girl on his lap. "i thought you were doing my assignments for me, babe. remember our deal?"

y/n shakes her head. "i pride myself in my teaching abilities. and i don’t want to fuck you.."

"oh come on, y/n. you‘re almost twenty and you‘re still a virgin…why not lose it?"

"how do you know i‘m a virgin..?" y/n‘s brows furrow in confusion.

"remember earlier in mr. glenn‘s tutoring session? i can just tell. you‘re so fucking uptight."

y/n makes a face similar to disgust. "being an uptight virgin is better than being a chill fucking whore like you."

heeseung only tittered, not offended by y/n‘s remark. "you don’t wanna loosen up?" he pulled y/n closer towards his body.

"not with you…" her voice grows quiet when she feels heeseung‘s arm wrap around her waist, hand snaking down, closer towards her pussy, his fingers trailing the hem of her tight little knit flare leggings that matched her cropped jacket.

her breath hitches as her back is now pressed up against heeseung‘s firm chest, both her legs straddling his left thigh, her ass cheek pressed against his growing erection.

a soft hum leaves y/n‘s lips when heeseung‘s fingers grow braver and dip into y/n‘s pants, middle finger gently pressing down on y/n‘s clit, applying just enough pressure to form a wet patch in y/n‘s panties which didn’t go unnoticed by heeseung, a smirk forming on his lips.

"you sure you don’t want my help?" heeseung snickers, his finger sliding down to feel the warm wetness in y/n‘s panties.

but y/n knew she couldn’t give in. y/n was smarter than to cave in to heeseung‘s smart talk and skilled hands. so she suppressed her moan and reluctantly grabbed heeseung‘s wrist, pulling his hand away from her pussy. she stood up and calmly grabbed her bag and packets, turning to face heeseung, who was visibly confused.

y/n could only smirk satisfactory with heeseung‘s reaction to rejection.

"clearly we aren’t on the same page, heeseung. i‘m leaving now—if you really want my help, get those hormones in check. maybe fuck a girl on your roster before seeing me." y/n politely smiles in contrast to her passive aggressive tone. and saying no more, y/n leaves heeseung‘s dorm, leaving him sitting there, absolutely dumbfounded a girl has actually rejected his advances. he watched y/n‘s figure stride away and leave before he ran his fingers through his hair, chuckling quietly to himself.

that was the first time heeseung didn’t get any action with a girl in his place, and the first time a girl seemed to hold zero attraction to him; and the very first time a girl challenged him, and made him want her more. y/n was more of a chase then heeseung thought. luckily for him he was determined, and a fast runner.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

y/n swung open the door to her dormitory, adrenaline rushing through her veins. she looked over at karina‘s bed and spotted the woman laying down with yunjin under the covers, and it was very apparent the two just slept together. she wasn’t taken aback, however. she had already knew the two would be together tonight.

y/n shook karina awake, not caring if she were naked or not. both karina and yunjin awoke, slightly startled at y/n‘s franticness. before either of the lovers could say anything, y/n spoke up.

"i did it! i did it—but there was barely any action, he sat me on his lap and tried touching my pussy but i left before much could happen!" y/n sounded a bit freaked out with a hint of excitement.

"who is she talking about..?" said yunjin groggily, rubbing her wide eyes.

"heeseung.." yawned karina. "y/n, that‘s good! you‘re probably the first girl in a long time to leave him hanging like that. best him at his own game, hm?" karina smiled, leaning up on her elbows.

y/n‘s face scrunches in slight frustration. "i know…but i‘m just..." she throws her bag down on her bed that‘s only a few feet from karina‘s.

"i‘m glad i did it…it was fun…but—i‘m just…" she sits down on her bed, looking at karina and yunjin. "i don’t know what comes next.."

yunjin and karina exchanged glances before karina speaks up. "you know what happens next?" y/n‘s face grows curious. karina continues. "you wait. you wait for him to chase you…and you‘re going to make him fall for you. and once he does…you leave him for good."

yunjin smirks. "damn karina, what‘d he do to you?"

"nothing. we‘re just bored.." karina looks back at yunjin, but there’s a hint of something beyond playfulness in her eyes.

and with that y/n went to sleep that night, unaware of just how much she had lee heeseung wrapped around her finger.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

one week later — psychology class. the only class y/n shared with lee heeseung.

y/n sat in her usual seat, putting down her bag under her feet after pulling out all her materials. she laid her tired head on her hand, analysing her notes from the last lecture.

and there was heeseung who came in early for once. he was always late (if he even decided to show up, that is), but this time he made sure he was there so he could score a spot next to the beautiful girl who left him so empty that night.

y/n was all that consumed heeseung‘s mind this past week. he didn’t want to be one to admit it, but heeseung hated how she had this effect on him all from not giving him what he wanted. his only goal in mind was to make y/n give in and fall in love with him, then run away just as he did to every other girl…because how dare this little tease leave him empty? nobody defies the lee heeseung like that.

it was only a matter of seconds before heeseung‘s eyes landed on his target. seeing y/n‘s beautiful, long hair flowing over her shoulder and her plump lips pouting in concentration, her slim legs crossed, her grey fold over leggings hugging her body perfectly, the little flare at the end hanging over her cute little winter boots that encased her bouncing feet. her little pink tank top form fitted her torso, causing her chest catch heeseung‘s attention immediately, making him think back to when he got that lovely glimpse down her top that night last week.

and with nothing else on his mind, determination set in and heeseung b-lined it towards the seat empty next to y/n, as more people started to fill the room.

y/n was slightly startled when an obstinate heeseung plopped himself down next to her, his eyes narrowed in on y/n‘s alarmed expression.

"missed me?" heeseung smirks, his voice laced with smugness.

"god you scared me…" y/n placed her hand over her heart. "but no, i didn’t miss you, heeseung."

heeseung leans in a bit closer, his big black jacket scrunching. "call me hee. everyone else does."

y/n shakes her head, her face going back to her notes. "i‘m alright, we‘re not close enough for me to give you a nickname."

heeseung scoffs, changing the subject to the point he originally wanted to talk about.

"why did you leave that night?"

y/n held back a smirk at the hint of desperation in heeseung‘s voice. the question alone enough to make her want to giggle in satisfaction.

"you were being unprofessional, heeseung. i was there to help tutor you, not have sex with you." her tone was pretty deadpan in contrast to the excitement growing inside of her at the thought heeseung was currently chasing after her.

"i could have made you feel good," heeseung says as he leans back in his chair, his hand coming up to play with strands of y/n‘s hair.

y/n ignores him, flipping through pages in her notebook.

"you‘re not any different from these other girls, you know…you‘re not special." his voice grew annoyed.

"what?" y/n turned her head to the side, her irritated expression apparent.

heeseung’s facial expression seemed satisfied at how he was getting under y/n‘s skin. "you‘re not special for not wanting me, y/n…" heeseung leans closer, his hand still on y/n‘s head. faces inches apart, heeseung‘s voice held somewhat of a threatening tone. "…because i‘ll make you want me." an intimidating smile played on heeseung‘s face, his eyes full of malice.

y/n slightly backed up, a small amount of real fear stirring in her chest.

"you‘re crazy…" her voice automatically came out a whisper, her eyes darting all around his face.

he leaned in and quickly pecked y/n‘s cheeks with his lips, his expression now softened, almost affectionate.

"only for you…" and as the psychology teacher mrs. danbury walked in, heeseung settled down along with the rest of the class, acting as if nothing happened.

y/n stayed taken a bit aback, her mind wandering off from the lesson every so often, thinking off heeseung‘s words.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

as class came to an end, heeseung stood up, standing next to y/n‘s sitting figure, and as she rose to walk out of the classroom, she was abruptly stopped by heeseung‘s tall body standing in front of her.

she didn’t need to speak. her confused face was all heeseung needed to start explaining.

"let me take you out." heeseung‘s voice was smooth.

"um…where?" y/n crossed her arms.

"there’s a little café down the street, hm? wanna go there?"

y/n thought for a moment, realising she could use this as an attempt for heeseung to truly fall for her.

"i mean…i am kinda hungry i guess." y/n shrugs, walking passed heeseung. "let’s go."

heeseung grabs y/n‘s wrist, forcing her to come back. he interlocked his fingers with hers, then continued walking.

"people are going to think we‘re a thing if you’re holding my hand…" y/n‘s eyes darted from their intertwined hands then up to heeseung, who only smirked.

"if we‘re together in general people are going to think we‘re a thing." he smirked down at the girl walking with him.

y/n rolled her eyes, "that’s not exactly what i want…i can‘t be seen as one of your little rotations."

heeseung put on a playfully hurt expression.

"that’s really all you think of me, huh? just some fuckboy?"

y/n nodded. "pretty much!" she shot him a soft smile, feigning affection.

heeseung only snickered in response, but when his own umber eyes looked into y/n‘s he couldn’t help but notice just how pretty she was as the sun beamed down on her skin.

entering the café, y/n took note of the strong smell of sweets and coffee blending together in the air, the other university students sitting inside studying under the dimly lit lights, creating a cozy atmosphere, perfect for a break after a day of long, draining university classes.

"this place is so cute…" y/n looked around at the wood panel walls, the faux candles lit all around and the large bookshelf next to the entryway, adding to the library-esq vibe of the café.

heeseung smiled at y/n‘s reaction, her look of awe causing him to feel a small little butterfly in his stomach, but he quickly swatted it away.

"you‘re paying, you invited me out." y/n points at heeseung as she walked up to the register to order, him trailing not too far behind.

"yes, ma‘am," heeseung teased, pulling out his wallet.

"can i have a caramel frappuccino with tapioca pearls, please?" y/n asked in her sweet voice—sounding just like honey.

"i‘ll just have a taro milk tea." said heeseung as he pulled out his credit card.

the cashier said dryly, "that‘ll be $13.85."

and as heeseung inserted his card, y/n slyly peaked over to get a good look at it, which didn’t go unnoticed by heeseung. he just let out a confused laugh. "what‘re you lookin‘ at?"

"your credit card number," replied y/n truthfully. "you said it was your goal to make me like you, and gift giving is my love language." y/n closed her eyes, placing her hands on her chest as she softly swayed her body side to side.

heeseung gently nudged y/n. "yeah, yeah, don’t get too ahead of yourself."

and as their boba was ready, y/n quickly grabbed her drink, placed the baby blue straw inside and immediately took a sip, reveling in the sweet, caramel flavour going down her throat. with a satisfied mmm sound, she started walking towards the door, leaving heeseung in a state of confusion.

"where are you going?" heeseung questioned, his brow slightly raised.

"i‘m going back to the dorm. you took me out like you wanted." y/n shrugged slightly.

"you know i‘m getting real tired of asking you that." heeseung smirked, sipping his tea.

y/n only smiled facetiously. "then give me a reason to stay." and with nothing else, y/n walked out, leaving heeseung once more dumbfounded.

and heeseung didn’t like this pattern he saw forming.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

y/n didn’t walk back to her dorm, though. she was going to hang out with karina at the mall. pulling out her baby pink iphone, y/n clicked karina‘s contact to come ask her to pick her up.

"where you at hoe?" joked y/n as soon as karina picked up.

karina laughed. "at yunjin‘s dorm. i‘m leaving now. where are you?" y/n could hear rustling on the other end.

"near that little café by school—i think it’s called makoko." y/n paused to look at the street name. "i‘m working the corner of rochester street. come pick me up when i‘m done with my next client."

karina playfully rolled her eyes at y/n‘s joke, her car‘s startup engine roaring in the background. "i‘ll be there soon. split some of that cash with me, hm?"

"of course. love ya!" y/n blew a kiss to her phone and karina reciprocated.

opening up instagram to kill time, y/n stood, leaning against the wall of a building while she waited for her best friend.

scrolling mindlessly, mind lost in the depths of liking her favourite celebrities‘ posts and judging her mutuals stories, she hardly noticed a tall male figure approach her rather menacingly.

"all alone?" the deep voice startled y/n, his tone callousing and scary. y/n slightly jumped back, her eyes suspiciously scanning the man up and down. but y/n doesn’t play with scary men like this.

"no, i‘m with somebody. your scary ass can leave now." she spoke sternly, taking slow backwards steps away from the dark haired man.

"i don’t see no one," the man smirked his big lips, a look of lust shining through his eyes as he stepped intimidatingly closer to y/n, following her.

"fuck off nasty ass hoe i don’t know who you think you are because i will rock your shit if you try something!" warned y/n with a fist forming, holding it up in the air like she was going to pop him in his face.

but before the creepy man could vocalise his thoughts, another male came up from behind him and punched the side of his head, making him stumble over, a gasp of shock leaving y/n‘s mouth upon seeing not only the violent action—but the person assaulting the creep—who was…heeseung?

"heeseung wh—" y/n was going to ask him why he was here, why he was defending her—but was overpowered by his aggressive shouting at the big, now less taunting man who was harassing her only moments ago.

"who the fuck do you think you are, hm!?" hesseung yells through gritted teeth, blowing punch after punch, blow after blow onto the man who was laying on the ground, his arms over his face in a defensive manner.

"keep your hands off her and your fucking mouth shut!" heeseung was practically seething at this point, his fists nowhere but the man‘s now bloody face.

y/n wasn’t going to tell heeseung to back off the man—if anything the man deserved it. so she watched from the sidelines, patiently observing, waiting for heeseung to finish.

and for a few more moments, after punching and kicking heeseung spat on the man‘s face as if he were a flithy vermon (which in any sane person‘s mind, including heeseung, that’s what he was equivalent to.)

heeseung marched towards y/n, his face still appearing angry. he aggressively gripped

y/n‘s wrist, yanking her, forcing her to follow heeseung from behind as he angrily started walking.

"in broad fucking daylight, is he insane?"

heeseung scoffed, talking mainly to himself, but y/n could hear.

"heeseung where are you taking me?" she slightly winced at the tight grip he held on her wrist.

"back to your dorm. where i thought you were going." heeseung‘s voice was practically a growl.

"heeseung—i have a ride i was waiting for to go to the mall. i can handle myself." y/n says as she tries to yank her wrist away from heeseung, but his grip only grew tighter.

"clearly you can’t. i wonder what would have happened to you if i hadn’t stepped in, hm?"

y/n only rolls her eyes in disbelief at heeseung‘s words.

"now give me your phone." heeseung holds out his hand towards y/n, still not looking at her.

"why?" she questions, visibly hesitant.

"just—just give it to me. or i‘ll take it myself." there was no indication heeseung was kidding in his tone. so y/n handed the boy in the grey hoodie her phone after opening it, and he went straight to her calls. he clicked on someone’s name before speaking,

"karina?" his tone stayed firm. "yeah, it’s heeseung. look, you‘re the one giving y/n a ride, yeah?" he paused, letting karina respond. "‘kay. i‘m taking y/n to that park not too far from campus. the one everyone hangs out at—pick her up there. something happened she can explain to you later." and without another word, heeseung hung up before opening y/n‘s contacts, adding a number. he handed y/n back her phone, open on the page of the brand new contact.

"my number," he spoke, tone softening slightly. "just to call or text me if anything else like this happens.." heeseung‘s voice held a hint of what y/n could be mistaking as affection…but there was a little bit of something other than coldness. almost like his reasoning was some excuse. she only nodded, murmuring a thank you as they arrived at the park everyone usually hangs out, called "the hill."

heeseung sat down on a cold, metal bench, y/n sitting close to him.

he immediately cupped y/n‘s face, tilting her head in every direction possible, eyes narrowing in on her soft features like he was analysing her. before y/n could protest, he asked, "are you okay? if he laid as much as a single finger on you, y/n, i‘m promising you i‘ll go back there and kill him with my bare hands."

y/n shook her head, a bit taken aback by heeseung‘s sudden protectiveness. her dainty hands stayed with a silent grip on heeseung‘s wrists that softly held her face.

"you should have let me take you home—i should have offered…i‘m so sorry, y/n…" heeseung adverted his gaze from the girl, guilt oozing from his voice.

"it’s alright, really," y/n started with a calm voice, her thumbs rubbing soft, soothing circles on the inside of heeseung‘s wrists, "nothing happened to me." she put on a soft, comforting smile, but it quickly faded when heeseung snapped.

"because i stepped in! y/n who knows what that guy was planning!?" he takes a deep breath to calm himself, voice struggling to stay steady. "what if he hurt you, hm? i don’t…i don’t want that to happen to you." his gaze lingered on y/n, his thumbs caressing the sides of y/n‘s face he was still holding.

"since when have you…" y/n pauses, trying to find the right words. "since when have you cared like that? about anyone?"

heeseung scoffed, his tone coming out offended. "just because i like to fuck around doesn’t make me a bad person, y/n—i would have stepped in and saved any girl that was happening to." his dark brown eyes lock with y/n‘s as if he was searching for something in the pools of her irises. "but you‘re the first girl i‘d go to this length for. the first one i have gone to this length for…if you were anyone else i would have just walked away as soon as i pulled that guy off you."

"why?" was all the stunned girl could manage to get out, her brows furrowed in more curiosity than confusion.

"there’s something about you, i‘ll admit. like a magnet that pulls me in. partly because you left me hanging last week—but just…" heeseung sighs. "the way you don’t want me—it makes me want you even more."

y/n simply laughs. "is this why you‘re being so nice to me?"

heeseung nodded.

"it’s a nice try, heeseung. but you‘re going to have to try a lot harder than give me some speech you‘ve given all your other flings."

and as if she were saved by the bell, y/n saw karina‘s little white toyota pull up to the car, a small honk coming from the vehicle catching both heeseung‘s and y/n‘s attention. she removed heeseung‘s wrists from her face and stood up.

"where are you going?" heeseung wondered, a hint of what almost seemed like panic laced in his voice.

"that really is all you ask me, huh?" y/n teased before walking off towards karina‘s car.

and with another sigh, heeseung slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and slid down the bench so his neck was resting on the edge as he looked up to the blue sky.

it had only been a week since they met and this damn girl already had him wrapped around her finger.

what‘s wrong with him?

[luvst4rc0r3]

“YOU’RE my wife, Sev”

Sevika x F!Reader

WC:1021

NOTE: establish marriage. I’m just lonely y’all.😰😭

It was late. The kind of late where even the hum of Zaun’s streets had dulled into a low murmur. You were sitting at the table in your shared apartment, carefully arranging a small bow on the gift you’d picked out for Sevika.

She’d been working long hours at Silco’s beck and call, barely home except for the nights she stumbled in after a few too many drinks. Tonight, though, you were prepared. You’d wanted to surprise her—a little reminder that she was loved, even when she didn’t think she deserved it.

The sound of the front door creaking open pulled your attention. Heavy footsteps followed, uneven and slow. You sighed, setting the gift down on the table. Sevika had finally made it back.

She appeared in the doorway, her tall frame slouched, her jacket hanging off one shoulder. Her usually sharp eyes were glassy, and she had that familiar sway to her step that screamed “too much whiskey.”

“Hey, you,” you said softly, trying not to startle her.

Her gaze locked onto you, and a slow, lazy grin spread across her face. “Hey… you.” Her words slurred together as she stumbled toward the table.

And then she saw it.

The gift.

Her brow furrowed as she leaned forward, squinting at the tag tied to the ribbon. She mouthed the words as she read them aloud: “To my dearest wife.”

She froze.

For a long moment, she just stared at the tag, her drunken mind working overtime to process what she’d just read. Then, like a dam breaking, her face crumpled.

“Wh—what the fuck?” she muttered, her voice shaky as tears started streaming down her face.

“Sevika?” you asked, standing from your chair.

But she didn’t answer. Instead, she sank to the floor, burying her face in her hands as she sobbed.

“Sevika! What’s wrong?” you asked, rushing to her side. You knelt beside her, resting a hand on her arm, but she flinched away, shaking her head.

“I—I didn’t know!” she cried, her voice muffled by her hands. “I didn’t know you had a wife!”

Your heart stopped for a moment, confusion washing over you. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t tell me,” she sobbed, looking up at you with wide, tear-streaked eyes. “You’re married! And—and she’s so lucky, you know that? You’re—you’re amazing. And I love you. But I can’t—I can’t even… I can’t even be with you because you’re taken.”

It hit you then.

Oh, she forgot.

“Sevika,” you started, trying to keep your voice calm.

“No, don’t,” she said, shaking her head violently. “Don’t make it worse. I already feel so stupid. I thought… I thought maybe I had a chance. But no, you’re married, and now I’m just—just some idiot in love with someone she can’t have.”

You bit your lip, fighting back a laugh. As heart-wrenching as her drunken meltdown was, the situation was too ridiculous to ignore.

“Sevika,” you said again, gently cupping her face in your hands. Her tear-filled eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the devastation written all over her expression.

“You’re my wife.”

She blinked.

“What?”

“You’re my wife, Sev” you repeated, your voice soft but steady. “The gift is for you.”

Her brows knitted together, her lips parting slightly as if to argue, but no words came out. You could practically see the gears turning in her hazy mind.

“For me?” she whispered after a moment, her voice small.

You nodded. “Yes, for you.”

“But… wait. I’m your wife?”

You nodded again, smiling now. “Yes, Sevika. You’re my wife. We got married six months ago, remember? You wore that fancy black suit you hated but looked amazing in, and we danced until your legs gave out.”

Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Finally, she managed to stammer, “I… I forgot.”

“I know,” you said gently, brushing a tear from her cheek with your thumb.

“I thought… I thought I lost you to someone else,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I thought I ruined everything.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” you said, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “You’re mine, Sevika. Always have been, always will be.”

She stared at you, her expression still caught between disbelief and relief. “I’m yours,” she repeated, almost like she was testing the words.

“Yes, you big idiot,” you teased, though your tone was warm. “Now, come on. Get off the floor and open your gift.”

She let you help her to her feet, her movements sluggish but cooperative. You guided her to the table, where the neatly wrapped box sat waiting. She picked it up carefully, her large hands fumbling with the ribbon for a moment before finally tearing it open.

Inside was a new leather glove to replace the worn one she always complained about, along with a small card that read, “To my one and only—thank you for being my everything.”

She stared at the gift for a long moment before looking back at you, fresh tears welling in her eyes.

“Hey, hey,” you said quickly, stepping closer. “What’s wrong now?”

“I just…” Her voice cracked, and she wiped at her face with the back of her hand. “I love you so much, you know that? I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s nonsense,” you said firmly, wrapping your arms around her waist. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Sevika. And I’m lucky to have you.”

She let out a shaky laugh, resting her forehead against yours. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Good thing you’ll never have to find out,” you said softly, leaning up to kiss her.

Her lips were warm against yours, tasting faintly of whiskey and salt from her tears. When you pulled back, she was smiling—a real, genuine smile that made your heart swell.

“Thank you,” she murmured, holding the glove in one hand while wrapping the other around you.

“For what?”

“For loving me,” she said simply.

“Always,” you replied, resting your head against her chest. “Now, let’s get you to bed before you start crying again, okay?”

She laughed, the sound deep and rich, and for the first time that night, she looked like herself again.

“Yeah,” she said, tightening her hold on you. “Bed sounds good. But only if you come with me.”

“Always,” you repeated, smiling against her shoulder as you led her toward the bedroom.

I’d be coming up with the most randomness ideas

I want sleep

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT • MINORS DNI

Joel Miller x Reader • oral (f receiving) • p in v sex

Thanks to everyone who voted! ♥️

The kitchen in the cabin you shared with Joel smelled of pancakes and maple syrup. He’d just finished preparing breakfast for two, as he did every Sunday morning. The remaining oil in the skillet sizzled as Joel switched off the stove. His hands were dirty with batter; he reached for a clean towel on the counter and wiped them, before turning the corner to the hallway.

Joel lingered in the bedroom doorway a moment, watching you sleep. It was mostly quiet, with only the distant sound of birds chirping outside. A few strands of amber sunshine peeked through the beige curtains on the window, touching the thick quilt that covered you. Joel’s lips pulled into a grin as he observed you in silence. He wondered for a moment how after all the mistakes he’d made in his life, the universe had somehow allowed him the gift of redemption, in the form of a beautiful young woman like you…

It was a gift Joel didn’t believe he deserved. He was dedicated to making sure he earned your love and trust in him every day he was lucky enough to have with you. Because as Joel had been made painfully aware, the things we cherish most can be taken away in an instant. A moment never passed without Joel being grateful for the gift of you in his life.

He approached the bed quietly, not wanting to wake you just yet. There was something so sweet about the way you were sleeping, one hand cupping your cheek, the other laying against the pillow. Joel knelt down beside the bed, resting his elbow on his knee. He carefully brushed back a few strands of hair from your forehead. You stirred slightly, a soft sigh leaving your parted lips.

Joel stroked your cheek gently with the back of his hand. “Hey honey,” he whispered. “It’s time to get up.”

You groaned slightly, smiling a little at hearing Joel’s voice, even in your sleep. He waited a moment before trying again. “Sweetheart. Breakfast’s ready. Come on, let me see those pretty eyes.”

Your grin deepened as you began to wake, eyes fluttering open. “Five more minutes,” you protested through a voice gravelly with sleep. Joel’s fingers were still on your cheek. He stroked you gently as if guiding you awake. “No no no, sleepyhead,” he patiently insisted. “Syrup’s already on the pancakes. They’re gonna be soggy ‘n cold by the time you eat ‘em if I give you those five extra minutes…”

You pursed your lips and frowned, closing your eyes again in protest. “Well what if I like cold, soggy pancakes?” you teased, snuggling into the pillow. Joel sighed, but there was no frustration in it. He leaned closer, pressing a tender kiss to your bare shoulder. “I know for a fact,” Joel said. “That you do not like cold, soggy pancakes. I know that because nobody does…”

You scrunched your nose, eyes still shut tight. “When did you get so smart?” you asked, to which Joel shrugged. “Have to be,” he replied. “To keep up with you.” He nuzzled his nose against your shoulder and gave it another kiss. You pointed to your cheek, and Joel obligingly placed a kiss there as well. Your fingertip trailed to your neck; Joel’s mouth followed, each kiss a little slower, deeper. Joel’s cock stiffened against the mattress, his chest hovering over yours as he nestled into your shoulder.

Here, in the soft warmth of the bed, he could smell the scent of your shampoo on the pillow; and as the quilt over your body shifted, the subtle hint of your scent beneath it stirred up to meet Joel’s nostrils. Now his eyes closed as well, Joel’s senses being filled with you: the taste of your skin on his tongue, the scent of your cunt drawn into his lungs. Joel caught himself grinding lightly into the mattress without realizing it.

“Joel,” you whimpered, your eyes still closed. “More…”

He chuckled into your neck, warm breath coasting your skin. His jeans felt like they were getting tighter by the second. “Y’smell so good, darlin,” Joel murmured at your ear. “Makes me hungry for somethin’ else…” You opened your eyes, glancing down at the quilt covering you. Joel followed, his gaze washing over the shape of your breasts rounded under the fabric. He gently cupped your breast through the quilt, his mouth finding yours. Your lips parted, the tip of your tongue licking between Joel’s lips. He exhaled, a low growl pulling up from his chest.

His fingers slid over the edge of the quilt at your neck. As his tongue explored the wet heat of your mouth, Joel pulled the quilt downward. Your body shivered from the sudden cold. “Aww darlin,” Joel cooed. “Are you cold? I can fix that.” He stood beside the bed and tugged his t-shirt off, enjoying the way your eyes raked hungrily over his exposed chest and belly, focusing on the dark trail of hair peppered with gray trailing beneath his jeans. Joel unbuckled his belt and tugged it through the loops, folded it and placed it on the nightstand beside the bed. He undid his jeans but didn’t remove them yet. Joel climbed over you on the bed, resting his weight on his elbows as he lowered his chest onto yours.

“Y’just need some body heat, is all,” Joel said, his hands roaming up your sides. He placed soft kisses between your breasts through your nightgown, cupping both mounds in his hands. Joel’s fingers slipped under the neckline of your nightgown, which was softly rising and falling over your breasts as you breathed. He carefully pulled it down, your breasts popping over the fabric, your soft skin meeting the scruff of Joel’s stubble. His tongue swept over your exposed skin, circling your left nipple before his lips latched over it.

You moaned softly as Joel massaged your breast in his mouth. The pad of his tongue rolled over your left nipple, the right twisted gently between Joel’s thumb and forefinger. You keened into Joel’s mouth, your back lifting off the mattress. He stayed at your breasts a moment longer, before shifting down the bed and nestling between your thighs. Joel lifted the edge of your nightgown, letting the fabric settle on your stomach. Your legs were spread already, pussy ripe and wet like a peach, waiting just inches from his lips.

Joel was overwhelmed with the need to devour you as your scent consumed him. His hands wrapped around your thighs, holding them like a frame around his face. He closed his eyes and nuzzled against your lips, catching your slick on the end of his nose. Your hips shifted, a silent request for more. Joel could never deny you anything, and certainly not when it meant he got to taste you. His big hands held your thighs apart, dark eyes taking in the bounty before him, like a man preparing to feast.

He flattened his tongue against your cunt, sloppily spreading your lips apart. The warmth of his breath against your clit made you shiver again. He closed his lips over your clit, sucking the tiny bud between them. Your legs jerked, a breathy giggle escaping your lungs. Joel’s grip tightened on your thighs as he looked up at you from between them. “Gotta make sure you stay put, sweetheart,” he said, a dark twinkle in his eyes. “You try buckin’ me off again like that, I’m gonna have to make you mind…”

Joel buried his face against your cunt, making you whimper in relief and need. As many times as you’d felt this before, it always felt like the first time. Joel knew exactly what you wanted, where you needed his mouth to be. The thick pressure of his tongue massaging your clit was so perfect it almost hurt, but you’d never tell him to stop. It felt too good, too intense, like you were either going to come or piss or both. Your body jolted again, which earned you a hard growl from Joel, the vibration from his mouth making your clit throb even harder. He forced your legs wider apart, pinning them to the mattress. You wriggled under his hold, but Joel’s strength far surpassed your own. In less than a minute you were coming, your body writhing under Joel, his shoulders braced as he held you still.

When you finished shaking, Joel relaxed his hold on you, letting you rest. He climbed up between your legs till his face was above yours, a line of slick hanging from his chin. “That’s a good girl,” he said, guiding one of your weak, pliant legs around his waist and holding it there. “You just relax now darlin, ‘n let me do all the work.” Joel reached between your bodies and took hold of his cock, rubbing his tip between your lips, massaging your wet, warm entrance. He grinned when your small hole puckered against him expectantly, eager. Joel lowered his tip just inside you, groaning as your walls spread around him. He bit his lip, forcing himself to go slow, to make this moment last. Five more minutes, you’d said. Those five minutes he’d allowed you had stretched to twenty, but at this point, Joel wanted them to go on forever.

“Joel,” you squeaked, your fingers groping at his back. He knew what you needed, something he was more than willing to give you. Joel sank his hips forward, filling you completely. The breath you’d been holding spilled from your lungs, your head landing back against the pillow. Joel rut into you forcefully, his hips meeting yours in rapid, hard thrusts. He gripped the sides of your pillow in his fists, pulling you closer. Your forehead pressed against Joel’s chest as he took you, pumping his cock inside the tight, slick grip of your body.

His lips parted in a breathy moan, teeth grazing your shoulder as he came. You wrapped your arms around Joel’s back, feeling his muscles shudder and tense. He pulsed inside you, warm semen spilling between your walls and oozing out around Joel’s cock. He stayed inside you, both your breath and his filling the room in ragged, grateful pants. The mattress was soaked beneath your ass, your cum and Joel’s spilling onto the sheets. When your bodies finally separated, it wasn’t for long. Because Joel pulled you into his arms and held you, making sure you stayed warm, just as he always did. And when you’d both recovered, he made fresh pancakes for you, and served them in the same bed he’d had his breakfast in…

[bumblesimagines]

Entwined

Request: Yes or No

Summary: (Y/N)'s always believed in the saying of not shitting where you eat, but life has an unexpected way of springing up on you.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Anora warnings, mentions of sex work and strip clubs, brief/short sexual content, miscommunication(?), the man Ani deserves

~~~

His eyes traced the neon sign encircling the gas station across the street, the vibrant blue casting a glow over the pavement and cars coming and going. Ever since getting the apartment, he indulged in people-watching from his spot by the window to decompress after each tiring workday at Headquarters, a little habit to ease his sluggish mind out of work mode. 

There were regulars he started to recognize, some neighbors he scarcely saw in the halls and cars with license plates from other states that always left him wondering why they'd chosen to drive so far from home to visit Brighton Beach. He watched them stop for gas, watched when they rushed inside for the bathroom or staggered out of the store with beers in hand despite being a sip away from passing out on the sidewalk. 

He exhaled a cloud of smoke into the chilly night air and watched an older man check on all four tires with his foot to avoid taking his hands out of his pockets. The corner of his lip twitched into an amused half-grin when the man ducked his head into the car only to tug it back out and slap the top of the vehicle in frustration before doing another round of checking the tires. 

"What, are you a peepin' tom or somethin'?" 

Pressing the cigarette onto his windowsill, he added a new black ring to the countless others before flicking it into the darkness to be forgotten within the hour. He eyed the gas station one last time, giving a small huff of amusement when the man's angry words reached his ears, and then stood from the windowsill to properly shut the window and tug at the blinds.

Ani remained lazily sprawled on his bed, her messy hair scattered out across her bare back and the glittery tinsel strands she loved putting in her dark hair shimmering with the dim lamplight that lit the room in a soft orange glow. She swung her legs back and forth in the air and propped her chin onto her knuckles, the area around her mouth and eyes stained from her smeared makeup. She batted her lashes at him and gave one of her sparkling smiles, the one dancing the line being genuine and alluring. 

He shook his head at her and tossed the pack of Marlboro's aside onto his nightstand. "Peeping tom?" He repeated with a small laugh. "Do you even know what that means?" 

"'Course I do." Ani rolled her eyes and twisted around on the bed, the sheets and comforter dragging and crinkling with her movements until her back was against the headboard. "I'm not a fuckin' idiot." She scoffed, dragging her acrylics through her hair to comb back the wild and frizzy strands.

A hum vibrated in the back of his throat with feigned uncertainty and she let out a mixture between a gasp and a laugh, her hand reaching over to grab a pillow and throw it at him. He dodged it and it fell onto the floor with a soft thump, left to be picked up later when he'd crawl into bed for the night. Ani's shoulders shook with gentle snickers as her body slumped against the headboard, looking lighter than she had when she'd shown up on his doorstep with pouty lips. She hadn't given much details apart from mutters about one of the strippers at Headquarters.

Diamond always had a knack for getting on Ani's nerves. He gave it a week before one tore the other's hair straight from the scalp.

With an almost wistful sigh, Ani leaned forward, pressing her palms on the bed and slowly crawling across it toward him. She sat back on her knees and pressed a hard kiss against his stomach, looking satisfied when it left a lipstick mark, before she tilted her head up at him and batted her lashes once more.

"Maybe you could draw a bath for us?" she asked with an innocent tilt of her head, her fingertip rising to teasingly trace the waistband of his briefs

"Yeah," (Y/N) gave a soft snort and pushed his fingers through her hair, her eyes fluttering shut at the action and her head pushing into his palm like a cat receiving affection. "Give me a second."

(Y/N) had lost track of when Ani went from simply being a stripper at the club he worked at to a friend he occasionally slept with. He vaguely remembered when the friendship sparked during a night when they were both working, her entertaining the coming and going clients and him behind the bar feeding them drinks that'd have them pulling every bill out of their wallets by the end of the night.

He'd stepped outside to escape the stuffy air and music and stood by idly whilst Ani and Lulu shared a cigarette and exchanged gossip, his ears occasionally tuning in to hear what Diamond had said or the relationship drama between Crystal and her on-and-off girlfriend until Lulu shuffled inside to continue her shift. Ani remained outside, and by the third time they made brief eye contact, she struck up a conversation with one of her little smiles. 

The weeks after were casual, with some idle small talk when neither of them were busy, an occasional smoke break together where he'd silently nod along while she complained about one thing or another (most often about a snide remark Diamond made in passing or how the DJ never played good music) until she asked for a ride one day and they fell into new habits. He'd drop her off at the train station or sometimes drive to her place to drop her off, each ride ending with her leaving a lipstick mark on his cheek before hopping out.

And then things really shifted.

The sun was beginning to dip beneath the horizon and he'd just clocked in, nodding passively while Dawn vented about girls calling in sick last minute and 'messing with her perfect schedule' as he wiped down the counter. Dawn gave a quiet huff, and her mouth parted as if to spew one last grievance before she noticed something in the distance and gave a low groan. He watched her with an amused grin as she stormed away, always acting more like the owner than Jimmy ever did. 

"Want a smoke?" Ani's voice rang out next to him, a coy smile toying on her lips as she approached the bar.

He gave the club one last scan to check for guests, but it was too early for many of the regulars to waltz in without a care. They always waited for the cover of night to properly time their excuses for their families at home, as if their skewed clothes and reeking breath would go unnoticed by their wives. He always failed to conjure up pity when one of them moaned about an ongoing divorce while having their arm wrapped around a girl half their age.

With the air outside too cold for either of their liking, they lingered in the VIP area and watched other employees ready the unoccupied rooms for private dances. Ani swayed on her crimson red pumps, her faux fur coat hugged tightly around her body, and a cigarette hanging loosely between her fingers. She turned her head to the side and blew the smoke out into the air, finishing their little pre-work smoke when she pressed the cigarette into the ashes in the ashtray and left it to be cleaned up later.

"You've ever gotten a lap dance before?" She asked with a grin and lifted her brows expectantly. He knew the girls well enough to know when they were planning something, when they were dangling bait and waiting for an eager fish to bite. 

Arching a brow, he asked, "Why?"

"I can give you one free of charge." A spark ignited in her pretty dark eyes. "You've been a real sweetheart to me these past weeks. Thought I could do somethin' nice for you."

There were a million different ways she could repay him: paying for food, offering him gas money each time he gave her a ride, convincing Jimmy to give him another vacation day. But girls like Ani mastered the art of trade, giving in exchange for something, most often money. It came like second nature to them to bat their eyes and coo velvety words, eyes always either wide and pleading or down-turned and seductive.

He wondered if Ani knew how to switch it off. If she knew how to leave Ani at the club and become Anora again. 

"Come, it'll be fun, I swear." She giggled and grabbed his hand to tug him into the nearest room, swiftly turning on her pumps to shut the door behind them before urging him toward the worn-out leather loveseat that'd definitely seen better days. 

The room was small, designed precisely for private entertainment away from prying eyes, and had a purple color theme. Plum-colored walls, lavender neon signs in the shapes of lips and curvy figures, an indigo side table beside the loveseat for drinks or powders, and a wall-length mirror for viewing pleasure.

He'd never taken the time to fully explore Headquarters, and he'd never found a reason to. His job was to provide drinks, keep an eye on said drinks, and cut off customers before they made the janitor's life harder and freaked the girls out.

Ani grinned at him and reached up to her shoulders, slowly dragging the coat down her arms until the sparkly navy blue dress that clung to her body peeked through. She stepped closer with a slow sway of her hips and raised her knee to sink into the loveseat, a giggle shaking her shoulders as she draped the coat over the backrest before she moved back to stand and ran her fingertips over the hem that barely reached to her thighs. 

Music began pouring into the room from the speakers and briefly put a scowl on her face when an early 2000s pop song filled their ears. "I swear, I don't know how that fucker got hired." She huffed and turned her head toward the speakers with an accusatory stare, as if the speakers had any fault in the person controlling them. He only snorted in response. "Fuckin' Jimmy and his stupid cousin."

Ani shook her head and pushed her long strands of hair past her shoulders, a small chuckle escaping her before she reached back to drag the zipper of her dress down until the top loosened and drooped. Her teeth caught her shimmery bottom lip and she tugged down the straps to reveal a skimpy, little black bikini top. She slowly shimmied out of the dress until it slipped down her thighs and pooled at her feet, her index fingers curling around the equally little bikini bottom. 

(Y/N) swallowed and rubbed the heel of his palm against his clothed thigh, eyes flickering away briefly and catching the identical bow tattoos on the back of both of her thighs in the mirror's reflection. He only ever saw glimpses of them, occasionally heard Lulu gushing over how cute they were, but he'd never seen the ink up close. He felt inclined to reach out and trace the lines but rules were rules. No touching on the dancers.

The corners of her eyes crinkled when she laughed lightly and she spun around, making a show of bending over as her hands grabbed his knees to push his legs apart. She settled over his groin and gave an experimental roll, another giggle escaping her when his body flinched in response. "You ready, sweetheart?" 

Since her first day at Headquarters, Ani had perfected the art of dance over time, and it was obvious in her fluid movements and keen eyes. She repeated movements that earned her more reactions and never faltered in her confidence, her hips moving and ass pressing against him with purpose from time to time. Eventually, she reached behind her and undid the laces of her top, letting the small fabric fall to the floor before she pressed herself to his chest and arched her back to shove off her perky breasts. 

He kept his hands to himself despite the warmth flowing through his body and the occasional hitching of his breath, until the weight of her body briefly left. She shifted around to face him and straddled his hips as best she could on the loveseat, her half-lidded eyes dark and hazy with desire he didn't see often. Ani pressed her palm over his cheek, her thumb stroking delicately over his cheekbone while her other hand traveled downward to mess with his belt. 

His eyes flickered to the camera in the corner of the room, the one meant to ensure customers were following the rules and the dancers were safe, but the little red light had yet to flicker on. It would any minute, though. The chances Jimmy would fire either of them were low, he liked them both too much, but it'd change the dynamic between them and their coworkers. Diamond would get insufferable. "Ani-"

"We've got time." She assured him as she popped the button on his pants and tugged them down to his thighs. "We'll be fine, baby."

Settling over him more comfortably, Ani grinded down over his bulge, and he allowed his hands to squeeze her thighs when he felt a wetness seep through the fabric. She smiled down at him and pressed harder, dragging herself back and forth over his bulge at a tantalizingly slow pace until the light gray fabric of his boxers turned dark. 

Her movements slowly picked up and she leaned in, coiling one arm around his neck as she mushed their lips together in a heated kiss. Her gloss smeared against his mouth and he tasted the strawberry flavor when his teeth caught her bottom lip. She released a muffled groan against him and dropped the hand on his cheek to tug blindly at his boxers until they slipped down far enough for her to wrap a hand around him. 

He cursed softly and she laughed, her cheeks and neck flushed pink when she leaned back to flick some of her hair back over her shoulder. She gave him a few pumps and tilted her head to the side, biting her lip again and pressing her thumb over the slit of his tip. His hips jerked in response and pre dribbled down his shaft. 

"You can touch, y'know." Ani cooed, her biceps pushing out her chest enticingly. 

Swallowing thickly, he ran his hand up to her hip and tentatively cupped the underside of her breast, his eyes darting back to her face as he lightly squeezed. Her lips stretched into a pleased smile before her brows furrowed and her head tilted back when he groped at her chest more firmly, a shaky gasp exhaling into the air when he pulled her closer and latched onto the hardened nub. He had half a mind to avoid leaving any noticeable marks while swirling his tongue and gently digging his teeth into her skin.

Soft, breathy mewls and curses fell from her lips, strands of hair beginning to cling to her skin as sweat formed. Her hand left him and she leaned back again, only to give her bikini bottom an impatient tug to the side and expose her glistening folds. She grabbed at his length again and dragged the tip along her wetness, their bodies simultaneously tensing at the feeling and foreheads pressing together. Their breaths fanned against each other's skin, hot and shallow, and hitching when it nudged inside.

Ani only spared him a breathy chuckle before sinking down as far as she could take him in the cramped loveseat, her hands immediately slapping over their mouths to muffle the long, guttural noises. Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths and his brain grew hazy, fingers digging into her hips before sliding back toward her ass to squeeze.

He lifted her slowly and she lowered herself down again, his hips jerking upward to keep her halfway. Her hand flew down to grab onto the armrest and her eyes screwed shut. When he wrapped his arms around her and repeated the action, her body seized up and her legs quivered, a flow of curses and whines filling his ear. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her face buried in his chest, each swift snap of his hips sending ripples across her skin. 

His hazy mind pushed aside the worries of being caught and reprimanded. He'd deal with the consequences later.

Dipping his hand into the rippling soapy water, he gave a satisfied hum at the warmth and turned the water off right as Ani appeared in the doorway with wine glasses and a bottle in hand. She gave an eager and excited shimmy of her shoulders before gingerly setting the cups and bottle aside to take his offered hand and step into the water. 

Settling down in the tub, she gave a long sigh and lowered just enough for the water to lap at her shoulders, her knees tucking toward her chest to give him space. "Maybe I should move in." She murmured with a smile, voice playful yet he caught the underlying genuineness beneath it.

The place she called home wasn't much to look at with its age and walls that shook whenever the train passed with its squealing tires. It was old, rundown, and in a questionable area, but the rent was cheap and the bills were easily divided between her and Vera. He'd only gone inside once to get back a jacket Ani had 'borrowed' (truthfully, he was pretty certain she'd stolen it right under his nose and lied about him having given it to her), and while it was heavily cluttered, it felt homey and welcoming.

"And your sister?" (Y/N) carefully stepped into the tub and adjusted to avoid the cold spout pressing into his back, a sigh of relief unconsciously escaping him when the water dug into his skin and naturally worked on his tired muscles. 

"Her little boyfriend can help her. Vlad's over every other day. The least he can do is start payin' some bills instead of freeloadin' off us like some parasite." Ani lightly huffed, wringing her hands before collecting her hair and tying it into a messy bun on the top of her head. Her lips pursed and she gave a small sigh. "He's a good guy, though, I'll give him that. And it's not like I'll leave her like that."  

"You think they'll get married?"

Her nose scrunched up. "No."

His barked laugh bounced off the walls and he shook his head, sinking deeper into the water and resting his head back along the wall of the tub. Ani raised her leg and draped it over his knee, soapy water gliding along her exposed skin. His hand came to rest over her ankle, fingers running back and forth in thought. He'd been holding back the news for long enough. Better now than later.

"I'm taking time off, Ani. A whole week." Her eyes darted up to look at him, widening with surprise. "I got this, uh, family thing down in Florida. My cousin's getting married to his girl soon and I thought it'd be nice to accept the invite."

"You're leavin' me?" Ani immediately pouted and he smiled, lightly squeezing her ankle when her shoulders sagged dramatically. "What am I going to do without you?"

(Y/N) licked his lips and lifted his head off the tub wall, his throat clearing softly. "You can come if you want. I haven't booked the tickets yet and the hotel's going to be close to Disney."

Ani stared at him, her mouth pulling into a frown. "You're fucking with me. Don't do that, dude."

"I'm not, Ani. I know you've been dying to go." He grinned at her teasingly, a chuckle vibrating in the back of his throat. "You're a whole Disney adult, huh?"

"You're serious? You're seriously askin' me to go with you to Florida... and Disney?" Her softened with subtle emotion as she pushed herself to sit up straighter, her eyes flickering wildly between his.

When he nodded, she surged forward, the water swaying from side to side and threatening to splash onto the floor with her movements. She wrapped her arms around him and planted a kiss on his lips. "Oh, my god, we're going to Disney?!" She squealed and laughed, planting more messy kisses across his face. 

His features scrunched up and he chuckled, letting her kiss him until every inch of his face was smudged with her lipstick. Her body slumped against his and she released a dreamy sigh, her head resting over his shoulder as his hands rubbed up and down her back. "You don't have to go to the wedding. It'll probably be a shitshow, anyway."

"What kind of girlfriend would I be if I said no to being your plus one?"

His hands stilled and his chest stuttered with a choked breath. Girlfriend. Now that was a word he hadn't considered in years, much less thought of when he thought about Ani. Relationships always seemed like a chore, another weight added onto the pile of work and bills and life. Girlfriend... was that what she was? They ate out occasionally, but nothing fancy to warrant it being a date in his head, much less part of a whole relationship. 

"I..." Girlfriend. Somehow, he didn't mind it. He resumed caressing her back and she relaxed under his touch, the fleeting tension leaving her body. "I don't know. You'd be a smart girlfriend to avoid that mess." 

Ani curled up against him with a soft chuckle, practically nuzzling into his neck when his arms wrapped around her securely. The tip of her acrylics dragged along his arm and her eyes fluttered shut. "You can meet my mom and her man. They're over in Miami. She's a little crazy but I think she'd love you."

"Sounds like this is going to be an interesting trip." His head moved to prop on the top of her head, her black strands tickling his chin. "Better than I was expecting, at least."

[n0vazsq]

Just like you | Pau Cubarsi x Reader

pairing . . . pau cubarsi x gf!reader

summary . . . Celebrating the Copa del Rey win with your boyfriend, Pau

request . . . yes!! based on this request!

word count . . . 1.3k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . moodboard isnt moodboarding but beside that UGSBHNJJSHGD I NEED ME A PAU RIGH HERE RIGHT NOW I AM IN LOVE WITH THAT MAN FRR

. . . The night was electric. The stadium lights bathed the pitch in a golden glow as the roar of the crowd echoed into the sky. Barcelona had just claimed a fantastic victory in the Copa del Rey final, and Pau was in the centre of it all. But while his teammates celebrated wildly, Pau’s eyes searched the stands, scanning for one face in particular, yours.

You had been there, cheering louder than anyone, your voice hoarse from shouting throughout the entirematch. As a lifelong Barca fan, this moment was a dream come true for you too. Seeing Pau, your boyfriend, lift the greatly desired trophy with his team was a sight you would never forget.

After the chaos of the celebration on the field, Pau finally caught sight of you. His face broke into the biggest grin, and he gestured for you to come down. Security didn’t stop you; you were already known as his biggest fan, or girlfriend. As you made your way onto the field, Pau jogged toward you, the trophy still clutched tightly in his hand.

"Amor!" he called, his voice filled with excitement and pride.

You barely had time to reply before he swept you into his arms, spinning you around as laughter flowed out of both of you. The way he looked at you in that moment; his green eyes sparkling with pure joy, his face glowing with pride and love, made your heart skip a beat. The crowd around you faded into the background as he pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes never leaving yours.

"We did it!" he exclaimed, his voice a mix of disbelief and happiness. "Can you believe it?"

"You did it," you corrected, cupping his face with your hands. "I’m so proud of you, Pau. You were amazing out there."

His cheeks flushed at your praise, but his grin only widened. "I couldn’t have done it without you. Knowing you were here made a difference."

Before you could respond, he leaned in and kissed you, soft and full of emotion. The world seemed to pause in that moment. It didn’t matter that thousands of fans and cameras surrounded you; all that mattered was him and the love you shared.

When he finally pulled away, he held the trophy out to you. "Here," he said, his voice warm. "This is yours too."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Pau, I didn’t score the goals or defend like you guys did."

"No, but you’ve been with me through everything," he insisted. "The late nights, the tough matches, the injuries. This victory is as much yours as it is mine."

Tears pricked at your eyes as you accepted the trophy, holding it carefully. "It’s heavier than it looks," you joked, trying to lighten the moment, but your voice shook with emotion.

Pau laughed slightly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "That’s why we’re a team. We carry the weight together."

The two of you stayed on the field for a while longer, soaking in the atmosphere and taking pictures together with the trophy. Pau’s teammates came over to congratulate you, their teasing making you laugh.

"Looks like Pau’s got himself a lucky charm," one of them joked, clapping him on the back.

The celebrations carried on late into the night. Back in the locker room, the atmosphere was delightful. Pau kept you close, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders as his teammates sang, danced, and sprayed champagne. You couldn’t help but laugh as Pau got caught in the havoc of a champagne shower, his hair dripping and his grin never fading.

Later, the team headed out to a special banquet to celebrate their victory. Pau never let go of your hand, introducing you proudly to everyone as his girlfriend. The way he looked at you throughout the evening, his gaze soft and full of adoration, made your cheeks flush. He would lean in occasionally, brushing a kiss to your temple or whispering something sweet in your ear, making you smile.

After the banquet, Pau surprised you with a small, private celebration. He had arranged for a quiet corner of the rooftop, the city skyline stretched out before you, the lights twinkling like stars.

"Pau, this is beautiful," you said, turning to him with a look of pure adoration.

"I wanted to do something special for you," he said, pulling out a chair for you to sit. "You’ve been my support through everything, and I wanted to thank you properly."

As you sat together, sipping your drinks and reminiscing about the match, Pau reached across the table to take your hand in his. "I meant what I said earlier," he began, his voice soft but steady. "I couldn’t have done any of this without you. You’ve believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself."

Your heart swelled at his words. "You’ve worked so hard for this, Pau. You deserve every bit of success."

He smiled, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "Having you by my side makes it all the better."

The two of you stayed on the rooftop long into the night, talking and laughing as the city hummed quietly below. Pau’s gaze never left you, his eyes filled with a love so deep it made your chest ache.

As the night stretched on, Pau pulled you closer under the soft glow of the roof lights. His fingers gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and his eyes searched yours with an intensity that made your heart flutter. "Do you know how beautiful you are?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You felt your cheeks heat up, but before you could respond, he added, "Not just tonight, not just because of how you look. You’re beautiful because of the way you light up my life. Because of the way you believe in me, even when I don’t."

The weight of his words brought tears to your eyes, but before they could fall, he leaned in and kissed you. It was soft and slow, filled with all the love and gratitude he couldn’t put into words. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing gently across your skin as he deepened the kiss, and for a moment, the rest of the world ceased to exist.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. "I want to remember this moment forever," he said softly, reaching for his phone. "Let’s take a picture."

You laughed as he positioned the camera, pulling you closely against his side. "Smile,”"he said, but the grin already on his face was wide enough for both of you. He snapped a few pictures, then turned the phone to show you.

In one photo, your head was tilted back mid laugh as he gazed at you with clear adoration. Another captured you two staring at each other lovingly, soft siles grazing your faces. "These are perfect," he said, his voice brimming with happiness. "Just like tonight. Just like you."

As you looked at the photos together, Pau pulled you into another kiss, this one sweet and filled with the kind of pure, unfiltered joy that only came from being with someone who made you feel like home.

When you finally returned to your room, Pau pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you drifted off to sleep. The warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat were the perfect end to a perfect day.

 taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @notm4d1 ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @bernalswifeyy ,, @nngkay ,, @justaf1girl (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

[a-sorrowful-tune]

I’m currently obsessed with this tweet. It’s so real

[fashionteahouse]

Ooo I got one can u do one where reader and Paul r in a long distance relationship due to the reader being in uni and they always have phone sex or sexting and reader surprises Paul at his surprise birthday party and they end the night with uknow and Paul’s like the real thing is better ❤️

ofc ! hope you enjoy :)

crushed velvet - paul x reader

His grumpy face was still cute in your eyes. You hug him again.

“When am I going to see you again?” he asks.

“Soon…Really soon.”

“Your next break isn’t until the summer.” he says sadly.

You rub his back as you both look at each other. He kissed you, not caring that people were looking. He had to savor the last bit of feeling of you.

You wave to him as you walked off to go on your journey back to school.

It was hard. It was always hard.

That night as you held the phone to your ear, his deep voice rumbled through the device.

“I miss you…What are you doing?”

He already asked it already but you smile a bit as you tell him again, “I’m in bed.”

He goes quiet for a moment before he speaks again.

“What are you wearing?”

Your heart speeds up as you know where it’s going to go.

“Just a night shirt.” you say quietly.

“Just that?”

“Yes.”

You hear him hum out a response and then he speaks again in that devilish voice that made you do unholy things.

“I miss touching you…”

“I miss touching you too.” you whispered as you heard his breath start to go heavy.

“Can you do something for me?”

“Of course.”

“Close your eyes.”

You do so. He instructed your hand to trail down your stomach and into your underwear.

It was your turn for your breathing to become heavy.

Soon, you were crumbling apart as your fingers were the substitute for his. Your quiet moans as you pleasured yourself, were right in his ear as he groaned while stroking himself.

“Don’t be quiet….” he speaks.

“Louder..For me.”

It drove you almost insane and you wanted him there.

“I need you so much.” you whine out as you climaxed.

Night and day felt so lonely without him.

Paul was surprised with a picture of you in your desk mirror. The golden hour let your body shine that he almost drooled. He closed his eyes as he wanted to so badly touch the skin that was teasing him.

He sends you a video. You watched in the dark before you went to sleep.

By the time he was done stroking himself, he looked like a child who had spilled milk all over himself.

The ache was deep inside of you. No matter how much masterbaiting that one did, it wasn’t enough for you. You just wanted him. He just wanted you.

Especially when he was fresh out of the shower, he hung out as you wanted to know how that veiny flesh felt inside of you as you stared at the picture.

“So are you coming?” Emily asks you over the phone.

A surprise party for Paul was being thrown. You had no classes and you had a free weekend.

“Of course! I miss him so much…Don’t tell him I’m coming.”

“Of course, of course. He’s going to go crazy.” she tells you. Your smile was bright.

You send him one last picture at midnight before you were about to leave. Showcasing the finger that touched the wetness.

“Happy birthday”

You were impatient as you were traveling to go back to La Push. He texted back.

“I miss you. This is going to be the worst birthday ever.”

You look at your phone with a smile. The sun was starting to rise.

You finally made it to La Push.

Emily pulled you into the home with a big hug. She was finished baking the cake.

“Help me put the icing on?” she asks you. You nod.

As you do, you gush to her about how you have been. It mostly contained of how much you missed Paul.

“That’s all we hear from him. How much he misses you.” Emily says with a smile.

The pack started to come in one by one. They grinned as they seen you, giving you hugs of love. They missed you too but not as much as Paul. The balloons filled in the air.

Paul was the last one to come in and Emily made you duck behind the island.

They turned on the lights and everyone yelled surprise.

You decided to stay hidden for added effect.

“I’m going home.” you heard his voice say.

Soft groans filled the home.

“Come on, Paul. At least have some cake.”

“I don’t want no damn cake.” he grumbled.

You cover your mouth with a hand to keep yourself from laughing.

“Paul. Get some cake and stop acting like a baby.” Sam says.

You heard footsteps and you rise slowly up.

“Surprise?”

He dropped his fork.

Scooping you up in his arms and kissing your face.

“You’re here.” he kept saying happily.

He didn’t dare to let you go throughout the party.

“I’m going home”. he says after the time started to get late.

He rises and your arm is still around his back.

Your feet follow him as you heard the pack argue among themselves about who is going to clean up the mess.

You chuckle to yourself and Paul lifts you in his arms as you both make your way to his house.

You laugh again as his lips touch your ear. It tickled.

You slide down his body as you both made it inside of his home. He brushed against you and captures you in a sensual kiss.

Your hands dance in his hair as he moves you both, “Here or the bed?” he asks against your lips.

“Your bed.” you whispered.

He lifts you in his hands, your legs around his waist and you felt your back touch his soft bed. You looked up at him and he almost came right then and there.

You both waste no time to become naked. He lays on his back and grabs your wrist to bring you over him. He scoots you up his body, his breath was soon blowing against your wet center.

You gasp at the sensation of him eating at you. Your hips slowly rolled against his tongue before they started to rock in rhythmic motion that made you roll your eyes so hard.

After trembling for so long, you slide off of him to ride out the high of your orgasm. You whisper his name as he continued to touch your shaken body.

He hovered over you as he pressed an open mouth kiss to your ear. You felt him line himself up with you as your head turned to the side, seeing his clenched fist in the sheets. You hold onto his strong wrist as he slowly pushes himself inside of you.

You both moan out loud. He rolls and rocks his hips as you turn your head side to side. It was overwhelming but in a good way. He snakes his hand forward and around your stomach, trailing downward, making small circles that made you moan out incoherent words.

He grunted in your ear. He grunted how good you felt. He grunted how the real thing was better. With that, you’re flipped over, your knees are pushed beside your head as you look at his animalistic expression.

His tongue made you quiver as he ate at you again. This time, his grip on your legs made them impossible for you to move. The only thing that could move was your hips that pressed against his face. You felt like you were going to die. But in a good way.

He finally sinks back in, his hips snaps to reach all of you, making sure you felt all of him. He squeezed his eyes shut. It felt like he was in heaven as he felt tingles throughout his body like electricity. The crushed velvet pulsated around him and he moved faster to get the last bit of feeling before he, himself came as well.

You both lay side by side. You both catch your breaths.

“This was the best birthday ever.” he says quietly.

You chuckle quietly.

“This…This is what I’ve been missing.” you whisper.

“Me too. The real thing is always better.”

You give him a smile as you give each other passionate smooch and you lay on his chest as he holds you.

[yup-thats-me]

pump it up!

pairing: pervert!gym!trainer Wi Ha-Joon x dumb!fem!reader

summary: the infamous gym trainer in your city has set his eyes on you!

warning: masturbation, suggestive, dark 18+

a/n: enjoy this as fiction, please. this is not meant to portray the actor in any bad light. it's pure fiction. leave if it makes you uncomfortable. this is the edit that inspired me btw<3

gym!trainer Wi Ha-Joon whose pants felt a bit too tight as soon his eyes landed on you. pink bow prettily tied on your pretty head, matching with the pink sports bra that clung to your chest for the life of it.

gym!trainer Wi Ha-Joon who immediately drops the weights he was lifting, his legs taking him to you. he knew he had to get his hands on you before someone else did, or maybe you were already someone else's? fuck it. he'll take his chances.

"do you need help?" his voice ever so gentlemanly. no one would even imagine how he wanted to push you against the wall and smash his lips with yours, his hands roaming around your body like a hungry beast, oh how he would grind—

"oh yes, please!" you said with that innocent smile. oh how he wanted you to scream his name while he abused your hole

you laid on the weight bench, nervously looking up at the metal bar. you needed to get it done, yes but that doesn't mean you can't be scared. it must be fate that the trainer came to your rescue, almost like an angel.

Ha-Joon smiled, his hands on the rod ready to lift it up if you mess up. the first one was okay, your arms straining, lifting it up. Ha-Joon helped a bit in lifting it up.

like a pervert, he quite enjoyed seeing you strain under the weight. he did not even tried to hide the fact that he was shamelessly staring at you, his eyes hungry.

but you paid no mind, of course. to you, the man was simply a gentleman helping you out. after you were done, Ha-Joon would workout around the same equipments beside you, smiling every now and then and on his toes to help you out.

he would ask for your name before you left, his mind creating images of you under him, begging for him to stop but he of course, won't. later that day, Ha-Joon would make several mistakes. call your name to his clients, dropping barbels mindlessly. what could you say? his mind was filled with you and only you.

one day when you let him take a swig from your bottle, he decided it was a sign from you. from then on, his touches would linger more than appropriate, his hands travelling to places, its all innocently of course.

when you hugged him thanking him for always looking out for you in this unknown environment, it was so hard for him to even breath. however, he was not willing to let the opportunity slide though.

his hands would roam around your back as he diverted your mind with his sweet words and sweet smile. he could only hope then that you won't be able to feel his hard on pressing against you, but if you did, even better.

as soon as you left, he would rush to the gym shower, stroking his cock with the same hand that had been on your skin, your name falling from his lips almost like a spell.

and finally, when one day you came to the gym, not with your usual gym outfit, and your eyes red and lips puffy from crying, he was feeling a bit too happy than he should have. finally, your asshole of a boyfriend had cheated on you. how lovely.

pervert.

[trvqvoiisee]

Between Us

Part 2- The Almost Moment

Part 1- A Glimpse of More

Later that night, they sat on the couch in Minho’s dorm room, a half-eaten pizza box between them. A cheesy rom-com played on the TV, but Y/N wasn’t paying attention.

Minho stretched, his arm brushing against hers. “Okay, real talk,” he said, turning to face her. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” she said too quickly.

He raised an eyebrow. “Y/N.”

She sighed, staring at her hands. “I just…I’ve been thinking about us. And how much you mean to me.”

Miho’s expression softened. “You mean everything to me too, Y/N/N.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped. He reached out, tucking that same stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Is that all?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N’s breath caught. This was it—the moment she had been dreading and hoping for all at once.

Before she could answer, the door buzzed.

Minho sighed, pulling away. “It’s probably Maddison. I told her not to come over, but she doesn’t listen.”

Y/N forced a smile, her heart sinking. “You should get it.”

He hesitated, his eyes searching hers, as if he knew there was more she wanted to say. But in the end, he got up and opened the door.

And Y/N realized, as she watched Maddison walk in, that maybe this wasn’t their moment after all…

An: Thank you all for the likes I hope you like part 2 like comment or reblog if you want a part 3!!

[hellinistical]

in which your heart is not your own, owed to Rafayel. Rafayel x fem.reader. mdni.

tw: heart mutilation. obsessive tendencies. death of siblings. death of a friend. familial disowning. pet names. kidnapping. betrayal. miscommunication. manipulation. sexual manipulation. blood. nearly attempted murder. oral (f. receiving). piv. sensory deprivation (sight). manic episodes. fantalization of murder. death of reader. horrible mother-in-law. slightly ooc rafayel. virginity loss. stalking. harassment. not proof-read.

wc: 23.3k

The blindfold became a second skin, its silken weight a constant reminder of your curious bargain: love without sight. You weren’t blind or anything; quite the opposite. It was an arrangement sealed by whispers in the dark, by a voice that melted into your bones and hands that knew your body better than you did.

The room was alive as if the humid air pulsed with his presence. His touch was reverent, deliberate, as though tracing unseen constellations across your skin. He didn’t speak often, and when he did, his words were like the low hum of a distant storm—calm, commanding, magnetic. You had never known such intimacy, yet a lingering ache settled in your chest. A hunger to see the one who worshipped you so wholly.

The nights were your sanctuary, tangled in his arms, consumed by his worship. But the days were long and solitary. You would roam the halls of the vast, echoing estate, guided by touch, sound, and memory. Each room carried his essence: rich, intoxicating, and mysterious. Yet, no mirrors adorned the walls—no reflective surfaces offered even a shadow of him.

And truly, tonight was no different. 

His touch was a paradox of restraint and possession, a delicate balance between firm and tender. One hand pressed against your stomach, grounding you, anchoring you to him as though he feared you might drift away. His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles on your skin, each movement a silent confession of need. The other hand cradled your chin, tilting your face upward with such care it made your breath hitch.

You felt his warmth everywhere, radiating from him like an endless flame, seeping into your own body. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, as if he were memorizing every shiver, every arch, every breathless sound that escaped your lips. The blindfold over your eyes heightened every sensation; every touch felt amplified, every brush of his lips on your skin a spark against the kindling of your longing.

“Do you feel me?” he murmured, his voice low and edged with something primal. 

Of course, you could. You nodded, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you, grounding yourself against the intensity of him. He shifted slightly, and the hand on your stomach pressed down harder, making you gasp. He stilled for a moment, as though savoring the sound, and then continued his slow, relentless worship of you.

"I want you to know," he said, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, "how deeply you are mine."

Your husband’s cock dragged against your gummy walls deliciously as he teased to pull out once again, only to push through your ings and fill you up. His hand on your stomach searched for where he may be inside your guts, and upon finding it, he pressed down again, 

“O-oh!” 

“So needy…but that’s okay,” His lips brushed against your forehead, trailing kisses down to your cheek, jaw, and neck, the hand holding your chin sliding down effortlessly to hold your hip as his thrusts worked you through almost hellishly slow. Your lips were puffy, overspent with not enough reward as he took the hand off your stomach to pinch your puckering clit. 

The syllables falling from your mouth were nonsensical. 

Grateful. That’s what he told himself he was. Grateful for your presence, for your laughter echoing softly in the vastness of his world, for the way your body responded to his touch as though it were made for him alone. But the truth?

No, gratitude wasn’t enough to contain the storm inside him. He was enamored—utterly captivated by the curve of your lips when you smiled, the way you furrowed your brow in thought, the quiet sighs you made when you slept. Obsessed, perhaps. He would trace the shape of your hand in his mind long after you had fallen asleep, commit the cadence of your voice to memory like a sacred hymn.

In love? The word seemed too small, too human for what he felt. His longing for you was consuming, a tidal wave threatening to pull him under. His heart, if it could still be called that, didn’t just yearn for you—it burned, a constant, searing ache that no touch, no whispered word could soothe.

Yearning. Yes, that was it. A raw, endless yearning. Not just to hold you, to worship you, but to be known by you. To shed the shadows that cloaked him and bask in the light of your gaze. Yet, the fear lingered, sharp and unrelenting. What if the truth of him made you recoil? What if the blindfold, that fragile barrier, was all that held this tenuous, perfect illusion together?

Every night, he battled with himself. The desire to see your eyes widen in recognition warred with the terror of seeing them widen in horror. And yet, he couldn’t stay away. You were his sanctuary, his punishment, his undoing.

As his hand lingered on your skin, tracing slow, reverent lines, he wondered if you could feel it—the desperation in his touch. The way it whispered what his lips could not: Stay. Don’t turn away.

Well, truly, he had his mother and her jealousy to thank, he supposed. It was her envy that had cast the first stone, her cruel game that brought you here, blindfolded and bewildered. And your sisters—ah, yes, your sisters. Their bitter whispers had stoked your doubts, planted the seeds of curiosity and rebellion in your mind. They had warned you, hadn’t they? Told you no man could love like this without hiding something monstrous. They had been so sure, so certain, that the one who adored you so fervently could only be a beast in disguise. He hated them for it, hated the cracks they had tried to drive between you. Their envy had been a quieter thing, but no less potent, planting seeds of doubt in you that he struggled to uproot.

His hand slid up from your hip, lingering just long enough to feel the warmth of your skin beneath his palm. Slowly, deliberately, he intertwined his fingers with yours, as if anchoring himself to this moment. His thumb brushed the ring on your finger—a masterpiece of his own making.

The ring had been the first gift he’d ever given you, long before you’d come to this place, to him. A delicate band of gold, adorned with a singular blue gem.  He had poured his essence into its creation, shaping it with his own hands, imbuing it with fragments of himself. It was meant to be a promise, though he hadn’t dared to speak the words aloud when he placed it on your finger. You are mine, as I am yours.

His own creation, forged in a moment of reckless hope. The gemstone glimmered faintly even in the dim light, its color a reflection of something deep and hidden within him. A piece of his essence, captured and bound in that delicate band, as much a promise as it was a claim.

And it may have been foolish- stupid, even, to get sentimental at such a time when he should have been focusing on the pleasure of his wife, but timing be damned.  He took your hand, kissing it tenderly.

And you…you were just about gone. 

Needy. Insatiable. So full of want. Your mind became saturated at his prolonged drags, your back long since off the feather-stuffed sack you called a bed. 

He threw your ankles over his shoulders, locking them around his neck carelessly, your thighs jittery, your muscles tender from his earlier man-handling. 

Your husband’s hand slid upward, wrapping around your throat. His grip was firm but careful, more a reminder of his presence than a threat. Yet, even as he reveled in the softness of your skin, a darker thought flickered through his mind.

Sometimes—only sometimes—he wondered what would happen if he just... snapped it.

What would it be like to end it all, to sever the connection so completely? To see you shatter, your life slipping from him like water from a cracked vessel. The power of it, the utter control. He imagined it in flashes—your eyes wide with shock, the sound of your breath halting, your skin going cold beneath his touch.

The thought thrilled him, excited him. His pulse quickened at the heady rush of power, of having you utterly and completely in his grasp. The idea of snapping your fragile neck—the utter finality of it—was both intoxicating and terrifying. But no. 

No.

Not his lady love. 

He tightened his grip just enough for you to feel it, but not enough to hurt you. His eyes, though unseen, burned with the ferocity of his internal battle, trying to wrestle with the darkness in him that was so close to taking over.

“Forgive me,” he murmured, his voice rough, a raw edge to it. He pulled his hand away, but his breath was shallow and uneven.

"Husband?" Your voice trembles with both curiosity and unease, a soft whisper that feels too loud in the silence that suddenly envelops the room. The warmth of his body, the heat of his touch, is gone—vanished like a fleeting dream.

You sit up, instinctively reaching for the space where his form had once been, only to find it empty. The bed feels cold now, the soft sheets still clinging to your skin but no longer warm with his presence. For a moment, you’re disoriented, your pulse quickening in the sudden, oppressive quiet.

He had been there, hadn't he? His hands, his lips, his breath... all so real, so consuming. And now, nothing. The absence of him presses down on you like a physical weight.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, the cool floor beneath your feet grounding you in reality, but still, the question lingers: Where is he?

A subtle shift in the air, like a quiet breath, stirs your senses. Something is wrong. You feel it in your bones, the pull of something deep inside you—a fear that has no name, only the cold certainty that the distance between you and him is more than just physical. It feels like he's slipped beyond reach, as though the very essence of him has evaporated into the shadows.

“Husband?” You call again, this time louder, more urgent, the words trembling on your lips. The sound feels strange in your mouth, a name you no longer feel certain about.

The silence is deafening, and the lingering scent of him on your skin becomes both a comfort and a cruel reminder of the emptiness now surrounding you. Your fingers brush over the empty space on the bed where he should be.

And then, faintly—so faint you almost wonder if it's your imagination—a whisper floats from the shadows, a voice low and almost broken.

"Don’t search for me."

The words send a shiver down your spine. They're not a command, but a plea.

*** The sun shone brightly, filtering through the leaves above as you stood by the lake, the warmth of the day wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. The water lapped at your calves in a gentle rhythm, its cool touch refreshing against the summer heat. You smiled to yourself, wringing out your hair, the droplets catching the light as they fell, each one a tiny diamond in the air.

Birds flitted from branch to branch, their cheerful songs blending with the soft rustle of the leaves in the breeze. The day was perfect—everything about it seemed touched by the gods. The soft chirping of the birds, the way the water shimmered under the sun, the gentle sway of the wildflowers on the bank—it was all part of the peaceful symphony that made this place feel like a dream.

You couldn’t help but feel grateful. This hidden lake, tucked away from the hustle of the village, was your secret retreat, and it always brought you peace. You had come to bathe here often, and the nymphs who lived in the lake were like old friends, joining you with their laughter and playful antics. Their bright laughter echoed through the trees, and you found yourself smiling as their voices floated over the water. Sometimes, they would gift you flowers woven into crowns, and other times they would tell you stories in their musical voices that made you laugh until your sides ached.

A soft ripple in the water caught your attention, and before you could turn around, a gentle but playful grip wrapped around your breasts.  You gasped in surprise, but laughter bubbled up from within you as the familiar presence of Hersilia, the naiads’ most mischievous, appeared behind you, her long, wet hair trailing behind her like silken strands in the water.

“You’re getting too comfortable, my friend,” Hersilia teased, her voice lilting with joy. Her fingers, slick with water, pinched at your sides, sending a shiver through your body. You swatted at her hands, laughing as you tried to push her away, but she was quick—too quick—and only giggled harder as she danced just out of reach.

“You can’t catch me!” Hersilia sang, her feet skimming across the water’s surface, sending soft splashes that sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight. The mischievous glint in her eyes told you this would turn into another playful chase through the lake, and you couldn’t help but grin.

“Do you always sneak up on people like that?” you asked, feigning annoyance, but your laughter betrayed the mock seriousness in your voice.

"Always," Hersilia replied, her voice light and teasing. "If you didn’t want to be caught, you should have kept an eye out." She twirled in the water, her movements fluid and graceful like a dance. “Now, you’re mine.” With that, she lunged toward you again, her wet hands reaching for your sides, causing you to squirm and giggle even more.

“Catch me if you can!” she called out, her voice full of challenge as she darted into deeper water, her lithe body cutting through the surface like a serpent.

As soon as you put your hands in the water to splash the naiad, your heart still light from laughter, you froze. Your sisters voices carried over the water as they called out to you. Hersilia’s teasing grin faltered, and in a blink, she disappeared beneath the surface as if she were never there, the ripples from her intrusion fading just as quick as she did. 

Your sisters' figures stood silhouetted against the sun at the top of the hill, their skirts fluttering in the breeze. Algaura, ever the patient one, raised a hand to shade her eyes as she looked for you, while Clidippe cupped her hands around her mouth, her voice ringing out.

"Are you planning to live in that lake forever?" Clidippe called, her tone sharp but not unkind. "Mother’s been asking after you, and we’ve wasted enough time chasing you down!"

You sighed, casting a glance at the shimmering lake. For a moment, you thought you saw Hersilia’s laughing eyes just beneath the surface, but when you blinked, the water was clear, its secrets tucked away once more.

Reluctantly, you waded toward the shore, water dripping from your dress as you stepped onto the soft grass. "I wasn’t hiding," you called back, wringing out the hem of your gown.

"You’re always hiding," Algaura said, her voice softer, though you could hear the faintest hint of amusement. "Come on now. We shouldn’t keep Mother waiting."

You climbed the gentle slope to where your sisters stood, their expressions a mix of exasperation and affection. Clidippe crossed her arms, arching a brow. "You’ll have to explain to her why you look like you’ve been dragged through the lake."

"Maybe I was," you quipped, earning a laugh from Algaura and an eye roll from Clidippe.

“Besides, you know you’re not even supposed to be out—there’ve been rumors of kidnappings at the markets lately,” Algaura added quietly, her voice laced with concern. Her eyes darted around as if she expected danger to leap out from the trees. You knew she wasn’t wrong. As princesses, you and your sisters were always at risk, especially during times of unrest. The weight of your station pressed on you, even now, as you walked back toward the village.

Clidippe, ever the brash one, scoffed. “Never mind the kidnappings. We have enough trouble with peasants constantly vying for your attention, Y/N.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, her tone dripping with disdain. “Honestly, the way they fawn over you—it’s ridiculous.”

You couldn’t help but sigh at Clidippe’s dramatics. “It’s not my fault people are kind to me,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips despite her exasperation.

“Kind?” Clidippe shot you a sidelong glance, her lips curling into a wry smirk. “Please. Half of them would give anything to whisk you away. The other half just want to curry favor for their own benefit.”

“Not everyone has ulterior motives, Clidippe,” Algaura interjected, her voice calm but firm. “Y/N has a way with people—it’s why they like her.”

“Too much, if you ask me,” Clidippe muttered, though there was no real malice in her words. She glanced at you, her expression softening slightly. “I’m just saying, you should be careful. You’re too trusting sometimes.”

You looked between your sisters, touched by their concern even if it came in different forms. Algaura’s quiet worry and Clidippe’s sharp protectiveness were two sides of the same coin, and though you often found their nagging tiresome, you knew it came from a place of love.

“I’ll be fine,” you assured them, your voice light but sincere. “I always have you two watching over me, don’t I?”

Algaura smiled gently, reaching out to tuck a strand of wet hair behind your ear. “Always,” she said softly.

Clidippe rolled her eyes, but her lips quirked into a reluctant smile.

Still, it didn’t stop Clidippe from popping the back of your head with a playful but firm slap. "Run out again, and I’ll tell Mother everything," she threatened, though the smirk tugging at the corner of her lips betrayed her true feelings.

You yelped, rubbing the spot where her hand landed. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me,” Clidippe said, arching an eyebrow with a look that only a sister could perfect—a blend of teasing and warning. “One more stunt like this, and I’ll make sure Mother knows all about your little escapades to that lake. Let’s see how much ‘kindness’ you get after that.”

Algaura sighed, ever the peacekeeper. “Clidippe, don’t be so harsh. She’s not a child anymore.”

“Exactly,” Clidippe shot back, throwing her hands in the air. “Which is why she should know better!”

You stuck your tongue out at Clidippe, earning a pointed glare. “I’ll be good, I promise,” you said, though the sparkle in your eyes made it clear you’d likely end up sneaking off again.

Clidippe rolled her eyes dramatically, muttering something under her breath about you being incorrigible. But as the three of you reached the village gates, the lighthearted bickering melted into an easy camaraderie.

Despite her threats, you knew Clidippe would never actually tattle. 

***

True to your sister’s words, the palace was already in an uproar. Servants scrambled through the halls, their frantic footsteps echoing off marble floors. The air buzzed with tension as your name was shouted by guards and attendants alike.

Ushered through the hidden servant’s path by Clidippe and Algaura, you reached your chambers in a hurry. Even so, the chaos outside did not abate, nor did the sharp, commanding voice of your mother as it carried through the palace. The tone was unmistakable: fury tempered only by concern.

“Get in, and don’t say a word,” Clidippe hissed as she shoved you inside.

“Stay quiet,” Algaura added in a softer tone. “We’ll try to talk to her.”

You nodded and hurried to change out of your damp dress, tossing it into the hidden laundry chute as you pulled on a fresh gown. Your hair was still damp, but you quickly twisted it into a loose braid, praying it wouldn’t give you away.

No sooner had you seated yourself by the window with an open book than the door burst open, your mother’s imposing figure framed in the doorway. Her face was a storm, eyes blazing as she took in the sight of you.

“Where have you been?” she demanded, her voice like the crack of a whip.

“Mother, she’s been here,” Clidippe interrupted smoothly, stepping into the room. Her tone was casual, but there was an edge of urgency to it. “We checked ourselves—she’s been reading by the window.”

Algaura appeared beside her, nodding in agreement. “It was a misunderstanding. The servants must have miscounted.”

But your mother was not so easily deceived. Her piercing gaze flicked between your sisters, then settled on you. She took a step closer, her presence filling the room.

“You think me a fool?” she snapped, her voice low and dangerous. “Your hair is still wet. You reek of the lake.” Her eyes narrowed, and you felt the weight of her judgment bearing down on you. “Do you have any idea the panic you’ve caused?”

“Mother, it wasn’t—” Clidippe began, but she was cut off by a sharp wave of your mother’s hand.

“Enough!” she barked, silencing the room. “Both of you, out. Now.”

Clidippe and Algaura hesitated, glancing at you with apologetic looks, but they knew better than to argue. They slipped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind them.

Left alone with your mother, you felt as though the air had been sucked from the room.

“I have warned you,” she said, her tone cold and measured, “time and time again about your reckless behavior. And yet, you defy me.”

“Mother, I didn’t mean—”

“Silence,” she interrupted, her eyes boring into yours. “You are a princess. Your actions affect more than just yourself. Do you understand that? While you frolic at the lake, the palace is thrown into disarray, and our reputation is put at risk.”

You looked down, shame burning in your cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry will not suffice,” she said sharply. “You will spend the next week confined to your chambers. No visits to the garden, no trips to the library. Perhaps solitude will teach you the responsibility you so sorely lack.”

Your heart sank, but you knew better than to protest. “Yes, Mother,” you said quietly.

She studied you for a moment longer, her expression softening ever so slightly. “I do this because I love you, Y/N. But you must learn. For your own sake.”

With that, she turned and left, the door closing behind her with a decisive thud and the unmistakable click of the lock. You sat in silence, the weight of her words pressing down on you. Outside, you could hear your sisters murmuring, their voices laced with guilt.

Your chambers were vast, grandiose in a way that reminded you constantly of your status as a princess. High ceilings, intricate tapestries, and polished floors—all designed to impress and suffocate in equal measure. Large windows let in streams of sunlight, and a balcony overlooked the sprawling gardens below. But what use was beauty when it felt like a gilded cage?

You paced the length of the room, your bare feet making soft sounds against the cool stone floor. The confines of the space didn’t ease your restless mind. You considered the balcony, leaning against its railing and staring down at the manicured hedges and fountains below. It was tempting—freedom was right there. But jumping wasn’t an option. The drop was too far, and while you could climb, you doubted you’d make it down without breaking a limb or getting caught.

“Damn it all,” you muttered under your breath, smacking your palm against the railing in frustration. The sting in your hand was nothing compared to the helplessness bubbling inside you. You had barely been out at the lake an hour, and now you were stuck here for a week.

You threw yourself onto the chaise by the window, staring at the ceiling with an exaggerated sigh. The room might have been big, but it felt smaller with each passing moment. You hated being confined like this, unable to explore the world outside, the woods, the lake, the freedom.

The sound of soft footsteps in the hall made you sit up. It was likely a servant delivering food or linens—maybe even your sisters trying to sneak in a visit. You darted toward the door, pressing your ear against it and listening.

“Y/N?” came a whispered voice.

Algaura.

Relief flooded you as you opened the door just a crack. Her face appeared, smiling sheepishly as she squeezed through the gap.

“Mother would kill me if she knew I was here,” she said, glancing around nervously. “But I couldn’t leave you alone all day.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you admitted, hugging her tightly.

She pulled away, her expression thoughtful. “I brought something to cheer you up,” she said, producing a small bundle wrapped in cloth. She unwrapped it to reveal a handful of flowers—wild ones, from the woods near the lake. “Don’t tell me I’m the only one who can bend the rules now and then.”

You laughed, the tension in your chest easing slightly. “You’re the best.”

“Don’t let Clidippe hear that,” Algaura said with a wink. “She’ll never let me live it down.”

It’s quiet for a moment before she adds on. "You know, Clidippe was right- there really are lot of suitors outside. It's a little...strange."

Algaura’s words made you pause. You sat back on the chaise, the wildflowers resting in your lap. “What do you mean?” you asked, tilting your head.

She leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed, looking thoughtful. “It’s not just the usual nobles hoping for a chance to curry favor with Mother and Father. There are strangers—people I’ve never seen before. Foreigners. Merchants. Even a few peasants who’ve somehow wormed their way to the gates. All of them asking about you.”

You frowned, your fingers brushing absently over the soft petals of a flower. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would they be asking about me specifically?”

Algaura shrugged, though there was a flicker of unease in her expression. “You’re beautiful, Y/N. It’s not surprising people would notice you. But this... It feels different. Like they know something we don’t.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, though you tried to laugh it off. “Maybe they’ve just heard about my charming personality,” you joked, though your voice wavered slightly.

Algaura didn’t laugh. Instead, she studied you closely, her brow furrowing. “Be careful,” she said softly. “I know you hate being cooped up, but maybe Mother was right to keep you here for now. There’s something strange in the air lately. I can feel it.”

You shifted uncomfortably, the weight of her warning settling over you. Algaura wasn’t one to be superstitious, but when she got a feeling about something, she was rarely wrong.

“Strange how?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light.

She hesitated, as though weighing her words. “It’s hard to explain. Just... I don’t trust all those people outside. It’s like they’re waiting for something.”

The unease inside you grew, twisting like a knot in your stomach. You glanced toward the window, half-expecting to see shadows moving in the garden below. But there was nothing—only sunlight and swaying trees.

“I’ll be careful,” you promised, though the words felt hollow.

Algaura nodded, though her worried expression remained. “Good. Because something tells me this is just the beginning.”

***

The rumors had started as whispers—passed from one mouth to another, carried on the breeze that swept through the markets and the quiet corners of taverns. But in time, they grew louder, more insistent, until the very air around the kingdom seemed to hum with the story of a princess more beautiful than any goddess of old.

A beauty that rivaled Aphrodite herself.

It wasn’t just your appearance that captivated people’s attention; it was the mystery that surrounded you.  No one had truly seen your face, at least not in the way they wanted to. 

Each rumor twisted, shaped by the imagination of the masses, until you were not just a princess—but an otherworldly vision. Some said you were touched by the gods themselves, a living incarnation of love and grace. Others whispered that you were an enchantress, capable of bending the hearts of even the hardest of men.

And so, like a ripple in a pond, the word spread far beyond the kingdom’s borders—across oceans, over mountains, through forests, and into lands where they did not even know your name. But they knew the legend.

The first few days, it had been easy to dismiss. A few admirers calling out from below, a few bouquets of flowers left at the foot of the palace gates. It was nothing new, nothing you hadn’t experienced before. But soon, it became something else entirely.

You could barely step out onto your balcony without being greeted by the sight of eager faces staring up at you, their eyes filled with something darker than mere admiration. They had no shame, no respect for the space between royalty and commoner. 

The flowers had turned from sweet-scented lilies to strange, unfamiliar blossoms. Some with petals as black as night, others with thorns sharp enough to pierce your skin if you weren't careful. And the gifts—small trinkets, strange tokens, even jewelry—felt like offerings, as though they thought you were some kind of goddess to be pleased.

It wasn’t just the courtyard. It was everywhere. As you walked through the palace halls, you could hear the faint, eerie whispers of your name on the wind, drifting in from outside. Even the servants, usually busy with their duties, glanced nervously at you, as if they too were starting to sense that something was amiss.

The situation grew increasingly unsettling, day by day. At first, it had been easy to brush off the behavior of a few overzealous suitors, but now it was spiraling into something far more disturbing. The crowds gathered outside the gates and beneath your balcony grew more persistent, more entitled. No longer were they content with simply offering their gifts or admiring you from afar.

It wasn’t long before your guards began to report strange incidents: men lurking in the shadows, eyes fixed upon the windows, waiting for the right moment to approach. 

There were whispers among the palace staff about people who had tried to slip past the guards, pretending to be servants or tradesmen. Some had been caught trying to scale the walls, attempting to break into your chambers when the moon was high in the sky. And then, there were the ones who had been caught near the palace gardens, staring at the windows with expressions that were almost manic, as if they believed they had a right to be there.

At first, you had relished the attention. The excitement of being desired, the feeling of power that came with being the center of so many people's gaze. The flowers, the gifts, the glances of admiration from every corner of the kingdom—it all felt flattering. After all, who wouldn't enjoy being the object of such longing?

But as the days wore on, that thrill began to dull, replaced by an uncomfortable weight that grew heavier with each passing moment. The whispers that once made you feel cherished now felt like chains, dragging you down. The crowd below, once full of eager faces, began to feel suffocating. Their eyes were no longer filled with admiration, but something far more possessive. They expected something from you—something you could never give.

It felt like an impossible request: to want someone who loved you for you, not for the polished image they had built of you in their minds. The desire for genuine connection, something real, was becoming a sharp, aching void in your chest. You longed for someone who saw beyond your beauty, someone who wasn’t captivated by your face alone, someone who wanted you, with all your flaws, your doubts, your fears.

The thought flickered in your mind, almost in jest, that perhaps you could somehow make them stop looking at you like that. If you marred your appearance, disfigured the thing they worshipped, maybe then they would stop seeing you as an object. But the idea made you sick, even as it seemed to offer a twisted kind of solution to your growing dread. You knew, deep down, you weren’t brave enough for such an extreme. You couldn't bring yourself to erase the one thing that had given you power in the first place, even if that very power was suffocating you.

But the yearning for something real, something honest and untouched by the expectations of the world, gnawed at you relentlessly. The pressure, the eyes on you, felt unbearable. Every interaction, every glance, every whispered word from the crowd below reminded you that you weren’t truly seen. You were only admired for the idea of you. And the more you thought about it, the more it consumed you.

***

Angry. Angry pacing. No, anger didn’t quite cut it. Aphrodite was seething. On a marble bay window, Talia stretched, wine red lips staining her glass. "I don't know why it bothers you so much, friend. You should be glad the mortal seems just as uncomfortable with the comparison that you are mad it was even made."

Aphrodite’s pacing halted, her golden hair shimmering in the sunlight streaming through the bay window. Her eyes, sharp and brimming with fire, flicked toward Talia with a look that could shatter glass. “Glad?” she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. “Glad that a mortal child—a mortal princess no less—is being called more beautiful than me? Glad that my name is on the tongues of men not for my glory, but for how she surpasses it?”

Talia smirked, taking another languid sip of her wine. “Yes, actually. It’s amusing. Mortals and their fleeting obsessions. The girl could slip on a rock and ruin her face tomorrow, and your precious title would be safe again.” She tilted her head, her crimson nails tapping against the glass. “Why waste so much energy on someone who doesn’t even want the attention she’s getting?”

Aphrodite’s nostrils flared, her fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms. “It isn’t just about her,” she snapped. “It’s about the insult. The audacity. Do you know what I’ve heard, Talia? Some say she might be a daughter of mine. That she carries my blood and my beauty, unclaimed.”

Talia chuckled, a low, throaty sound. “And is she?”

Aphrodite’s jaw tightened. “No. But mortals are stupid enough to believe it. And if they’re willing to believe that, what else will they start to question? My divinity? My perfection? My place?” She resumed her pacing, her heels clicking against the marble floor. “This isn’t just about a girl. It’s about what she represents. A challenge. An insult to my name.”

Talia leaned back, watching her friend with amused detachment. “And yet, the mortal hides herself away, terrified of the world outside her palace walls. She doesn’t seem much of a challenge to me.”

Aphrodite’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “That’s the only thing keeping her safe.” She turned to the window, gazing out at the distant horizon. “But even the most beautiful rose wilts when plucked from its garden. And I intend to see just how much pressure she can withstand before she breaks.”

"You take everything so personally," Talia drawled, her voice as smooth and rich as the drink in her hand. "Mortals are fickle creatures. They say what they wish, worship who they will. Their praise and comparisons mean nothing in the grand scheme of things."

Aphrodite’s lips curled into a sneer. "Nothing? It’s not nothing when their whispers spread like wildfire, tarnishing my name. Diminishing my glory. What is a goddess without her reputation?"

Talia raised an elegant brow, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "A goddess still," she replied, lifting her glass in a mock toast. "You’re acting like a jealous lover, fretting over someone stealing the affections of their beloved. But isn’t that what you do, Aphrodite? Stir hearts, twist desires, ignite jealousy?"

Aphrodite’s expression darkened, and the air in the room seemed to grow heavier, as though the weight of her rage pressed against the walls. "This is different," she hissed, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "She is no goddess. She’s a child. A fragile, mortal girl. And yet they dare speak her name in the same breath as mine? I will not tolerate it."

Talia set her glass down, finally meeting Aphrodite’s gaze. "Then what will you do?" she asked, her tone carrying a hint of mockery. "Strike her down? Curse her beauty? Destroy her entirely? Wouldn’t that only prove their point, that she poses a threat to you? It’s a delicate line, dear friend, and one that even you may not wish to cross."

Aphrodite’s jaw tightened, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. She hated that Talia was right, hated the truth in her words. 

Talia raised her glass in a mock toast. “Ah, there it is. The vindictive goddess I know so well.” She smirked. “Do be careful, dear. Mortals are fragile things, but they can surprise you when cornered. I’d hate for you to get your hands dirty and find yourself with more than just a bruised ego.”

Aphrodite turned on her heel, her gown sweeping the floor like the tail of a restless serpent. Her fiery glare softened for a fleeting moment, replaced by a look that was almost calculating, almost...fond. She raised a hand, her golden bracelets chiming softly with the motion, and gestured toward the attendant waiting in the shadows of the chamber.

"Fine then," Aphrodite declared, her voice now calm but heavy with authority. "Bring my son."

The attendant, a young nymph with wide, shimmering eyes, immediately bowed low, her silken hair falling over her shoulders like a curtain. "Of course, goddess," she murmured, before slipping out of the chamber as quietly as a passing breeze.

Aphrodite moved to her seat, a throne carved from pure alabaster and inlaid with veins of gold. She sat gracefully, her hands folding in her lap as her expression hardened once more. The flickering flames of the room’s lanterns cast long shadows across her face, accentuating the sharpness of her features.

Talia, still lounging by the bay window, arched a curious brow. "Your son, hmm?" she mused, her tone laced with intrigue. "And what role will he play in your scheme, I wonder?"

Aphrodite didn’t look at her, her gaze fixed on the far door as though willing it to open. "He will do as I command," she said simply, her voice void of doubt. "It’s time he learned the responsibilities that come with being the son of a goddess. And who better to teach this mortal girl her place than someone who understands the weight of divine beauty?"

Talia chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Ever the strategist," she murmured, swirling the last of her wine before downing it. "I suppose I should prepare myself for the fireworks that are sure to follow."

Aphrodite didn’t respond. She simply waited, her mind already weaving the threads of her plan, her lips curving into a smile that promised both charm and danger. Soon enough, the door opened, and soft, steady footsteps echoed through the chamber.

She didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The air itself seemed to shift with his arrival, a presence both magnetic and unnerving.

"Mother," came the voice, smooth as silk but carrying an undertone of reluctant obedience.

Aphrodite smiled, her eyes finally lifting to meet his. "My darling," she purred. "I have a task for you."

***

It was stupid.

Really stupid.

Did you tell your sisters? Nope. Did you leave any warning behind? Not a chance.

A horse? Ridiculous. Too obvious. And besides, what was the fun in making it easy? You were faster on foot anyway.

Even a snack? Who needed a snack when you were on the verge of discovering the truth?

The fact that you were going to be found out, eventually, didn’t bother you. It was bound to happen. But right now, you needed answers. You needed to understand.

“Huzzah, huzzah,” You giggle excitedly to yourself, quiet. 

So, you set out for the Oracle. No more distractions. No more idle questions from your sisters. No more waiting for someone to tell you what to do. You were going to make your own decisions for once.

And if it helped to get some fresh air, all the better.

The cool night air wrapped around you like a cloak, the quiet stillness of the palace gardens turning into the bustling sounds of the village as you moved further away from the gates. You felt the soft crunch of gravel beneath your boots, your breath coming steady and slow.

You had no idea where the Oracle’s temple even was. Not a clue.

But you knew your nymph friends—Hersilia and the others—would. They always seemed to know everything, didn't they? If anyone could point you in the right direction, it was them. So, you made a snap decision, leaving the overgrown paths of the village behind and heading straight for the hidden lake.

It was a place you had frequented many times before, the secret sanctuary where the cool waters were the only constant, and the ever-playful nymphs danced and sang, unseen by the world. The lake was deep in the woods, far enough from the prying eyes of the palace that no one would think to search there. And it had been a while since you last visited, at least since the rumors and the crowds started gathering.

The walk was familiar, like returning to a dream you hadn’t quite finished. You stepped lightly over roots and rocks, your thoughts swirling, but your purpose clear. You needed answers. The air was thick with the scent of pine, and soon the rhythmic calls of the birds shifted into the soft sounds of water lapping against stone, guiding you toward the hidden clearing.

When you arrived at the lake, the scene was just as you remembered—peaceful, serene, untouched by time. The cool mist from the water wrapped around you as you approached the edge, your fingers grazing the surface. You could hear the faint whispers, just beyond your sight, of the nymphs who lived here, hidden in the depths.

"Hersilia?" You called softly, hoping she’d hear you through the quiet.

There was a splash. A ripple in the water, followed by the unmistakable sound of giggles. And then, as if materializing from the mist itself, Hersilia appeared—her form rising from the water with a grace only a creature of the lake could possess. Her pale skin glistened like moonlight on the water, and her green hair cascaded around her shoulders like flowing seaweed.

"Well, well, look who decided to show up." There was a false playfulness to her voice.  "What brings you here, little princess? Trouble?"

You smile, opening your mouth to say something, but she puts a hand up. 

“You’ve been gone so long,” she murmured quietly, more to herself than to you. The light from the lake’s surface danced in her eyes, and for a moment, you could have sworn there was a tinge of sadness in her expression. “I thought you might have forgotten us... forgotten me.”

The guilt pricked at your chest, the weight of time and distance settling in. You hadn’t meant to stay away from your friends, but with everything that had happened—the palace, the rumors, your mother’s constant grip on you—it had been impossible to carve out any time for yourself.

“I haven’t forgotten you,” you said quickly, taking a step toward her. “Mother had-” “I’m not taking you to the oracle.”

“What?”

Well. That certainly threw a wrench into your plans. 

The air between you both felt heavier now, as though the very weight of the unspoken history between you was pressing down on you both. She seemed to take a slow, deep breath before she met your eyes again, her gaze still carrying that trace of sadness.

"I don’t know if I should help you," Hersilia admitted, the hesitation in her voice unmistakable. "The Oracle, Y/n… It’s not just any place. You have no idea what’s been happening with the gods. There are rumors. Things changing in the heavens, in Olympus. You don’t want to go there... especially now."

You could tell she was holding back, her eyes flicking away as if she didn’t want to speak more of it. But there was a distinct shift in her tone—one that suggested there was more to this than just the Oracle being difficult to reach. Whatever it was, it clearly troubled her.

She took a step closer, the water barely shifting with her movement. "I’m your friend," Hersilia continued, her voice almost pleading now. "I care about you, and I don’t want to see you fall into something you don’t understand. The gods are... fickle. And the Oracle, well, she doesn’t always show you what you want to see. Sometimes, you can’t unsee it."

Hersilia’s eyes hardened as she stood her ground, the playful demeanor that had once been there entirely gone. The air between you both seemed to thicken, and the tension was palpable. Her lips pressed together, her usual kindness replaced by something much more firm—almost fierce.

"And I don't want you asking my sisters for help either," she added, her tone brokering no argument.

You opened your mouth to protest, but she cut you off, her voice unwavering. "No, Y/n. I don’t want you going to the Oracle." Her words were final, as if she'd made a decision that you couldn’t undo.

For a moment, you stood there, your thoughts swirling. There was something in the way she spoke, something in her eyes, that made it clear she wasn’t just worried about you getting lost or confused. There was a deeper fear in her, something you couldn't fully understand. Her words about the gods, about the Oracle... they lingered in your mind like a warning.

"But why?" you finally asked, your voice softer now. "Why don’t you want me to go?"

Hersilia hesitated, her jaw tightening. She seemed to struggle with how much to reveal, her gaze shifting between you and the water. She opened her mouth as if to say something more but paused, taking a deep breath.

"You don’t know what you’re asking, Y/n," she said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. "You don’t know what’s at stake. You think you’re ready, but you’re not." Her hand reached out, almost as if to touch you, but she pulled it back before she could. "The Oracle’s answers aren’t simple. They come with a price. And sometimes... once you’ve seen what she has to show you, you can’t unsee it. You can’t go back to the way things were. I don’t mean to sound like a cliche, but that’s final.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with a sense of warning, but also with an underlying sorrow. Hersilia was afraid—not just for you, but for what you might uncover. It was clear now that there was something deeper at play, something she feared you wouldn't be able to handle.

The silence stretched between you both, and she finally spoke again, softer this time, her voice laced with regret. "Please. Don’t go to her. Not now. Not yet."

Indeed, it threw a wrench in your plans. 

…

Oh well!

You make your way home in a hurry not to get caught. If the nymphs wouldn’t help you, surely he would. 

Despite the nagging feeling in your chest, the desire for something real—something not tied to your appearance or your royal status—pushed you forward. The evening air felt lighter as you walked back, your footsteps quick and determined. Hersilia’s words had barely sunk in before you were already moving, not willing to let the uncertainty weigh you down.

When you finally reached your balcony, your pulse quickened, and your thoughts buzzed with the familiar restlessness. There was only one way to escape the constraints of your palace, the constant eyes that sought only your beauty. One way to chase something genuine, something more than the false promises of suitors and endless admirers.

You closed your eyes and whispered the words, calling for Zephyrus, the playful west wind who often answered your summons. The breeze picked up immediately, carrying the scent of distant flowers and fresh rain, and with it, his presence.

"You called?" His voice was light and teasing, and before you could even spot him, you could feel the air shift around you—lighter, warmer, like the embrace of an old friend.

Zephyrus appeared, his grin wide, almost absurdly cheerful. His tousled hair was windblown as usual, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous gleam. He crossed his arms, the playful energy about him almost infectious.

"Did you miss me?" he asked with a wink, his tone always more teasing than serious. "Though I must admit, I was wondering when you'd summon me. Been a little too quiet around here, don’t you think?"

You grin, then pause.  "I need your help, Zephyrus. I... I need to escape for a little while. Everything’s just... too much. I can’t take it anymore. Not with them all watching, and the pressure of being what they want me to be."

Zephyrus raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Ah, I see. The princess wants a little freedom, hmm? Can’t say I blame you. But you know, I’m not some simple errand boy, dear." His grin widened, clearly enjoying the drama of the moment. "What’s in it for me?"

You narrowed your eyes at his teasing, but you were desperate, and you knew how to play his game. "Come on, you owe me one. You know you do." You leaned in, dropping your voice to a mock serious whisper. "Besides, I’ve heard rumors that you were getting bored of your usual windblown routes. Thought I might spice things up for you."

Zephyrus chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. "Oh, you’re good," he said, and with a mischievous wink, he gave you a nod. "Alright, alright. You’ve convinced me. But you know this is going to cost you, right? A favor in return. That’s how we wind spirits work."

You sighed, rolling your eyes again. "Fine. Whatever it takes. Just get me out of here, Zephyrus."

The wind spirit beamed at you, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "Deal. Hold on tight, princess. Let’s give you the escape you’re looking for."

In an instant, the air around you seemed to rush in all at once, sweeping you off your feet. The room, the palace, the overwhelming pressure—all of it disappeared in the span of a breath.

“But, just a question. Where’re we going, honey?”

Zephyrus’ voice rang in your ears as the wind swirled around you. You could feel the familiar pull of the air as it wrapped you in its embrace, but something about his question gave you pause. You hadn’t quite thought this through—hadn’t really figured out how to explain what you were doing.

You didn’t want to lie, but you also didn’t want to admit how reckless your plan was. Still, there was no backing down now.

"The Oracle," you said with a defiant smirk, though your heart raced a little in your chest.

Zephyrus was quiet for a moment, and you could almost feel the wind hesitate, swirling around you with a sudden, cooler edge. Then, with a small laugh that was half disbelief, half amusement, he replied, "The Oracle? Really? That's where you want to go, princess?" He paused again, his voice laced with something that wasn’t quite concern, but it was close. "Do you even know what you're getting yourself into?"

You clenched your jaw. "I need answers. I can’t stay in this cage forever, Zephyrus."

The wind spirit’s playful tone shifted, a bit of seriousness creeping in. "And what happens when the Oracle gives you those answers? What do you do with them then?" His voice lowered, sounding almost like a warning. "Once you know the truth, you can't un-know it. You can't go back to the way things were."

You swallowed, his words striking a nerve. But you had already made up your mind.

"Take me to her," you insisted, a firmness in your voice that you hadn't expected.

Zephyrus was silent for a moment longer, then sighed dramatically. "You’re impossible, you know that?" But despite his teasing, there was a note of respect in his voice. "Alright, princess. Hold on tight. We’re going to the Oracle."

***

Hersilia stood by the lake, her usually bright and carefree demeanor now clouded with concern. She had been watching you from a distance, making sure you didn’t stray too far, but when Zephyrus appeared and swept you off without a second thought, a pang of disappointment shot through her.

She had warned you, tried to keep you safe, but it seemed you were determined to walk your own path—even if it meant putting yourself in danger. Hersilia’s lips pressed into a thin line as she sank back into the water, disappearing from view. She didn’t want to see you go like this, but there was little she could do now.

She’d failed to stop you.

Hersilia had just sunk beneath the water, her form dissolving into the deep blue, when she felt a chill run up her spine. The temperature dropped sharply, and a hand—cold, lethal—clamped around her throat. It was like the water itself had frozen solid.

Her breath hitched, and her body stiffened in shock. She barely had time to react before the sharp pressure against her ribcage told her an arrow was now hovering just under her skin, its tip pressing against her in a way that made her heart race.

The voice that followed was low, chilling—an echo of power she recognized but feared.

"The mortal. Where did she go?"

Hersilia’s eyes widened in panic. She opened her mouth to speak, to beg for mercy, to tell him where you’d gone—but her words died in her throat. The hand around her neck squeezed harder, and before she could finish her sentence, her form began to flicker, her essence dissolving into the air.

Her last vision before she vanished was of a figure stepping forward, eyes dark with fury and an edge of something colder beneath.

"Raf—"

But before she could finish, before she could offer any explanation, her form began to dissolve. The pain from the arrow flared once more, but it was the overwhelming force of his power that caused her body to vanish into a shimmer of water, evaporating like mist in the morning sun.

The man, now left with nothing but the ripples of his presence, clicked his tongue in annoyance. His voice, laced with venom, echoed through the quiet air. "Using my name. What gave you the right?"

And with that, he was gone—disappearing as swiftly and silently as he had come, leaving only an eerie silence behind.

Hersilia's fading form lingered in his mind for just a moment longer, but her disappearance meant nothing now. He had other things to tend to. The mortal—she—was his concern.

***

Zephyrus had kept to his word. He’d dropped you off and told you to call him again when you were ready to come home. 

The air was thick with the scent of incense, thick enough to make your head spin, and the shadows in the temple seemed to stretch long and ominous. You’d barely made your way through the murky halls, the flickering torches casting strange reflections on the walls. The oracle’s place wasn’t nearly as grand as you'd imagined, no golden temples or sacred fire to mark the divine presence. Instead, the stone was worn, the floors cracked in places, and you even had to kick a few scattered skulls out of your path as you walked.

"Damn... Apollo really doesn't care for who he picks despite all the glamorization," you muttered, your voice bouncing off the cold walls. You were beyond unimpressed. The long, winding journey to the Oracle had felt so much more grandiose in your mind, but here you were, standing in a crumbling temple with nothing but a handful of whispers from those who’d come before you.

You kicked a skull out of the way and glanced around, half expecting something extraordinary to happen, but...nothing.

The Oracle, seated on an old stone bench, was the only thing that stood out in this place, an elderly woman hunched over with wisps of white hair framing her face. She looked as though she’d seen everything—and yet, the air about her was as dull as the rest of the temple.

You sighed, a little too dramatically, and crossed your arms. "Erm…hello. I’m uh..I’m Y/n. So, you're the Oracle?" you asked, cringing at how your voice came out. "What is this place? I thought there’d be more...mysticism. More fanfare. Less dust."

The old woman’s eyes flickered up at you from beneath heavy eyelids, and for a brief moment, you almost felt like you had stepped on something sacred. But her gaze held no such intensity. It was passive—almost bored. "It’s not the place that matters, child. It’s the answers you seek."

You raised an eyebrow. “Right. And what kind of answers are we talking about here?”

She blinked slowly, her wrinkled hand reaching out to beckon you closer, her fingers shaking slightly. “That depends. What is it that you seek?”

"Um... was hoping you could tell me about my fate? Ya know, my er- my love life." The oracle raised a brow. "You ventured here for...your love life?" 

Well, when she said it out loud, it did sound silly. 

You shifted uncomfortably under the Oracle’s gaze, suddenly aware of how ridiculous it sounded. "Well, yeah," you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck. "I mean, it’s kind of important, right? Who doesn’t want to know about their love life?"

The Oracle gave you a long, steady look, her eyes narrowing as if she could see right through you. "You came all this way to ask about something so fleeting?" Her voice was both calm and oddly judgmental. "Do you not seek more? A purpose? Power?"

You flushed, feeling small. “I—uh—guess... but it’s just that love’s been on my mind, and I thought maybe you could help me out with some... insight? I mean, if I’m going to get it wrong, I’d at least like to know how to fix it.”

She hummed under her breath, studying you carefully. The silence stretched out long enough to make you question whether she’d say anything at all. Finally, her cracked voice broke through with a sigh.

"Fine. Apollo knows this isn't what I signed up for. First the girl with her dreams and now this-" she clears her throat. "Alright, lemme see." you look excitedly, expecting some magical prowess to be on display- maybe glowing eyes, floating hair, anything. but the old lady just closes her eyes and hums a little bit before talking. "A monster." "Beg your pardon?" "Your love is a beast. Be careful of your trusts."

How anticlimactic. 

You blinked, trying to process her words. "A monster?" you repeated, feeling a bit insulted. "What do you mean? Like, a literal monster?"

The Oracle’s eyes remained closed, her wrinkled hands folded in her lap. "A beast," she repeated softly, almost as if she were speaking to herself. "The kind that lurks in the shadows, hidden behind a beautiful face." She paused, letting the silence linger for a moment before adding, "Not all monsters show their fangs at first."

You stood there, bewildered, feeling the excitement you had felt moments before quickly draining away. This wasn’t what you’d imagined when you came looking for answers. "Isn’t there more to it?" you pressed, desperate for something more concrete. "What does this monster want with me?"

The Oracle finally opened her eyes, locking them onto yours with a piercing gaze. "What they want doesn’t matter," she said. "It’s what they take that you must worry about. And how far you’re willing to go to follow them."

You felt a chill run down your spine. You were used to cryptic answers, but this one had a weight to it. It wasn’t just vague—it felt... ominous.

"Are you saying I should just stay away from this person?" you asked, heart hammering in your chest.

The Oracle didn’t answer immediately. She was quiet for a long moment, her fingers tapping gently on the edge of her chair. When she finally spoke, her voice was lower, almost a whisper.

"If i say anything else, it's 5 coins a word." "What?"

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the Oracle’s antics as she faded into her strange muttering. The whole experience had been so anticlimactic, and the Oracle’s smugness didn’t help at all. Five coins a word? Seriously? Highway robbery indeed—except without the actual highway, just a confusing old lady hiding in some forgotten corner of the world.

You shook your head, turning to leave the dreary little hut behind, already regretting the trip. As you stepped out into the open air, you could hear the faint rustle of trees and the call of birds overhead. It felt good to be back in the world where things made sense—or, at least, where you could pretend they did.

“Alright, whatever,” you muttered to yourself, starting to walk back toward the place you’d landed, grateful that at least Zephyrus wasn’t hovering around anymore. "You have a good day too," you muttered sarcastically, throwing one last glance at the hut as you made your way toward the lake once more. It was clear the Oracle wasn’t in any mood to provide more answers, and frankly, neither were you.

***

Your sisters sat on either side of you, Algaura leaning in with a furrowed brow while Clidippe played with the tassels of your blanket, clearly uninterested but humoring you nonetheless. You were pacing in frustration, your hands gesturing wildly as you retold the story, the words tumbling out of you faster than you could stop them.

“I mean, can you believe that? The Oracle actually charged me for every word! I paid her all I had left—five coins a word!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “And then, then she tells me my love is a monster. A beast—like, are you kidding me? Is that some kind of riddle? I don’t even know who she’s talking about!”

Clidippe snorted, not even looking up from the blanket. “Sounds like a bunch of nonsense, honestly. Why would you go to that old crone for advice in the first place? She’s just as cryptic as everyone else. ‘A monster’? Please. It’s probably just some dramatic thing to make you worry.”

Algaura, ever the more thoughtful one, tilted her head. “I’m with Clidippe on this one, Y/n. It sounds like something made up to keep you hooked on her words. Monsters? That’s absurd. It’s just another way to keep you tethered to superstition.”

“But, what if it’s not?” you muttered, sinking down beside them, running a hand through your hair. "What if there really is someone out there that—" You cut yourself off, swallowing hard. “What if that’s the whole point? What if I’m going to fall for someone... dangerous?”

Clidippe rolled her eyes. “Oh please. Don’t be so dramatic. You’re looking for some deep meaning in a riddle when you’ve already got enough suitors begging for your attention. If you’re smart, you’ll just stick with someone safe. You’ve got everything you need, don’t let some fortune teller confuse you.”

Algaura, however, seemed less sure, her lips pressed together in contemplation. “Maybe Clidippe’s right about not overthinking it. But still, I can’t help but wonder if there’s more to what the Oracle said than just her usual rambling. Could it be…? No, never mind.” She quickly shook her head, cutting off her own thought.

Clidippe let out a sharp yelp as you flopped onto the bed, crashing right into her. She groaned, smacking your arm in mock annoyance. "Uggghhhh... Is it too much to ask for a guy that can rock my shit without being weird?"

You felt the bed dip as you lay there, burying your face into the pillow in frustration. “Seriously! It’s like every suitor out there either has some insane expectation or, like, weird obsession. What do they even want from me? I can’t even breathe without someone offering me their life.”

Algaura, sitting at the edge of the bed, gave you a sidelong glance, her lips curling slightly in amusement. "You do realize that many of them are after your title, right? It's not you, it's the whole princess thing. You’re a catch, Y/n."

“But I don’t want to be a catch,” you groaned, your face still buried in the pillow. “I just want someone who actually likes me for me, not for what I can do for them, or because of some ridiculous prophecy.”

Clidippe snorted. “Who said you needed anyone? You’ve got everything you need right here, don’t you?” She gestured to the lavish surroundings of your room, the fine fabrics, the jewelry, and everything else. “No one’s worth losing your peace of mind over. You’re a princess—act like one.”

You lifted your head, a frown tugging at your lips. “But what if there’s something more, Clidippe? Something out there I’m missing. The Oracle said—”

“Ugh, stop going on about that!” Clidippe threw up her hands, clearly fed up. “That old woman probably saw some rat scurrying around and thought it was a monster. You’re overthinking it. Trust me, the best thing you can do is just enjoy being you.”

You stared at the ceiling, the weight of her words settling in. Maybe she was right. Maybe you just needed to stop worrying about the unknown and focus on the life in front of you, the one that was full of luxury and comfort.

But something about that thought still felt hollow.

***

That night, you could slept like a baby. How? only Hypnos knew. But it didn't matter. soft feathers fell gracefully to your floor, the sounds of feet padding across even softer. His eyes searched in the dark, looking at the figure hidden in the blankets.

Aphrodite said just one arrow should work. But then- you turn, shuffling, exposing yourself. 

Gods you were beautiful.

His fingers trembled as he held the delicate, glistening arrow between his fingers. The moment had come. He had watched from the shadows, unseen, waiting for the right moment to strike. Aphrodite had been clear: One arrow to make you fall in love, and everything would be his. But as he stared at you, his breath caught in his throat, and the arrow—a weapon meant to bend hearts—slipped from his grasp, pricking his own skin.

A sharp, cold sensation shot through him, a tremor that reached deep into his chest, igniting a burning heat inside him. The world blurred as the room seemed to shift. His thoughts, once precise and calculated, became erratic. His pulse quickened as a foreign ache stirred deep within his bones.

No... No. This wasn’t part of the plan. He was supposed to control this. He was supposed to be the one to make you fall, not the other way around. Yet, as he watched you, still sleeping, he could feel his heart pounding louder than ever before. It wasn’t just the allure of your beauty; it was something deeper, something he couldn’t name.

He took a slow step forward, watching you with an intensity he had never experienced before. The arrow was forgotten now, discarded on the floor. His mind raced, thoughts tumbling over one another as he tried to make sense of the overwhelming feeling that had taken hold of him.

And then, as if guided by an invisible force, his hand reached toward you. The same hand that had been meant to hold the arrow now reached for the warmth of your skin, trembling with a new kind of desire—one that wasn’t born of manipulation or divine intervention, but of something far more real. Something he couldn’t control.

Your skin was... soft. Softer than he imagined it could be. The warmth of it seeped into his fingertips, sending a jolt up his arm that made him freeze. His breath hitched, his heart racing uncontrollably as if it were trying to match the rhythm of your own. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but this—this was entirely different.

His thumb brushed over the curve of your shoulder, featherlight, as if afraid the touch might break you or, worse, wake you. It was a tenderness he didn’t recognize in himself, a care he wasn’t sure he was capable of. The simple contact stirred something deeper, something raw and unguarded that he didn’t want to confront.

For a fleeting moment, he let himself indulge in the serenity of the moment. The way your chest rose and fell with each breath, the peaceful expression on your face, the strands of hair that had fallen across your cheek—all of it captivated him, held him in place like an invisible tether.

And then, as quickly as the moment came, reality sank in. What was he doing? He wasn’t supposed to touch you, wasn’t supposed to feel this. You were the mortal. A fleeting existence compared to his own. Yet here he was, unable to pull away, unable to resist the pull that seemed to come from within his very soul.

He clenched his jaw, withdrawing his hand slowly, reluctantly. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, a mix of confusion and longing swirling in his chest. He had come here with a purpose, but now, he wasn’t sure he could go through with it.

"Well, fuck... Mother will not be happy about this," he murmured under his breath, dragging his hand away from your shoulder as if burned by his own foolishness. He let out a frustrated sigh, his eyes flicking down to the arrow he had dropped earlier. With a swift movement, he retrieved it, inspecting the delicate tip as if it held the answers to his predicament.

The temptation to stay lingered in the air like an unspoken promise, but he shook his head, steeling himself.

No. Not tonight.

With one last look at your sleeping form, a mixture of awe and frustration playing across his face, he stepped back into the shadows. You were still, serene, and unaware of the storm he had just unleashed within himself.

"I’ll come back for you," he whispered into the silence, the words hanging in the air like an unbreakable vow.

And then he was gone, leaving only a faint trace of feathers and the lingering warmth of his presence.

***

The rumors hadn’t stopped. If anything, they had grown more wild and insistent, with whispers of suitors climbing palace walls and offering impossible treasures for just a glimpse of you. It was overwhelming, stifling even, and yet none of it mattered—not when the oracle’s words kept echoing in your head.

"A monster."

True love was true love, wasn’t it? That’s what all the stories said. Love wasn’t supposed to care for appearances or stature. And if your destined love happened to be a beast? Well...so be it. You’d face it head-on, the way you had faced everything else in life.

Which is how you found yourself perched on a windswept cliff, staring out at the vast expanse of sea. The roar of the waves below filled the air, mingling with the occasional caw of seabirds circling above. The sky was painted in soft shades of twilight, the sun dipping low on the horizon, and still, you sat there, waiting.

For what, exactly? You weren’t sure. Some grand, monstrous entrance, maybe. Something to finally give you the excitement your heart craved.

Instead, there was nothing but the rhythmic crash of the waves and the wind tugging at your hair.

You sighed, leaning back on your hands, letting the cool stone press against your palms. "Honestly," you muttered to yourself, "if this beast is real, it’s taking its sweet time."

You kicked a pebble over the edge, watching it tumble down into the frothy waters below. It felt absurd, waiting for some mythical creature to show up like a character from a bard’s tale. And yet, here you were—bored, restless, and hoping for something, anything, to happen.

A light tap on your shoulder broke through the quiet, startling you out of your thoughts.

You turned your head sharply, expecting to see someone standing behind you—but there was no one there.

"Huh?" you muttered, frowning as you scanned the empty cliffside.

Another tap, this time on your other shoulder.

You whipped around again, irritation bubbling up in your chest. "Who—hey!"

Before you could finish, something soft but firm slid over your face, plunging you into darkness. A blindfold.

Your hands shot up, scrambling to pull it off. "What in the gods’ names—"

"Shhh," a low, velvet voice whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your breath hitched. "Who are you? What do you want?"

A chuckle, soft and almost amused. "You called, didn’t you? Now I’m here."

Your heart raced as you froze in place, the voice far too close for comfort. "Called?" you echoed, confusion laced with a flicker of fear.

"Yes," the voice murmured, shifting to your other side. You could feel the faint brush of air against your cheek as the figure moved. "You waited for your beast. And now your beast has come."

Out of pure reflex, your fist shot forward, connecting solidly with something—or rather, someone. A sharp grunt of pain followed as the figure stumbled back.

"Ow! Seriously?" the voice hissed, filled with both surprise and indignation.

Your hands immediately flew up in panic, blindly waving in the air. "Sorry! Sorry—oh gods, that sounded like it hurt! Are you okay?" You reached for the blindfold, but no matter how you tugged at it, it didn’t budge.

"Would you stop—" the voice cut off, clearly frustrated. "Leave it," they commanded, the irritation in their tone mixed with a faint hint of amusement.

You froze, your hands hovering near the cloth covering your eyes. "What—what do you mean, leave it? I can’t see!"

"That’s kind of the point," they muttered dryly, and you could almost hear the smirk in their voice. "If I let you see me, it’d ruin the fun."

"Fun?" you echoed incredulously, half-tempted to swing again. "What kind of fun is this? Who just sneaks up on people, ties them up, and—"

"You’re not tied up," they interrupted smoothly.

"Blindfolded, whatever!" you snapped. "This is ridiculous!"

They chuckled, low and rich, sending another shiver down your spine. "You’re just mad you didn’t see it coming. But don’t worry, little mortal. I’m full of surprises."

Before you could deliver a follow-up punch or throw out another retort, his grip was sudden—fast, firm, and impossibly smooth. He scooped you up effortlessly, as though you weighed nothing at all.

"Hey! What the—put me down!" you protested, thrashing instinctively. But his hold didn’t falter; if anything, it tightened, keeping you steady despite your struggles.

"Stop squirming," he said, his voice closer now, velvet smooth and annoyingly calm. "You’ll hurt yourself, and I’d rather avoid that."

"Avoid that?" you snapped, kicking your legs uselessly in the air. "Maybe you should’ve thought about that before grabbing me like some—some deranged kidnapper!"

His laugh rumbled through you, infuriatingly warm for someone committing what absolutely felt like an abduction. "Kidnapper? Dramatic, aren’t we? I’d say this is more like… escorting."

"Escorting? You didn’t exactly give me a choice!"

"No," he admitted, and you could practically hear the grin in his tone. "I didn’t."

You twisted again, trying to wrench yourself free, but he was impossibly strong. And now, despite the blindfold, you were acutely aware of something—his warmth, the way his hands cradled you with surprising care despite his teasing tone.

Your voice dropped to a mutter, frustration blending with confusion. "Who even are you?"

There was a pause, and then: "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

And then he threw you off the cliff. 

The air was ripped from your lungs as you felt yourself being hurled into the void, the edge of the cliff disappearing behind you. The blindfold fell off now, flying away to return to its owner. 

A scream tore from your throat, panic flooding every part of your body. But instead of the gut-wrenching drop you expected, the wind surged around you, catching you with a powerful, almost gentle force.

"Zephyrus?!" you gasped, recognizing the familiar warmth of the west wind as it wrapped around you, carrying you upward and away from the rocky descent.

There was no response.

"Zaephryus, answer me!" you demanded, your voice rising with the chaos of your emotions. But this time, he didn’t answer. No playful quip, no cheeky banter—just a strange, disquieting silence.

You tried to crane your neck, but the wind was too fast, too strong, rushing around you as if it were trying to shield you. Something wasn’t right. The usually carefree spirit felt… afraid.

"What’s going on?" you shouted, your voice carried off into the night. "Why aren’t you talking to me?"

Still, there was nothing. Only the sound of the wind, howling louder than it ever had before.

You stumbled as you were dropped unceremoniously in front of the palace gates, the sudden shift from the wind's embrace to solid ground leaving you dizzy and disoriented. You barely caught yourself, hands pressing against the cool stone walls for balance.

"What in the—" Your words cut off as you tried to steady yourself, confusion flooding your senses. The wind was already gone, leaving only the strange echo of its absence.

You glanced around, expecting something, anything, to make sense of the situation, but it didn’t. The night air felt thick and tense, and the sound of your own heart pounding seemed louder than ever.

Why had Zephyrus brought you here? Why had he ignored you so completely?

A chill ran down your spine as a shiver of dread prickled the back of your neck.

And that’s when you heard it—a soft whisper in the air, so faint you almost thought it was your imagination.

"Aphrodite..." The word drifted past your ears, a whisper that felt like it had come from the very air itself, and your stomach dropped.

You’d heard rumors about her, about what she could do, but this? This felt like something darker. Something that made the air feel heavier, as if the world around you was closing in.

What had you gotten yourself into?

***

The days in the palace had turned into a surreal rhythm. It was odd, almost dreamlike, to move through the grand halls filled with invisible hands that seemed to anticipate your every need. The peace was nice, and the constant arguing was a thing of the past. For once, you were allowed to exist in the silence of your own thoughts without boredom…at first.

Still, the so-called "beast" was a mystery. He was everywhere and nowhere all at once. His voice followed you through the corridors, rich and smooth, a deep timbre that wrapped around you like the softest silk. He’d talk to you during your strolls in the lush gardens, his voice carrying on the wind. At meals, you’d hear him as though he were seated right across from you, but the chair always remained empty yet all only at night. When you first arrived, he’d told you that everything in the palace belonged to you. And he kept true to his word about that. 

And yet soon enough, you became lonely again, only looking forward to the night, when he would visit you. 

Oh, how his hands would worship you, smooth over your body, lips whispering praises as he lost himself in you every night…

But still…

“You’re avoiding me,” you’d accused once, poking at the air with a fork.

“I could never avoid you,” he’d replied smoothly, a chuckle in his voice. “I am always with you.”

It was infuriating.

You tried to reason with him, plead with him, even bribe him to show himself, but every time he’d laugh softly and give the same answer:

“No, my love.”

The palace, as beautiful as it was, began to feel like a gilded cage. You couldn’t leave, though you hadn’t really tried yet. Something about the way the invisible servants seemed to watch your every move was unsettling. They weren’t unkind, but they were a constant, quiet reminder that you were not entirely free.

***

And yet, despite the strangeness of it all, you couldn’t deny that you’d started to enjoy your conversations with the beast. He was clever, funny even, and he always seemed to know just what to say to draw a laugh or a blush from you.

But there was one thing you couldn’t shake:

Why wouldn’t he let you see him?

You sat on the edge of the plush velvet chaise, the weight of the ring on your finger now feeling oddly familiar, though still heavy with unspoken meaning. The palace felt more like a home each passing day, but something about the silence from your sisters made the air feel thicker, colder. You needed to talk to him. Needed his presence, his guidance.

“Husband?” you called again, voice soft, yet laced with the hint of a question that had been bubbling inside you for days. You hadn't been able to shake the thought of them—Algaura, Clidippe.You missed them. And there was a strange part of you that wanted to show them this strange new world you had found yourself in. It wasn't just about the palace or the mystery of your beastly husband—it was about you, too.

You were different now, weren’t you?

The air shifted, faint at first, but undeniable. His voice rang out, a deep, soothing sound that filled the space despite his absence.

“What do you need, my love?”

His words never failed to make the corners of your lips twitch into a smile, despite the frustration simmering in your chest. You swallowed the rising feeling before it had a chance to take root. This was him—your husband. The one you’d been growing to care for, though you'd never seen his face, never truly understood the full weight of the creature that he was.

“I—well... I’ve been thinking about my sisters,” you began, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the ring on your finger. “I miss them. Could... could I invite them to visit?”

There was a pause, a long stretch of quiet that made the silence in the room feel as if it were pressing in on you. You held your breath, unsure of his answer. What would he say?

He responded, his tone carefully measured, yet a softness lingered within it. “Your sisters…”

He didn’t continue immediately, but his voice didn’t waver. “Why would you want them here?” His question wasn’t harsh, but there was a clear undertone of concern.

The question hit you harder than you expected, but you pushed through. “Because... I miss them. And because I want them to see... see you. See this place. It’s... it’s not so bad here, not really.” You bit your lip, mentally cursing yourself for the half-formed confession. But it was the truth.

“You wish to bring them here to... what?” he asked, his voice almost... quiet. There was a trace of something you couldn’t quite place in his tone. Was it hesitation? Was he afraid of what your sisters might see, or worse, of what they might think of him?

No, impossible. He was too secure for that. The thought of him caring about their opinions was laughable in itself. You licked your lips, your mouth suddenly dry. It wasn’t about fear—at least, not for him. Was it about you?

“I just wish to spend some time with them. Maybe have tea. Please?” you murmured, your voice soft yet earnest. You didn’t know why you were so nervous, or why you felt the need to plead your case. But the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

There was no immediate response, but the weight of his presence filled the room. You felt it—oddly comforting yet undeniably strange—the weight of his head resting in your lap. It was something he did when he was deep in thought, seeking your touch without words.

Your hand moved instinctively to his hair, fingers threading through the invisible strands as you began to gently massage his head. It was surreal, feeling the texture and warmth of him, knowing he was there yet unable to truly see him. His arms wrapped around your waist, grounding you in the moment.

“I could say no,” he finally said, his voice low and deliberate, the vibration of his words almost tangible against you. “But I don’t want to deny you something you long for.”

Your heart leaped, a mix of hope and relief flooding your chest. “You mean...?”

“I’ll allow it,” he said, his tone softer now. “But only if you promise me one thing.”

You stilled, your hand pausing in his hair. “Anything,” you whispered.

“Promise me you’ll tell me if their visit troubles you.” There was something in his voice—a protectiveness that made your chest tighten. “I’ll arrange for them to come, but your happiness is my only concern.”

You exhaled slowly, your hand resuming its gentle movement. “I promise.”

And though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel the warmth of his contentment, the invisible lines between you both softening in the quiet of the room.

***

Clidippe and Algaura sat across from you, their expressions a mix of confusion and awe as the servant poured tea into delicate cups, their hands trembling slightly from the sheer surprise. They must have been in a state of adrenaline; Zephryus had whisked them to the palace on your husband’s orders. You, on the other hand, could barely contain your excitement. The familiar faces of your sisters, so long absent from your life, were a welcome sight.

Clidippe raised an eyebrow, eyeing the invisible space next to you, where the beast’s presence loomed. “So… this is where you’ve been all this time?” she asked, her voice cautious, yet carrying a sharpness that suggested she wasn’t quite ready to believe everything she was seeing.

You, on the other hand, were practically buzzing with excitement. "Isn't it incredible?" you asked, your voice bright and brimming with enthusiasm. "The palace, the gardens, the servants—it’s like something out of a dream!"

Clidippe glanced at Algaura, her lips pressing into a thin line. "A dream... or a curse," she muttered under her breath, though loud enough for you to catch.

"Clidippe!" you scolded, though your grin didn’t falter. "Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not a curse. It’s... well, okay, it’s unconventional, but I’m happy here!"

"Happy?" Algaura asked, raising a skeptical brow. "With an invisible husband?" She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Have you even seen him yet?"

You hesitated, your hands tightening slightly around your own teacup. "Well... no, not exactly," you admitted, trying to sound casual. "But we talk all the time, and he’s kind, and thoughtful, and... he loves me."

Clidippe let out an incredulous laugh, setting her teacup down with a sharp clink. "Y/n, how can you know that if you’ve never even seen him? What if he’s some monster? What if he’s—"

Algaura, always one to amplify a dramatic moment, leaned forward, her voice rising slightly. "What if he’s evil or—" she gasped, eyes wide with mock horror, "—ugly?"

"Algaura!" you scolded, setting your teacup down so forcefully that the porcelain rattled. "He’s not evil. And even if he were... um, ugly, it wouldn’t matter!"

"Wouldn’t it, though?" Clidippe chimed in, arching a brow. "You’ve got this whole fairytale thing going on here, but isn’t it weird that he hasn’t shown you his face? What’s he hiding?"

You crossed your arms, glaring at both of them. "He’s not hiding anything. He told me he wants me to get to know him for who he is, not what he looks like. And honestly, I think that’s kind of beautiful."

"Or kind of suspicious," Algaura muttered under her breath, earning a glare from you.

"Look," you said firmly, "I didn’t invite you here to criticize my life or my husband. I wanted you to see that I’m happy, that I’m okay. Can’t you just trust me on this?"

Clidippe set her teacup down with a deliberate clink, fixing you with a serious gaze. "We can't, actually." Her words were sharp, cutting through the fragile layer of joy you'd been clinging to. "You're being a fool."

Her bluntness stung, and you felt your chest tighten. "A fool?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," she continued, unrelenting. "You’re living in some enchanted palace, surrounded by invisible servants, married to someone who won’t even show you who he is. And you think that’s normal? That that’s love?"

Algaura nodded reluctantly, her earlier teasing replaced by a more subdued concern. "Clidippe’s right. We just... we don’t want you to get hurt. What if—"

You held up a hand, silencing her. "I know what you’re going to say. What if he’s dangerous? What if he’s lying? What if this is all some trap? I’ve heard it all before."

"And have you considered any of it?" Clidippe pressed. "Because, honestly, it doesn’t sound like you have."

Your lips parted to argue, but no words came out. Deep down, you knew they had a point.

"You’ve always been headstrong," Clidippe continued, her tone softening. "And we love that about you. But sometimes... sometimes you’re so stubborn you can’t see the cliff you’re about to walk off of."

The room felt heavy, the warmth of the tea and the laughter from earlier evaporating into an uncomfortable silence.

"I’m not walking off a cliff," you said finally, your voice quiet but steady. "I know this seems strange to you, but I feel safe here. He makes me feel safe."

"Then why hasn’t he shown you who he really is?" Clidippe asked gently.

You didn’t have an answer. And that, more than anything, made their words cut even deeper.

***

Later that night, long after your sisters had left, you waited eagerly for your husband, who, as per usual, arrived with a gust of wind blowing through the naked windows. You giggle excitedly as the wind blew into your hair, smiling big as you feel him embrace you tenderly. “I take it you enjoyed yourself?” He murmurs in your ear, his lips gently nipping the shell. “I did! They were happy for me, husband,”

You feel him tense for a split second before relaxing. “Happy? They didn’t question it?”

You pull away, waving your arms as you clarify. “Oh, no- they definitely did, but it was just curious questions, nothing to fret over. Oh! And Helina had made the most delicious tea earlier. I think she had put pomegranates in it!” He chuckled at your excitement, patting your head affectionately, “That so? Then I will give you all the world of pomegranates.”

His hand slid down to your jaw, and with the other, he returned the blindfold to your eyes so that he could stop hiding. 

It’s a natural thing now. But… when he does so, you can’t help but think about how your sisters had questioned your love if you’ve never seen your husband.

The thoughts leave just as quickly as they came, his lips following a trail only known to him as he lifts you off your feet.

***

The feathered mattress was comfortable as it ever was, staying cool against your hot skin as your husband ravished you. Your knees were pressed up to your chest, your hands grasping at the pillows, sheets, him- whatever you could find to anchor you. 

You tried to keep quiet, truly, but it was much harder than you thought. The blindfold, coiled with his touch and pleas for you to be more vocal? It was simply too much. It was one thing to not have the blindfold and not see him, but to have your sight denied? 

You could feel how the goosebumps rose, hairs sticking up, your arms feeling all but off. 

“C’mon, sweet princess, please don’t hide your voice. Sing for me, yeah?” His voice murmured softly as kisses decorated your skin, down your inner thighs.

“Husband-” “Rafayel.”

What?

You open your eyes, the black from them being covered of course blocking what you could see. 

“Call me Rafayel.” His voice was light. Airy. In need. 

When you don’t immediately address him as so, he presses a kiss to your clothed cunt, tapping it so affectionatley. “C’mon princess, don’t hesitate now of all times.”

And the words he used were like honey, his lips on your clothed folds a dessert to your sense of touch. 

“I- okay, Rafayel,”

He hums in delight, kissing your cunt again, your underwear wet and soft against his lips as he moves your thigh to open wider, make more space for him. “Thank you, my love,”

You didn’t even question why he was only now giving you a name to address him as; “husband” was perfectly fine for the months you had been here beforehand. 

Then again, how could you focus, when your husband’s- when Rafayel’s- lips were so loving and his fingers so tender as he pulled the fabric to the side, all but worshipping your cunt. 

His fingers patted it softly, humming in approval at just how wet you were, giving a quick kiss to your exposed clit. Your hips jerk, he’s enjoying it as he spreads your folds open, bringing his tongue to lay flat, swiping up, up, up to the tippy top, his nose bumping your clit as he groans. 

“Pretty girl, my sweet wife, I’m sorry for keeping you waiting every day for night to come, ‘s not because of you. Could you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?” Like you were ambrosia, he drank, drank, drank from you, not waiting for an answer, as he already knew. 

But again. 

Your sisters words crept in the back of your mind as the night carried on….

***

…Doubt is a cruel thing. It slithered into your mind and refused to let go, wrapping its coils tighter with every passing moment. The warmth of his presence, his gentle words, the invisible hands that cared for you—they all felt too good to be true now, tainted by the seeds of your sisters' concern.

The room felt suffocating as you stared at the flickering flame of the oil lamp, its light casting eerie shadows across the walls. The knife was cold in your hand, its gleaming edge a stark contrast to the warmth of the flame. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, a mixture of fear and doubt twisting in your gut.

What if they were right? What if you were blind to the truth, just swept up in the illusion of safety and comfort he'd created? What if this whole thing, the grand gestures, the unseen servants, the kindness he'd shown you... what if it was all a game, a way to keep you trapped in his web?

You shook your head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they kept creeping in, clawing at the edges of your mind. "What if he's just using me?" you whispered to yourself, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

You glanced at the knife again, its sharp blade gleaming menacingly in the lamplight. It wasn’t like you intended to hurt him—at least, not physically—but you had to know. You had to see what he was, who he really was.

With trembling hands, you set the knife down and reached for the lamp. It was an impulsive decision, one born out of fear, not logic. But you needed to know the truth, and if that meant seeing him for who he truly was, then you'd face it. Even if it broke your heart.

The silence of the room was deafening as you quietly slipped out of bed and headed toward the door. You weren’t sure what you were going to do once you found him, but at this point, the uncertainty gnawed at you more than anything else.

Your pulse raced in the stillness, every step heavier than the last as you ventured deeper into the corridors of the palace. The shadows seemed to stretch longer, the air thicker with each breath you took. The further you went, the more you felt like you were walking into something you couldn’t turn back from. Something... irreversible.

The palace seemed to whisper as you moved, the halls groaning underfoot. And just as you reached the doorway to his chambers, your breath hitched. Was this really what you wanted? To confront the beast, to strip away the mystery, to shatter the fragile peace you’d built?

But there was no turning back now.

You pressed the lamp to the door, the faint glow barely illuminating the intricate carvings etched in the wood. The knife felt like an anchor in your hand, both a lifeline and a threat.

"Please..." you murmured, unsure whether you were praying or pleading with yourself, "Just... just let me see the truth."

And then, with a deep breath, you pushed open the door.

You froze in the doorway, the oil lamp trembling in your grasp. The sight before you was almost too much to comprehend. Your husband—no, this—was not what you had expected. Not in the slightest.

His body lay still, relaxed in sleep, draped in the faintest sheen of moonlight that filtered through the window. His skin shimmered faintly, as though kissed by the gods themselves, and his chest rose and fell with a peaceful rhythm. His wings, vast and impossibly beautiful, were folded neatly behind him, feathers soft and iridescent, catching the light in a cascade of colors that seemed almost otherworldly.

You took a hesitant step closer, the flame of your lamp flickering as though it too was stunned into silence. His features were perfect—sharper than you imagined yet softened in slumber.

You had known his presence, felt his warmth, his embrace. But now, seeing him like this, unguarded and vulnerable, the fear that had driven you here melted away like mist in the early morning sun. The knife in your hand felt foolish now, heavy with the weight of your doubts, and you realized just how misplaced your fears had been.

His beauty was undeniable. Everything about him—from his sculpted features to the grace with which he rested—was perfect. The lavender curls of his hair framed his face so gently, his long lashes resting peacefully against his cheeks.

Another step forward. The lips that had whispered sweet nothings to you now parted slightly as he breathed. And those hands... the hands that had touched you so tenderly, cradled your face, and drawn soft gasps from your lips—they rested loosely on the bed, every vein and knuckle a masterpiece.

But it was the wings that held your attention. They weren’t just wings; they were art. Each feather seemed crafted by divine hands, glimmering with colors you couldn’t even name. They exuded warmth and power, a silent testament to his nature—whatever that nature might truly be.

Your throat felt tight. You wanted to cry out, to drop the lamp and run to him, to apologize for doubting him, for letting your sisters' words cloud your mind. But something rooted you in place. A mix of awe and fear kept you there, staring down at the man—the being—you’d married.

Who are you? the thought screamed in your mind, louder than you intended. Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

But you knew. 

You knew he was a god. 

How stupid- how foolish of you.

And then, as if sensing the weight of your gaze, his eyes fluttered open. Those eyes... they were a storm of colors, shifting like the tides, deep and endless. He blinked, confusion crossing his face before realization struck. His gaze fell to the lamp in your hands, and then to the knife, still clenched tightly in your trembling fingers.

His expression changed. Hurt. Betrayal. A crack forming in his once serene features.

“Y/n,” he said, his voice soft yet heavy with disbelief. “Why?”

His eyes, once warm and filled with a tenderness you had come to know, now held a coldness that made your heart drop. The air between you thickened with the weight of unspoken words, his grief pulling at the edges of his features.

“Why?” His voice was a whisper, rough with emotion. “After everything… after I’ve shown you nothing but care, why would you—” His breath hitched, his wings shuddering slightly as if even they were trying to shield him from the sting of your doubt.

You opened your mouth, but no words came. The knife trembled in your grasp, the edge of it catching the faint light of the room. The lamp you had forgotten to put down flickered as if in sympathy for the tension that crackled in the air.

“I didn’t mean… I just…” Your voice was small, barely a whisper. What did you mean? What could you say to undo this?

You had wanted to confront the fear that had been gnawing at you, the doubt planted by your sisters. They had warned you, raised questions you hadn't wanted to entertain. What if he’s a monster? What if he’s only been pretending to be kind? It was foolish, you knew that now. But in the quiet moments, when your mind wandered, the questions took root.

He reached for the knife gently, his movements slow, cautious. His fingers brushed yours, a brief, almost hesitant touch. “You thought I was a monster,” he murmured, more to himself than to you, the pain in his voice evident.

You recoiled, clutching the knife to your chest in an instinctive defense. "No, I didn’t—I thought—" Your words faltered as you met his gaze again. “I was scared. I didn’t know what to believe.”

The hurt in his eyes deepened. He stood, his wings flexing as he moved closer, his presence overwhelming yet gentle. “I’ve shown you nothing but who I am—who I really am,” he said, each word deliberate, his voice breaking slightly. “And yet, this doubt… it lingers in your heart?”

“It was your sisters, wasn’t it?”

His grip on your wrist was firm, his eyes narrowing with a hurt that twisted in a way that made your heart ache even more. The anger in his voice was unmistakable, sharp like a blade itself.

"It was your sisters, wasn't it?" he repeated, the words heavy with accusation. The quiet rage simmered beneath his words, as if the mere thought of their influence was enough to unravel whatever fragile peace you’d built. His wings twitched, his body rigid with tension.

Before you could respond, he yanked the knife from your grasp, tossing it aside with a flick of his wrist. It landed with a soft thud on the floor, its sharpness now rendered useless in the face of his fury.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. His anger wasn't just at the doubt you’d harbored—it was at the outside voices that had planted the seeds of it. He had allowed himself to believe in you, in what you could be together, only for that fragile trust to be shattered by their words.

"I warned you," he spat, his breath quickening. "I warned you not to listen to them. They know nothing of us, of what we are." His fists clenched at his sides, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

It felt as though the very air around you had shifted, turning cold and heavy. You wanted to apologize, to explain, to beg for his understanding, but the words seemed to stick in your throat.

The beast before you—your beast—wasn’t just angry. He was hurt, deeply so. It wasn’t just the betrayal of your doubt. It was the years of isolation, the weight of everything he’d carried in silence, the belief that for once, someone might truly see him for who he was.

"I wanted to protect you," he muttered, his voice cracking slightly as he looked away, fighting the emotions that were bubbling to the surface. His wings were tight against his back, the darkened feathers almost trembling with the weight of it all.

The truth was, you had been foolish. You had let the whispers of your sisters cloud your judgment, but now, standing before him, you saw the depth of his pain—the depth of your own misunderstanding. It wasn’t just about him being a beast; it was about him being someone who had allowed you into his world, and you had almost thrown it all away.

"You—" He stopped himself, swallowing hard. "I thought you understood me." His hands went to your throat for a brief moment, his eyes full with the intent to snap it, but something stops him. It wasn’t the pitiful way your hands clawed at his grasp to let you go, or your pleas for forgiveness, no. It was the fact that he even considered to snap it. Rafayel thought that surely he was done with such fantasies, the urge to break you apart every time he bed you- to rip your head, to bite and tear into your flesh, to utterly consume you, he thought he could hold back, no, that he must hold back. In a mix of horror at himself and grief- mourning at your betrayal, he took a step back, letting you drop to the floor and crumpling. 

Your heart dropped as his wings unfurled, the magnificent span of them taking up the entire room, and before you could even fully comprehend what was happening, he was gone. His words, cold and final, lingered in the air long after his form disappeared into the night sky.

"You...You have betrayed me. And I have no need for traitors. I- I’m- forgive me, for not earning your trust," 

The words echoed in your mind like a death sentence. The finality in his voice, the hurt that bled through his anger—it was all too much. You were left standing there, breathless, as the silence rushed in to fill the void he had left behind. The weight of his absence crushed down on you, suffocating. Tears welled in your eyes, but they didn’t fall. Instead, they stung—burning with the guilt of your actions, of the doubt you had let fester and bloom in your heart. You were a fool to let anyone, even those you loved, make you question him. He had shown you nothing but care, nothing but love, and you—you had betrayed him with your own insecurities.

"No," you whispered to yourself, shaking your head as if to rid yourself of the thought. But it didn’t work. The guilt remained, a gnawing feeling that twisted in your gut.

You rushed to the window, pressing your palms against the cold glass, but there was nothing—no sign of him, just the empty expanse of the sky. He was gone, and you were left in the wreckage of your own foolishness.

"Please," you whispered, the desperation in your voice thick. "Please, come back."

But the wind only howled back at you, carrying his absence like a cruel reminder of what you had done.

It was too late to take it all back. Too late to explain that you hadn’t meant to hurt him, that you were just scared. But now, there was no one left to explain it to.

Tears finally spilled from your eyes as you sank to your knees on the cold floor, your heart shattered. The bed, once a place of warmth and love, now felt empty, a reminder of the broken trust between you.

You had lost him. And you weren't sure how to find him again.

***

A month passed in a haze of silence. The palace, once full of warmth and life, now felt like a cold, oppressive shell. The servants remained kind, as they always had been, but their smiles were hollow, their eyes carrying the weight of something unsaid. You could feel their pity, even if it was never spoken aloud.

The days blurred into one another, each one spent in the same routine—quiet walks through the gardens, meals that were eaten alone, and long hours in your room, staring out at the world outside the palace walls, wishing for something—anything—to change. The silence of your husband’s absence was deafening. He hadn’t returned, hadn’t even sent word.

Your thoughts were consumed with guilt and regret, constantly replaying that night over and over in your mind. What if you had just trusted him? What if you had never listened to your sisters, to the doubts that they planted in your mind? But it was too late for what ifs. The damage was done, and you were left with nothing but a gnawing emptiness inside.

The loneliness was suffocating. You had always relied on your sisters to bring laughter and comfort, but now, with no one to share your thoughts and fears with, you felt more isolated than ever. You missed them terribly—their teasing, their warmth, their presence. You needed to see them again.

The palace felt like a prison, and you were a prisoner of your own making.

So, one evening, you made up your mind. You couldn’t stay here, not like this. You had to see your sisters, to feel some semblance of normalcy again. You had to fix what you had broken, no matter how impossible it seemed.

You slipped out of the palace, as quietly as you could, hoping that no one would stop you. The night air was cool, the scent of fresh flowers and earth filling your senses, but the sense of relief was short-lived. You couldn’t escape the tight knot in your chest—the dread of what you had lost and the uncertainty of what you would find.

“Zephyrus?”

He was there in an instant. Zephyrus’s voice was soft, as if he knew the weight of your request, even before you spoke it. "Of course, my lady. Home it is."

The wind responded to his call, swirling around you gently, as if coaxing you back into its embrace. You didn’t know if it was the wind’s touch or the weight of your own thoughts, but you felt the shift—the pull toward something that felt more familiar, more comforting than the cold emptiness that had become your palace.

With a quiet sigh, you felt the wind lift you off the ground, carrying you away from the place that had once been your home but now felt foreign. The cool air rushed past your skin, and the familiar feeling of flight made your chest tighten in both relief and sorrow.

"Zephyrus," you murmur again, this time with a hint of vulnerability in your voice. "Do you think… do you think I’ve ruined everything?"

There was no immediate answer, only the soft whoosh of the wind as you flew. His silence was not comforting, yet somehow, it gave you the space to reflect, to finally let yourself feel everything that had been buried inside.

It didn’t take long before you saw the familiar landscape below—green fields, gentle slopes, and, in the distance, the village where you grew up. Home. Your heart tightened, knowing that even this place might no longer feel the same after everything that had happened.

But this was where you belonged, wasn’t it?

Zephyrus landed you gently in a quiet corner near the palace, not far from where your sisters lived. His presence faded into the wind, leaving you standing there, facing the uncertainty of your future.

***

As you spoke, recounting everything that had happened—your marriage, your betrayal, your husband’s departure—it felt as though the words were echoing in an empty room. You saw the concern on their faces, the sadness in their eyes, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to ease the discomfort in your chest.

Clidippe’s eyes softened as she listened, but the skepticism in her voice was impossible to ignore. “So, he just… left?” she asked, her tone tinged with disbelief. “After everything? You let him leave like that?”

Algaura, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke up, her voice sharp. “You were so sure, Y/n. So sure he was something special. And now look at you. Empty-handed.”

Their words stung, each one sharper than the last. You hadn’t expected their support, not really, but this felt… different. You thought they would understand, that they would see the pain you were in, that they would comfort you in a way only family could. But instead, you felt like a stranger in their presence, isolated by your choices.

“I—” you started, but the words faltered in your throat, swallowed by the knot of guilt that tightened with every passing second.

Algaura’s eyes narrowed. “What, Y/n? What now? You want us to feel sorry for you? To fix this mess?”

Clidippe reached out, her hand resting gently on your shoulder. “We don’t blame you, Y/n. But you need to think about this. What’s next for you?”

You couldn’t answer. The emptiness inside you, the pain of knowing that you had hurt someone you loved deeply, it all churned inside, and there was no easy way to make it right. Not now. Not ever.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, feeling the weight of everything crash down on you. "I thought... I thought I knew what I wanted, but now... I don't even know who I am anymore."

The silence stretched between you and your sisters, an uncomfortable weight. They didn’t have the answers, either. And neither did you.

It felt wrong. It felt like no matter how hard you tried, there was no going back. You couldn’t undo what had been done. And worse yet, the wound you had created in your heart was only growing deeper, as if the space where your husband used to be was now an aching void you couldn't fill.

And the worst part? You weren’t sure you even wanted to anymore.

***

Clidippe and Algaura were more than pleased after you left. "Perhaps, he'll take one of us to be his wife?" Clidippe said, almost cheerfully. 

Algaura let out a small laugh, though it was cold and cynical. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. After all, we’re far more deserving than Y/n, aren’t we?”

The two of them exchanged a glance, one that spoke volumes, though it said nothing aloud. The tension was palpable, their earlier concern for you now replaced by something darker, more calculating.

Clidippe leaned back, her expression shifting from one of mirth to something far more calculating. "I always thought Y/n was too naïve to keep something like that. Such a fool to waste an opportunity with someone like him."

Algaura scoffed. "Exactly. So much potential thrown away. It’s almost laughable." She leaned in, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. “But I’m not so sure. There might be a way for us to claim what she couldn’t.”

Clidippe’s eyes gleamed with a quiet determination. “Let’s wait and see. If he comes back... we’ll be ready.” She paused for a moment, as if contemplating something more. "We don’t need her to ruin things for us again."

Algaura smirked, a cold, confident expression. "No, we won’t let her."

"Better idea. Why don't we just go to the cliff and have that wind god take us?" "Sister!”

Clidippe raised an eyebrow, but the mischievous glint in her eyes betrayed her amusement. "You know, I might just be tempted to take you up on that offer. Imagine the look on her face when we show up with him in tow."

Algaura laughed again, but this time it was tinged with something darker. "What a sight that would be. A wind god at our side, whisking us away... too bad we’d have to deal with her first, wouldn’t we?"

Clidippe shrugged, her smile widening. "Why deal with her when we can let her waste away in her pitiful loneliness? It's more fun this way, don't you think?"

The two sisters shared a knowing look, their plans already forming in the corners of their minds. Whatever they did next, it was clear they had no intention of letting you get in the way of their ambitions.

***

“You what?” Aphrodite fumed as she tended to her son.

Rafayel flinched, his wings tensing behind him as his mother’s words echoed in the grand hall. "Mother, please, calm down."

"Calm down?" Aphrodite’s voice rang out, her tone venomous. "You’ve disgraced yourself, and worse—her! You let a mortal get the better of you, make a fool of you, and you hide it like it’s some kind of prize?" She spun around, eyes blazing with fury. "Do you even understand what this means?"

Rafayel, for the first time, didn’t know how to respond. His silence seemed to only fuel his mother’s rage.

"You don’t know the first thing about real love, Rafayel!" Aphrodite’s voice cracked as she gestured toward the grandiose chambers. "That mortal girl is just a stepping stone. You’ve thrown away everything for her—your honor, your name, and now your position among the gods."

"But mother, she loved me," Rafayel said softly, the weight of his words falling heavily in the air between them.

Aphrodite’s laughter was cold. "Love? No, my son. What you call love is nothing more than infatuation. Mortal affection is fleeting, and you—" She narrowed her gaze, "—you have let it consume you. You cannot afford such weakness. Not as my son. Not as the being you were destined to be."

Rafayel stared at her, a distant sadness in his eyes. "You don’t understand. She’s different."

Aphrodite’s lips curled into a sneer. "And you will suffer because of it. You always do." She turned away, as if dismissing him. "You had a job to do, but you couldn’t even do that.”

Rafayel’s shoulders sagged under the weight of his mother’s fury, his wings folding tightly against his back, as if trying to shrink from her anger. His eyes, usually so confident and composed, were now filled with a mixture of sadness and uncertainty. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, unsure of how to express the turmoil swirling inside him.

"Mother, please..." he whispered, his voice quiet and vulnerable, almost pleading. "I didn’t mean to disappoint you. I just... I didn’t want to be alone anymore. She—she makes me feel alive. I’ve never felt anything like this before."

“That doesnt matter.”

"I... I thought you would be happy for me," Rafayel murmured, eyes dropping to the marble floor, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I thought you'd want me to be happy. You said... you said I should follow my heart. And now I’m following it... and you hate me for it."

His voice cracked as the reality of his mother’s rejection washed over him. He wasn’t the confident, untouchable creature he pretended to be. He was raw. He was hurt. And all he wanted, more than anything, was to share that with you. To be with you. But now, in this cold, unforgiving space, he didn’t know if he even deserved to.

"She’s everything I’ve ever wanted," he said softly, as if confessing a secret he was scared to admit. "And I don’t care what anyone says, not even you, mother. I love her. I love her more than you could ever understand."

His heart hammered in his chest, torn between the loyalty he had to his mother, the goddess who had raised him, and the love he had for his wife- you.  "Please... just try to understand. This is real. She’s real." His voice faltered. "I don’t want to lose her."

But it was no use. 

“You just let mother take care of this. Mother will fix  everything.”

Rafayel's body jerked as the magic took hold of him, his wings freezing mid-flap. The transformation was swift, brutal, and without mercy. His form shrank, feathers sprouting where skin once was, his wings no longer elegant and powerful but instead simple and fragile. His sharp, pleading gaze locked with his mother’s, but the words he tried to speak caught in his throat, swallowed by the magic that overtook him. He could only chirp, a sound far from the voice he had once used to proclaim his love.

His body was small, vulnerable, caged. The bars of the iron cage pressed against his delicate wings, and a bitter taste of defeat filled his mouth. He flapped once, twice, but there was no escaping the confines of his mother's wrath.

Aphrodite stood, her face set in stone, her anger still simmering beneath her calm demeanor. She waved her hand dismissively, ignoring the bird trapped within the cage. The motherly affection she had once had for Rafayel seemed like a distant memory.

"You’re a fool, Rafayel," she said coldly, her voice dripping with disdain. "But I will make sure everything works out. I always do. You will see. You will forget this mortal... and you will return to me. You will learn that I know what's best for you."

***

Talia's expression remained impassive as she watched you from her perch, her fingers lightly tapping against the railing of the balcony she'd been lounging on. She had seen this coming, even before you had realized what was happening. You and Rafayel? It was almost too predictable. That beautiful, foolish boy who had so easily fallen for you, swept up in his own infatuation, despite the consequences. Talia knew Aphrodite too well to not expect such a response.

Still, there was a pang of something in her chest—was it pity? Yes, perhaps it was pity. For you, for the way your world was now falling apart, even though you were too blind to see it coming. It wasn’t that Talia enjoyed watching you suffer, but it was hard to ignore how predictable everything had become.

Aphrodite, beside her, glared. 

“You pity a stranger over your friend.”

A statement. A fact. Not an accusation. 

"She humiliated my son, broke his heart, and shattered his trust. I should’ve intervened sooner."

Talia leaned lazily against a pillar, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers, utterly unbothered by the goddess’s rage. She was no stranger to Aphrodite’s dramatics.

"And yet," Talia replied, her tone as light as the breeze, "it was your son who fell for her, wasn’t it? Who bound himself to her in secret? Perhaps your anger is misplaced."

Aphrodite’s glare could have turned lesser mortals to ash. "Watch your tongue, Talia. My patience with you is thin."

"Yes, yes, your patience," Talia said with a dismissive wave. She pushed off the pillar, stepping closer to the goddess with a confidence that bordered on reckless. "But let’s not forget, Goddess, you’re the one who proclaimed yourself the expert in love. Perhaps your son inherited your taste for chaos. Shouldn’t that make you... proud?"

Aphrodite’s hand twitched, her nails biting into her palm as she considered smiting the infuriating nymph. Instead, she closed her eyes, taking a slow, measured breath. Talia always knew how to strike a nerve.

"This isn’t chaos," Aphrodite finally said, her voice quieter but no less sharp. "This is betrayal. She doesn’t deserve him. And I will not allow her to destroy him further."

Talia’s lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. "You sound more like a mother scorned than a goddess of love."

Aphrodite turned away, her expression unreadable as she gazed down at the mortal world below. The fields stretched endlessly, the winds carrying whispers of sorrow. Somewhere down there, you were grieving. Somewhere, you were suffering.

Good.

And yet...

For a fleeting moment, a pang of something unfamiliar—something dangerously close to guilt—flickered in Aphrodite’s chest.

"I protect what is mine," she said at last, as much to herself as to Talia.

Talia tilted her head, watching the goddess with an almost pitying gaze. "If you keep him caged, Aphrodite, you’ll lose him too. Just like she did."

The golden cage trembled violently as Rafayel clawed against the spell that bound him. His bird form shimmered, wings beating with a frantic energy that sent feathers scattering like falling stars.

“Rafayel, stop!” Aphrodite’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. But he couldn’t—he wouldn’t. The bars bent under his growing form, groaning under the pressure as he swelled beyond the confines of her magic.

His breathing was ragged, desperate. His talons stretched into fingers, his wings unfurling as the feathers melted back into flesh. With one final, guttural cry, the cage snapped, its golden fragments raining down like shards of light.

"Rafayel, please—" Aphrodite’s tone shifted, now tinged with worry. She reached out to him, but he recoiled, his back to her as his transformation completed.

He was silent, his chest heaving as he stood tall, his silhouette framed by the moonlight pouring through the open window. His lavender hair clung to his damp skin, his iridescent wings unfurling to their full, magnificent span.

“I can’t stay here,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and trembling.

“Son, listen to me,” Aphrodite implored, stepping closer, her divine grace now softened with maternal concern. “That girl doesn’t deserve—”

“She does!” he cut her off, spinning to face her, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “She made a mistake, yes, but so did I. I left her to face her doubt alone, Mother. I love her, and I don’t care what you think anymore.”

Aphrodite’s hand hovered in the air, her lips parting as though to protest, but the raw pain in his voice froze her.

Before she could speak, Rafayel turned, his wings extending. With a mighty leap, he soared through the window, the force of his departure sending a gust of wind through the room.

“Rafayel!” Aphrodite called after him, her voice breaking.

But he didn’t look back. The stars blurred as he flew, his heart pounding with one singular thought:

He had to find you.

***

How ironic. 

How ironic that you had returned to the cliff where this had started. 

Only to find your sisters. 

The air was thick with the scent of saltwater, the wind teasing your hair, but it did nothing to soothe the aching void inside you. You stood there, frozen, watching your sisters with a hollow heart. They laughed, carefree, on the edge of the cliff, their voices carrying on the wind, full of mirth.

"Zephyrus! Zephyrus, catch us!" they called in unison, like children daring fate. Their voices rang in the cold air, their words both a plea and a taunt, as though they were so certain he would appear. But there was no response. No gust of wind, no comforting presence.

How….oh, how your heart hurt.

Your chest tightened as you felt the coldness settle in your bones. You should have known. Should have known that their trivial games would come at a cost. Your sisters were so used to their charm, their beauty, their privileges that they believed everyone else—everything—would bend to their will. Of course…you should have known when they had suddenly decided to question your love when they first visited you, instead of being happy for you. 

And yet, you ran. 

You ran to them. You needed them. One last hug, one lass embrace-

Clidippe took a step forward, laughing as she always did, confident in the wind's power to save her. Algaura followed, grinning, her trust in Zephyrus unwavering.

But Zephyrus wasn’t coming.

The air seemed to still as they jumped. No wind rushed to catch them, no graceful hands reached out. Instead, the two of them plummeted into the dark abyss, their screams quickly swallowed by the sea.

A sick feeling churned in your stomach, a blend of guilt, betrayal, and something much worse. 

You barely registered the tears that spilled down your cheeks as you watched the empty space where they had fallen, knowing that nothing could bring them back.

“Why didn’t he catch them?” you whispered to yourself, voice raw with disbelief. Was it because of your own failure? Had you made him so bitter, so distant, that he had forsaken them, too? Or was it their own arrogance that had led to their doom?

“No…no-! No, no, no, no. NO!” You ran to the edge of the cliff, almost stumbling off but the wind was pushing you back. 

“Zephyrus! Let me go! Let me- my- my sisters! Zephyrus-” You gasp for air as you swallow back the thick knots forming in your throat, blocking your breath. Your stomach was in your heart, your heart in your lungs, everything out of place. 

The weight of your heart pressed down, harder than the cold air around you. How had everything fallen apart so quickly?

A soft rustle disturbed your thoughts, and you turned sharply, hoping for some form of relief. But all you saw was the wind, swirling around you in a turbulent dance.

And then, his voice—gentle, familiar—came through the chaos of your mind.

"I'm here, my love."

Rafayel stood before you, wings glistening in the moonlight. His form seemed to fill the space, ethereal and powerful. His eyes were filled with something softer now, the pain from before replaced with something new. Something deeper.

“Rafayel…” you breathed, your voice trembling as you rushed toward him.

He took a step forward, his eyes never leaving yours. The distance between you, the betrayal, the pain—all seemed to fade with each passing moment.

"I didn't mean for this," he whispered, reaching out to you. “I should have never left you. I thought... I thought if I kept my distance, you'd be safe, but I was wrong."

You wrapped your arms around him, the warmth of his presence surrounding you, and for the first time in so long, you allowed yourself to feel something other than emptiness.

“I didn’t want them to fall,” you whispered into his chest, your tears soaking his clothes.

His hands held you tightly, pressing you against him as if to shield you from the world. “You didn’t cause this, love. They made their own choices, and now they must face the consequences. But you... you are everything to me.”

He gently tilted your chin up, his gaze locking with yours, and for the first time in ages, you felt truly seen.

“Will you come back with me?” Rafayel asked softly. "Let me show you that you are loved. You’ve been through too much alone."

But-

No.

He had left you.

He left you.

The weight of your heart pressed down, harder than the cold air around you. How had everything fallen apart so quickly? The faces of your sisters, their laughter, their screams—they wouldn’t leave your mind. The sight of Rafayel, his tender gaze, his outstretched hands, was too much. It was all too much.

You stumbled back, your legs trembling beneath you. His voice called out to you, soft yet desperate, but you couldn’t face him—not now, not like this. The world spun, your breath coming in shallow gasps as the reality of what had just happened sunk deeper into your soul.

“Stay with me,” Rafayel said, his voice pleading. But you couldn’t stay. You couldn’t.

Your feet moved before you realized what was happening. You turned, your body propelled by something primal, something desperate. You ran. Away from Rafayel, away from the cliff, away from the memories that clung to you like a shroud. Back, back, back—to home, to safety, to the one place you knew might offer you solace.

The lake.

Hersilia!

Her name echoed in your mind like a lifeline, a prayer. She would know what to do. She always did. Your breath hitched as you pushed forward, the terrain blurring around you. The sharp branches clawed at your skin, the cold night air stung your face, but none of it mattered.

You needed her.

The lake came into view, its surface eerily still under the pale moonlight. Your feet slipped on the damp grass as you stumbled toward the water’s edge.

“Hersilia!” you cried out, your voice cracking. “Please, I need you!”

***

When you came to that secret lake, the air felt wrong, heavy, and strange. The surface of the water was no longer the welcoming mirror of moonlight you remembered. Instead, it churned faintly, disturbed by an unseen presence. Around you, the nymphs who once danced and sang in joy screamed and fled into the shadows of the trees, their translucent forms flickering like dying embers.

Were they afraid of you? Or of something else? You couldn’t tell, and you didn’t care. Your mind could focus only on one thing.

“Hersilia!” you cried out, your voice raw and desperate. “Please, I need you!”

No answer came, only the sound of the water lapping against the shore. The nymphs’ fearful whispers drifted to your ears, fragmented and faint.

“She doesn’t know...” “Should we tell her?” “No! Let her be.”

Their words were like shards of glass cutting into your heart. You shook your head, refusing to believe what they might mean.

“Hersilia!” you shouted again, your voice breaking as you collapsed to your knees by the lake’s edge. “Please, it’s me! It’s—”

Your words died in your throat as you caught sight of the water. There, faint and ghostly, was a face—a face you knew too well. Hersilia’s face, but pale and ethereal, like a memory clinging to the surface of the lake. Her once-lively eyes were dulled, her expression distant.

“Hersilia,” you whispered, reaching out.

The image wavered and dissolved, leaving you staring at nothing but ripples in the water.

“She is gone,” a trembling voice said behind you. One of the braver nymphs had stepped forward, her form flickering as if she might vanish at any moment. “Hersilia has been gone for many moons. You... you did not know?”

But then a nymph shrieked, her voice piercing the stillness of the night like a crack of thunder. Her trembling finger pointed behind you.

Your heart stopped. You turned slowly, fear and hope warring within you.

There, standing at the edge of the clearing, was Rafayel.

His lavender hair was disheveled, the soft curls wild from flight. His wings, now fully unfurled, glistened in the moonlight, each feather shimmering like mother-of-pearl. His eyes, those deep sea-blue and pink hues, were filled with an emotion so raw it took your breath away—grief, anger, love, and longing all at once.

“Rafayel...” you breathed, rising to your feet.

He didn’t move closer. His gaze bore into you, searching, as if trying to understand something unspoken. The nymphs had scattered entirely now, their fear palpable in the air. Only the two of you remained by the lake, the silence deafening.

“I thought...” His voice broke, soft and trembling, but then it shifted, cracking with something darker. “I thought I would never see you again…” His gaze hardened, and his tone grew sharper, more raw. “And you—” He took a step forward, his wings shuddering with restrained emotion. “You run away? You run away from me?”

His laugh was almost maniacal, echoing in the quiet night like something unhinged. The sound made your blood run cold.

You instinctively took a step back, your heels slipping into the cool water of the lake.

"You..." Your voice trembled, barely audible as fear gripped you. "You killed Hersilia?"

The words hung heavy in the air, your body stiffening as his gaze locked onto yours. His eyes darkened, unreadable and sharp as a blade.

Before you could even register his movement, he was suddenly there—his hands gripping your arms tightly, pulling you closer with a force that left no room for escape.

"She was a bad influence," he said, his voice low and cold, venom dripping from every syllable.

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding against your chest as his words sank in. "Rafayel, she was my—"

"Your what?" he snapped, his wings flaring wide behind him in a display of frustration. "A friend? Someone who told you to run from me? To leave your place by my side? To keep you from your fate?”

You shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes. "No, she—"

"Don’t lie to me!" His voice cracked, raw and filled with pain. For a moment, the grip on your arms loosened, as though he realized the weight of his own actions. His hands slid down to your wrists, trembling. "Everything I’ve done... I’ve done for you."

Your breath caught in your throat as his hands closed around your neck, tightening with a force that made it hard to breathe. His eyes burned with a desperation that mirrored the one you'd felt in your own chest—his need, his possessiveness, overwhelming everything.

"And you're staying with me," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You want someone to love you. Y/n? You don't want to be lonely? Well neither do I."

His words echoed in your mind, each one heavier than the last. The suffocating grip on your throat made it difficult to focus, the edges of your vision starting to blur. His pain was raw, but it was tainted with something darker—a twisted form of affection that you couldn’t bring yourself to understand.

"You’re hurting me," you gasped, struggling to free yourself, but his hold only tightened, his face inches from yours.

"Not enough," he spat, his voice full of anguish. "Not enough for you to understand how much I need you. How much I need you to stay."

His eyes flickered for a second, showing you the vulnerability that you once recognized. The part of him that wasn’t a monster, the part that had loved you with a gentleness you hadn’t thought possible. But then it was gone, replaced again by something darker, more volatile.

You couldn’t tell if he was trying to protect you—or break you.

And it didn’t matter.

Because he snapped your neck. 

The world went black. No pain, just the crushing emptiness that followed when your body stopped fighting, when everything ceased to exist in an instant. Your breath, your heart—gone.

Rafayel stood over you, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, his eyes wild, still filled with that insatiable need. He had done it. He had taken everything.

He dropped to his knees beside your lifeless form, his hands trembling as he reached for you.

Rafayel’s lips pressed softly against yours, his tears falling gently onto your still face. His heart was heavy, the weight of his love and his violence crashing together in an unbearable torrent. He had taken everything from you—your life, your love, and now... your silence.

"Till death do us part," he whispered against your lips, his words full of regret and sorrow. "And for you, I give you half my heart."

He layed you down as the nymphs hid in the lake in horror, watching as the god tore his chest open, golden blood spilling in torrents as he took his heart, ripping it in half, its aorta limp and loose, the left ventricle almost coming apart as if it were tender and slow cooked. He gasps in pain, closing his eyes as he opens your chest, tearing your heart out. 

And the same, he rips it in half. 

Half to you, half to him….

***

When you woke up, you gasp, clutching your neck. Could it be?

Was it truly just a horrible dream?

You turn to look beside you, reaching out. 

Your husband was invisible; you could feel the warmth of his back against your hand. 

But…there was an itch in your chest. Like something didn’t quite fit. 

[munv]

𝗠𝗔𝗗𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗡𝗘.

𝗜𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱, 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲. 𝗦𝗲𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗔𝗴𝗲, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗲𝗲𝘁 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀

Discord server for updates

P1

It was mid spring, the breeze softly embraced others, while another looked out the window with a fargone gaze.

you never really liked spring, honestly. It was all some sick excuse for people to say something like “its perfect to go outside!”. Really, you’d rather stay indoors while its winter. It gives you an excuse to stay away when your classmates makes plans to go to karaoke, things along that line.

During winter, the bitter frost would bite those who were vulnerable. But you never took it that way. You took it as something beautiful. People really never understood your affinity for winter when you explained it.

it was more of a personal, deep connection rather than a unornamented preference. At least to you it was.

Beliefs drove to conviction, and conviction led to acceptance. There were a lot of complicated things in this world you didn’t like too.

This was your belief, there was no need for all this extra stuff. Life is as fleeting as the fickle heart, so might as well do what you want, right?

sadly, not many others shared this sentiment. So here you were, in physical science, left alone to wander through your wild mind.

“ms [l/n], would you care to help us with this equation? At least, I hope that’s what you’re thinking about in the back there!” The woman at the front of the class called

Right. School. That thing? You’re in it right now. “It would be ‘c=2 x 3.14 x r’, Mrs Bato” you turned away from the window to face the woman. She was the type of teacher who would pick on whoever she saw fit, almost as if she was threatened by your presence, she often asked questions that disguised the malice behind them. 

Maybe she felt challenged by your aloof demeanor. Not like you planned on sitting around in her class long enough to find out anyways. “ah..yes, that’s right” she said unenthusiastically, you think she was hoping for you to say something else. 

After your answer, she moved onto her next victim for the period until the bell rang. 

RINGGGG

as the bell rang, you quickly gathered up all your materials and placed them under your desk. “Don’t forget to review chapter 25 for next week’s homework!” The teacher called out to the fleeting students.

Making your way out the door amongst the lively crowd, you managed to navigate your way to the art room. It was especially rowdy today, perhaps they were having something good for lunch today. Not like didn’t bring your own. As you reached for the door handle of the club room, it suddenly slid open harshly before you.

There you came face to face with him. “Ah, [l/n]-san” his deep voice rumbled with kindness and a bit if curiosity as he looked down at you. “shishio-san” you bowed. 

You’ve seen the dude around campus, considering the fact he was nick-named “The Strongest Primate High Schooler” it was hard to miss him. Tsukasa was one of the popular, yet humble type of guys.

”how are you today?” He smiled. Every now and then when he encountered you, he would try to make small talk. Obviously noting that you avoided him at any cost necessary.

Last thing you needed was his fangirls jumping you in the nearest alleyway.

“Fine. May I go in? Or do you have business to attend in there?” You pointed to the room. Lunch box in hand. 

Tsukasa picked up you weren’t ready to have small talk by now. Nodding along he sidestepped out of the doorway. “See you later [l/n]”

”hopefully” you remarked before watching him walk down the hallway “not”

Not like he wronged your lineage in a past life of anything, you just had these weird vibes that you got in the gut whenever he pranced around the vicinity. You never bothered to entertain him, trusting the gut above all else.

Making your way inside the clubroom, the door was closed behind you quickly. Placing your lunch down on the nearest counter you searched inside the drawers for equipment.

“Acrylics, oils, sponges…” making sure you listed off everything you needed for todays piece, you put everything in a small bucket and walked towards the canvas. 

The window for the club room was open, providing a refreshing breath of air. The faint smell of dried paint circulated the room. The quiet room lulled you into a sea of thoughts. There were no members today in the room since clubs weren't required on Monday's, for whatever reason that is. The outside world faded away as your brush gently stroke the canvas, each color more vibrant than the other. Today, you painted a forest with a few statues. It gave off the whole history, but poetic vibe. Each color blended perfect with the other, painting was an escape, you never had to explain or talk for yourself, since the art did it for you. 

Maybe it was too nice today though. Normally you wouldn't find yourself in a such a calming situation, and noticing how the world was always dead set on ruining whatever peace coming your way, you became skeptical. 

You hesitated on the next stroke before feeling the hairs on your body stand at full attention. "cmon..I doubt anything bad is gonna happen to me now!..I mean, all along in this club room? slim chance" you muttered to yourself with an exasperated sigh. Maybe you've just been tired recently? Gotta be it. 

Your gaze shifted to the open window with curiosity before something caught your eye. Has..the horizon always been that green?? Maybe it's all that screen time getting to your head and playing tricks. However, the longer you stared, the more apparent it became that this was indeed not a trick on your eyes, but the horizon was indeed turning green. And for the green? it was coming right towards you. "holy shit, is the government fighting with aliens or something?" You began with a light joke, before sweating. "wait. Oh my God its real?" you began to back away from the window, dropping your brush in a panic. The pressure in the air made your breath hitched. Your pulse quickened and without thinking twice. You ducked down into the most protected looking corner of the room with quick prayers and a heavy heart. "please let this be some sick joke..!"

A strange sensation spread throughout your body, it was stiffening yet, a far cry from uncomfortable at the same time.

"did I just get fucking mummified?" 

[luvst4rc0r3]

OMG I LOVE UR FANFICS!!

PLZ WRITE MORE SERIES!!

Can you write (if you want) a jinx x f!reader were reader’s first language is not English but another language. And she has a son whose first language is English and he always complains about taking classes. So jinx pulls them out of classes and that makes reader very mad. (basically Gloria from modern family)

It can be any language just ofc not English

TYY IF YOU DO IT

OMG I LOVE THIS REQUEST!!!

I did it in my native language. English is my first but Tagalog (Filipino)is kinda my second asides from Spanish. I can kinda of speak Tagalog just not fluently.

“Lost in translation”

Jinx x F!Reader

WC: 1427

NOTE: established relationship. I did have to use google translate for some words so it might not be grammatically correct.

THIS ALSO MIGHT BE MY LAST FANFIC FOR A COUPLE DAYS BC I HAVE MIDTERMS

“Jinx, what the hell were you thinking?”

You stood in the center of the small apartment, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. Jinx leaned against the counter, her casual stance a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside you.

“I was thinking the kid hates it,” she shot back with a shrug, twirling a wrench in her hand. “Why make him sit through something that makes him miserable?”

Your heart clenched. “He needs to learn it. He needs to—” You hesitated, stumbling over your words as your thoughts tripped over each other, fighting to come out in English. “It’s important for him to know… to understand—”

Jinx rolled her eyes, her tone dismissive. “He’s a kid. He doesn’t need a million things crammed into his head. He’s fine just the way he is.”

“Fine?” you echoed, your voice trembling. “Jinx, it’s not just about school. It’s about him knowing who he is. Who I am. You think it’s easy for me, being stuck in the middle of two languages all the time?”

She frowned, her smirk faltering for the first time. “I didn’t say it was easy—”

“You didn’t even ask me!” you interrupted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “You just pulled him out without even thinking about what it means!”

Jinx tilted her head, her electric blue eyes narrowing. “He’s my kid too, y’know. I’m not trying to hurt anyone. I just didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Her words hit you like a slap, and suddenly, the English words you’d been clutching at fell away, leaving nothing but raw emotion. Your chest heaved, and before you knew it, tears blurred your vision.

Jinx’s face shifted, the confidence draining from her expression. “Hey, whoa, babe, don’t cry—”

But you couldn’t stop. The frustration and exhaustion, the endless translating in your head, the constant feeling of being misunderstood—it all came pouring out in a language she didn’t understand.

“Ang hirap na hirap na ako, Jinx. Hindi mo naiintindihan. Hindi mo alam kung gaano kasakit na hindi ko masabi nang maayos ang nararamdaman ko.” (I'm in such a difficult situation, Jinx. You don't understand. You don't know how much it hurts that I can't express my feelings properly.)

You covered your face with your hands, your body shaking with sobs. “I just want him to know me,” you managed to choke out, your voice breaking. “I want him to understand me without me having to fight for every word.”

Jinx froze, the wrench clattering to the floor. She stepped closer, unsure and unsteady, like she was walking on glass.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice low and raw with something you didn’t hear from her often—guilt.

You didn’t respond, your tears falling harder. Jinx reached out, her gloved hand hesitating before resting on your knee.

“I thought I was making things better for him. I didn’t think about how it would hurt you.”

You sniffled, shaking your head but still unable to look at her. “It does not just hurt, Jinx,” you whispered, the words coming out shakily. “It’s… I’m tired. I’m tired of fighting with my own head, trying to make everything make sense in English just so I can talk to you, or him, or anyone.”

Jinx’s hand tightened slightly, grounding you, as if to say she was listening.

“I just… I feel like I don’t belong anywhere,” you continued, your voice cracking. “Not here. Not at home. And now, our son… he doesn’t even want to learn the one thing that connects him to where I come from. To me. And you just let him quit. You made the decision like it didn’t matter.”

Your words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Jinx’s usual chaotic energy had vanished; she looked like someone had ripped the ground out from under her.

“I didn’t know,” she said after a moment, her voice soft but steady. “Of course you didn’t. You never think of anyone except yourself” with that you slammed the door to your shared room with her.

—

You stood in the doorway, your bag slung over your shoulder. Your hands shook as you clutched the strap, the heaviness in your chest unbearable. Jinx stood across the room, her wild hair and mismatched clothes somehow looking smaller, like she didn’t know what to do with herself

“Wait,” she said, her voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “You’re leaving?”

You nodded, your throat tightening as tears threatened to spill again. “I just… I need space, Jinx. I need time to think.”

Her brows furrowed, her lips parting like she wanted to argue, but no words came. For once, Jinx didn’t fight. She just stood there, the chaos in her usually vibrant eyes dimmed by something deeper.

“I love you,” you said, your voice breaking, “but I can’t keep doing this if you don’t try to understand. It’s too much.”

The silence in the room was deafening, and when you finally stepped out and closed the door behind you, it felt like your heart was breaking in two.

The days passed slowly. You stayed at a friend’s place, letting the quiet moments give you the space to breathe. But no matter how hard you tried, thoughts of Jinx and your son kept creeping in. The weight of the fight lingered in your chest, heavy and unresolved.

You told yourself you just needed a little more time. That maybe Jinx would realize how important this was—not just to you, but to your family.

And then, three days after you left, you came home.

The apartment was quiet when you walked in, and for a moment, you wondered if she was even there. But then you heard it.

“Kamusta.”(Hello)

You froze, your bag slipping from your shoulder as you turned toward the sound. Jinx stood in the middle of the living room, her hands fidgeting nervously with the hem of her shirt.

“What?” you asked, your heart pounding.

She cleared her throat, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and determination. “Kamusta,” she said again, the word clumsy but recognizable. “That means… uh, hello? Right?”

You blinked, stunned. “Y-yeah.”

Her lips twitched into a small, nervous smile. “I’ve been trying,” she said, stumbling over the words. “I… I looked up some stuff. It’s… hard, but I wanna learn. I wanna…”

She trailed off, her electric blue eyes meeting yours with a rare vulnerability. “Ayaw ko… um…” She fumbled for a moment, clearly struggling to remember the phrase. “Ayaw kong… mag-translate ka… araw-araw.” (I don’t…I don’t want you to have to translate everyday)

Your heart clenched at the effort in her voice, the way she fought through every syllable. “I don’t… I don’t want you to have to translate every day. I love you,” she added in English, her voice shaking slightly.

Tears welled in your eyes as you took a step closer. “Jinx…” you smile widely, “now you’re the one who looks like an idiot!”

She chuckles softly but soon returns to her straight face. “I’m serious, okay? I… I’m not good at this, but I’m gonna try. I’ll keep learning. And he’s gonna learn, too. I already talked to him. Told him he’s sticking with it. I don’t care how much he complains—I’ll sit with him if I have to. We’ll both learn.”

You couldn’t stop the tears now, your hand flying to your mouth as you let out a shaky breath.

“I didn’t get it before,” she continued, her voice soft but steady. “But I do now. I don’t want you to feel like you’re doing this alone. Or like we don’t see you—really see you. You shouldn’t have to fight for that.”

She hesitated, then stepped closer, her hands reaching for yours. “I’ll learn Tagalog for you. For us. Because I love you. And I don’t wanna lose you.”

A sob broke free from your chest as you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her close. Her arms tightening around you, and for the first time in days, you felt like you could finally breathe again.

“Salamat,” you whispered through your tears. (Thank you)

Jinx chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Walang anuman. That’s how you say ‘you’re welcome,’ right?”

You laughed, your heart aching in the best way. “Yeah. That’s right.”

Her grin widened, a little of her usual spark returning. “Told ya. I’m a fast learner.”

And in that moment, as the weight in your chest began to lift, you believed her. Together, you’d figure it out.

for once, her chaos felt like home.

TYY whoever requested that!! That was such and interesting requests to write!!

I want food

[therealtomboyfangirl]

The Security breach y/n’s

Sooooo I guess I should start doing head canon stuff I’m ganna start by starting my fnaf security breach story here. It’s a y/n story where hear y/n is different deal with it heh. So this post will be intro ducitng that I guess. They all do join at different time stamps of the pizza plex so note the when the pizza plex opens, before Bonnie’s decommission and after Bonnie decommission as time stamps of how long they have worked there. Also Represention HEH

Sun/moon’s y/n

Janitor (because sun and moon keep destroying janitor bots)

Punk morals

Has lots of tattoos and piercing and looks a bit out of place when they start working their

Gender fluid

Poly/pansexual/ demisexual

Does not understand kids and just treats them like tiny adults not really fully comfortable around them at the start but does warm up to them

always wears a bandana at work

Once their there for a good bit good-luck getting them to be fired they know to much

Their in a Toxic relationship when they start at the pizza plex

Newer staff, arrived after Bonnie decommission

Runs off of energy drinks

Monty’s y/n

Bisexual

Fem

Is strong enough to ligit throw Monty over her shoulder

Mommy issues

Has a strong will

Afraid of dark cramped spaces

Is very gentle with kids but doesn’t put up with shit from anyone

Has a fun little game of stepping on Monty’s tail at least once a day

Been around before Bonnie was decommissioned

Freddy’s y/ns

There are multiple (3 total)

Their all poly and pan or bi

1 fem (y/n #1)and 2 nonbinary (y/n #2&#3)

Freddy has so many due to him being the main star attraction

Y/n #1 is Freddy’s og handler

the leader of Freddy’s handlers.

Headstrong and protective

A situationship that has never been official with Freddy since the first week of the plex being open

Very much mommy vibes

Has a kid

Y/n #2 was Bonnie’s og handler but got transferred to Freddy after Bonnie’s decommission (more info go to Bonnie’s y/n below)

Y/n #3 was Monty’s og handler

They were transferred over to Freddy after being physically hurt by Monty

Monty didn’t know how to handle his temper back then and always took it out on y/n which was the start of Freddy’s dislike for Monty (it does get repaired later on but wayyyy later on)

They have nightmares form that time but are always comforted by the other handlers and Freddy

Chica’s y/n

Bisexual

Ftm trans

He is very tall and strong and quite

He had an intimidating aura about him

Always wears the same leather jacket

Has had issues in the past (won’t put here so they can be surprises)

Amazing lesbian moms

Will punt a bitch

Can’t pick up on flirting

Hispanic and calls Chica chica as a term of endearment

Has a pet bird named Carino

Childhood friend with DJ’s y/n who got him this job

Post Bonnie decommission

Works out for fun

Runs off of energy drinks

Rides a motorcycle

Punk mindset

DJ music man’s y/n

Asexual

Nonbinary

Helped build the pizza plex

The head sound and electrical engineer

Has 3 master degrees all in engineering

The oldest out of all the y/n’s

Runs off of energy drinks

Has access to all the pizza plex servers and software and even helped write a lot of it

Is often in the dj’s area due to the custom speakers he has

Has a prosthetic leg

Orphan

Roxy’s y/n

Lesbian

Mtf trans

She is a get shit done type of person

She sasses back to Roxy which starts their friendship

Uses a cane as a mobility aid

Wears a lot of pink and red

Is one of the few people that can do Roxy’s hair

Post Bonnie decommission

Orphan

Runs an online blog exposing big corporations and politics stuff

Foxy’s y/n

Genderfluid

Pansexual

Used to work as a bouncer before the plex

Has a generally bubbling and kind personality

Has close to same physical strength at Monty’s y/n

They and Monty’s y/n often pull Monty and foxy away form fights

They are the only handler foxy has ever had

Post Bonnie decommission

Is a hugger

Plus sized

Is the easiest to get to cry

Bonnie’s y/n

Nonbinary

Bisexual

Is currently Freddy’s second handler Bonnie’s og handler

Was always nice to Bonnie and they had a situationship

Before Bonnie was decommission Bonnie pushed them away which they were suspicious of

They say Bonnie was decommissioned Bonnie trapped them in a closet

#sucial Bonnie

Bonus character : little Timmy

A little shit

Karen mom

[bumblesimagines]

Imagine:

Seeing Serena again

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Gossip Girl spoilers, mentions of cheating and betrayal, Serena get a damn grip

~~~

"Is breakfast almost ready, Patty?"

"Almost, Mr. (L/N). We'll have everything set and ready in a few minutes."

The smell of freshly cooked pancakes wafted through the air, merging with the vanilla-scented candles the maids always lit around the penthouse to appease his mother. He raised his cup of coffee to his lips and carefully drank the hot liquid, the tip of his tongue still tingling from drinking it too quickly. His eyes roamed over the view as he watched the city come to life with the rising sun. 

The elevator dinging echoed into the room and his brows furrowed at the sound, his head craning over his shoulder to look at the equally confused maid. "Is my mother expecting guests?" He asked and set his coffee at the table, but Patty shook her head firmly.

"No, sir, I don't believe so. Her meetings start at 1:30."

Humming softly, (Y/N) slipped his hands into the soft pockets of his pajama pants and strode out of the dining room, his ears faintly picking up murmuring from one of the servants greeting their guest.

He failed to think of anyone who'd be visiting them at such an early hour unless it was a work emergency and his mother hadn't been picking up her phone. Besides, he'd long ditched the one person he often drove to school with. 

He rounded the corner and halted, instinctively shaking in a sharp inhale at the sight of the tall blonde standing in front of the shiny elevator doors. She smiled at one of the maids and dismissed her offer of taking her coat or providing her with a drink with a small shake of her head, the smile remaining on her face until she noticed his frozen figure. Her lips parted with surprise before spreading into a sheepish line. She always looked so damn sheepish.

"Hey, (Y/N)." Serena greeted softly, the heels of her boots clicking against the tile as she crossed the room toward him. His eyes flickered toward the grand stairs behind her leading up to the bedrooms and his chest constricted. This wasn't good. Not in the slightest. "It's... it's good to see you." She said and lifted her arms for a hug.

"Don't."

Had it been any time in the past couple of years, he would've happily sank into her embrace and lifted her into his arms for a kiss, savoring her gleeful laughter while she swung her legs around him. The hurt that flashed over her features would've made his chest heavy with guilt and an eagerness to remedy it through any means, but instead of the warmth and love he once felt spread through his body like a forest fire at the sight of her.. he felt nothing but bitter resentment.

He couldn't even bear to look at her, to gaze into the striking blue eyes that he had so often complimented or her golden hair that always seemed to effortlessly fall over her shoulders no matter what she did. 

"I.." Serena's arms fell to her sides and she frowned, her eyes lowering to stare at the floor like a scolded child. "I know I messed up. I shouldn't have left without telling you where I was going-"

"No, no," (Y/N) scoffed and took a step back from the blonde, the smell of her perfume alone making him sick to his stomach. Warm and sweet with notes of cinnamon and orange blossom, everything he once associated with her. He recognized it immediately; how could he not when it was the same one he gifted her for their anniversary? The delighted gasp she'd released when she smelled it for the first time rang in his ears. "I don't care that you went to boarding school, Serena, or that you needed to get away from life here."

Serena's brows twitched and began to slowly crease, her blatant confusion only adding to the nausea forming in the pit of his stomach. Irritation struck him like a lightning bolt, sudden and consuming. How could she possibly look so lost? So innocent? As if she were being accused of a crime she hadn't committed. "I thought you were mad because.. because I left without saying anything. I mean, it's been a year and-"

"I don't give a shit about that, Serena." She blinked, still confused. He wanted to strangle her. "Nate Archibald, Serena. You fucked Nate Archibald, my best friend, behind my back and then ran away like a coward because you love running away from your problems."

Serena flinched and staggered backward as if she'd been struck, her eyes widening into near saucers and breath rapidly escaping her lungs. Betrayal flashed in her eyes. "He- He told you?" Disbelief caked her shaky words.

He gave a bitter, short laugh despite the emotions welling up in his chest. "No, he didn't. I had to learn what the two of you did through Chuck Bass. Do you know what it's like having to look that sleazebag in the eye while he tells you your girlfriend of three years fucked the guy you've known since diapers because he loves making people miserable? It was humiliating."

"I'm so sorry." She exhaled, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingertips flew to her mouth which soon began to quiver while her eyes glistened with incoming tears that almost made his eyes roll. He didn't have time for her pity party, didn't have space for it in his life anymore. He didn't have space for her. Her voice cracked when she spoke, "I- We- I was drunk and we didn't know what we were doing. I swear it meant nothing. I would never hurt you-"

"But you did, Serena. Don't pretend you're innocent or that you made a mistake-"

"It was a mistake!"

"Oh, right, his dick just happened to slip inside you, right?"

Serena gaped at him. "(Y/N)!"

Her high-pitched voice bounced off the walls, drenched in pure shock. Her mouth moved with silent words, leaving her looking like a fish out of water gasping for air. It wasn't often Serena was left speechless, that was something he attributed to her mother more than anything. Serena had a real talent for rendering her mother silent with a few accusatory sneers. The hint of exhaustion on Lily's face whenever she gazed at her daughter finally made sense to (Y/N). 

"I'm sorry, okay? I-.. I really, really, am." Her shoulders drooped with a sigh and she took three steps toward him, her tote bag swinging and lightly hitting her thigh with each movement. She reached out and gently placed her hand over his arm, her eyes watching him pleadingly. "I was going to tell you, I promise, I... I just needed time to get myself together. I know I messed up. I should've never drunk as much as I did and I definitely shouldn't have slept with Nate. Please... forgive me." 

Serena always had a magnetic air about her, something wild and untameable and enigmatic that drew everyone to her the moment she stepped into a room. The way she unapologetically carried herself, acted like herself, and not like the other girls at school who plastered on fake smiles for everyone, was the reason he'd asked her out to begin with. And yet, listening to her now, he kicked himself for believing she was any different, that she was just as loyal as Blair Waldorf was. 

"I missed you," Serena added, trailing her hand up his arm and shoulder to cup the side of his neck. "I just want things to go back to how they were between us." 

He frowned and moved away from her, out of reach from her coaxing touch. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to walk in here after what you did and try to pretend like it wasn't a big deal. You didn't accidentally spill something on my favorite sweater or break an expensive vase, Serena. You cheated on me with my best friend... after everything I've done for you." 

"(Y/N)-"

"Serena?" 

His eyes shot up toward the staircase and locked on the figure slowly descending it, her footsteps quiet and barely audible. Serena's head whirled around toward the familiar voice and her mouth opened, whatever words she wanted to say jumbling in her throat as Blair continued to cautiously approach them.

She sported his button-up, the one he'd worn to dinner the previous day and the very one she'd nearly torn off his body in her hungry neediness. The implications dawned on Serena and she snapped her head back toward him with bulging eyes.

"I thought I heard a familiar voice." Blair smiled, not a particularly nice one, and she stepped off the staircase to stride across the room.

She passed by Serena with the hint of a scowl, her eyes narrowing and raking over Serena's figure in discontentment. Her lip curled with disgust at the sight of her worn tote bag and her head shook disapprovingly, her messy brown waves shaking and bouncing off her round cheeks. His arm instinctively extended toward Blair and she settled into his side like a piece slotting into a puzzle. He met Serena's gaze as he kissed the top of her head, feeling her nuzzle into him further. 

"Blair, I-... does- does Nate know you're here?" Serena swallowed.

Blair scowled, offended. "What I do is none of Nate's business anymore. Didn't you hear? Nate and I broke up after (Y/N) told me what you did. I always knew you were a whore, I just didn't think you'd do that to (Y/N) or me. It doesn't matter anymore, anyway. I'm better off without him, and you for that matter."

Blair's words were biting, filled with venom and heat, but (Y/N) couldn't find it within himself to be upset. Nobody else had seen the way her unbothered façade shattered at the news, the way she stuttered through tears as she tried to find any excuse to justify Nate's actions until all she could do was curl up in his arms and sob over the boy she'd poured her heart into.

He'd felt guilty then, for breaking a girl he once believed was a stone wall, a girl he once judged for her cruelty. It wasn't until he helped her pick up the pieces Nate left behind that he caught sight of the girl underneath the ruthless ice queen everyone knew her as. Blair was sensitive, sweet, easily humored, and held a strong urge to please and protect those she cared about. The more time he spent with her, the more his heart began to flutter with a familiar emotion. 

It wasn't until a rainy night when she'd stopped by unprompted to gift him a designer jacket she'd seen while window-shopping that he fully realized the extent of his feelings and, after a kiss by the fireplace and whispered confessions, she agreed to be his girlfriend. The look on Nate's face, and the satisfaction on Blair's, when he saw them at school made the heartache and sleepless nights worth it.

"Guys-"

Blair raised her hand to stop the blonde. "I think it's time for you to go, Serena. We don't want you here."