#Yes it's a love story... but the writing... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cosmiclily · 1 day ago

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How do you write Vi so well 😭 I love our bby girl and she deserves the world!

Can I ask you for some real-life story with her? I’ve been thinking about reader who startsrking at a local grocery shop, a small one with regular customers and Vi is one of them. And the reader sees her in all states - dressed up for a date, hangover, dishelved after break up, etc.

And somehow her and the reader hit it off after Vi’s one particularly bad day. What do you think about it? And I can imagine an old lady working there as well who knows Vi since she was a little kid and can tell there is something going on, maybe she pushes Vi to make a move? Omg so cliche but that’d be sweet!

under fluorescent lights

wc: 3.1k

notes: thank you so much!!! and my secret to write Vi so well is to be gay ! 😼 also yes she deserves the whole universe 😭

Going to your dream college had its ups and downs. On one hand, it was your dream college—you were studying (mostly) what you loved, the professors were great, and best of all, you had finally moved out of your parents' house.

On the other hand… you had to move out.

Which meant a brand-new city, brand-new bills, and a job at a funny little convenience store owned by the weirdest and funniest old lady, Babette.

Your college was in a ridiculously expensive city, so you ended up renting a tiny one-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of town. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was yours. To make ends meet, you picked up a job at the local convenience store, and thankfully, Babette was understanding about your erratic class schedule. She was patient, and let you take extra shifts when you needed—but that also meant sometimes getting stuck with night shifts, which, yeah, you weren’t exactly thrilled about.

The first few days were rough. Learning the register was hell, but you found solace in stocking the shelves, mindlessly organizing cans and boxes while the store’s soft background music played.

And the days had started blending together—uneventful, repetitive—until she walked in.

“Hey, Babette.”

The pink-haired girl strolled into the store like she’d been there a million times before. She greeted Babette like an old friend, her voice smooth but casual, like she belonged.

“Vander asked me to pick up his order” she continued, leaning against the counter. “Said he already paid for it.”

Babette barely looked up from the crossword puzzle she had spread out on the counter. She spent most of her days pretending to work, occasionally glancing at the security cameras like they were more interesting than the actual customers.

“Yes, yes.” She waved a hand. “Y/N, can you grab the green box from the back for me, please?”

You nodded, slipping into the stockroom. The box was heavier than you expected, but you carried it back to the front, struggling a little, and set it on the counter. “Here.”

The girl straightened, rolling up the sleeves of her hoodie as she reached for it. That’s when you noticed her tattoos—inked lines running up her forearms, disappearing beneath the fabric. Her hands looked rough, but somehow soft at the same time, and for a fleeting second, you wondered how they would feel.

She glanced up at you then, her lips curling into a small, almost shy smile. The scar on her lip caught your attention, making it impossible to look away.

“Thanks” she said, voice quieter this time.

Her fingers brushed against yours as she took the box, and your stomach did something stupid.

You swallowed, crossing your arms in an attempt to keep your hands from lingering.

And just like that, she turned, carrying the box out the door like it weighed nothing, and you just stood there, watching her go.

Babette didn’t even look up from her crossword. “You’re staring, sweetheart.”

Your face burned. “I am not.”

“Mhm.” She circled something on the paper. “She’s in here all the time, you know. If you want to make a move, at least try not to look like a deer in headlights.”

You groaned, turning away—but even as you went back to stocking the shelves, you couldn’t ignore the way your heart was still racing.

──────────────────────

And Babette was right.

Vi—you had since learned her name—was at the store all the time.

Every Thursday, without fail, she came by to pick up the green box. On Mondays, she bought two cans of Red Bull and a packet of hot chips. On Tuesdays, she sometimes stopped by on her way to the gym—if her athletic clothes were anything to go by. (And god, were they distracting.)

One time, she walked in while you were stacking cans of beans, and the second you caught sight of her—messy hair, hoodie slung over her shoulder, muscles on full display—they all came crashing down.

She had laughed. Loudly.

You had wanted to crawl into a hole.

And then, throughout the week, she would just… appear.

Some days, she actually shopped. Other days, she wandered the aisles like she had nowhere better to be, hands shoved into her pockets as she examined products you knew she wasn’t planning to buy.

Once, she came in, made direct eye contact with you, and immediately turned toward the snack aisle.

You had stared after her, dumbfounded, until Babette cleared her throat behind you.

“You’re staring again*,* sweetheart.”

“I am not.”

“You are.” She smirked knowingly. “You should say something before she gets tired of making excuses to come in here.”

That thought had never left your mind.

So, after that, you started paying closer attention. Not just to Vi, but to the clock, the calendar. You noted her patterns, tried to prepare—ensuring you looked at least somewhat presentable when she walked through the door.

And if you maybe, kind of, adjusted your shifts so you’d be there when she usually stopped by?

Well.

Babette didn’t have to know that part.

But then exam weeks came, and all your carefully laid plans to finally work up the courage to get Vi’s number came crashing down.

You had to pick up mostly night shifts so you’d have time to study and actually take your exams, which meant going weeks without seeing her. And honestly? That didn’t do wonders for your mood.

“You look like a zombie.” Your friend said, eyeing you with mild concern as the two of you sat in the library, cramming before one of your final exams. “Did you get any sleep at all?”

“No…” You whined, dropping your head onto the open textbook in front of you. “I’m working at night, studying all the time, and I haven’t seen my wife in almost a week. I’m suffering.”

They snorted. “You can only call her your wife when you actually gather the courage to ask for her number.”

You groaned, waving them off. “I was getting there! But then life happened.”

And then, even after your exams were over, Vi still didn’t show up.

At first, you assumed your schedules just weren’t lining up. But then she missed her usual Thursday pickup—the oneconstant you had been able to count on—and that’s when you started to worry.

You wanted to ask Babette if something had happened, but you weren’t sure how to bring it up without making it obvious you’d been paying way too much attention.

That’s when on Friday night she —finally— showed up.

Except she looked… different.

Her usual hoodie and sweatpants were gone, replaced by an outfit that made your brain short-circuit. Her hair was sleeked back, her cologne reached you from across the store, and when she stopped in front of the wine section, scanning the bottles, she looked like she had just stepped out of a magazine.

You swallowed hard, gripping the counter in front of you for dear life.

Where the hell was she going dressed like that?

She made her way to the register, and before you could think better of it, the words were already slipping out of your mouth.

“You look different. Got a date or something?”

You tried to sound casual, like you weren’t clawing at your own insides with curiosity. Like you didn’t care way more than you should.

Vi grinned, setting the bottle of wine on the counter. “Yeah, actually. Do you like the fit?”

She took a step back, giving you a playful little twirl to show off the outfit, and—god—you wished you had just kept your mouth shut.

Because, yes, you liked it. Too much.

“Yes” you said, forcing yourself to smile through the sudden pit in your stomach. “You look really pretty.”

And you meant it. But you kinda wished she was dressed like that for you.

After Vi’s date, she started showing up even less. She still came by every Thursday to pick up the mysterious green box, but she didn’t linger anymore—no more aimless wandering through the aisles, no more pretending not to notice you watching her.

It was pathetic how much you missed it.

“You could look a little less… dead, dear” Babette commented one afternoon, barely looking up from her crossword puzzle. “I told you to make a move on Vi. You took too long.”

And she was right. If you hadn’t been so slow, maybe that bottle of wine would’ve been for you—not some mystery girl she was seeing.

So once again, your days started to blend together.

College. Work. Home. Rinse. Repeat.

Thursdays became the only bright spot in your week, the only time you got to see Vi—hoodie pulled up, hands shoved in her pockets, mumbling something about Vander’s order before leaving just as quickly as she came.

You lost track of how long that routine lasted—until one particular Saturday night shift.

Because Vi walked in again.

But this time, she looked pissed.

Her brows were furrowed, jaw tight, knuckles raw. She stomped through the aisles like she was ready to punch the next person who looked at her funny. Without hesitation, she grabbed a bottle of vodka, a pint of ice cream, and an obsceneamount of hot chips.

You barely had time to process before she was at your register, slamming the items down with a little too much force.

“Rough night?”

You raised an eyebrow at her, and all she did was sigh—loudly.

“You could say that.”

The two of you fell into silence as you scanned her items, the beep of the register the only sound between you.

You hesitated before asking, “Want to talk about it?”

Because, honestly, you weren’t sure if her bruised knuckles were from a fight or not, but she looked like she was ready to kill someone. And if she got arrested, your weeks would go from boring to extra boring. Plus, that very nice face of hers? Yeah, it didn’t belong in prison.

Vi sighed again, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s just…” She trailed off, exhaling sharply through her nose before continuing. “I was seeing this girl, and everything was great. Until I found out she was cheating on me.”

Your stomach twisted, but you kept your face neutral.

Vi let out a humorless laugh. “And then there’s the other shit—home, college, everything—and I don’t know. I kinda lost it?” She glanced down at her raw knuckles, flexing her fingers like she was only now realizing how bad they looked. “Guess I needed to blow off some steam.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, scanning the last item before handing her the bag.

“Well,” you said, offering a small smile. “If it helps, I think vodka and an unreasonable amount of hot chips are definitelythe right call.”

That got a snort out of her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You leaned on the counter slightly. “And, you know, if you ever need to not get into a fistfight and just complain about life to someone, I do work here almost every day.”

Vi’s lips twitched, almost like she was fighting a grin.

"Noted" she said, grabbing the bag. But before she turned to leave, she hesitated, glancing at you like she was debating something.

Then, with a sigh—like she had finally made up her mind—she asked, “Do you want to go eat an unreasonable amount of hot chips with me?”

You blinked, taken aback by the invitation.

Your eyes flicked to the clock. There were still a couple of hours left in your shift, but Babette wouldn’t mind if you closed a little earlier. It was for a good cause, after all.

“Yeah,” you said, already reaching for your jacket. “I do.”

──────────────────────

That’s how you found yourself in the back of Vi’s pickup truck, parked under the dim glow of a streetlamp, passing a bottle of vodka between the two of you and sharing a pint of cookie dough ice cream with a single, slightly bent spoon she had found somewhere in her car.

The night air was crisp, but not cold enough to be uncomfortable. The sound of distant traffic and the occasional chirp of crickets filled the silence between sips and spoonfuls.

“So” you started, leaning back against the side of the truck bed “tell me about this girl.”

After all, that’s what you were here for—to let Vi vent, to be a good friend. Even if you kind of hated that you were asking in the first place.

Vi exhaled through her nose, taking a swig of vodka before passing the bottle back to you.

“I don’t know” she admitted, stretching her legs out. “We started hanging out after you disappeared from work. It wasn’t even serious—we weren’t, like, dating dating—but she said we were exclusive.”

You hummed, swirling the bottle in your hands. “And clearly, she had a different definition of ‘exclusive.’”

Vi let out a dry chuckle, shaking her head. “Yeah. Caught her texting some other girl when she thought I wasn’t looking. Turns out she’d been seeing someone else the whole time.”

You frowned. “What an asshole.”

“She really is” Vi agreed, stealing another bite of ice cream. “And I feel stupid because I didn’t even like her that much.”

“So why are you this pissed?” you asked, tilting your head.

Vi hesitated, tapping her fingers against the truck bed. “…I don’t know.” Then she looked at you, really looked at you, and something in her gaze softened. “Maybe it’s because I was wasting my time on the wrong person.”

Your breath hitched, but before you could say anything, she smirked.

“Or maybe I just really wanted an excuse to drink vodka and eat an ungodly amount of hot chips with you.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing despite yourself. “Smooth, Vi. Real smooth.”

She grinned, bumping her knee against yours, the warmth of the small touch lingering longer than it should have.

“And I didn’t disappear from work,” you corrected, making dramatic air quotes. “I had exams. Very important ones. I was basically a zombie for three weeks—working the night shift, studying all day… Life was hell.”

Vi raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. “Damn. No wonder you looked like death warmed over that one time I did see you.”

You gasped, shoving her shoulder playfully. “Rude.”

She just chuckled, taking another swig of vodka before passing the bottle back to you. “I was kinda worried, though,” she admitted, scratching at the label on the ice cream container. “But I figured if I asked Babette, she’d just tell me your life was none of my business.”

You snorted because, honestly? That sounded exactly like Babette. “Yeah, she totally would. She’s nice in, like, the meanest way possible.”

Vi laughed, nodding. “Right? I once asked her if she thought I looked good in my red hoodie, and she just went, ‘It’s not the worst thing I’ve seen on you, dear’ and then walked away.”

That made you laugh so hard you almost choked on your sip of vodka. “She’s brutal.”

Vi grinned, watching you with something unreadable in her expression. “Yeah, she’s been like that since i was a kid.” She chuckled “But i’m glad you’re back.”

The words were simple, but something about the way she said them—like she meant them—made your stomach flip. You looked at her, at the way the streetlight cast soft shadows across her face, at the way she was watching you like you were something worth paying attention to.

And maybe it was the vodka, or the way the night wrapped around the two of you like a secret, or maybe it was just her—the way she looked softer like this, cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol and the laughing, eyes a little hazy but still locked onto you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

If you were to die right now, you’d die happy.

Vi tilted her head, studying you. “What are you thinking about?” she asked, her voice softer than usual, almost hesitant. “Sometimes you stare at me, and it’s like you go somewhere else.”

You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s nothing. It’s just… silly.”

Vi narrowed her eyes slightly, clearly unconvinced. “Silly, huh?”

You nodded, but before you could say anything else, she leaned in just a fraction—close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off her skin, close enough that you could count the freckles scattered across her nose.

“Try me,” she murmured, her voice low, teasing. “I like silly.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering against your ribs. She was too close, too Vi—all lazy grins and rough edges, but somehow still soft in moments like these.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how the world had shrunk down to just the two of you, sitting in the back of her pickup truck, a half-finished bottle of vodka, packages of chips and a pint melted ice cream between you, the distant hum of the city as your only witness.

“It’s just…” You hesitated, glancing away for a split second before meeting her gaze again. “If I died right now, I think I’d die happy.”

Vi blinked, her smirk faltering. Something unreadable flickered in her expression—something almost tender.

“That’s a little morbid” she said, but her voice had lost its teasing edge.

You shrugged, letting out a soft laugh. “Maybe. But it’s true.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t heavy, wasn’t suffocating. It just was. Comfortable. Unspoken words and lingering glances filling the space between you.

Then Vi shifted, her fingers reaching out, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen across your face. The touch was light—so gentle that it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Can I try something?” she whispered.

You nodded, breath hitching in your throat.

And then she kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate. It was slow, careful—like she was memorizing the way your lips felt against hers, like she was afraid you might disappear if she moved too fast.

Her fingers ghosted over your jaw before settling at the nape of your neck, pulling you just a little closer, deepening the kiss in a way that made your chest tighten. You tasted cookie dough and vodka on her lips, something warm and dizzying curling in your stomach.

When she finally pulled away, her forehead rested against yours, her breath warm against your lips.

“Yeah, I was definitely wasting my time on the wrong person.”

You let out a shaky laugh, eyes fluttering open to meet hers. “Oh? And who was the right person?”

Vi smirked, her fingers playing idly with the hem of your shirt. “Dunno. You tell me.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “You’re an idiot.”

“But I could be your idiot.”

You sighed, pretending to be exasperated, but when she tilted her head, nudging her nose against yours, you knew you were gone.

“You’re impossible,” you murmured, before kissing her again.

──────────────────────

masterlist

#vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi x you #arcane #vi arcane #arcane x female reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane x you #lily writes

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fyuyushia · 3 days ago

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"Someday, I know you'll come to your senses and leave me alone with all of my questions 'cause I don't have the answers I can't give you more. I know that you'll never be mine but I'll always be yours." — Senses

Ugh how does one write down their ideas in a way that makes sense and doesn't look like a mumbo jumbo mess😓😓

Sung Jinwoo getting in a relationship with reincarnated!reader who he slowly sees becoming very self destructive.

He can never figure out what goes on in that head of yours. Though you continue to stay with him, you always donned a paranoid, anxiety stricken expression that's barely concealed by the mockery of a smile you wore. Even if it was convincing to others, for him who's studied your features for ages, he could easily tell when it was genuine and when it wasn't.

It's not that you don't like him anymore—at least he thinks it's not. You acted skitterish whenever he initiated affection, yes, but you always reciprocated after a few seconds, craving it despite thinking it's wrong.

He doesn't understand why you accept his affection with such a guilty look. You bite your lip, eyes averting away from his own as you lean closer to his touch, tightening your hold on him just to make sure he wouldn't let go. You were a walking contradiction, and Jinwoo hopes you weren't this complicated.

He doesn't miss the way you constantly try to self sabotage, intentionally or unintentionally. You acted as if you were waiting on the day he'd wrung all his feelings for you dry, living every day with bated breath. It pained him to think of your actions, acting so distant despite longing for his affection more than anything else. What scared you so? What was it that terrified you so much you could never seem to find the time to simply bask in the moment and love for the sake of it?

What changed for you to act so differently? So scared of something, but counting on it to happen nonetheless. With what faith do you believe that something catastrophic would happen?

You who somehow ended up in the world of solo leveling. You don't know how you ended up here, was it reincarnation or transmigration? Isekai? You had memories of both the life you lived here and another life. It was confusing, seeing as both lives seemed similar to one another, the only difference being the presence of gates in this and the lack thereof in the other.

Fortunately or unfortunately—you vaguely remember reading a manhwa with a world building that fits the bill for the current one you lived in.

Solo leveling: a manhwa you've only recently finished back then. The main character? The man laying in bed next to you. Sung Jinwoo—your pathetic(loving) childhood friend Sung Jinwoo.

Since this revelation, you began to fear for your just recently blossomed relationship. The more Jinwoo played out what you've read in the manhwa, the more you worried about yourself. As far as you can remember, a character like you was never introduced, maybe they did, but only in a passing. Your lack of presence in the manhwa had caused fear to sink in and petrify you to the core.

What if Jinwoo plays out that certain part? Basing off on his current progress, Jinwoo was bound to meet Hae-in and get to know her more intimately from this point on. If that happens, what about you? What will happen to you who presumptuously stuck to his side even after knowing all this? Will you be cast aside? Forced to let go of this love just to follow through the story?

The fact that Jinwoo acted in ways that remained primarily loyal to the manhwa's story made you feel queasy. Will you be forced out of the picture when the time comes?

Thoughts like this gave way to self doubt, and self doubt then gave way to your self destructive habits. You couldn't love Jinwoo so sincerely anymore, couldn't look him in the eye without doubt creasing your features. The knowledge that he was fated to be with Cha Hae-in ate you up alive.

And if you think about it, who could be a more perfect pair for him? Unlike you, Hae-in was a capable hunter. Not only that, she was pretty, athletic, and not without a lovable personality as well. She was better than you, far, far better than you.

You felt yourself die on the inside as you came to terms with this fact. Resigning to your fate, whilst also wishing to be selfish, you reluctantly took whatever scraps of affection Jinwoo gave you. Before he'd move onto another, before he realizes how much you blinded him into thinking he loved you.

Sung Jinwoo notices the way you rarely cling onto him now. Instead, only stealing longing glances in his direction, hands twitching as if longing to touch but pulling away whenever you get too close. Every time, he gets the urge to just grab you by the wrist and forcefully wrap your arms around his neck, but he doesn't, afraid that doing so would only push you who slowly drifted apart from him further away.

He doesn't miss the way your body turns rigid when he mentions Hae-in in a passing. Your shoulders stiffen, and you bite your lip, barely holding back tears from the mention of her alone. That night, he spent hours comforting you, assuring you he would never leave.

Cha Hae-in was a sore topic for you, as noticed by Jinwoo. He thought it was petty jealousy at first, but now he had an inkling it was much deeper than that. You don't hold any sort of animosity towards her, matter of fact, you admired her to the point Jinwoo felt somewhat jealous by your zealous fangirling.

You seemed so sure he'd leave you for her, even encouraging him to spend time with her despite you clearly being uncomfortable with the idea. He's left confused by your antics, you don't want him to leave but you encourage him to get closer with Hae-in when you knew a simple no from you could easily convince him to cut off all relations with her and her associates.

Really, you seemed to have a penchant for contradicting yourself in the worst ways possible.

Sung Jinwoo feels his patience draw thin. Every attempt at a question was answered by a surety he found baffling. Did he seem that disloyal? He shouldn't be angry, he knows that. But seeing you slowly spiral into this complicated mess of a lover brings him closer to the brink of insanity as well.

What exactly would it take for you to see the way his heart burns for you only?

#ᯓᡣ𐭩fyuyu's works #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #manhwa x reader #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo x y/n

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pinkmoontaco · 3 days ago

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Hii it's me again lol about the g dragon, can i request something like kwon jiyong x idol reader, reader is younger than him (OF COURSE LEGAL AGE HAHA), she's a soloist or in a girl group (you decide 🥰) when bigbang performed in the mama awards just last year so iconic lol, after they performed they have to sit with other artists, he purposely planned talked to some staffs to make his and her group sit together, and they have some moments that the fans caught on and yes HAHAHA you continue BUT SOMETHING LIKE THAT, idk if you could understand it 😔😔😔 i dont know to explain this properly lol

Exposed || Kwon Jiyong

Pairing: Idol Jiyong X Idol Reader Genre: Fluff Summary: Jiyong and Y/N, a idol from a popular girl group, have been secretly dating. However, their relationship starts sparking rumors after several accidental (and not-so-accidental) moments at the MAMA Awards. A.N: Please let me know if you guys want a part 2 continuation of this story

Please give it lots of love and support! Don’t forget to leave your thoughts, comments and don't forget to follow for more stories like this—they mean so much to me and help me improve. Your feedback and encouragement keep me motivated to keep writing. Thank you for being patient and sticking with me. Love you guys 💖💖 And also feel free to make any request for any other members or other groups M.list

The night was electric. BIGBANG had just finished their performance, a stage that would be talked about for years. The energy was still buzzing in the air as the members walked off, their breathing still heavy from the adrenaline. And from his place on stage, Jiyong had already located you.

Your group had been watching from the front rows, standing, clapping, and cheering along with the other artists. But unlike the rest, you felt the heat of his gaze.

You knew you had to play it cool. You kept your eyes forward, lips pressed together in the perfect image of a professional junior idol. But when he bowed, when he let his eyes flicker to yours for half a second longer than necessary, you felt your pulse quicken.

It wasn’t over.

Because when it came time for seating arrangements, suddenly, your group was ushered toward BIGBANG’s section.

Your leader glanced at the staff in confusion. “Oh, we’re sitting here?”

A staff member just nodded, completely unaware of the tension brewing beneath the surface. Or maybe they did know. After all, Jiyong had made sure of it.

As you sat down, your assigned seat just happened to be diagonal from his. Close enough for accidental touches. Close enough for subtle games.

And Jiyong? Oh, he was enjoying himself.

The first time your knees brushed, you thought it was an accident. The seating was cramped, and idols were squeezed together with barely any space to move.

But then it happened again.

This time, he pressed his knee deliberately against yours.

You didn’t react. You kept your posture perfect, eyes locked on the stage. But your fingers curled slightly in your lap.

And that was exactly what he wanted.

Jiyong chuckled under his breath, low enough that only you could hear.

"You're good at this," he murmured, barely moving his lips.

You exhaled slowly, keeping your eyes on the performance. "At what?"

"At pretending like I’m not here," he mused. Then, leaning slightly closer, he added, "But I know you feel it."

Your breath hitched. The warmth of his leg against yours, the way his voice sent a shiver down your spine—you hated how easily he affected you.

But two could play this game.

So, without missing a beat, you pressed your knee back against his.

And that was the moment his smirk faltered.

Sometime during the award announcements, a staff member brought bottled water to each table. You twisted open your cap, taking a small sip—only to nearly choke when Jiyong’s ringed fingers casually reached forward, stealing your bottle.

Before you could react, he took a slow sip, completely unbothered.

Your eyes widened, but he merely wiped the corner of his lips with his thumb, setting the bottle back down in front of you.

"Yah," you whispered, shooting him a glare.

"Problem?" he asked innocently, tilting his head.

You scoffed, reaching for another bottle, but before you could, he leaned over and slid the original bottle back toward you.

His voice was barely above a whisper. "Just drink from mine."

Your stomach flipped. You hated that he was enjoying this.

And you hated even more that you took the bottle and drank from it.

It started as something harmless. Just a quick glance in his direction.

But you didn’t realize the camera had zoomed in on you.

At that exact moment, Jiyong, ever the instigator, tapped his fingers against the table in a rhythm only you recognized—a song he’d written for you.

Your lips parted slightly in surprise. He noticed.

And before you could stop it—before you could school your expression into something neutral—your lips curled up in the tiniest smile.

And the fans caught everything.

The camera cut away almost instantly, but not fast enough.

Twitter exploded.

"WHY DID Y/N JUST SMILE OUT OF NOWHERE WHEN GD WAS TAPPING THE TABLE HELPPP"

"WHAT WAS HE TAPPING?? HELLO CODEBREAKERS??"

"Y/N SMILING AFTER GD LOOKED HER WAY... Y'ALL WE'VE SEEN THIS BEFORE 👀"

"GD took HER bottle?? And she didn’t even react?? Oh nah they are not slick."

And then—dispatch dropped a clip.

A grainy, fan-taken video from the upper seats of the arena. The footage was shaky, but clear enough to show:

Jiyong passing your group a drink, but ONLY handing it to you.

The knee touch under the table.

Your stolen glance. Your tiny, traitorous smile.

It was subtle. Barely noticeable to anyone who wasn’t looking.

But the fans? They saw everything.

The awards continued, but you barely registered the winners.

Because Jiyong wasn’t done.

His fingers drummed against the table again. This time, the rhythm wasn’t a song. It was a message.

T-A-L-K T-O M-E

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head slightly.

Jiyong grinned. He saw that.

Then, the absolute menace that he was, he raised a brow and mouthed, "Scared?"

You nearly scoffed. Oh, he wanted to play? Fine.

You leaned in slightly, just enough for only him to hear.

"Oppa," you murmured, voice sweet but laced with warning. "Behave."

The effect was immediate.

Jiyong’s smirk twitched, his fingers freezing for just a second—because he liked it when you called him that. And you knew it.

His hand curled into a loose fist on the table, jaw tightening for a moment before he exhaled and shot you a half-lidded gaze.

"That’s unfair," he murmured back, voice husky.

You bit back a smirk.

You knew Jiyong was watching.

You felt it.

The moment your group took the stage, the energy in the arena shifted—louder screams, flashing lights, and a certain someone sitting comfortably in the artist section, front row, with that signature smirk.

At first, he was composed—just nodding to the beat, sunglasses perfectly in place.

But then?

Then came your part.

The camera panned to him just as you stepped forward for your solo.

The moment your hips rolled, your gaze sharp and commanding—

Jiyong?

Gone.

The man leaned forward, elbows on his knees, sunglasses sliding down his nose as he openly stared.

The live audience noticed instantly.

"HE'S STARING. HE IS NOT EVEN HIDING IT."

"DID Y'ALL SEE HIS SMIRK WHEN Y/N DID HER PART? EXCUSE ME????"

"THIS IS NOT EVEN A FANBOY REACTION. THAT'S A MAN ADMIRING HIS WOMAN."

It got worse when you locked eyes with him for half a second.

Jiyong?

Smirked.

The type of smirk that said, "You know exactly what you're doing, jagiya."

The camera caught it all.

And just when people thought it couldn’t get any more insane—

Mid-performance, a cameraman—who deserves a RAISE—zoomed in on Jiyong again.

This time?

The man was biting his lip.

"JAIL. JAIL FOR THIS MAN."

"Y/N NEEDS TO PAY FOR MY THERAPY BECAUSE HER PERFORMANCE GOT GD LIKE THAT."

"HE'S SO OBVIOUS IT'S EMBARRASSING PLEASE."

You could feel the heat creeping up your neck.

Jiyong?

Still shameless.

By the time your performance ended, he was back to normal, clapping like nothing happened.

But when you walked back to your seat—next to him—he leaned over and whispered:

"You almost killed me up there, sweetheart."

You gritted your teeth. "Serves you right."

He chuckled, voice dangerously low.

"Just wait till later."

Your breath hitched.

And just like that—the night wasn’t over yet.

At the very end of the night, artists were standing, clapping, saying their goodbyes.

Jiyong was walking ahead with the BIGBANG members when, for just a second, he glanced over his shoulder at you.

And you looked back.

The moment lasted only a second, but someone caught it on camera.

A single, slow-motion GIF.

Jiyong turning his head, looking back at you.

Your eyes meeting his.

That split-second smirk before he faced forward again.

Twitter? In flames.

"HE LOOKED BACK. HE LOOKED BACK. OH MY GOD HE LOOKED BACK."

"That was NOT a casual glance. That was a ‘meet me later’ look."

"THE SMIRK. I CAN’T BREATHE."

"They think they’re being sneaky. THEY ARE NOT."

Later That Night…

Your phone buzzed.

Jiyong: So, when are we announcing the wedding?

You: Jiyong-ah.

Jiyong: Yes, my love?

You: I’m going to kill you.

Jiyong: But you’ll miss me too much, won’t you?

YOU: You did that on purpose right?

Jiyong: Of course I did. How else will they know you’re mine?

You: WE ARE NOT GETTING CAUGHT.

Jiyong: Sweetheart, we’ve already been caught.

Jiyong: You looked unreal tonight.

You: You made it OBVIOUS.

Jiyong: You make it hard to behave, jagiya.

You: STOP.

Jiyong: Make me. 😏

You groaned, flopping onto your bed. The worst part? He wasn’t wrong.

And the actual worst part?

You liked it.

It started as fan theories.

A harmless coincidence.

But by the time the MAMA afterparty ended, it had escalated into a full-blown scandal.

TRENDING ON TWITTER

#GDxY/N #Y/N_LuckyGirl #GDRAGON_LostHisCool

THE CLUES THAT STARTED IT ALL:

The Seating Arrangement Scandal

Why was your group suddenly seated next to BigBang when it wasn’t in the original floor plan? 🤨

Fans dug up footage of Jiyong talking to staff before the show.

"HE PLANNED IT. THIS MAN WENT OUT OF HIS WAY TO SIT NEXT TO HER."

Jiyong’s Reactions = A Man Down BAD

The lip bite. The smirk. The unholy stare.

"We’ve seen GD fanboy before, but this? This is different."

"He was watching like he already KNEW how that dress looked up close." 😭😭

The Afterparty Coincidence

You and Jiyong left around the same time.

Different cars, but same direction.

Fans noticed your manager looking stressed while BigBang’s team tried to be low-key.

"They didn’t even try to stagger their exits. HELP."

The Matching Accessories Debacle

The next day, Jiyong posted an Instagram story.

A hand, casually holding a glass of wine.

A familiar ring on his finger—the same one you were seen wearing months ago.

"SO WEARING COUPLE RINGS IS JUST A THING NOW? OKAY."

THE COMPANY RESPONSES = SUSPICIOUS AF

Your Agency:

"Y/N and G-Dragon are just industry colleagues. The seating was arranged by MAMA organizers."

YG Entertainment:

"We do not comment on our artists' personal lives."

TRANSLATION: "We're not denying it."

"YG NOT EVEN TRYING TO LIE LMFAO."

"If they weren’t dating, they’d have shut this down IMMEDIATELY. Oh, they’re so caught."

"Just drop the wedding invitation at this point."

After days of speculation, Jiyong did what he does best—

Trolled everyone.

NEW IG POST: A selfie. Smirking. Caption?

"I love MAMA."

THAT’S. IT.

"HE'S PLAYING WITH US HELP."

"SIR JUST CONFIRM IT OR DENY IT. DON’T TEASE US LIKE THIS."

"This man enjoys chaos too much I can’t."

THE INTERNET STILL HASN’T RECOVERED.

And neither have you. 😭🔥

If people weren’t sure before—

Now?

They were certain.

All thanks to one tiny, completely avoidable mistake.

NEW IG POST: Y/N’s Group Behind-The-Scenes Photos!

Your group’s official account posted casual snapshots from rehearsals, practice rooms, and random candid moments from recent schedules.

Harmless, right?

Wrong.

Because eagle-eyed fans noticed something immediately.

THE CLUE THAT BROKE THE INTERNET:

In one mirror selfie, you were holding your phone in the corner.

Reflected in the mirror? A very familiar-looking silver bracelet.

The exact same bracelet Jiyong had been wearing for years.

FAN REACTIONS = PURE CHAOS

"I NEED EVERYONE TO ZOOM IN RIGHT NOW."

"THAT. THAT IS GD’S BRACELET. THAT MAN DOESN’T TAKE IT OFF."

"SO SHE WAS WITH HIM? OR…???"

"Not them getting caught by a MIRROR REFLECTION."

Hours after the bracelet debacle, Jiyong—being Jiyong—made everything worse.

NEW IG POST: A Random Aesthetic Shot

A simple photo of his hand, resting casually on a table.

Except…

The bracelet was front and center.

The background? Suspiciously similar to a place you had visited just days ago.

Caption?

"Good things should be kept close." 😏

FAN REACTIONS = ABSOLUTE CHAOS

"SIR. SIR, THIS IS NOT SUBTLE."

"ARE THEY EVEN HIDING ANYMORE??"

"Y/N POST THE MATCHING PHOTO OR WE RIOT."

"I feel like we’re getting a dating confirmation in 3…2…1."

Chats:

You: Jiyong. YOU. NEED. TO. STOP. 😡

Jiyong: Stop what?

You: YOU KNOW WHAT.

Jiyong: I just like my bracelet. 🤷

You: I WILL THROW THAT BRACELET INTO THE OCEAN.

Jiyong: Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t dive in after it.

You: I AM BLOCKING YOU.

Jiyong: Again? Cute. 😘

One week later, just when the rumors started to die down—

Jiyong did something so reckless that even your company gave up.

NEW IG STORY: A simple photo of his hand intertwined with someone else’s.

The angle? Purposely vague.

But the bracelet?

Still there.

And the nail polish color on the other hand?

The exact same shade you had worn the day before.

Caption?

"Some things don’t need to be explained."

INSTANT WORLDWIDE MELTDOWN.

OFFICIAL STATEMENT FROM BOTH AGENCIES:

"We ask fans to respect our artists’ personal lives."

TRANSLATION: "Yeah, they’re dating. We’re tired. Leave us alone."

THE INTERNET GOES INSANE

"AFTER ALL THAT TEASING, WE FINALLY HAVE CONFIRMATION???"

"GD REALLY SAID SOFT LAUNCH THEN HARD LAUNCH LMAO."

"Y/N YOU ARE THE LUCKIEST WOMAN ALIVE."

"MAMA 2024 BETTER HAVE A COUPLE SEAT ARRANGEMENT READY."

You: Are you happy now?? 😩

Jiyong: Very. 😌

You: You're insufferable.

Jiyong: You love me, though. 😘

You: …Shut up.

Jiyong: Make me. 😏

200 notes · View notes

maddamoiselle · 13 hours ago

Text

Burning Hearts

Pairing: SeaGod!Rafayel x NonMC!Reader

Summary: Lemurian lives for love, and as a lemurian yourself, you can't imagine a world without love. But maybe the Sea God can teach you more about it...

Words: 4199

Author's nonsense: Well, I hope you will enjoy this new chapter. Hopefully, I'll be able to write Sylus's soon.

Tags; Fluff TW: minor death, injuries

<- Chapter I

“ She kissed him?!”

You turned your head toward Claire, who was brushing your hair. She seemed more upset than you about this.

After witnessing the kiss the human stole from Rafayel, you felt like your whole body cracked to reveal an empty shell. You didn’t wait for Rafayel. You didn’t know why, but you couldn’t or didn’t want to see his face right now. You swam to Lemuria, your brain forcing you to remember the scene.

You knew Rafayel didn’t want it. Even the human woman looked desperate when she pushed her lips against his. This kiss was meaningless , you shouldn’t be upset over this. A meaningless kiss. Maybe the human knew that kissing a Lemurian could make you able to breathe underwater? Right. That kiss was meaningless.

Was Rafayel thinking the same about the kiss you shared when you were younger…?

Lost in thought, you bumped into Claire who, as soon as she saw your face, demanded that you follow her. She was clearly trying to make you feel better while trying to know why you seemed so obsessed.

So you told her what you saw.

�� I swear, those humans..!”She spared while putting a crafted coral in your hair. You chuckled at her reaction, feeling slightly better.

” Why are you so upset? It’s not like me and Rafayel are… mated.”

” Please, doll. Lemuria would disappear before your love for each other fade.” She rolled her eyes before swimming in front of you. She winked at you while intertwining her fingers with yours. “I mean, weren’t you born for him, Miss Voice, created for the Sea God.”

” Maybe I’m just a tool then.” You stuck your tongue to her, which made her pull on her hair while swearing about your obliviousness. You chuckled before shaking your head. “ I’m kidding… I'm kidding.”

” Kidding about what?”

You both turned your body toward your brother’s voice. He swam toward you, looking at you with intensity before sighing. You made a face as he looked at you with a bored expression.

” What did he do this time?”

Claire didn’t wait for you to explain before telling the story while adding some… details.

” And then your sister was thrown on the boat, but she managed to crawl back to the ocean and guess what she saw? Guess!”

” Water?”

” Yes, because the only thing she can do is cry because God is a cheater!”

You laughed as you lay on the sand while looking at Claire, explaining why you were upset. While listening to her tales, it made you feel ashamed about your reaction. you swam away while other humans were on the boat. Maybe they attacked Rafayel? You felt so bad. What if he was captured? What if he was hurt, what if—

” Rafayel brought a human into the infirmary.” Your brother said while staring at you.

…

“ A cheater, I tell you! We worship a cheater!” Claire screamed while shaking your brother, who didn’t seem to mind to become a tool for Claire’s frustration. His eyes were still on you. “ I hope he brought back a corpse and not a living human!”

”She, is asleep. Our parents are auscultating her.”

You sighed while pinching the bridge of your nose. You were getting mad for nothing, Rafayel wasn’t your mate. You weren’t a pair, and you didn’t have any right to be angry at him.

You stood up, swimming toward the infirmary. You were still curious about humans, and you didn’t know if she was going to stay alive for long. You could hear Claire behind you, encouraging you to fight this human who was threatening your relationship.

You chuckled as you arrived at the infirmary. You opened the door and went inside, surprised to see no one here if not the human lying in a bed. You approached the bed and looked at her. She seemed young… but mature enough to be a threat to you and Rafa—

You shook your head, trying to keep your thought rational and not let some primal part of your brain make a decision.

She was smaller than you… maybe smaller than every adult lemurian. She looked like she didn’t eat much, she was so thin.. Your eyes followed her curves until your gaze fell into her eyes.

She was awake.

You could hear Claire talking behind you, but your focus was on the human. She didn’t seem to understand your friend’s world…

Ah, she didn’t understand Lemurian…

You gave her your most non-threatened smile. She looked like she was more confused than scared… But she looked at you with wide opened eyes.

”Hello.. You look —“

”Ugly.”

”Claire!”

You turned to your friend with a frown. She only shrugged before looking at what was in the cupboard. You could hear her muster about how Rafayel could choose her over you.

You shook your head before looking back at the human, but it seemed like she fell back asleep.

You sighed; it seemed like you weren’t going to quirat your curiosity over humans today. You turned around before gasping as a tiny blue fish swam towards you. You cup your hands for it as the fish settle in your hands.

It was Rafayel’s fish.

You must have made a grimace because Claire tried to shoo the fish away.

”Back off, fish! Back off, I say!”

You chuckled at your friend’s behavior, but the fish always found his place back in your hands. You stroke it carefully before it swam away.

”Are you going to meet him?”

You looked at Claire, who was over observing you with a soft gaze. You smiled at her, not answering before leaving the room. You knew you would find Rafayel if you followed the fish…

So you went in the opposite direction.

You still felt too many things at once. You were confused, and you knew the fastest way to have answers was to go meet Rafayel. But you wanted to be calm and composed when you would meet him. You knew he would tease you if he saw how upset you were about a… mere kiss.

You were walking, lost in your thoughts before a hand tugged you inside a dark room. You gasped as you felt your chest being pressed against the door while a hand was on your eyes, making you blind to what was happening.

But you didn’t have the time to be afraid as your body realized who was holding you. You gasped his name as Rafayel kissed your shoulder, pressing his body against yours.

“How could you do this to me, dearest?” He said, his voice hoarse as he nipped on your naked skin, going from your shoulder to your neck. Your whole body was feeling feverish as his other hand moved toward your belly. “ Letting me think they put their hands on you.”

You gasped, your body arching against him instinctively yet not understanding what he was saying.

”W-who?”

“On the boat. They tried to attack you, didn’t they?” He growled against your ear. “ The humans.”

You turned your head blindly toward him, panting as you felt his lips kissing your cheek and then your neck. What was happening? That was the first time Rafayel was so—

Wait, was he angry because you were almost injured by humans? You wanted to scoff at that.

“W-what about you..? Being kissed by a human…” you rasped, trying to take his hand off your eyes, but he didn’t move. You could feel his breathing against your lips before he dived back in your neck, pressing urgent and open kisses on your skin.

“ I know. What do you think I’m doing?”He whispered against your skin. It seemed like he couldn’t detach his lips from you even for a few seconds. His words were cutting between kisses while you tried not to moan as those new feelings. “ I’m purifying myself.”

You bit your lips, baring your neck to him, which made him hum in approval. What was he talking about? What were you doing?

” Purifying..?”

“Yes. I don't want the feeling of her lips against mine any longer.” He panted against your skin, making you shiver. You felt his finger touching your lips between your teeth. “ May I?”

You felt his hand that was on your stomach moving until it wrapped itself around your throat, not squeezing. He turned your head toward him, his breathing hitting your lips. You wanted to see him, but his hand on your eyes wasn’t moving at all.

“ W-what do you want to do?”

”Purifying myself.. I need you. You are just helping me, right? Like you always did.” He whispered against your cheek, his voice deeper than usual. You nodded eagerly, feeling the same need to… to.. what exactly?

”Yes, I want to help you. W-we are friends after all…”

” Yes, just friends helping each other.” He whispered before his lips smashed against yours. Your body was still pressed against the door, his broad body pressing against you as he kept you neck in his hand, his mouth moving hungrily against yours.

You both moaned in bliss, feeling sated but also desperate for more. Your hand slid into his hair, pushing him closer to you.

You both were lost in each other, yet not really knowing what was happening.

You felt him cup your face with his hand that was on your neck a few seconds ago. You detached your lips from him to take a breath before you both reached for each other. You didn’t know what you needed more, his lips or air.

You whined, feeling helpless against the rush of sensation you felt. You felt like you were burning. Was it the kiss or Rafayel’s fire? You felt him step away, which made you panic a bit.

“ You ar-“

” More.” You panted, trying desperately to find his lips.“ I think you need more to be purified…”

”Yes. You are right.” He breathed before spinning you around before slamming your back against the door. His mouth found you again as your hands flew to his hair. Your respiration and the wet sounds of your lips finding each other were the only noise in the dark room.

You bit his lips as you remember the human girl kissing him. He hissed, his fingers dipping into your thighs but never stopping you from biting his lips. He pulled back for a second, asking in a hoarse voice.

” Why?”

You panted, opening your eyes as you realized he wasn’t blocking your view with his hand anymore. You looked at his eyes that seemed to shine in a bluish light. Since when Rayafel’s eyes could turn blue..?

” The kiss with the human.” You said, breathing hard. “ f-for our people, I must punish you for that.”

” Please do.”

You moaned as his mouth crashed against your once again. You tugged at his hair as you felt his tongue moving against yours. You could feel your eyes rolled back inside your skull. How could this be so good..?

You both stumbled before falling on the floor in a mess of limbs. You gasped but was more concerned about the fact that you couldn't feel Rafayel’s lips on yours. But it seemed like he was in the same mindset as you. He pinned you to the ground with a wild look, making sure you couldn’t leave before kissing you once more.

” Where did the human touch you?” He asked between kisses. You couldn’t even think correctly. Did a human touch you? Whatever, you just wanted to feel Rafayel against you. “ Answer me. He had a weapon, right?” He grunted as he pressed open kisses on your neck.

”They didn’t..” You breathed as he kissed your skin, sucking the skin or even biting it, making you moan breathlessly.

” They could have hurt you here,” He whispered, kissing your shoulder, “ or even here..” he kissed your collarbones, his heavy breathing making you shiver. “ How dare they threaten the Sea God’s treasure…”

You felt like you could cry, feeling too much at once while knowing too little. You closed your eyes when you felt Rafayel’s hand stroking your cheek tenderly. You looked at him as you felt the tension between you lessen. Your body was still buzzing with an energy you couldn’t comprehend, but you felt calmer than you ever did… And from Rafayel’s face, it seemed like he came back to himself.

” Rafayel..”

”I’m sorry, dear… How are you? Did I hurt you?” he asked while trying to calm his breathing. You smiled fondly at him, nuzzling against his palm.

” Do you feel purified?” You asked with a teasing smile, which seemed to make him relax as he chuckled while nuzzling his nose against yours.

”I feel so much better. Thank you, dear..”

He stood up and helped you raise to your feet. He created a flame that illuminated the room, making you gasp as you looked at Rafayel’s state. His lips were swollen, his hair was moving with the water around, but you could see it was a mess. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes intense but calmer in some way. Like his hunger had been sated, but he was still starving.

You wondered how you looked right now.

“ I guessed you saw the human.” Rafayel grinned, crossing his arms against his torso. You rolled your eyes at him, Was he really going to tease you now? “ What do you think of her?”

”What should I think? She is a human, greedy one.” You shrugged, not really aware that your opinion mattered for Rafayel. He leaned toward you, making you tilt your head with curiosity. “Why?”

”There was another prophecy in the Tome of the Sea God. A human must become my most loyal follower and give me their heart.”

You stared at Rafayel, your eyes wide opened. Was he going to use this woman for the prophecy..? You looked away, would she give her heart..?

You squealed as the door behind you opened wide. Claire looked at the two of you while Cain was behind her. Both of them seemed to be shocked. Cain stuttered, asking for Rafayel to come with him, which your friend did after winking at you.

You followed his body with your eyes until he turned the corner of the hallway. You felt Claire’s hand on your shoulder before she spun you around so you could face her.

“What?”

”Well… I wondered who is the most possessive between the two of you.” She snickered before tugging you in front of a mirror. You almost screamed as you looked at the red mark on your neck and collarbones. Even your lips were swollen from Rafayel’s kisses.

”Rafayel !” You shouted while Claire was laughing behind you. You were blushing so hard. You felt like fainting. You looked at yourself in the mirror and couldn’t help but feel like the mark seemed to make a familiar pattern…

Rafayel’s tattoo.

Some of his kisses marks were in the same place his marks were. Did he do it on purpose…or..? You were so lost…

A few days passed by, and just like usual , you were bantering with Rafayel while your friends were watching the show.

“I remember someone saying that not even fishes would kiss me, yet you seemed desperate to kiss me!”

”Because I knew you would throw a tantrum because I was kissed by a human before you, wasn’t it your inner child’s dream?”

You were ready to rip his throat but stopped as you saw the human walking in the hallways. She seemed so small, you almost felt bad for her. You pushed Rafayel away, as he was celebrating his victory over your banter.

You poked her cheek with a friendly smile, you hoped.

”Hello, Fish Bait.”

”Are you talking about me..?”

” Who else?” You grinned. You tilted your head as the human girl looked at you with awe. “ Yes?”

”I’m sorry. I didn’t really meet a lot of people like you..” She looked away. You winced at her words, Rafayel never talked about her, and you didn’t know why, but each time you approached the human girl—

“Why are you here?”

You both look at Rafayel, who was looking at you with a stern expression. You sighed, waved at the girl, and swam away with Rafayel. You went back to your friend, turning to stare at your God.

”How will she be your most loyal follower if you don’t do anything to show how much of a God you are?” You asked while Rafayel sat on a rock, tugging you between his legs. You heard Claire talking behind you.

”I think he already has a loyal follower.” She teased Rafayel, who pressed his chin against your belly, his eyes never leaving your face. Your hand went instinctively to his cheek, which made him nuzzled against you. “ Heh… Are you two courting..?”

“ Of course not!” You laughed nervously, as if you were enough for the Sea God, “ We’re friends, right Rafayel?”

You froze when you noticed Rafeyel’s gaze. His eyes seemed cold but almost amused. He took your hand and kissed your fingers while staring at you.

“Yes, just two friends, helping each other in time of need…”

You blushed. When did you start not to understand him anymore? His hands on you were so natural, and yet you couldn't help but tense, memories from the kisse you shared coming back to haunt you.

Was Rayafel haunted by this memory, too?

“ You really can’t leave without each other… You’re like the definition of Lemurian’s love.”

You were swimming through the city, wondering what meal you could cook for your brother. He seemed to have caught something and couldn’t move from the bed, which made you tease him for it.

You bumped into the human girl that you renamed Fish Bait and smiled at her. She always seemed to be in awe when her eyes landed on you. You had a short conversation, mostly asking about the human world, and today you wanted more information.

She shyly talked about her life, and you learned that she was supposed to be a sacrifice for the Sea God. You couldn’t help but laugh as you imagine Rafayel killing someone for himself…

Impossible.

Then, she said something that made you tick. There was a place, not too far from here, above the surface where she used to go to search for medicinal herbs. You hummed, your brother was sick, so why not try it?

You thanked her before swimming away.

It took you almost one hour to find that place. Your head bobbed out the water, looking around, making sure no one was here. After ten minutes of looking out, you crawled toward the shore.

You started to look for the flower Fish Bait had described but couldn’t find them. Maybe they were deeper in the woods… But you couldn’t walk there, and you wouldn’t definitely crawl there…

You started to crawl back toward the water before a stinging pain pierce through your tail. You gasped as you looked behind you and paled as three men were staring at you. One had a blade deep into your tail.

” Look at that… Hello, pretty…”

You snarled as a man grabbed you by your hair, making your arch your back painfully. His dirty hands touched your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. You glared at him, trying to be as imitating as you could.

”Yes, she is the one that was there last time.”

You were dragged toward a box full of water, an aquarium said a man. they put a lid on top of it, making it impossible to go. you were punching the glass, snarling, doing anything, but they didn’t seem impressed. They brought you on a boat before sailing toward the ocean.

You were so confused… What did they want to do…

But what bothered you the most was that one man whose gaze never strayed from you. He was the most silent, yet his gaze was screaming something you couldn’t understand.

After a while, they stopped their boat and opened your lid. A man dragged you out of the box as you tried to free yourself. He brought a knife near your throat, whispering in your ear.

”Call out to him.”

You froze, your head slightly turning toward him. Was he talking about…

”Yeah, your little friend…Call him.”

You smiled at him mockingly. If he was talking about Rafayel, you would rather die ten times than call him here. You would protect him. That is the oath you swore a long time ago.

The man didn’t seem pleased. The knife dug into your throat, blood leaking from the cut and falling into the sea.

“ You know, if you don’t want to be useful this way, we can still find another way.” He smirked at you, his pestid breath hitting your nose. You looked in front of you, ignoring him. “ Our boss would be very happy to have a Lemurian as pretty as you… But you are all pretty, we could still find a new one for him.”

You shouted in pain when he slammed your head against the deck. Your tail was being held down by the two other men as your captor touched your scales with mirth in his eyes.

”So pretty… But a corpse doesn't need to be pretty, right lady?”

Your eyes widened as your instinct kicked in. You started to struggle against them, but you screamed in pain when you felt the blade digging into your tail, trying to take a scale from you.

Were you going to die..?

”Sir, the water !”

You looked at the ocean, watching how the serene water started to turn into a storm. The waves were crashing against the boat, making the men hold on to whatever they could.

“ Give her back.”

You looked around, hearing Rafayel’s voice but not seeing him. At first, you thought you were becoming crazy, but the men started to look around, too. They seemed afraid, clinging to their weapons.

The only one who seemed calm was the one with his knife deep into your tail. He looked around, analysing whatever he could.

” Give her back , heh…What in exchange?” He chuckled, seeming way too confident. He tugged your hair, making you stifle a cry of pain. “ Is this your girl? Let me show you something, God of the Sea…” he whispered as his knife left your tail to come toward your throat.

You closed your eyes, not wanting Rafayel to see the fear in your eyes. Everything was going to turn good, soon, you’ll be back in the water, this nightmare will be over..

Your eyes bursted open when you heard a grumble and felt something wet on you; You turned to the side and let out a scream of horror as your captor had his throat sliced open, blood pouring out from his wound straight to you.

“ Look at me.”

You turned your fearful eyes toward the voice, seeing Rafayel in the middle of high waves, his eyes shining blue with power swirling around him. He raised his hand toward you, even though he was far from the boat.

” Come at me. Go back to my side.”

You never saw Rafayel like this, but you didn’t doubt you would be safe next to him. You made sure the two humans weren’t on you anymore before diving in the water and swimming straight to Rafayel.

Once you were close enough, he tugged you against his torso, his eyes analysing your face. His eyes blazed in fury as he saw the cut you had, but he didn’t move.

“ How did you know—“

”Your blood was in the water.” he said calmly, even though you could see the fury in his eyes. He turned his eyes toward the rocking boat, the two men trying to keep it from sinking. “Poor fools.”

You watched as fire appeared from Rafayel’s hand before he pointed the boat. The flames dive toward the men, both of them burning from your God’s anger.

Your eyes couldn’t leave the macabre scene as they jumped in the water. You heard Rafayel chuckled before he dived in the water with you, his tail moving against yours. He took your chin and made you watch as the two made were still burning, even in the water.

Rafayel was stroking your hips while staring at the punishment he had given. You watched until the two men stopped moving..

They were all dead.

You turned your face toward Rafayel, but before you could talk, he took your chin, forcing you to look at him.

” Rafayel… You killed them..”

”Yes.” He whispered, stroking your cheek. He leaned toward you, his forehead against yours. “ Remember, you're the Sea God’s Voice… Which means you can’t die. You can’t leave me..”

You clung to him while his arms kept you against him. Your tails were moving against each other while Rafayel started to sing. His voice was undescriptable, but you couldn't enjoy it long. Your body started to be heavy.

”Sleep, dearest. I’m bringing you back home.”

You let your conscience fade, even if a question remained.

Why did fish bait tell you about this place.. Did she know about all this?

Tags List; @jellyfishstarx @lunia-likes-pomegranet @sleepless-cloudy, @catlurgic @yumesagashite @erendipi

#lads #lads x reader #lads x you #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace scenarios #love and deepspace x you #lads rafayel #lads rafayel x reader #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepsace #rafayel x you #rafayel x reader #love and deep space rafayel #rafayel x y/n #lads x y/n #lad

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lurkingshan · 2 days ago

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Everyone Should Watch Heesu in Class 2

I am here to yell because there is an excellent Korean BL airing right now and hardly anyone is watching it. There was some confusion in the promo of this show and so folks weren't sure whether it was properly queer or would have a gay romance, but after the first two episodes I can assure you that the answer to both is YES.

We have a classic love rhombus on our hands with this show, and the first two episodes set up all the relationships masterfully. Our protagonist, Heesu, has a crush on his best friend, Chanyoung, who definitely loves him but Not Like That (the boy is as straight as an arrow). Meanwhile, the quiet, studious Seongwon is crushing on an oblivious Heesu, but Heesu thinks Seongwon likes cool girl Jiyu, who actually likes Chanyoung. Heesu wants to help Seongwon get Jiyu while Seongwon is pursuing an oblivious Heesu and Jiyu and Chanyoung are crushing on each other. It's glorious teen mess.

The show is utterly charming, anchored by a very strong and funny performance from Ahn Ji Ho as Heesu, a sweet but oblivious kid who gives relationship advice to his peers despite understanding very little about romance and struggling to read signals from the people around him. But what he lacks in experience and awareness he makes up in earnest sincerity, as a younger brother of three sisters who genuinely cares about the people around him and their feelings.

This is one of those classic Korean romcoms where everyone is likable and you just want them all to be happy, one way or another. The show has high production values, the writing has strong source material underpinning it, and the story feels confident about what it's doing. I hope others will jump on this one; it deserves an audience!

#heesu in class 2 #korean bl #kdrama #shan shouts into the void

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julymusings · 2 days ago

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yes. yes. i'm picturing it:

Jason would listen to you speak your language; on the phone, or quietly muttering to yourself while you're deeply focused. He listens to you softly singing along to your favorite songs from home while doing chores or getting ready. He'd pore over translations of your favorite pieces of literature, clinging to each word as a small piece of you, of who you are and where you're from. It's not enough; he knows he's not getting the real, unabridged meaning behind it and it feels like an invisible barrier between you. You'd never think so-- the amount of effort he already puts into understanding you is more than anyone else you've ever met.

But he's adamant, so you set aside some time each week, and you teach him important words and phrases. He gets lost, most days, in watching the way your mouth moves around the words; how your tongue flicks against your teeth, how delicately you blow the air past your lips. He loves the melodic lilt of your voice when you pronounce the city you were born in, how it sounds like a song coming from your mouth. He loves how swift and precisely your hand moves when you show him how to write his name.

But in spite of how much his skill has progressed, reading the poems and lyrics of your homeland doesn't make him feel much closer to you-- not more than reading the English versions did. He realizes it's not the words, exactly, that held pieces of you; it was you. Hearing your voice sing along to the playlist of old classics. Watching your enthrallment when the hero professes his love in an iconic, passionate monologue, and you mouth along to the dialogue. Listening to you gush over the meaning of your favorite poem, fumbling with your words as you try to find the English words to adequately convey the emotions, and giggling at yourself when you can't.

So now, you use that time a little differently. It's still his favorite part of the week, when you get comfy with the thick volume of ancient myths and epics from your culture, and he leans his head on your shoulder, or lays his head in your lap, and gets to listen to your sweet voice recite the stories in your language. And surprisingly, he learns faster this way; he's able to pick out certain phrases, piece together the dialogue. Pretty soon he can carry some basic conversation, and you get to have some fun with talking to him in public. You come up with nicknames for all his siblings (like. yk how south asians do.)

Tim swears you're talking about him when he's right there, but he just can't prove it.

Jason “teach me your language. i may not be native to your homeland, but let me belong; let me be native to you,” Todd

#love is a funny thing. am i right.#tee bee aych. this could apply to any of them and also any culture but fuck it we ball.#south asian reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd my <3

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uncuredturkeybacon · 19 hours ago

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𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which paige takes her pen pal on a date

a date.

that’s all it was. a date.

a first date.

to say paige was nervous was an understatement. she didn’t know what to plan for a date, let alone a first one. when was the last time she went on a date?

it’s been a week since you’ve met and paige is pacing back and forth her shared dorm living room. azzi and kk are sat on the couch, munching on some popcorn like they were watching some kind of television show.

“if you keep pacing i’m pretty sure you’ll burn a hole in the ground.”

paige freezes in her spot, turning to glare at azzi. “i’m not pacing.”

“girl boo! yes you are!” kk grabs paige by her shoulders and forces her to sit down. “we get it, you’re nervous—”

“—i’m not nervous,” paige interrupts.

“bookie be so for real right now,” kk deadpans, not believing paige at all.

“okay! fine, i’m nervous. so fucking nervous cause she’s so pretty and like what if she hates me after this? what if she realized i wasn’t as cool as the letters made me out to be?” paige spiraled and her friends hadn’t seen her like this before.

“okay, let’s just calm down. paige, you’ve been texting and calling nonstop since meeting in person. if she didn’t like you then she wouldn’t be doing that.”

they were right.

she was nervous.

paige bueckers has never been this nervous in her life.

not before a championship game, even before her first game back from her injury.

but now? she’s sat on her bed, phone in one hand, a notebook filled with scribbled-out ideas in the other? she was freaking out.

for some reason, this felt bigger than anything she had ever faced in the court.

she had spent the past half hour staring at a blank text message, trying to come up with something casual, something cool. but every time she types something, she immediately deleted it.

“hey, wanna go out some time?”

(nope, too vague.)

“i was thinking we could go out to dinner this weekend?”

(ugh, too basic.)

“what’s up? wanna go to the gym with me?”

(really? a gym?)

she groaned, flopping onto her back and staring at the ceiling. this shouldn’t be this hard. she had spent months writing you letters, talking about everything from childhood stories to her most embarrassing moments. and yet, not that she had the chance to actually take you on a real date, her brain was short-circuiting.

she eventually goes with her gut, writing a short note and taping it on your door with a single rose. she knocks on the door and runs away, not wanting you to see her yet.

you open the door to find nothing there, but as you were about to close the door, you notice the rose, then the note.

y/n,

i would love to take you out on a date tonight. pick you up at six? dress casual but comfortable.

text me your answer.

-p

paige was pacing in her room, hoping to get a message from you. minutes later, she hears a ding. scrambling for her phone, she sees a message.

it’s a date.

she jumps, pumping her fist in the air.

before she knew it, she was outside of your dorm building, leaning against her car, waiting for you to come out.

you walk out shortly after and paige thought you were the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen.

“hey.”

“hi,” paige replied, opening the passenger side door for you. hopping into the driver’s seat, she drives to your destination, not telling you where no matter how many times you ask.

your eyes light up when you saw her pulling into the parking lot.

“the arcade!”

paige smiled so big, loving how excited you looked. “yup! you ready to get your ass beat?”

“oh we'll see about that!”

the arcade was buzzing with noise—bells ringing, kids shouting, the hum of old-school machines filling the air. paige handed you a game card, fingers brushing against yours for a second longer than necessary. she pretended not to notice the way her heart jump at the contact.

“alright,” she said, cracking her knuckles. “what’s first?”

“you pick,” you challenged.

paige grinned, “say less.”

she led you straight to the basketball shooting game. “figured i’d start with a little warm up.”

you rolled your eyes in feign annoyance, but you were smiling. “of course you picked this one.”

paige swiped the card and grabbed the ball, effortlessly sinking shot after shot. by the time the timer had ran out, she had nearly doubled the previous high score.

she turned to you looking smug. “think you could beat that?”

you crossed your arms, “i know i can.”

paige swiped the card for you, watching you take the ball and to her absolute horror, you started sinking shot after shot like a pro.

“wait-what?” paige watched with wide eyes as the scoreboard ticked up.

the buzzer sounds and you barely just surpassed her score, then turned to her with a smirk. “i thought you were the professional one here?”

paige blinked, “okay, hold up—who are you?”

you laughed, “i may have forgotten to mention i played basketball in high school.”

paige groaned, running a hand down her face. “you sandbagged me.”

“maybe a little,” you admitted, grinning.

paige laughed, shaking her head. “okay, that was actually kind of hot, but i will be getting revenge.”

for the next hour, the two of you went back and forth, competing in everything from skee-ball to air hockey. paige had expected to be the dominant one, but you held your own, matching her win for win. she had never met someone who could actually keep up with her competitive side without being obnoxious about it.

by the time you made your way to the claw machine, paige was down my one game.

“alright, i have one last challenge,” she said. “if i win you a prize, i get bonus points and we call it a tie.”

you raised an eyebrow, “or you could just admit i won.”

“not happening.”

you laughed as paige swiped the card and maneuvered the claw toward a stuffed blue dinosaur in the corner. she focused, tongue poking out slightly as she adjusted the controls.

“serious question,” you said, watching her concentrate. “are you this competitive about everything?”

paige didn’t look away from the claw. “only when it matters.”

she pressed the button. the claw descended… grabbed the dinosaur… and promptly dropped it before it could reach the chute.

paige stared, “are you kidding me?”

you burst out laughing. “so close.”

paige sighed dramatically. “alright, fine. you win. but only because the machine is rigged.”

“sure it is,” you teased.

paige shook her head, smiling as she turned to you. “you’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“a little,” you admitted.

she smirked. “guess i’ll just have to redeem myself at ice cream.”

the two of you walked to the ice cream shop down the street, the air crisp but not too cold. paige felt the nerves from earlier completely disappear. the date had gone better than she could’ve hoped, and the best part?

it felt easy.

she stole a glance at you as you debated between flavors, your nose scrunching slightly in thought.

she liked this. she liked you.

once you both had your ice cream, you found a bench outside to sit on.

“so,” paige said between bites. “did i do okay? you know, for a first date?”

you smiled at her. “you did great, p.”

her heart flipped at the nickname, at the warmth in your voice.

“good,” she said, leaning back against the bench, looking up at the sky. “because i’d really like to do it again.”

you nudged her playfully. “only if you’re ready to lose again.”

paige chuckled, shaking her head. “we’ll see about that.”

and as she sat there beside you, eating ice cream under the city lights, she realized something—

this was the best win she’d ever had.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige buckets #paige x reader #lesbian #wlw #ucon wbb #uconn women’s basketball #uconn wbb

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mahalachives · 2 days ago

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Part 4: Plot? I Don’t Know Her. But Azriel Does.

Summary: In which a fan gets yeeted into the world of fae Genre: crack humor, drabble, minor az x reader (bcus why not)

Oops, I tripped Into Prythian - Masterlist

Elain blinked up at you from the velvet armchair, A Court of Mist and Fury open in her lap.

Her voice was calm. Too calm. “What’s… fanfic?”

Everyone turned.

You grinned.

Rhysand whispered, “Cauldron boil me.”

Cassian perked up, excited like a toddler about to learn a new swear word. “Yeah, what is fanfic?”

Mor leaned forward. “Wait, is it like… stories? About us?”

You clasped your hands together. “Oh, sweet summer children. Fanfiction is the sacred art of writing stories about fictional people doing things they should have done but didn’t. It is love. It is chaos. It is 300,000-word slow burns and 1,000-word smutty drabbles written at 2 a.m. with tears and snacks.”

Azriel, from his shadowy corner, muttered, “That sounds… excessive.”

You turned, eyes gleaming. “Azriel. My broody bat. My tragic Victorian husband. There are millions of words written about you.”

He blinked. “Why.”

Cassian leaned forward. “Yeah, why?”

You smirked. “Because, my dear Illyrian himbo, some of us are emotionally unstable and project our issues onto mysterious males with wings and trauma.”

Rhysand slowly slid to the floor. “We’re in hell.”

“Oh no,” you corrected, pulling out your phone (yes, Helion glamour-spelled it to work in Prythian, bless that man). “We’re in AO3.”

Feyre frowned. “AO3?”

“Archive of Our Own,” you said, reverently. “Where the smut flows freely and the plot is optional.”

Elain tilted her head. “What kind of stories do they write?”

You hesitated. “Well, Elain, how comfortable are you with the phrase ‘knife kink’?”

Feyre made a noise. Rhysand choked on air. Azriel just left the room.

Cassian gasped. “Wait. I have a kink?”

You grinned. “Oh, honey. You have several.”

Nesta covered her face. “I hate this. I hate everything.”

Mor was wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “I love this.”

You scrolled through your phone, tapping furiously. “Okay. Okay. Listen to this summary: ‘Azriel x Reader. Hurt/comfort. Enemies to lovers. She breaks his nose with a pan. They kiss in the rain.’”

There was a pause.

Then Cassian said, “...Was that based on a true story?”

You looked up. “Not yet.”

You kept scrolling. “Here’s another: ‘Azriel has a pet cat named Murder. Reader is a librarian with anger issues. They fall in love after he gets banned from the library for brooding too loud.’”

Feyre burst out laughing.

Rhysand crawled behind the couch. “Stop. I’m begging.”

You kept going. “Ooh! Here’s a spicy one: ‘The Shadowsinger has needs… and she is willing.’”

Azriel re-entered the room, heard that, and immediately turned around and left again.

“AZRIEL, WAIT,” you called after him. “I HAVE A MODERN AU WHERE YOU’RE A BARISTA WITH TATTOOS WHO SECRETLY WRITES POETRY!”

He did not come back.

Cassian was now on the floor again, wheezing. “Please. Please read more. Do I have any?”

You nodded solemnly. “You are the people’s himbo.”

He looked proud. “I don’t know what that means, but I accept it.”

Nesta was reading over your shoulder now, silently mouthing the phrase ‘tail kink?’ before looking at Cassian like he had explaining to do.

Cassian winked. “It’s canon.”

You turned to Elain, who was quietly reading a fic on your phone titled “Sunlight and Shadows: An Elriel Fanfic.”

She looked up at you, expression oddly serious. “Do… do they all want us together?”

You hesitated. “Uh. Yes. But also… no. Some people ship you with Lucien. Some ship you with Azriel. Some ship you with that one flower you picked in Chapter Twelve.”

Rhysand peeked over the couch. “...Do I have fanfics?”

You gave him a long look. “Rhysand, people have written smut where you turn into a literal shadow tentacle monster.”

He stared.

Feyre slowly turned to look at him.

Rhysand vanished with a soft whoosh of darkness.

“Every time I think we’ve reached peak chaos,” Mor said, “you raise the bar.”

Nesta was now flipping through your phone, face unreadable. “...You said there’s a fanfic where I murder Beron with a hairpin and then make out with Cassian on the throne of flames?”

You nodded. “It has over 80,000 kudos.”

She smiled. “I’d read that.”

“I’d live that,” Cassian said.

You leaned back, grinning like the menace you were. “So. Weekly book club. We alternate between canon and fanfic. Bonus points for smut.”

“Seconded,” Mor said.

“Thirded,” Cassian added.

Elain nodded. “I’m in.”

Feyre shrugged. “Sure.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes at Cassian. “Fine. But only if you read them out loud.”

Cassian paled. “Wait—what?”

Azriel’s voice echoed from the hallway. “I will set this house on fire.”

And you?

You curled up in a pile of pillows, heart full of chaos and questionable taste in fiction, and whispered, “This is everything I’ve ever wanted.”

To be continued...

(Next time: Azriel accidentally reads a smut fic about himself and questions the very fabric of reality.)

#acotar #azriel x oc #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #rhysand #cassian #feyre acotar #nesta acotar

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thecouchsofa · 21 hours ago

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It might be March, but better late than never!

While I posted more fic in 2024 (see my 2024 year in fic) than I ever have before, I also read an absolute shitload. Below the cut are some of my favourites that were published in 2024, arranged by word count.

As always, there is an absolute wealth of talent in this fandom and the amount of goodness we have here never ceases to amaze me. The fics below all really did it for me in a number of different ways. Though my opinion is subjective, I will happily vouch for all of them. Happy reading! 📚

❤️🩵💛💚

🌹Way to go, Tiger by @houndsinhades | G | 2k | 🌹

The time will arrive for the cruel and the mean You'll learn to bounce back just like your trampoline But now we'll curtail your curiosity In sweetness Way to go, Tiger Scorpius Malfoy's seventh birthday.

Read for: Scorpius at his best, Wholesome Parent/Child Relationship, Draco after the War

Note: This is technically a gen fic, but it gives major Drarry vibes so I’m putting it here anyway

🌺The game's the game by @hogwartsfirebolt | M | 3k | 🌺

Draco might be — definitely is — the world’s sorest loser, but he’s also the world’s biggest slut for Quidditch excellence, and he has it right here, holding him against his hotel room door.

Read for: Quidditch Rivals Harry and Draco, Friends with Benefits, a full story told expertly in a low word count

🌻 The sun between us by @eleadore | E | 7k | 🌻

Draco Malfoy, an omega. It was laughable until he was right in front of you, smelling like he was one shaky step from tripping into a heat.

Read for: Omegaverse, Snarky Banter, Good Characterisation (yes, I’m putting that on a PWP)

🌼 Apophenia by b6p592l11 | T | 12k |🌼

Out of the many things Sirius expected to happen after the war, having to deal with his godson dating a Death Eater was definitely not one of them.

Read for: Sirius Lives, Sirius POV, Draco/Regulus Parallels

🌷The Window by @hoko-onchi-writes | E | 15k |🌷

“I swear all you ever talk about is men.” Ron laughs and vanishes the last of the joint. “Sweet fucking Christ,” Harry says. “Remind me to never involve you in my life in any way, ever again.” He gives Harry a very handsome grin. “Padma said she saw him. At a Tesco’s.” “Who?” “Draco sodding Malfoy.” “At a Tesco’s,” Harry repeats. He’s very stoned, having an out-of-body experience imagining Draco Malfoy in a Tesco’s, holding a frozen dinner. He wonders, very briefly, what Malfoy’s been up to since the war. “I bet you wish you had a map of that Tesco’s. So you could track his name.” “Fuck off.” ~~ In which Harry grows up in darkness, falls in love, fucks up, learns some things, and falls in love again.

Note: this story also features Harry/Charlie, but it is endgame Drarry

Read for: Character Study (Harry), Adorable Scorpius, this line that I want tattooed on my prefrontal cortex: "There’s a very blond man with a laptop, and an equally blond toddler wearing a Wiggles t-shirt and brandishing a trashy romance novel like a weapon."

🪻Je te reverrai by @soliblomst and art by @kk1smet | E | 16k |🪻

When Beauxbatons visited Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament, Draco managed to control his attraction to fourteen-year-old Harry Potter. When Beauxbatons returns three years later for a cultural exchange, Draco's attraction to seventeen-year-old Harry Potter is impossible to curtail. In his defence, Harry's perfectly tailored blue robes, mixed signals, and French accent do not help.

Read for: Beauxbatons Harry, French Speaking Harry, Gorgeous Art

🌹Nine Days in Coventry by @sitaz | G | 16k |🌹

When a de-aged Draco Malfoy is discovered in Knockturn Alley, the Ministry appoints Family Liaison Officer Potter as his emergency guardian. Whisked away to a Muggle safehouse, Draco does not cope well, and Harry learns just how hard life can be when a five-year-old declares war on you.

Read for: De-aged Draco, Draco being a brat (but so cute), Harry taking care of Draco, Pre-Relationship

🌺 The most he’s ever said by @fastbrother | E | 16k |🌺

It takes them twenty years.

Read for: Down and Out to Redeemed and Competent Draco, Draco-centric, the Situationship of a Lifetime

Warning: Infidelity, but not between Drarry

🌻You And Me Against The World by @dracowillhearaboutthis | T | 17k |🌻

When Draco finally meets his soulmate, he doesn't want anything to do with Draco.

Read for: Soulmarks, Partial Canon Rewrite, Remus raises Harry, Draco and Theo friendship

🌼Equally Cursed and Blessed by @moonflower-rose | E | 18k |🌼

Harry's back at Hogwarts to attempt his final year, again. This time he's sure there'll be no shenanigans. Well. Maybe there'll be a few.

Read for: Draco’s artsy porn collection, Humour, Harry and Ron’s ride or die friendship

🌷Goodbye, Old You by harDeehar (dryrsheet) | E | 19k |🌷

As an alpha, Harry Potter should not have been an assistant for the newly minted Diversity department, and he definitely should not have been working under Draco. Draco seemed to be the only person who thought Harry was suspicious, but he was used to taking care of things on his own, anyway. Luckily, Draco was not as alone as he thought, and his understanding of Harry's intentions turned out to not be the only misjudgement Draco made.

Read for: Omegaverse, Coworkers, Mpreg

🪻Raising Hell! by @wolfpants | E | 21k |🪻

Harry and Draco are sent undercover as a married couple to investigate a dodgy Muggle love cult. Something evil is lurking in Glastonbury… but to get to it, the reluctant partners must be initiated first. And this is, after all, a love cult…

Read for: Case Fic, Competent Draco, Muggle Sex Cults, Good Smut

🌹The Superfluous Man by peu_a_peu | E | 24k |🌹

A child for Harry Potter is a miracle of magic. And it's the second act of Draco Malfoy's sorry little life.

Read for: Mpreg, snappy writing style, a pre-2015 feel

🌺On the divine agony of longing by @flimsi | E | 25k |🌺

Speaking to Draco is like poking a beehive - and Harry is a glutton for punishment. In which Harry makes some serious blunders and then tries to fix it. Somehow. Draco’s eyes narrow and his mouth purses, pretty and pink and wet from whatever he’s been drinking. “Any mediocre time is better than whatever you can you offer, Head Auror Potter. We’ve had this conversation. I thought I made myself clear.”

Read for: Magically Powerful Harry, Possessive Pining Harry, Competent Draco

🌻Antelucan Ruins by @rainjulyx | E | 29k |🌻

From the bloody Prophet, Draco discovers Harry Potter’s death splashed in grey ink printed on the front page. Potter is dead before Draco gets to see him again to fulfil a half-spoken promise. And yet, these days Draco has the power to bend the world to his heart’s desires, and that includes fucking Harry Potter even after he personally saw Potter’s pale, lifeless body lying in a coffin before it got buried under the soil. — "Do you realise that you're just as pathetic and insane? You're so hung up on the idea of me that you'd fuck a ghost, Malfoy. You risked your life for it." Draco puts an arm around Potter's body, "Whoever says I am sane? Certainly not me. It's calculated risk with more success rate than failure. And you are dead, Potter. You refuse to move on to the next realm because you crave for my cock."

Read for: BAMF Draco, Ghost Harry, a surprisingly hopeful tone considering one of them is pretty dead

🌼The only thing worse than heartbreak is Vermont by @jtimu | E | 31k |🌼

In the aftermath of a failed relationship, Draco Malfoy found himself with three things. His pride (tattered), Theo's luggage (stolen), and an all-inclusive couples' vacation package to Vermont (awful).

Read for: Lumberjack Harry, Banter, International Location

🌷Skipping Stones by @whimsibeee | M | 34k |🌷

Draco receives his very own prophecy. If Harry Potter could leave him alone, he might be able to figure out what it means.

Read for: Coming of Age vibes, Cosy Atmospheric writing, Complicated Family Dynamics

🪻Obscuro by @stratigraphywrites | E | 35k |🪻

Draco is grieving. His conversation partner is here against his will. It's a shameless rip-off of an insipid Muggle reality dating show. Hardly the occasion for true love, if you ask Draco. feat. a cat named Marmalade, a bird named Mumble, Lee Jordan's answer to Love is Blind, and two best friends who only want their dads to be happy.

Read For: Game Show Format, Hidden Identity, Good Smut, Epilogue Compliant

🌹Invito by PrinceMalice | E | 36k |🌹

Draco mused on the possible first use of the charm. What had the wizard been calling for? The text didn’t specify. As for the etymology— the meaning of the word itself was derived from I call, I summon— or the Hungarian variation of the incantation… To invite. Or, Harry keeps inviting Draco places. Draco keeps turning him down… until he doesn't.

Read for: Eighth Year, the sweetest unfolding of a relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Party Games

🌺Gemini in Retrograde by @citrusses | T | 38k |🌺

Draco Malfoy doesn’t understand his son. Scorpius Malfoy doesn’t understand his father. It’s going to take more than one disastrous, body-swapping curse to change that.

Read for: Body Swapping, Alternating Scorpius/Draco POV, Draco being a good dad, Soft Harry, DADA Professor Harry

🌻No Harm by Tessa Crowley | E | 46k |🌻

After a long, bloody war, Draco Malfoy just wants to do something good with his life for a change, and resolves to become a healer. But magical society refuses to make it easy for him, and an increasingly dramatic series of events—all of them instigated by Harry Potter—get him kicked out of med school, force him to live in exile, and threaten to destroy the new life he’s trying so desperately to build. But Harry isn’t instigating anything—at least not on purpose. He’s just trying to work up the nerve to ask him out. His efforts don’t appear to be going great.

Read for: Down and out Draco, Pining Harry, same scenes from different perspectives

🌼Truth to Materials by lately & @toomuchplor | E | 54k | 🌼

In which Harry learns to appreciate art and other pleasures of the flesh.

Read for: Artist Draco, Paris, Good Smut

🌷Pillar of Salt by @epitomereally | E | 62k | 🌷

From the lake in the Room of Hidden Things, Draco knows three things: 1. Mirror universes exist, and he’s going to find the best one—the one where he did the right thing. 2. Harry Potter and him are awfully cosy in some of these other universes, whereas Potter in real life is starting to act very odd around him indeed. 3. Draco’s reflection—the mirror version of him, the worst version of him—seems to be growing crueler. And stronger.

Read for: Eighth Year, Alternate Universes (sort of), Magical Theory

🪻Behind Closed Doors by @stratigraphywrites | E | 77k | 🪻

Twelve years after Harry Potter disappeared from the wizarding world and from Draco's life, his daughter starts at Hogwarts.

Read for: Secret Child, Angst with a Happy Ending, Nonlinear Narrative

🌹A Soft Place to Fall by @amomorii | E | 142k | 🌹

When Harry arrives for his first year teaching at Hogwarts and is struck with a bizarre malignance, how on earth is he supposed to react when Draco Malfoy suddenly cares? Or; A darkness crawls out of Harry, and there's only so long he can keep it to himself.

Read for: Unique Concept, Managing Childhood Trauma, Reluctant Magical Coparenting (but it’s not what you think)

🌺The Star Splitter by @oflights | E | 219k |🌺

On a routine time travel assignment to the past, Draco stumbles upon 7-year-old Harry Potter and witnesses his neglect and mistreatment by the Dursleys. In the moment, there is only one solution, even if it goes against all his training as a Time Agent: he has to bring Harry back to the future with him. In which Draco burns his life down for the sake of his former school rival.

Read for: Time Travel, Draco taking care of Harry, Kid Fic

I hope you enjoy these fics as much as I did! If you read any, don't forget to show the creators some love ❤️🩵💛💚

#drarry #drarry recs #drarry fics #drarry fic recs #hpdm #dmhp #harry x draco #draco x harry #my recs

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lyn31 · 3 days ago

Note

These fluff and pregnancy Zayne are so sweet and I love it! Can you do a continuation of the pregnancy connected to the part of where he stays home with reader finally! How he’s so sweet and attentive to reader throughout the days/nights (When he already is😭). That makes reader cry/very emotional in front him cuz she realizes how lucky she is and how much Zayne really loves her. Zayne comforts her and tells her how silly she is. Thank you I appreciate it.🫶🏻✨🥹

I was gonna say y'all are in the pregnancy brainrot but I feel like now I am as well 😭 Even when I write this I was like "Gosh this is too cute help *make it cuter*" Hopefully this is what you have in mind! 🫶🏻😂

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Lingers

Summary

A tender, slow-paced story of love, quiet devotion, and the quiet yet profound intimacy of daily life as you and Zayne prepare for the arrival of your child.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader Beware of the absolute sweetness!

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When you wake up, you feel a cool touch resting against your lower belly—not gripping, just there. A steady presence. The same coolness lingers against the back of your neck, his breath fanning lightly over your skin.

A glance at the nightstand tells you it’s already nine in the morning. It’s been a week since Zayne started his extended leave, and you’ve both settled into a routine of staying in bed a little longer than usual.

You try to shift, but even with the pillow supporting your stomach, an 'oof' slips out at the effort. Now in your third trimester, you can’t help but notice just how much you’ve grown. You know it will happen, of course, but knowing and actually experiencing it are two very different things.

“Zayne?” You glance back at him, reaching out to touch his cheek. He stirs slightly, leaning into your touch before his eyes flutter open.

He hums, nestling closer against your neck, his voice hoarse from sleep. “Something wrong?”

You shake your head, shifting again as much as you can. He notices immediately, his hand shifting from your belly to your waist, rubbing slow, soothing circles. “Uncomfortable?”

“A little,” you admit.

Without a word, he adjusts, propping himself up on one elbow as he shifts the pillow to better support your stomach. He watches you for a second, then smooths his palm over your belly again, as if checking for any tension. “Better?”

You nod, sighing softly as the weight on your body eases just a little. Zayne presses a light kiss to your shoulder, his lips cool yet comforting.

“Do you want to sleep a little longer?” he asks, his voice gentle, but you can already feel the way he’s watching you closely, making sure you’re okay.

You shake your head. “I think I’m up now.”

He hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t move away, his fingers continuing their slow, absentminded motions against your skin. A few quiet moments pass like this, the two of you cocooned in the warmth of the bed, before Zayne finally murmurs, “Are you hungry?”

Your stomach answers first, a soft grumble filling the quiet, and you huff, pressing your face into the pillow as he lets out a low chuckle.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He presses another kiss to your shoulder before sitting up. “Stay here. I’ll make breakfast.”

You pout slightly, reaching out to snag his wrist before he can leave the bed. “But you’re warm.”

Zayne raises a brow, amused. “Am I?”

“You are to me,” you grumble.

His lips twitch like he wants to smile, but instead, he leans down, brushing his lips against your forehead. “I’ll be quick.”

Zayne returns not long after, carrying a wooden breakfast tray, the same one he’s used every morning since his leave started, but that doesn’t stop you from staring at it like it’s ridiculous.

“Should I start expecting a menu next?” you say flatly.

Unbothered, he sets the tray on the nightstand first, then turns back to you. “Sit up.”

You sigh but let him help, not that you have much choice. He moves the pillows behind you again, propping you up so that your back is fully supported. Once you’re settled, he smooths his hands over your arms like he’s checking to make sure you’re comfortable before finally reaching for the tray.

He places it gently in front of you, adjusting its legs so it rests neatly on the bed. The scent of warm eggs, fruit, and something slightly sweet fills the air. You glance down—scrambled eggs with cheese, whole-grain toast, a side of sliced fruit, and a small bowl of yogurt with granola. Off to the side, a glass of what looks like a smoothie, pale green but blended smoothly enough that you can’t taste the spinach he definitely snuck in there.

Zayne settles beside you, his own plate in hand. “Let’s eat.”

You shake your head, huffing. “You really don’t have to do this every morning, you know.”

He gives you a pointed look. “I know.” Then, softer, “But I want to.”

That makes your chest ache a little. You don’t say anything else, just pick up your fork and take a bite. The eggs are still warm, fluffy with just the right amount of cheese melted in.

Zayne watches for a moment before nodding in approval and starting on his own plate.

For a while, the two of you eat in peaceful quiet, the occasional clink of utensils against plates the only thing breaking the quiet. It’s domestic in a way that feels so natural now, like this has always been your life together.

And maybe that’s why your chest aches yet again—because this feels too good, too right.

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You sigh contentedly as you stretch, already anticipating the warmth of the bath. Zayne is, as always, by your side, his hands moving with practiced ease as he helps you out of your maternity clothes. By now, it’s routine—something you never have to ask for because he does it without hesitation. But today, you’re feeling a little mischievous, well more than usual anyway.

Just as his fingers move to unfasten the last bit of fabric, you press your hand over his. “Nope, you’re banned from bath duty today,” you announce, lifting your chin playfully. “I want to bathe by myself.”

Zayne pauses, then tilts his head slightly. “It’ll be easier with my help,” he reminds you, voice calm as ever.

You huff, shooting him a smirk. “It’ll also take longer with you around.”

His brow lifts just a fraction. “And why is that?”

You give him a knowing look. “Oh, you know why.”

“I don’t, actually.” His tone is perfectly polite, but you can see the way he presses his lips together, obviously holding back a smile.

You narrow your eyes at him. “I don't think playing innocent will save you.”

He hums, unimpressed by your accusation, but doesn’t deny it. Instead, his gaze flickers lower, scanning you in that thoughtful way he does when he’s about to make a point. Then, with perfect seriousness, he says, “I don’t think you can even reach your own legs.”

You gasp in dramatic offense. “The audacity.”

Zayne doesn’t even blink.

“If I could, I’d stomp on your foot right now.”

“Mm.” He nods, like he’s truly considering it. “Good thing you can’t, then.”

You scoff and turn away, nose in the air, though the effect is probably lost considering how slow and careful you have to be while moving. Behind you, Zayne chuckles, and before you can take another step, his arms slip around you from behind, hands resting over the swell of your belly.

“I don’t remember you complaining before,” he murmurs, his cool lips pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

Warmth spreads through you—not just from his touch, but from the way he still looks at you, like you’re everything to him, even now, with all the changes in your body. Like he’s still crazy about you, just the same as before.

You laugh, tilting your head to the side so you can meet his eyes. “That’s different.”

“Is it?” He kisses your shoulder again before you can answer.

You don’t argue, simply catch his lips in a quick, soft kiss. You sigh dramatically, placing your hand over his. “Alright, dear.” You squeeze his fingers before turning in his hold. “Come on, then.”

Zayne exhales lightly, as if this outcome is obvious from the start. “That was short-lived.”

You roll your eyes. “And here I thought you were smart enough to know when I’m messing with you.”

Zayne huffs a quiet laugh, his grip on your waist steady. “You’re a menace.”

“And yet, you never stop indulging me.” You smile, tilting your head. “What does that say about you?”

“That I know exactly what you want.” His voice is calm, but the glint in his eyes is unmistakable.

He presses another kiss to your shoulder, then—without another word—takes your hand and leads you toward the bathroom.

You don’t hesitate, a smile already tugging at your lips. You never really wanted to bathe alone, anyway.

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Zayne wraps a towel around you, his touch gentle as he pats away any lingering droplets. He doesn’t rush or dry you off in the most efficient way possible—he takes his time, smoothing his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, over the curve of your belly. It’s practical, yes, but there’s something so tender in the way he does it, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

You hum softly, stretching your arms a little. “At this rate, I should start tipping you.”

Zayne huffs a quiet laugh, kneeling down as he carefully helps you step into your underwear. “Your presence is payment enough.”

You snort. “That was smooth.”

His gaze lifts, calm as ever. “I meant it.”

“Very dramatic of you, husband,” you tease, but your voice comes out softer than you expected.

He doesn’t argue, simply stands and grabs the softest maternity dress you own, holding it open for you. You slip your arms through the sleeves, letting him pull it over your head. His fingers brush your skin as he adjusts the fabric, smoothing it over your belly. He lingers there, both hands resting over the swell, his thumbs absently tracing small circles.

Your breath catches for a moment. It’s not like this is new—Zayne has been touching you with the same quiet adoration since the beginning—but something about it gets you right in the chest.

His cool lips press against your forehead, lingering. “Comfortable?”

You nod, swallowing past the sudden tightness in your throat.

He watches you, eyes sharp as ever. “You’re looking at me like you have something to say.”

You do. But you just shake your head and smile, pressing your hands over his. “Just thinking about how much I love you.”

Zayne hums, squeezing your fingers lightly. “That makes two of us.”

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The afternoon passes in the kind of quiet comfort that has become routine now. The two of you aren’t doing anything particularly special—just existing together, moving through the day with ease—somehow, it still feels like something worth treasuring.

You’re settled on the couch, legs stretched out in front of you, pillows stacked behind your back for support. Zayne is next to you, flipping through a medical journal, but you can tell he’s still keeping an eye on you. He always is.

Reaching for your water, you realize it’s just beyond your grasp. You barely shift forward when, without even looking up from his reading, Zayne reaches over and pushes the glass closer to you.

You pause, glancing at him. “You’re really on autopilot at this point, huh?”

“Hm?” He finally lifts his gaze.

You pick up the glass. “You didn’t even look. Just moved it like it was instinct.”

Zayne tilts his head slightly, as if he doesn’t see why that’s worth pointing out. “You needed it.”

You shake your head, amused, and take a slow sip.

Later, when the two of you return from a short grocery run—you still insist on doing them—Zayne grabs all the bags before you even get the chance to reach for one.

“Seriously?” You huff, crossing your arms. “I can at least carry one.”

Zayne merely glances at you, then keeps walking toward the kitchen, entirely unmoved.

You narrow your eyes at his back. “I’m not made of glass, you know.”

“Mm.” He hums as he sets the bags down, completely ignoring your protest.

You roll your eyes, but warmth spreads through you all the same. He’s always been like this—so effortlessly attentive.

By the time you’re back on the couch, your legs are starting to feel a little sore, the weight of the day settling in. You stretch them out, flexing your ankles absently. Before you can say anything, Zayne is already kneeling beside you, pushing up the hem of your dress just enough to reach your calves.

His hands move with practiced ease, cool palms smoothing over your skin as his thumbs press into the muscle, kneading slow, deliberate circles.

You sigh, sinking deeper into the cushions. “You know, I don’t even have to ask anymore.”

Zayne glances up briefly, the corners of his lips barely tilting. “Did you ever have to?”

You laugh softly, reaching down to brush your fingers through his hair. “No. I guess not.”

He presses a light kiss to your knee before continuing his massage, as if to prove his point.

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The evening air is cool, the room dimly lit, casting everything in a soft, golden glow. You’re tucked into bed, comfortably warm beneath the blankets, with Zayne behind you, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. His other hand rests against your belly, cool against your skin even through the fabric of your nightgown.

You’re already drifting, caught in that hazy space between wakefulness and sleep, when Zayne shifts slightly. He tucks the pillow better beneath your belly, adjusting things without thinking, the same way he does every night. Then his hand finds its way back to you, smoothing over your stomach in slow, absentminded strokes.

You shift slightly, pressing back against him, feeling the steady, reassuring weight of his arm around you. Your fingers brush over his where they rest against you, tracing absent patterns as your breathing evens out.

And then it settles in—that this is routine. That his care is constant, unwavering, something you never have to ask for because he just knows. Something about that realization tugs at you, something warm and fragile all at once.

Your throat tightens.

You don’t know why it hits you now.

Maybe it’s the quiet. The way his presence surrounds you so completely. The steady weight of his hand, instinctive, like it belongs there. Maybe it’s just hormones.

He does this every night.

He tucks you in just right. He makes sure you're warm, but not too warm. He keeps his hand on you, as if protecting you even in sleep.

Like he belongs here. Like you belong here.

Tears burn at your eyes before you can stop them.

Oh, no.

You inhale sharply, blinking fast, but it’s no use. The realization—the sheer depth of how much he loves you, how effortlessly he cares for you—comes crashing down, quiet but undeniable.

A sniffle escapes before you can swallow it down.

Zayne stills. Then, a soft inhale. “Darling?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “No.”

A pause. Then, amusement laces his voice. “No?”

You shake your head against the pillow, voice thick. “You’re being too sweet again.”

His chest moves in a silent chuckle, but he doesn’t tease you—not this time. Instead, he shifts closer, pressing a kiss against the back of your head, then lower, to your shoulder. “Is that so?” His voice is quiet, warm, meant only for you.

You sniffle harder. “Yes.”

Another kiss, this time against the side of your neck. “And what exactly did I do?”

You groan, hiding your face against the pillow. “Just—this! All of this! You always take care of me, you always make sure I’m okay, even when I don’t ask—” Your voice wobbles, and another tear slips free. “You love me too much, it’s not fair.”

Zayne exhales, softly exasperated but infinitely patient. “I see,” he murmurs. “What a terrible thing. Having a husband who adores you.”

You sniffle again. “It is.”

He hums, entirely unconvinced. His arm tightens around you, pulling you even closer, as if that’s possible. His palm spreads over your stomach, a steady, protective weight. Steady circles over every part of you he can reach.

Slowly, he shifts, his chin coming to rest lightly against the top of your head, his cool breath stirring your hair. “I suppose there’s no helping it,” he says, the words a quiet rumble against you. “You’re stuck with me, after all.”

A shuddering breath escapes you, caught somewhere between a sob and a laugh. You reach down, curling your fingers over his where they rest against your stomach, squeezing tight. “Obviously.”

Zayne’s fingers curl slightly beneath yours, his touch warm despite the coolness of his skin. His palm lingers, steady and sure, anchoring you through the swell of your emotions. And just as you start to breathe through the tightness in your throat—

A small but distinct movement presses against his hand.

Zayne stills.

You do, too.

Then it happens again—a firm, unmistakable kick against his palm, strong enough that even in your haze of emotions, you can’t ignore it.

You let out a soft gasp.

Zayne, ever composed, presses his hand more firmly, waiting. A second later, another soft thump answers, almost like a response to his touch.

A quiet chuckle escapes him, low and warm. “I think they agree with me.”

Your throat tightens all over again. “What?”

His fingers trace slow, soothing patterns over your stomach, as if calming both you and the baby at once. Then, softer, more certain—“Looks like I’m not the only one who loves you.”

That does it.

A fresh wave of tears spills over. “Zayne,” you whimper.

He sighs, soft and indulgent, as he presses another kiss to the top of your head. “Yes, darling?”

“That’s not helping.”

Zayne huffs, amused, and you feel the subtle tilt of his head as he buries his nose against your hair. His palm shifts slightly, smoothing over your stomach once more. The baby responds again, another small but insistent nudge against his touch.

His thumb brushes gently over your skin, as if memorizing every movement beneath his hand. Then, with quiet finality—“They’re stubborn. Just like you.”

A watery laugh escapes you. “Then you’re doomed.”

His shoulders shake in silent amusement, his arm tightening around you just a little more.

And as another gentle kick presses into his palm, you feel the warmth of his voice against your hair—“Mm. I think I’ll survive.”

This time, when your eyes flutter shut, you drift off to the steady rhythm of his touch.

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Notes

How did these two request line up, are you guys sure you don't know each other 😂 but hey it's working out for me! (and I'm not talking about the previous req but this one after ahahaha) Thanks again for the cute request 🫶🏻 This is ended up connected ahaha either way, if we're going for chronological order here it is: (this is part 3) more like a snippet (smut) part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 (smut at the end)

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wlwsoccerfics · 2 days ago

Text

A different Kind of Teenage dream (AggieBeever-JonesXReader)

A/N: i tweaked the Story a bit.

Warning: very little Angst but Lots of Fluff, mentions of adoption.

Summary: your Family with aggie came together in an unusual way. But you Love the Life you build with her.

It was saturday morning. You were already awake since 4am, which was two hours ago. Aggie was waking up Yara. Her goddaughter. Well now adoptive daughter of the two of you. The little Girl was 2 years old. Her Mom was an old friend of aggie and you two have been taking care of her most of her Life. At First it just started with yaras birth Mom needing a break. The Breaks became longer and happened on daily Basis at some point so the two of you had a talk with her and she asked you to adopt her cause she realized she can't be a parent. So that's what you did.

It was such a big step for the two of you. But you were very much in love with eachother so this was making alot of sense and seemed like the logical next step.

It didn't matter how young you were. Aggie was the women of your Dreams in every way. You have been with her for almost 5 years and the two of you would get married in a few months.

You just finished the chocolate Chip Pancakes your two year old daughter had requested. You also Made a fruit salad with strawberries, Apple, grapes and blueberries. Aggie came downstairs with Yara on her right hip.

"Mommy!" She happily said when she saw you. "Mama, down please!" Yara told Aggie. Your fiancee put your daughter on the floor and Yara ran over to you. You picked her up and kissed her nose.

"good morning, my little butterfly." You replied with a soft smile. Holding her close. She cuddled up to you. Aggie walked over to you and pecked your lips gently. You happily returned the gesture.

"i Love the two of you!" You told both your fiancee and your daughter.

"Love my mommies!" Yara replied and giggled.

"i Love both of you as well! So very much!" Aggie answered. Smiling at you and Yara. You put Yara down so she could climbed into her Chair, while you placed the Plate with Pancakes and the Bowl of fruit salad on the table.

Placing a mug of freshly brewed coffee in front of aggie before placing a Glass of chocolate Milk in front of Yara.

"thank you!" Yara happily said.

"yes thanks Babe!" Your fiancee stated. Smiling at you.

You sat down with your own mug of Coffee.

"you are welcome! Everything for my favorite Girls!" You answered. Yara started eating a Pancake.

"it's so yummy!" She informed you.

After breakfast you cleaned up while Aggie was fixing something on your Car.

"Mommy?" Yara asked softly.

"yes Sweet Girl?" You asked.

"we get a puppy?" Your daughter asked.

"a puppy?" You asked again.

"yes please! Thank you!" She stated. You laughed softly.

"so polite. We have to talk with Mama about it!" You explained to her, wiping down the kitchen counter with a kitchen towel.

"what do you need to talk to me about?" Aggie asked, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Yara walked over and hugged her legs.

"Mama? We get one puppy?" She asked cutely. Aggie smiled gently.

"you want a puppy? Yes sure. Let's get one!" You hear your fiancee say.

"guess we are getting a puppy!" You replied and the Happy noises coming from your daughter made your heart explode. So much joy and you wouldn't change that for anything in the world. You have known eachother for almost 10 years. so really this was a Teenage dream come true in a way.

Sure enough you went to the pet Store to grab everything you needed for a Dog. Yara suggested you would actually Go to the shelter and adopt a Dog. Which you and aggie were all in for.

"Mommy? Mama? We buy this toy?" Yara asked, holding Up a pink cow squeaker.

"yes sure!" You stated. You ended up with a handful of Dog Toys and everything else you needed for your new Family member.

You then drove to the animal shelter. Both you and Aggie were quite surprised when your daughter said she wanted to rescue the Dog that has been there the longest. Which happened to be a one eyes Australian Terrier which the three of you fell in love right away.

"His Name is Buck!" Yara announced, cuddling him while he licked her face. Smiling softly.

"welcome to the Family, Buck!" Both you and your fiancee said softly.

#woso x reader #woso request #woso fic #aggie beever jones x reader #chelsea reader x chelsea women

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stylesispunk · 13 hours ago

Text

Blind faith | part iv

priest!Joel miller x nigth club dancer! Reader

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

summary: the one where the cardinal comes to visit priest joel due to the whispers around town but he ended up breaking the vows he swore to keep once.

wc: 13,8k

warnings: age gap (joel is in his late 40s and reader late 20s), forbidden relationship, sexism, mysogenya, angst, fluff, SMUT (yes, they're doing it but kinda sloppy though). I remind you all once again, english is not my first language and i'm not the best at writing smut, i'm actually awful. The chapter is kinda rushed at the end.

a/n: hello loves! okay, this is the chapter I was the most excited about. Where the lines are crossed. I know that some people may have thought this story would be about smut and all but i really wanted it to be something beyond that. I know I said you would found some more answers in this chapter, but you will find them in the other or maybe no haha. Okay, I really hope you like it AND PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK it's discouraging when you don't receive it. Reblogs and comments are appreciated. 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Sun blazed your skin first thing in the morning. You could feel it. Eyes barely opening, stirring, and bones aching despite all the sleep. You didn’t register it at first, the warmth irradiating through the windows, the softness of the pillow your cheek rested on, neither the scent of pine and wood enveloping you. You stirred once again, the smell hit you once again as you opened your eyes and took a look of your surroundings. Four walls that seemed foreign,

You stretched, the sheets pooling around your waist as you sat up slowly, taking in the unfamiliar yet comforting space. Joel’s bedroom. The realization sent a flutter through your chest, a warmth that rivaled the sunlight spilling through the curtains.

You glanced down, realizing you were dressed in an old, soft T-shirt, his. A pair of comfortable shorts that definitely weren’t yours. The scent of him clung to the fabric, faint but unmistakable.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you stood up, your muscles still sore in a way that reminded you of last day at the beach with him. You smiled at the now memory you would hold into.

But now, he was gone. Your heart dipped slightly as you padded barefoot out of the bedroom, looking for him. The house was quiet, save for the distant sounds people outside. Your eyes scanned the space until they landed on the kitchen table.

A plate with two pieces of toast, a glass of orange juice, and a small folded note.

You bit your lip, warmth spreading through your chest as you stepped closer, picking up the piece of paper with careful fingers.

Had to step out earlier. Eat something, sweetheart. I’ll be back soon.

Sweetheart.

You exhaled a soft laugh, shaking your head as you pressed the note to your chest for a moment, allowing yourself to feel everything, the giddiness, the comfort, the way Joel, even in his absence, made you feel so seen.

Settling into the chair, you picked up a piece of toast, taking a small bite as you let your eyes linger on the note once more, the warmth in your chest refusing to fade.

Oh, perhaps you were falling in love.

You sighed, setting the note down carefully on the table before finishing your breakfast. The moment felt delicate, something to be tucked away in the quiet corners of your heart.

Once you were done, you made your way back to the bedroom, changing out of Joel’s clothes and slipping into your own. As much as you wanted to stay wrapped in the comfort of his scent, you knew you couldn’t linger here forever.

You ran your fingers through your hair, smoothing out any signs of sleep, and took one last look around the room before stepping toward the door. Just as your fingers brushed the handle, the sound of it unlocking from the outside made you freeze.

Joel stepped inside, his broad frame filling the doorway, the golden morning light casting a glow around him. His eyes immediately found yours, and his lips curved into the softest smile—one that made your stomach flip.

“Leaving already?” he asked, amusement lacing his tone as he took in your dressed form.

You swallowed, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter. “I didn’t want to overstay.”

Joel’s smile didn’t falter, but there was something unreadable in his expression as he took a slow step closer. “You could never overstay, sweetheart.”

Your breath caught. The way he said it—so easy, so certain—made something bloom inside you, something that had been waiting for the right moment to break free.

“I didn’t know if you’d want me to,” you admitted, voice quieter now.

Joel’s gaze softened.

“Did we-uhm- How I ended up sleeping on your bed?” You asked, a bit shy of his reaction.

“Well, you fell asleep on my couch and I thought I would take you to my bed to sleep more comfortable.” He replied, while moving around the house as if was looking for something.

“Did you sleep with me?” you asked, almost hopefully at the idea of it.

“No. I took the couch” he said, not even looking at you.

“Oh.” You cough, “Great, thank. I-I I think I should go. Carmen must worry about me.” You said, already walking towards the door.

“Wait!” You turned into your heels to have a glimpse of him. He stood firmly, stopping what he was doing.

“You should be careful when you go out. We don’t want people-

“To think you are with the whore’s town. I get it.” You said, disappointed.

Joel’s expression shifted instantly—his brows knitting together, his mouth parting slightly as if the words had physically struck him.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, his voice gentle but firm.

You scoffed, hugging your arms over your chest, the sting of the moment settling deep. “Isn’t it?”

Joel took a step forward, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach for you but was holding himself back. “No, it isn’t.”

You swallowed, looking away. You hated that your throat was tightening, that your chest ached at the mere thought of what people would say—of what they already did.

“Then what did you mean?” you challenged, meeting his gaze again.

Joel exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand over his face before finally stepping closer. “I meant that people talk. And I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You stared at him, searching for something in his eyes, something to tell you this wasn’t just guilt talking.

“So, it’s not because you’re ashamed of being seen with me?” Your voice was quieter now, but no less certain.

Joel’s jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists before he slowly, deliberately, unclenched them. “Never.”

The word sat between you, heavy with meaning.

“Okay.” You spoke.

Before you could open the door, before you could even turn, Joel grabbed your hand pulling you into an embrace, inhaling deeply as if he was trying to memorize your scent, to hold onto something before it slipped away. His arms wrapped around you, strong and secure, pressing you against his chest.

You froze for a moment, caught off guard by the suddenness of it, but then you melted into him. Your hands found their way to his back, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as you let your head rest against his shoulder.

Joel exhaled shakily; his breath warm against your temple. “I’m not ashamed of you,” he murmured, his voice rough, like the words were scraping their way out of him. “I could never,” he paused for a mere second, “You had been the best thing in my life for so long. The best person I’ve ever met.”

Your throat bubbled a little. There were words you want to take away from it, words you need to say out loud, but you were still so afraid of them. To face them, to make Joel regret to even met you in the first place, so you just kept them under your tongue. Secured, so you could still enjoy from the feeling Joel’s touch caused on you.

You swallowed hard, fingers fisting his shirt a little tighter. “You don’t have to say things just to make me feel better.”

Joel pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark, serious. “Do you think I am lying to you?”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t believe him, but because you wanted to. Too much.

He sighed, shaking his head before lifting a hand to cradle your cheek. His thumb brushed against your skin, gentle in a way that made your chest ache. “I ain’t ever lied to you, sweetheart.” His voice was quiet, but firm. “And I never will.”

You felt your lips curve into a small, almost shy smile, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest. Your fingers loosened their grip on his shirt, smoothing over the fabric instead. For a moment, you let yourself sink into the warmth of his touch, the way his thumb lingered against your cheek like he wasn’t ready to let go either.

But then, reality crept back in, reminding you of everything waiting outside this little moment, the things neither of you had the courage to say just yet. You exhaled softly, eyes flickering down before meeting his again.

“I have to go now, though.”

Joel’s expression didn’t change, but you felt the way his body tensed slightly, his hand reluctant as it dropped from your face. He gave you a slow nod, his jaw tightening like he was biting back the words he really wanted to say.

“Alright,” he murmured, voice lower now.

You took a step back, putting space between you even though you didn’t want to. Your fingers itched to reach for him again, but you clenched them into fists instead. You turned, hand on the door, when his voice stopped you one last time.

“You’ll come back?”

Your heart squeezed. You shouldn’t. You knew that. But still, you found yourself whispering

“If you want me to.”

The walk back to the house felt longer than usual that you didn’t even notice that some people had noticed you had left the priest’s house wearing the same clothes as the day before. You didn’t notice how whispers begun. Perhaps you acted foolish and naïve or maybe it was the weight of Joel’s words lingering in your chest, or the way your skin still burned where his hands had been. Either way, by the time you reached the house, you had taken a deep breath, steeling yourself before stepping inside.

The smell of fresh coffee and eggs filled the air. Carmen and Billy sat at the small wooden table, their plates half-full, cups of coffee steaming beside them. The moment you stepped through the door, their heads snapped toward you in unison.

“Where the hell were you?” Billy blurted out, fork pausing halfway to his mouth.

Carmen’s eyes narrowed, scanning you up and down. You weren’t disheveled, but something about you must have given you away—maybe the glow on your skin, the way you hesitated for just a second too long before answering.

“I—” You cleared your throat, shifting on your feet. “I just—”

Carmen’s lips parted slightly, her eyes widening like realization had just struck her. “Oh my God.”

Billy looked between the two of you, frowning. “What?”

Carmen’s gaze locked onto yours, a slow smirk creeping onto her face. “You were with him, weren’t you?”

Billy blinked. “With who—? Oh.” His brows shot up, and suddenly, you were being stared at like a mystery waiting to be unraveled.

Your face heated instantly. “It’s not—it’s not what you think.”

Carmen crossed her arms, amused. “Really? Because I think you spent the night at priest’s house.”

Billy choked on his coffee. “Jesus Christ.”

Carmen chuckled “That’s a good expression.”

You groaned, rubbing your hands over your face. “Nothing happened.”

Carmen raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Then why do you look like you just spent the night tangled up with him?”

Your heart skipped at the way she phrased it, at the thought of being tangled up with Joel—because the truth was, part of you had wanted that.

Billy groaned. “Carmen, don’t put images in my head, please. He is hot.”

You exhaled, trying to compose yourself. “I just fell asleep there, okay? That’s it.”

Carmen gave you a knowing look, but she didn’t push. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, smirking. “If you say so.”

Billy muttered something under his breath, shaking his head as he stabbed his eggs a little too aggressively.

You sighed, walking toward the counter to pour yourself a cup of coffee, ignoring the way Carmen was still watching you like she knew something you didn’t.

But the truth was, you knew exactly what she was thinking.

And the worst part? She wasn’t wrong.

You were falling in love with Joel.

Billy let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head before pointing his fork at you. “Okay, look—I’ll admit it. He’s a hot priest. A really hot one.” He jabbed the fork in the air for emphasis. “But, darling… he’s a priest at the end of the day.”

You froze mid-sip of your coffee, your fingers tightening around the cup. Carmen shot Billy a warning look, but he kept going.

“He’s not just some guy you can mess around with,” Billy continued, his voice softer now. “You know what this means for him. For you.”

Your throat tightened. You did know. You had been trying not to think about it, trying to pretend you could just enjoy this feeling—enjoy him—without reality creeping in.

“I’m not messing around,” you said quietly.

Billy exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I know you’re not. That’s what worries me.”

Carmen reached over, squeezing your hand gently. “Billy’s right, Estrellita. We’re just looking out for you.”

You forced a small smile, but your chest felt heavy. Because no matter how much you wanted to ignore it, they were right.

You were falling in love with a man you could never have.

The bass pulsed beneath your feet, the heat of the lights casting a golden glow over your skin as you moved, slow and deliberate. The music guided you, every roll of your hips, every arch of your back calculated to entrance, to captivate. You had done this a thousand times before—this performance, this dance. But tonight, it felt different.

Because tonight, your eyes kept drifting to the entrance.

You scanned the dimly lit club, searching through the smoke and the sea of faces, hoping—expecting—to see him standing there. Arms crossed, jaw tight, watching you with that barely restrained tension he always carried when he was near you.

But Joel wasn’t there.

Your stomach twisted, disappointment curling in your chest even as you forced yourself to keep moving, to keep dancing. You knew you shouldn’t have expected him. He was a priest, after all. Whatever had happened between you—whatever was happening—wasn’t supposed to. Maybe he had come to his senses. Maybe he had decided to stay away.

Carmen, standing just off the stage, caught your eye as you spun around the pole, her smirk knowing. When your set ended, she was already waiting near the stairs, arms crossed.

“You keep looking for him,” she teased as you slipped past her.

You didn’t bother denying it. Instead, you sighed, grabbing a towel to dab at the sweat on your skin. “He’s not coming.”

Carmen tilted her head. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

You weren’t so sure. Because as much as you told yourself it was better this way, that hollow feeling in your chest refused to fade.

Another day, another night.

And oh, you were already love and it scared you.

Your steps faltered the moment you noticed the crowd outside the church. The murmurs, the whispers—it all crashed into you at once.

Women stood in small clusters, their heads tilted toward one another, their eyes flickering to you before quickly turning away, pretending they hadn’t just been talking about you. Some didn’t even bother to hide it, their lips curled in disgust, their judgment palpable in the air.

You didn’t have to hear their words to know what they were saying.

She was seen leaving his house yesterday morning.

What kind of woman does that?

With a priest, of all people!

And then there were the men, their voices lower but no less cruel.

"She’d give herself to a priest before one of us?"

"Guess she thinks she’s too good for the rest of us."

Your stomach churned. The heat of embarrassment burned your skin, but underneath it was something colder. Anger. These men—these people—had no right to talk about you as if you were some shameful secrets, some object for them to claim.

And then you saw Joel, dressed in black, his collar stark white against the fabric. A reminder of what he was. A reminder of why this was all happening.

But he wasn’t alone.

Beside him stood another man, older, dressed in the same priestly garments. There was an air of authority about him, the way he carried himself, the way others seemed to step aside as he moved.

The Cardinal.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Joel was speaking with him, his expression unreadable, but then, as if he could sense you, his eyes lifted. Met yours. Something flickered in his gaze. Worry. Regret. Guilt. And yet, he didn’t look away.

Your eyes met, and he swallowed as if nervous about your presence. The cardinal followed Joel's gaze to you, and you could sense the suspicion a man with that power held in the church. How, just by looking at you, he could tell you were the problem he'd come here to talk to Joel about. That you were the temptation lurking in the Father's face.

The Cardinal’s gaze was sharp, assessing, stripping you bare in a way that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with judgment. You didn’t shrink under it, even as your heart pounded against your ribs.

He knew.

Even if there had been nothing to confess, even if no one had spoken outright, he knew what the town had already decided: that you were the problem. That you had tainted their priest.

Joel’s jaw clenched. His hands, which had been relaxed at his sides just a moment ago, curled into fists. He looked torn, his body tense as if he were fighting the urge to move toward you—to reach for you.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

The moment stretched, suffocating and endless, until the Cardinal finally turned his attention back to Joel, his expression unreadable but his posture heavy with authority. He said something—too low for you to hear—but Joel’s reaction told you enough. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes briefly closing as if steadying himself before nodding once.

You didn’t know what had just been decided, but you knew it wasn’t good.

A wave of nausea rolled through you. You weren’t naive enough to think this wouldn’t have consequences. You’d just been hoping—selfishly, foolishly—that they wouldn’t come so soon.

That maybe Joel would have had more time. That you would have had more time.

Joel turned away first, back to the Cardinal, his expression carefully schooled into something unreadable. And with that single movement, it was as if a wall had been put between you.

As if he had made a choice. And it wasn’t you.

You barely made it to the bench before your knees gave out beneath you. Sitting down, you folded in on yourself, hands clenched together in your lap, fingers twisting at the fabric of your skirt. The nausea churned in your stomach, rising in your throat, but you swallowed it down, refusing to let it win.

But God, seeing Joel from afar—seeing him look right through you—felt like someone had reached into your chest and ripped something vital from you. It was a different kind of pain, a sharp, splintering ache that settled deep in your ribs, making it hard to breathe.

You barely noticed the woman sitting beside you until she let out a soft sigh.

"Poor thing."

You stiffened immediately, shoulders tensing as you turned your head, ready to snap at whoever had dared to sit so close, to offer their pity like a gift you had no intention of accepting.

But the woman beside you wasn’t sneering. She wasn’t whispering cruel words behind a fake smile. She was just looking at you. Softly. Kindly.

Mrs. Langdon.

You recognized her from the market, from the church gatherings. She was older, with graying hair pinned into a neat bun and warm, wise eyes that held something you weren’t used to seeing from anyone in this town.

Not judgment. Not malice. Just understanding.

Still, you bristled, wrapping your arms around yourself. “If you’re here to tell me I should –”

“Oh, hush.” She waved a hand, dismissing your words like they were nothing more than an annoying fly. “You think I don’t know what small towns are like? People always looking for someone to talk about, someone to cast stones at. You just happen to be their favorite target right now.”

You frowned, glancing at her warily. “And you don’t agree with them?”

Mrs. Langdon let out a dry chuckle. “I would rather die than agree with these people. They haven’t seen the world outside this place, that’s what they are like this.”

You blinked at Mrs. Langdon, her words striking you like a sharp gust of wind. You’d always assumed that the people in this town—the ones gossiping behind their hands, the ones judging every move you made—were simply following some unspoken code of right and wrong, of tradition. It had never occurred to you that someone might look at them and see what they were: trapped.

“See the world outside?” you repeated, still a little skeptical, as your eyes darted back to Joel. He hadn’t looked at you again since that brief glance earlier, and now, with the Cardinal standing beside him, it felt as if the distance between you had grown tenfold.

“Yes,” Mrs. Langdon continued, her voice soft but firm. “You’d be surprised how small their world is, how tightly they hold onto their little rules, because it’s all they know. But people like you,” she turned her gaze to you then, her eyes softening with a tenderness that made your heart ache, “people like you are the ones who see beyond. You’re the ones with the courage to live.”

You swallowed, trying to hold back the sudden rush of emotion that threatened to break through. She didn’t know the half of it—how terrified you were, how unsure you felt. You had no idea what it meant to be with Joel, to stand by him in a world that was determined to tear him down.

“And do you think I’m doing the right thing?” you asked quietly, unable to stop the words from leaving your lips.

Mrs. Langdon studied you for a moment before she answered, her voice thoughtful. “I think you’re doing what your heart tells you to do. And that’s all anyone can ever do, in the end.”

You looked at her, her words settling over you like a soft blanket. “Thank you.” You smiled, “You are the first person who had been kind to me here.”

Mrs. Langdon’s smile deepened, her eyes kind and warm. "Well, I'm glad to be the first, but I won't be the last," she said, her tone both gentle and reassuring. "There are people here who might not say it, but they understand more than you'd think. You just have to find the ones who can see beyond the surface."

You nodded, the weight on your chest lifting just a little. It felt like a small crack in the wall that had been built around you since arriving in this town, a small sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was room for you here too.

"You know," she continued, her voice dropping a little lower, "I’ve seen the way you look at father Joel.”

You froze, her words catching you off guard. Mrs. Langdon studied you carefully, her gaze soft but knowing.

Those aren't just any eyes, sweetheart. Those are eyes of love."

You felt your heart tighten, but it wasn’t from shame. It was something deeper, a recognition of truth you hadn’t wanted to fully admit to yourself.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you whispered, not meeting her gaze.

Mrs. Langdon didn’t push, but her expression softened with understanding. "You don’t have to say it out loud. I can see it. And Joel, well, he sees it too. He has the same eyes for you. He knows all your secrets, everything you're afraid of, everything you're hiding. That man has a heart, just like you."

You swallowed hard, trying to keep the wave of emotions from taking over. But the thought of Joel knowing you so completely, knowing all your fears and all the love you tried to bury, made something inside you break somehow.

"He deserves more than this," Mrs. Langdon continued, her voice quieter now, filled with a gentle sadness. "He deserves a life where you don’t have to hide, a life where he can live freely. But the church, it’s... it’s not that kind of place.”

You fidgeted with your fingers trying to process her words. It was the truth, wasn’t it? Joel was bound by something, by vows, by his position, by the very fabric of who he was. And as much as you wanted to fight it, as much as you wanted to believe you could carve out a space for yourself in his life, there was no escaping it.

"I want him to be happy," you murmured, your voice raw. "I want him to have everything he deserves."

"Then don’t let the priesthood take it from him," Mrs. Langdon said firmly, her tone softening as she placed a hand on your shoulder. "Don’t let him carry that burden alone if it means losing what he could have with you. If you love him, let him have the life he deserves. Let him choose."

Tears threatened to spill, but you held them back, blinking hard to keep them at bay. Her words were like a knife, cutting through the walls you’d built, exposing the truth you had been trying to ignore.

“I don’t know if I can be the one to take that choice from him,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Mrs. Langdon.

"Sometimes," she said quietly, "love isn't about what we want. It’s about what the other person needs to be free. Let him find his freedom, and in turn, let yourself find yours."

You met her eyes then, and for the first time since you’d gotten to this town, you felt a sense of clarity. It wasn’t going to be easy. There would be pain. But maybe, just maybe, love was more than staying in one place. Maybe it was about letting go when the time came.

"Thank you," you whispered, wiping the tears that you hadn’t even realized had fallen.

Mrs. Langdon's smile remained warm, a touch of kindness in her eyes as she spoke. "You should come have tea with me this afternoon. It's just my husband and I, nothing fancy, but it would be nice to have some company. Father Joel comes over for dinner every Thursday, so we aren't lonely," she said with a gentle chuckle, her voice carrying no trace of judgment, only genuine invitation.

You found yourself surprised by the offer, the warmth of it sinking deep into your chest. "I would love to," you responded, your voice a bit lighter than before, the weight of the conversation easing just a little.

Mrs. Langdon nodded, the corners of her eyes crinkling in a smile. "My house is the blue one, close to that club you work at. You can't miss it," she added, her tone still kind and welcoming. Not judgment, just kindness.

You smiled at her, feeling something like hope flicker in your chest. It was a small gesture, but it felt like the beginning of something you hadn’t expected—something that might help you get through the turmoil of everything you were feeling.

"Thank you," you said quietly, a genuine smile pulling at the corners of your lips. "I’ll see you this afternoon."

With that, Mrs. Langdon gave you a nod and stood, her presence as comforting as it had been when she first sat beside you. As you watched her walk away, you realized that even in a town that had felt so cold, there were still people like her who could offer warmth. And for once, it made you feel like you weren’t so alone.

The afternoon passed in a haze of quiet reflection. You found yourself walking towards Mrs. Langdon’s blue house, the small but charming building tucked just behind the club where you worked. The sun was starting to dip, casting soft shadows across the street. As you approached her home, a sense of calm you hadn’t known you needed settled over you.

Mrs. Langdon greeted you at the door, her warm smile a welcome you couldn’t help but return. “Come in, dear,” she said kindly, ushering you into the cozy space.

The smell of fresh tea lingered in the air, and there was an immediate feeling of peace in her home. You stepped inside, taking in the simple but inviting interior. Her husband was sitting in a chair by the window, reading a book. He offered you a quiet, polite smile.

"Come, sit with us," Mrs. Langdon said, pulling up an extra chair beside her. As you sat down, she poured you a cup of tea, her movements deliberate, soothing.

You were starting to feel at ease when the door opened, and you heard a familiar voice.

"Evening, Mrs. Langdon."

You froze for a moment, heart leaping into your throat as you turned to see none other than Joel stepping inside, a small bag of groceries in hand.

His gaze caught yours almost immediately, and for a split second, the world around you seemed to stop. You felt his presence as though it were a physical thing, pulling you in like gravity.

Joel paused in the doorway, his expression unreadable, his eyes locking with yours. He had clearly not expected to see you here.

Mrs. Langdon smiled brightly, oblivious to the tension in the air. “Father Joel, perfect timing! I was just about to serve tea. Come, join us.”

Joel looked between you and her, his eyes narrowing just slightly as if caught between two worlds. He set the bag down carefully on the counter and nodded, stepping further into the room.

"Good evening," he said quietly, his voice low. He hesitated for just a moment before sitting down, across from you, at the small table.

The silence between you two was palpable, charged with everything that had been left unsaid. Mrs. Langdon filled the silence with easy conversation, talking about the weather, the garden, her husband's new book—anything to keep things light. But you could feel the heaviness between you and Joel, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you like a storm cloud.

You glanced at him once, your heart fluttering despite the tension. His face was a mask of calm, but you could see the flicker of something else behind his eyes—something too familiar, too intense to ignore.

And just like that, you were back in the world you’d tried to escape. Joel. The priest.

Not Joel the mand you loved.

Joel’s voice was steady but laced with tension as he continued to explain to Mrs. Langdon and her husband about the Cardinal’s visit. “So basically, he came here today to check on some matters, to discuss... some things. I’m sure you both understand the pressure, and I had to reassure him that nothing inappropriate was happening. But I’m not sure he believed me,” he added, his voice growing more frustrated.

Mrs. Langdon nodded sympathetically, her eyes flicking to you, but she said nothing, allowing Joel to speak. Her husband, who had been quietly listening, gave a small nod as well, but his expression remained neutral.

“I bet those ladies were bothering him with stuff. Always snitching.” She said because she knew perfectly well the reason why the cardinal had come was because of them.

Joel’s words kept going, but you were hardly listening anymore. The room felt suddenly small; the air too thick with unspoken tension. You could feel the weight of the conversation hanging around you, pressing down on your chest. It felt suffocating, like there was no air left for you to breathe.

The mention of the Cardinal, of everything that was happening, made your stomach churn, but it wasn’t just the situation that hurt. It was the realization that Joel was caught in something much larger than the two of you—something that neither of you had any control over. His gaze kept flicking toward you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet it.

Your breath hitched, and you pushed your chair back slightly, rising from the table. “Excuse me,” you murmured, barely louder than a whisper, “Mrs. Langdon, may I use your bathroom?”

Joel paused mid-sentence, clearly caught off guard by your request. He looked at you, his eyes searching your face as if trying to understand what was happening, but you avoided his gaze, feeling a wave of shame and confusion wash over you.

Mrs. Langdon, smiled warmly. "Of course, dear. Joel, could you show her where the bathroom is?" she asked, her tone light and unbothered, as if she hadn’t noticed the tension that had settled in the air.

Joel nodded slowly, standing up from his chair. “Sure,” he said, his voice a little quieter now, his gaze lingering on you for a second too long before he turned toward the hallway.

You stood up as well, trying to gather the fragments of your composure. You forced a smile in Mrs. Langdon’s direction, but it felt weak.

The walk down the hallway felt painfully long. Every step you took seemed suffocating and small, the weight of everything pressing down on you more with each passing second.

When you reached the bathroom, Joel hesitated for a moment, his hand on the door. He seemed torn, unsure of whether to say something or just let you go inside. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re avoiding me” he said, the words catching in his throat.

You paused, your heart pounding in your chest. His words hung in the air like a heavy fog, and you couldn’t help but feel the truth in them, even if you didn’t want to admit it. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out at first. You could feel the heat of your skin, the tension in your shoulders, all the emotions swirling inside you in a chaotic mess.

“I’m not avoiding you,” you finally whispered, your voice barely audible, a lie you weren’t even sure you believed yourself.

Joel didn’t move, didn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes searching your face, waiting for you to look at him. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t face him right now, not with everything hanging in the air, not with the way things were unraveling. The guilt, the confusion, everything crashing together.

And then, before you could step further into the bathroom, Joel did something you didn’t expect. He stepped in after you, closing the door behind him with a soft click, and suddenly, the small space felt even smaller. The air thickened, and you could feel the weight of his presence just inches away from you.

He didn’t speak immediately, but the look in his eyes was enough. The way he watched you, not with anger, but with understanding. And maybe a bit of frustration, as if he couldn’t figure out what was keeping you from him, what was stopping you from just being closer to him.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, your hands shaking slightly. “You shouldn’t be here, Joel,” you said, your voice trembling now, though you tried to keep it firm.

“I know,” he replied, his voice low, almost as if he was sharing a secret. “But I am.” His eyes softened for a moment, as if he was seeing right through you, to the parts of you that were breaking but too afraid to show it. “You can’t keep pushing me away.”

You stayed still, hoping, praying, he would just walk away and make all of this easier for the both of you.

“I know what you are thinking,” his voice was quiet, but there was something raw in it. Something pleading as if he was on his knees waiting for you to take him.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to stay strong.

“Please talk to me” he murmured, and the way his voice cracked shattered you.

You exhaled shakily closing and opening your eyes as he still stood there.

You swallowed hard, gripping the doorframe for support. “You know what is the right thing to do. We can’t see each other anymore.”

Joel’s jaw clenched, and he took a step closer. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

You shook your head, voice trembling. “I don’t want you to lose everything you had built because of me, Joel.”

His expression softened, and he lifted a hand as if to touch you but stopped himself. “You’re not something I should have to lose too.”

The words sent a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, and you turned away, trying to steady yourself. “You made a promise—to God, to yourself. And I—” Your breath hitched. “I know love you too much to be the reason you break it.”

Silence. Heavy, aching silence. Your eyes widened the moment you realized the words that had slipped out from your lips.

When you finally turned back, you found Joel staring at you, stunned. His lips parted slightly, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right.

“What?” His voice was barely a whisper.

Tears welled in your eyes. “I love you, Joel.” You gasped for air, “I am in love with you.”

The words hung between you, fragile yet powerful. His hands clenched at his sides fidgeting his clothes as if he were physically holding himself back. You could see it in his eyes—the war raging inside him.

Finally, he exhaled a shaky breath. “Say it again.” He stepped impossibly closer, “Say those six words again.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding. “Joel—”

“Please,” he cut in, his voice rough. “Just one more time.”

Your lip trembled, and this time, you let the words pour out, raw and unfiltered. “I am in love with you.”

His breath hitched, and before you could react, he closed the space built between you, his hands framing your face, destroying the walls you had been trying to build between the both of you. His lips crash onto yours in a kiss so desperate, so full of longing and yearning, it stole the breath from your lungs.

He wasn’t careful or hesitant, he was just simply pouring all the feelings he had kept under all the keys, on your lips. Everything you had denied yourselves. And in that moment, nothing else mattered because what was happening was an act of love, a pure feeling. There was nothing wrong with it.

Joel’s kiss was all-consuming, desperate, like a man grasping at something slipping through his fingers. His hands trembled where they held your face, thumbs brushing away the tears that had escaped down your cheeks.

You clung to him, your fingers curling in his hair, as if anchoring yourself to this moment, to him. You could feel the weight of it, the war he was fighting within himself, the battle between faith and love, between what he had vowed and what his heart was screaming for.

But right now, he wasn’t Father Joel. He was just Joel.

Yours.

Your Joel.

The man you were in love with.

A man devoted to you.

He pulled away, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath shaky and uneven. His hands slid down to your shoulders, then your arms, as if memorizing the feel of you.

“You shouldn’t have said that,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, holding back his smile.

Your heart ached at the conflict in his eyes. “But it’s the truth.”

Joel let out a ragged breath, his grip tightening as if he was afraid to let go. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me, baby.”

Your fingers brushed over his jaw, feeling the tension there. “Loving you is so easy, Joel.” you whispered, biting your lips in a small effort to suppress the smile.

He kissed you again. Slower this time, deeper. It was full of longing; of everything he had tried to bury but couldn’t anymore. When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, as if looking for an answer he hadn’t yet found in himself.

“I’m in love with you, too. God, you’re so—”

“So what?” you asked.

“Perfect. Made for me.” He replied.

“No, I’m not.” you said, knowing the secrets you still held back, caged inside the pain of your heart.

“To my eyes, you’re.” He said, caressing your face with his thumbs.

You looked so beautiful to him, under his stare that he was afraid that from now on he would love you forever. Like he was ready to be devasted by you and concept of love all over again just to be able to taste your lips and to caress your face with his palms that on your cheeks seemed innocent.

You swallowed hard, feeling this situation pressing down on your chest. Your hands, still trembling found their way to his wrists, holding onto him like he was the only one who could keep you steady in a world that suddenly felt falling into pieces.

Your voice was barely above a whisper when you finally asked, “What comes now?”

Joel's breath hitched, his grip on you tightening like he was afraid you would regret this and shatter his heart in the process. His eyes seemed darker, searching yours as if trying to find the answer himself. He exhaled shakily, his forehead still resting against yours. “I have no idea.”

The honesty in his words made your heart ache. This wasn’t simple. This wasn’t easy. Love never was—especially not yours. But the way he looked at you, the way he held you, like you were something sacred, made you want to believe that somehow, you could figure it out together.

His fingers traced slow, gentle circles on your arms, like he was memorizing the shape of you, the texture of your skin, the feel of you, in case this was the last time he would ever get to hold you like this. "I should say we stop now, that we walk away before it’s too late." His voice was rough, strained. "But I don’t think I can. I don’t want to."

Your heart pounded, “Joel…”

He shook his head, a small, breathless laugh escaping his lips. "I spent so long fighting this—fighting you, since the first night I saw sleeping on the bench because I thought it was the right thing to do. But tell me, baby... If this is so wrong, why does it feel like the only thing that’s ever-made sense to me in so long?"

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Because he was right. Because the truth was, no matter how much you had tried to convince yourself otherwise, being in his arms felt like the only place you were ever meant to be.

"What do we do?" you whispered, your fingers tightening around his wrists. "How do we do this?"

Joel exhaled, leaning in, his nose brushing against yours. “I’d say…one step at time.”

You closed your eyes at the tenderness in his voice. "And if we fall?"

His lips barely ghosted over yours before he whispered, "Then we fall together."

And a small chuckle escaped from your lips.

The days passed in a torturous slow blur for the both of you. The pressure of your secret affair pressed down on you, each stolen glance between you and Joel carrying a longing that never faded, only deepened and strangled your hearts. The Cardinal was still in town, his presence looming over everything like a shadow, forcing Joel to keep his distance, to maintain the image of who he was supposed to be.

But even in the smallest moments, you could feel him.

You’d catch his eyes from across the street, hungry and kind flickering over you like he wanted to memorize every detail before looking away. You’d see the way his hands clenched at his sides when you walked past him after service, as if he was holding himself back from reaching for you. And sometimes, late at night, you swore you could still feel the ghost of his touch, his lips, the way he whispered your name like a prayer in that small, stolen moment in the bathroom.

And then, one afternoon, fate offered you mercy. You were passing by the church, the sky grey with a warning of a heavy rain, when you saw him. Alone.

Joel stood at the church steps, his broad frame leaning against the doorway, his expression tense, lost in thought. But the second his eyes landed on you, something in him changed. His shoulders straightened, his jaw clenched, and for the first time in days, you saw it, that deep, burning desperation.

He walked inside the church, you followed him and before you could even react or take a breath, his hands were on your face, rough and warm, pulling you in before his lips crashed onto yours.

The kiss was feverish, urgent. A moment of recklessness after days of restraint. You clung to him, your fingers digging into the fabric of his cassock, needing to hold onto him just as desperately as he held onto you. The world around you blurred, melted into nothing, because nothing mattered but the feeling of his mouth on yours, the heat of him searing into your skin.

But then footsteps interrupted the moment.

Joel pulled away instantly, his breath ragged, his hands dropping from your face as if burned. You barely had a second to process before a voice, rough and commanding ranging behind him.

“Father Miller.”

You turned sharply to see him. The Cardinal.

His piercing gaze flicked between you and Joel, unreadable but heavy with something cold. Suspicion, maybe.

He wasn’t naïve.

Joel, didn’t hesitate changing his posture, “Your Eminence,” he greeted smoothly, stepping back just enough to put distance between you. His voice was steady, composed, but you could still hear the slight strain in it.

The Cardinal’s sharp eyes settled on you. “And who is lady here?”

Joel straightened; his expression carefully neutral. “This is—” He hesitated for only a fraction of a second before continuing, “She’s new in town. I’ve been offering some guidance.”

The way he said it, as if you were nothing more than another wandering soul seeking his help, sent a sharp pang through you. You understood why he said it. Knew that he had to. But it still stung.

The Cardinal’s eyes swept over you, assessing, unimpressed. “Is that so?” His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Well, let us hope you are a good influence, rather than a distraction for the father, here.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over you like ice. Joel’s hands clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing.

The Cardinal barely spared you another glance before turning back to Joel. “I need to speak with you. Now.”

Joel hesitated, his eyes flickering to you for the briefest second before nodding. “Of course.”

And just like that, the moment was gone. You stood there, heart still racing, watching as Joel followed the Cardinal back into the church. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t.

You still were a forbidden fruit to him.

You sat by the mirror in the dressing room, running a fingertip over the rim of your glass, lost in thought. Your reflection stared back at you, lips slightly parted, skin still warm from the memory of Joel’s touch. You could still feel the ghost of his lips against yours, the way he had held you so tightly, like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers if he let go.

You wanted him. All of him. You wanted his arms around you all the time because he felt like home, a place you missed.

“Earth to troublemaker.”

A familiar voice snapped you from your thoughts, and you turned to see Billy leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. His sharp eyes flicked over you, picking up on every little detail—the way you were sitting too still, the way your mind was somewhere else.

“You look like a woman with a big secret to share,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Before you could answer, Carmen appeared behind him, slipping into the room with a bottle in her hand. “She doesn’t just look like one,” she teased, raising a brow. “She is one.”

You huffed, shaking your head as they both settled in beside you. Carmen poured herself a drink before nudging your knee with hers. “So, are you gonna tell us, or are we gonna have to guess?”

You hesitated for a moment, rolling your lip between your teeth. But you knew there was no point in keeping it from them. Not from them.

They were your friends and your family here.

Finally, you exhaled, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I kissed him.” You confessed, “Well, he did.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Billy grinned, shaking his head. “I knew it.”

Carmen, on the other hand, simply gave you a knowing look, sipping her drink. “About damn time.”

You blinked. “That’s it? No lecture?”

“Oh, I’ll get to that,” she said, smirking. “But first, tell me everything.”

Billy leaned in, grinning. “Yeah, don’t leave out any of the good parts.”

And so, you told them. About the way Joel had kissed you like he was starving for it. The way he wanted to fall if it means you would be discovered, but at the same time you felt guilty about the consequences of this illicit affair between the both of you.

Carmen swirled the drink in her glass, watching you carefully. “So, he wants to fall,” she mused. “But you’re afraid of what happens when he does.”

You exhaled, pressing your fingertips to your temple. “It’s not just that. I—” You hesitated, feeling the weight of your own thoughts. “It’s selfish, isn’t it? I want him. God, I want him. But I know what this could mean for him. For both of us.”

Billy scoffed. “Sweetheart, do you really think he doesn’t already know that?”

You looked up at him.

“He’s a grown man,” he continued. “Older than you, he knows damn well what he is getting into.”

Carmen nodded in agreement. “Billy’s right. If Joel kissed you—if he’s looking at you the way you say he does, then he’s already made his choice. The question is—” she leaned in slightly, her gaze searching yours— “have you?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Had you?

Your heart had already chosen. But your mind, the part of you that still clung to reason, still feared what this could cost.

Billy clicked his tongue. “See? You’re overthinking.”

“You should be thinking,” Carmen corrected him, before looking back at you. She squeezed your hand, her voice softer now. “You love him.”

The words settled in the air between you all.

And though you didn’t say it out loud, the answer was there, in the way your heart pounded at the thought of him.

Yes, you loved him.

But you didn’t want to hurt him.

Carmen exchanged a glance with Billy before turning back to you. “Hey, hey,” she murmured, reaching out to gently pry your hands from your head. “Take a breath, sweetheart.”

Billy let out a sigh, pushing himself up from his seat. “Alright. You’re not dancing tonight.” He didn’t say it as a question, just a fact.

You shook your head, your chest tight. “I just—I can’t.”

Carmen gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “That’s fine. You don’t have to.”

The weight of it all pressed down on you—Joel, the secrecy, the risk, the way your heart ached just thinking about him. And now, after speaking it out loud, after admitting it to them, it felt even heavier.

Billy clapped his hands together. “Alright. I’ll let the rest know. You just sit here and—” He waved a hand at you. “I don’t know. Breathe.”

You let out a weak laugh, despite yourself.

Carmen brushed a piece of hair from your face. “Do you want to go home?”

You thought about it. The idea of lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, letting your thoughts swallow you whole.

You sighed, rubbing your temples before finally nodding. “Yeah. I think I just need to be alone for a bit.”

Carmen hesitated, her eyes scanning your face like she was trying to read between the lines. But she didn’t push. Instead, she gave your hand one last squeeze. “Alright. But be careful, okay?”

Billy scoffed. “Like she doesn’t already know that.”

You mustered a small smile before standing up, smoothing down your dress. The club was still buzzing with life around you—music, laughter, cigarette smoke curling in the air—but you felt like you were somewhere else entirely.

You stepped outside, the cool night air hitting your skin as you started down the dimly lit street. The quiet was welcome, a stark contrast to the noise still pulsing inside the club.

But after a few blocks, a strange feeling settled in your chest.

Like you weren’t alone.

Your steps slowed. You glanced over your shoulder, but the street behind you was empty. Just the faint glow of streetlamps and the distant murmur of the city.

Get a grip, you told yourself, shaking your head. You were just tired. Your mind playing tricks on you, tangled up in guilt and longing.

Still, your heart pounded a little harder as you picked up your pace, heading straight for home.

The memories came in waves, brushing against the edges of your mind like a heartbreak song you once loved but hadn’t heard in years.

You remembered the warmth of his hands, the way they fit so easily around yours. The way he used to trace idle patterns against your skin when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The way he laughed—really laughed—like it was something only you could pull from him.

There were quiet mornings, sunlight spilling through lace curtains, and his voice, thick with sleep, murmuring your name with tenderness. There were stolen glances across crowded rooms, Nights spent whispering about nothing and everything, your bodies tangled, your hearts so close you could swear they beat in time.

And then, something shifted. The warmth cooled. The sweetness turned sharp.

The same hands that once held you so carefully became distant; caught in something you couldn’t quite reach. His laughter turned into a cruel smirk; his words turned heavier. Daggers reaching for you. And then, one day, you looked at him and saw not the man you had come closed to love but the thing standing between you and everything you were meant to be.

Now, the memories came differently. Not like a song, but like an echo. Distant, blurred at the edges. A reminder of something you had once cherished. And something you now wished to forget forever because it took everything you know because of it.

You moved through the quiet of the house, the fabric of your nightgown felt tight against your skin. The night air was cooler than other days, slipping through the open window, but it wasn’t enough to calm the thoughts spinning in your mind.

You had tried to push them away, tried to bury them beneath exhaustion, but sleep refused to come.

And then—a knock at the door. Soft, but insistent.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Billy. It had to be. Checking in on you, making sure you hadn’t collapsed into some pit of regret. You pulled the door open, already preparing a reassurance.

But the words died on your lips.

It wasn’t Billy.

It was Joel.

His presence filled the doorway, broad shoulders casting shadows against the dim glow of the hallway. His hair was tousled, his lips parted slightly like he had been running, or like he had been thinking too much and drinking too little.

But it was his eyes that held you in place.

Soft brown with a lopsided smile, kind to you.

“Joel—” you started, but you didn’t know what to say.

He stepped forward, just enough that you could feel the warmth of him. His gaze flickered over you, over your bare arms, the delicate slip of your nightgown, the soft rise and fall of your breath.

His voice was low when he spoke. Rough.

“Can I come in?”

"Joel," you repeated, his name barely a breath on your lips.

He swallowed hard, his gaze tracing your face like he was trying to memorize it. Like he had missed you more than he was willing to admit. "I know I shouldn't be here," he murmured, voice rough with something unspoken. "But I had to see you."

Your fingers curled around the edge of the door. He was waiting for you to say yes, for you to tell him to leave, for anything.

But you couldn’t turn him away. Stepping aside, you nodded. "Come in."

Joel exhaled, almost like he had been holding his breath, and stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind him, enclosing you both inside the four walls hiding a secret.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You just looked at each other, the space between you charged with all the things left unsaid.

Then, slowly, he reached for you.

His hand traced a featherlight path down your arm, fingers brushing against your wrist, like he was grounding himself in your touch. His hands were always so warm, so steady. You had missed them.

“You’re tired,” he murmured, eyes softening as he took in your face.

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Joel hummed, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin. "Me neither."

You should have been nervous. This was dangerous. But as he pulled you close, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, all you felt was safe.

"Let me stay," he whispered against your skin. "Just for a little while."

You nodded, the simple gesture carrying so much weight between you both. Joel’s lips remained pressed against your forehead, his warmth seeping into you as if he was anchoring you to this moment, to him. You closed your eyes, letting the world fall away, just for a while.

Then, slowly, as if unsure of his own movements, his lips moved, gently brushing over your cheek. The softest touch, but it sent a shiver through you. His breath was warm on your skin, and you could feel the subtle tremor in his movements, as though he was trying to be careful with you, as if you were something pure and precious, he didn’t want to break.

He kissed your other cheek, lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary. The space between you both felt charged, heavy with everything unsaid, but also full of something more—something you both craved but had kept at bay for so long.

Then, his lips found yours. No rush, no urgency. Just a quiet, tender kiss that felt like coming home after a long time apart. His lips moved over yours softly, exploring, as if he had all the time in the world to savor the moment. And you let him. You let him in, even if it was only for a little while.

When he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, you were both breathless, eyes still closed. The world outside felt distant, and the only thing that mattered was the steady beat of his heart against yours.

"I’ve missed you," Joel whispered, his voice thick with something deeper thana simple desire. It was raw, unguarded. A confession you both needed but were afraid to admit.

You swallowed hard, not trusting your voice. Your chest felt tight, but in a good way, like a promise. The weight of the past, the secrecy, all of it felt momentarily lighter.

"The cardinal left this afternoon” he murmured, as his fingers ghosted over your waist, holding you like he was afraid you might disappear from his fingertips.

Your breath hitched. That meant there was no more need for stolen glances, no more pretending not to see each other. But it also meant the weight of reality would settle in soon.

Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. "So, we don’t have to hide that much anymore," you whispered, though something in your voice made it sound like a question.

Joel exhaled sharply, his grip on you tightening for a moment. "Not as much," he admitted, his thumb brushing idly against your hip. "But it doesn’t mean it gets any easier."

You knew that. You both did.

His eyes searched yours in the dim light, a quiet storm brewing in their depths. "Tell me what you want," he murmured, his voice low, rough, like he was bracing himself for the answer.

You hesitated, not because you didn’t know, but because saying it out loud would make it real.

But when you looked at him—at the man who had kissed you like a prayer, who had whispered your name like it was something sacred—you knew there was only one truth.

"I want you, Joel," you breathed.

Joel didn’t wait. The second the words left your lips; his mouth was on yours.

This kiss was different. It wasn’t just longing, wasn’t just stolen moments in the shadows. It was something deeper, something that carried the weight of every glance, every touch, every unsaid thing between you. It was burning, you felt it on your lips, ablaze when they crushed together.

His hands framed your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he kissed you like he never wanted to stop. Like he had been waiting for you his whole life.

You melted into him, your hands fisting the fabric of his shirt as he pressed you closer. His lips moved with a slow, deliberate tenderness, drawing you in, pulling you under. You parted your lips, allowing your tongues to intertwine with such a fervor it made you weak.

When he pulled away, just enough to let you breathe, he didn’t go far. His forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice wrecked, thick with emotion.

You smiled, brushing your fingers over his jaw, feeling the way it throbbed beneath your touch. “I think I do.”

Joel let out a low, rough chuckle, shaking his head. “Not even close, baby.”

He searched your face, as if giving himself one last chance to step away, to be the better man. But when he saw the way you looked at him—soft, certain, full of something that made his heart ache—he knew he was lost.

His lips crashed into yours again, and this time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. His hands tangled in your hair, pulling you impossibly close, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. He kissed you like a man starved, like he had been waiting for this, for you, for longer than he was willing to admit.

You pressed against him, your fingers curling into his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric. The heat between you was undeniable, the space that once existed now erased completely.

His hands roamed over your back, to the curve of your ass, slow but firm, memorizing the shape of you. He pulled away only long enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breaths heavy and uneven. A groan rumbled from his chest, his hands gripping your waist, anchoring you to him.

Joel guided you backward slowly, his hands steady but desperate, like he was afraid to let go even for a second. The world outside, the consequences, the things he’d wrestled with for so long, they all faded, drowned out by the sound of your breath mingling with his, the warmth of your body against him.

He didn’t just kiss you. He poured everything into it, every stolen glance, every unspoken word, every moment of restraint that now felt pointless. His fingers traced your jaw, then down your neck, reverent, like he was memorizing the feel of you beneath his hands.

When your back met the edge of the couch, you gasped, and Joel took the opportunity to trail kisses down your throat, his lips slow, deliberate, savoring every inch of you. His name left your lips in a whisper, barely there, but he heard it, God, he felt it.

His hands settled at your waist, gripping just enough to make your skin burn under his touch. He pulled back for a moment, just enough to look at you, his chest rising and falling as if he was barely keeping himself together.

“We don’t have to,” he murmured, his thumb brushing along your cheek. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

But you didn’t. Instead, you reached for him, fingers slipping into his hair, guiding him back to you.

“Please,” you breathed, lips brushing his, “don’t stop.”

And just like that, he was gone, lost in you, in the way you fit so perfectly against him, in the way you sighed against his lips.

For once in his life, Joel Miller let himself have something good. And that something was you.

Joel’s restraint unraveled with every kiss, every sigh, every way your body pressed into his. His hands roamed, exploring like he was trying to commit every inch of you to memory, like he needed to know you this way, to feel you this close.

He lifted you slightly, his strong arms guiding you onto his lap, and you let him, melting into the warmth of him. Your fingers traced the lines of his jaw, the roughness of his beard, before tangling into his hair. He groaned softly against your lips, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

His hands tightened on your hips, his grip firm but reverent, like he was still holding onto the last shred of control he had left. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his brown eyes searching yours, darkened with something deeper than just desire.

“This isn’t just—” he started, his voice rough, but you silenced him with a soft kiss, your hands cradling his face.

“I know,” you assured him. “Me neither.”

That was all he needed to kiss you again, deeper this time, like he had nothing left to fight, nothing left to prove. Just you and him, in this moment, finally giving in to something that had been pulling you together long before either of you dared to admit it.

You sighed into his mouth, your body arching into him, and he exhaled sharply, gripping your waist as if he was afraid you might disappear. His forehead pressed against yours again, his breath shaky, as if he was teetering on the edge of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time.

“This—” he started again, but stopped, shaking his head slightly, his thumbs brushing against your skin.

You cupped his face, tilting his chin so he had no choice but to look at you, to see the truth in your eyes. “Joel, it’s okay,” you whispered. “I’m here.”

His eyes softened, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on your hips. “You’re gonna ruin me,” he admitted, his voice barely above a murmur.

You smiled softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “I think you were already ruined,” you teased, but there was nothing playful in the way you looked at him. “I just found you.”

A quiet laugh rumbled in his chest, but it faded quickly as he leaned in again, capturing your lips with a kind of desperation that hadn’t been there before. This was no longer hesitation. This was acceptance.

His hands roamed all over your body, memorizing every curve, every reaction. And when you sighed into him, when you whispered his name with that mouth of yours, he was already gone.

This was the moment neither of you had dared to imagine, the one you had spent so long denying yourselves. But now, there was no turning back.

Joel held you like you were something fragile, something precious, his hands steady even as his breath wavered against your skin. He wasn’t just touching you, he was learning you, worshipping you, mapping every inch with slow.

His lips trailed over your jaw, down your throat, pressing soft, lingering kisses like he wanted to leave something of himself behind imprinted on you. Like he wanted you to remember this, to remember him, long after the night faded.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, and he groaned, a low, wrecked sound against your skin.

“Jesus,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to look at you, his forehead pressing against yours. “I haven’t done this for so long” He shook his head slightly, swallowing hard. “You make me forget how to be careful.”

You smiled softly, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “Then don’t be.”

Joel let out a breath that sounded like surrender before capturing your lips again, deeper this time, his hands sliding over your body like he couldn’t stand the thought of not touching you.

This was more than need. More than desire. This was home.

Joel's hands traced paths over the thin fabric of your gown. His fingers ghosted over your shoulders, down the length of your arms, following the delicate lines of your body like he was trying to memorize you through touch alone.

His calloused fingertips skimmed the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine, the gentle rise and fall of your breath. He wasn't rushing—no, this was something else. Something deeper.

“You feel like a dream,” he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing the corner of your jaw, his breath warm and steady. His fingers toyed with the fabric at your hip, his thumb stroking slow, absent-minded circles.

You shivered, not from cold, but from the weight of his attention. The way he was looking at you, like he was trying to commit you to memory, like you were something rare, something he wasn’t sure he deserved but couldn’t help wanting.

Your hands curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more. He sighed against your skin, his lips tracing a slow, deliberate path down your throat, his touch following the shape of you.

“You’re perfect” he murmured again, his voice low, rough, like he was giving you a way out even as his hands betrayed him, still exploring, still learning.

You didn’t want him to stop. Instead, you tipped your head back, giving him more, inviting him closer, your fingers slipping into his hair.

He followed the pattern of your neck, placing kisses down to your shoulders, slowly moving to your chest. He paused only to move his eyes upward in a sort of permission, to which you nodded. He pulled back the straps of your nightgown, leaving you bare to his eyes.

He couldn't believe it. Having you like this before him felt like a prize he didn't deserve. One of his hands cupped one of your breasts while he kissed the other, circling it with his tongue. “You’re so damn soft,” he murmured, his nose brushing against your jaw, voice thick with something almost reverent. “I’ve been thinking about you like this longer than I should’ve.”

You shivered, pressing closer, feeling the warmth of his body, the way his breath grew uneven as his fingers kept moving, tracing the places he’d only dared to dream about before.

His lips found your throat again, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down your skin. He sighed against you, his grip firm but careful, like he was still afraid you might vanish.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he admitted, voice hoarse as he kissed the edge of your collarbone.

You smiled, hands slipping into his hair, guiding him back up, your lips meeting his in a kiss that made his breath catch.

“Show me,” you whispered.

Joel let out a low groan, his fingers tightening on your hips before sliding beneath the hem of your gown, pushing the fabric up ever so slightly. His hands were warm, calloused, the roughness of his touch making you shiver as he traced slow, reverent circles against your bare skin.

His lips never left you, brushing along your jaw, down the curve of your throat, pressing gentle, open-mouthed kisses that sent a slow burn through your veins. He was taking his time, savoring every inch of you like he was afraid this would slip away if he didn’t commit it to memory.

You exhaled shakily as his hands smoothed up the backs of your thighs, slipping beneath the silk of your gown, higher, until he was gripping your waist beneath the fabric. His breath was ragged against your skin, his forehead pressing to your shoulder as he held you close, fingers flexing like he was still trying to ground himself.

“You sure about this?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but the weight behind his words settled deep in your chest.

You cupped his face, tilting his chin until your eyes met. The way he looked at you—like he was desperate, like he wanted to devour you but was still holding himself back—made your heart ache.

“I’ve never been more sure,” you whispered.

Something in him broke then. Whatever restraint he’d been clinging to shattered as he kissed you again, deeper, hungrier, his hands roaming, pulling you impossibly close.

Your gown slid higher as he guided you back, his fingers tracing slow, teasing paths over your skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. The fabric pooled at your hips, forgotten, as Joel’s lips found your collarbone, his hands gripping your thighs, his breath heavy against your skin.

“You’re driving me insane,” he murmured, almost like he was talking to himself, shaking his head as he kissed along your shoulder.

You smiled against his lips, running your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. “Good.”

Joel let out a low chuckle, his hands sliding higher, his touch reverent, unhurried. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips before trailing lower, letting himself get lost in you.

His lips trailed lower, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to explore you. His fingers traced the path his mouth had taken, over the delicate fabric of your gown, mapping every curve, every dip, every place that made you shiver beneath him.

Joel’s breath was warm against your skin, his hands sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing just beneath the swell of your breasts. His touch was teasing, reverent, like he was still memorizing you, still convincing himself that you were here, that this was real.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him back up to you, and he let out a quiet groan as your lips met again, slow and deep. His hands settled at your waist, gripping you firmly like he needed to anchor himself to you.

The fabric of your gown was soft beneath his fingers, but he was more interested in what lay beneath. His touch dipped lower, palms smoothing over the curve of your hips, tracing gentle circles that sent warmth spreading through you.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark, searching. His thumb brushed over your cheek, his expression unreadable, like he was warring with something inside himself.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Heat bloomed in your chest at the softness in his voice, at the way his gaze drank you in like you were something precious, something he had no business holding but couldn’t bear to let go.

You smiled, brushing your lips against his in a slow, lingering kiss. “So are you.”

Joel huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head like he didn’t believe you, but he didn’t argue.

As soon as his clothes were removed, there was nothing to keep you apart. You curled your fingers in his hair as he kissed you down your body. You could feel all the emotions, but body ablaze, whimpering under his touch.

You felt his mouth against your upper thigh, tracing kisses as he tangled your hips up for him. You were already dripping as he licked the route up there to your cunt before sucking your clit and pressing his fingers against you.

You whimpered while holding his head between your legs. His cock hardened at the sounds escaping your lips, as the way you clenched around his fingers and he sucked as if he was starved, forcing your legs apart to have more access. His free hand moved up your stomach to your torso, grabbing one of your breasts, rubbing his nose against your clit. Under pleasure and instinct, you buried your heels into his back, dragging him closer until he could taste all of you.

He took his time fucking you slowly with his hands, the same he used to pray. He took his time to taste your wetness on his lips before locking eyes with you. You were flustered, and your eyes shone from pleasure.

“Fuck…” you whimpered, “Right there.”

“You’re so beautiful. I need you to breathe.” He whispered, he begged even, going forward between your legs, plunging into you easily. You moaned, leaning forward to kiss him. His lips were now on your breasts, tracing more kisses until he found your lips again as he found his way to drove himself down into you, cautious as possible.

His lips traced the corner of your mouth, then along your jaw, down the column of your throat, where he lingered, pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses to your pulse point.

Joel groaned softly when your hands explored him, dragging over his shoulders, down his stomach. He caught your wrist, bringing your palm to his lips, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss there before guiding your hand back to his chest, where his heart pounded beneath your touch.

His patience frayed when you shifted against him, your body seeking more, pressing into the warmth of his. He tugged you closer, until you were straddling him, the thin fabric of your nightgown the only barrier between you. His hands splayed across your hips, his grip firm, grounding, as he guided you against him, coaxing a gasp from your lips.

"You feel so damn good," he rasped, pressing his forehead against yours.

His mouth was on you again, trailing lower, brushing over the swell of your chest, the sensitive skin of your collarbone.

“Now are we cursing?” You moaned, into his ear before he reclaimed your lips. He leaned down and sucked your nipples, lightly biting your breasts.

Joel groaned against your skin, his grip tightening as he pulled you impossibly closer. His lips traced every inch of you, memorizing the way you responded to him, the way your breath hitched, the way your body pressed into his touch.

“Don’t tease me, baby” he said, pounding into you. Grinding as deep as into you as it could encouraged him with your moans and nails scratching down his back. Those scars would leave the mark of the sin he was committing but didn’t care now.

He slid his hand down to your pussy and rubbed along your clit, making you fuck yourself harder on him by thrusting back against him.

He moved faster, with reverence, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mixing with yours between moans. It was slow, deep, unhurried, as if he wanted to make this moment last, as if he needed to savor every second of having you like this.

Joel whispered your name like a sacred prayer, his hands never stopping their worship of your body. His lips found yours again, swallowing every moan, every sigh, as the rhythm between you built, as the fire burned brighter.

You clung to him, to the feeling of him, to the way he made you feel, like you were something treasured, something sacred.

And when the pleasure crashed over you, and you came, he continued to fuck you, hovering you over the couch, leaving kiss on your neck. Soon after he followed, burying himself deeper, whispering your name with a broken groan. Joel collapsed against you, his breath heavy, his heart racing in sync with yours. He didn’t move, didn’t pull away, just held you close, his arms wrapped around you as if he was afraid to let go.

You ran your fingers through his hair, soothing, grounding, pressing soft kisses to his temple. He sighed against your skin, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder before finally meeting your gaze.

Faith was in this, in the way your lips lingered on his skin, in the way your fingers traced lazy patterns over his back, as if grounding yourself in him. It was in the way you looked at him, softly, with tenderness with love.

Joel swallowed hard, his fingers tightening on your waist, like he was trying to hold onto something fleeting. His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, he looked almost lost, like he didn’t know what to do with the warmth between you, with the tenderness you offered so freely.

"You’re looking at me like that again," he murmured, voice rough, almost hesitant.

"Like what?" you whispered, brushing your thumb over his cheek.

"Like I’m something worth keeping."

Your heart ached at the quiet vulnerability in his words. You cupped his face, guiding him closer, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips.

Joel sighed into you, melting against you in a way that made your chest tighten. His forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and steady.

"You are," you whispered. “You’re worth keeping.”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he just held you tighter, pressing another kiss to your shoulder, then to the curve of your neck, like he was trying to find his own answer in the feeling of you beneath him.

You wanted to stay here, in the present in the warmth of his arms, in the quiet where nothing else mattered but the slow, steady rise and fall of his breath against your skin against yours. But your mind wouldn’t let you. It wandered, slipping from the safety of the present into the tangled mess of your past, to the secrets still buried between you.

Would he still love you after all of it?

The thought made your chest tighten, a shadow creeping in at the edges of this perfect moment. Joel had given you so much of himself, let you see parts of him no one else had, and yet… you still hadn’t told him everything.

@jasminedragoon @mandaloriankait @jellybeanxc @spencercmlover @lilac-boo @disco-fairy75 @correapunk @existentialdreadofhumanity @secretcheesecakenacho @laliceee @exzidss @missladym1981

@drewharrisonwriter @hjzghi-blog @picketniffler @nobodyssfool @pedritosgirl2000 @koshkaj-blog @cigarxttxs @sweetpeakarolinaaa @wandasimp-69 @canteenee4 @obivari @shortandderanged @casualbananapatrol @stevie75 @hammerhead1776 @brittmb115 @strangersdotmp3 @goodvibesonly421 @jackie923 @lunpycatavenue @capuccinodoll

@iamtoriasworld @priincehoseok @luunarr0 @dinomecanico @missadangel @alrihhty @pasc4lfuzz @materialgirl-97 @harrycherrylove @canteenee4 @bensonispunk @locaparapedrito

@melsunshine @goodvibesonly421

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uceyliyahh · 17 hours ago

Text

MOON BOUND

summary: Kholë finds herself in an arranged marriage by her father after signing a contract, the more her and Jimmy hated each other the more they would fall for each other.

this fanfic is 18+ NO MINORS ALLOWED

smut warning: it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good a writing ✍🏽 smuts but I am improving at the moment.

word count: 5.7k

Jimmy Uso x Khole

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

again mdni you have been warned.

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️@pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign @prettyfilmz @bookuce @bloodlineslut

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic

@charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @justazzi @xbriexx @luvrsluxe @celesteheartsjey @4milly @luuvprincess @yyaktayak @yana3sworld @theusotwinzcom @hoisucooll @sheaabuttaababyy @formulafortyfour @fafomama @spiicii @zillasvilla

𝓣𝔀𝓸

𝕺𝖒𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖙 🤍

Kholë sat in the school cafeteria, enjoying her lunch before her final class of the day. Her mind, however, was preoccupied with the events of the previous night with Jimmy—the way their lips met and their tongues danced together left a lingering impression on her. She knew she needed to push that memory aside to avoid getting her hopes up about what he might offer her.

While enjoying her lunch, she noticed a text from her best friend Bianca, and a smile spread across her face as she read the message.

Binky💗 sent a message

Binky💗: have you been avoiding that man?

She chuckle messaging her back

Klo🩵: yes I have I only said good morning to his brother and mother completely ignoring him he was stunned

Binky💗: PLEASE Joshua was telling me about it at work today how you left Jimmy stunned for ignoring him

Klo🩵: I don’t need my feelings hurt or played with like some toy yk? Like worry about Trinity the women you love sooo much 😭 girl did I tell you I heard them fucking last night?

Binky💗: omg hello? Did you at least block the noise?

Klo🩵: yeah I did 😭😭

Binky💗: that’s good you finna be in your last class for today?

Klo🩵: yeah then after that I head back over there my new home I guess why?

Binky💗: I was thinking about heading to the club tonight but I know you’re focusing on school and stuff

Klo🩵: girl that don’t mean I can’t party!

Binky💗: you’re fucking funny 😭 but you want me to come get you or hubby is going to take you?

Klo🩵: ew don’t ever say that again okay? And he’s not gonna know anyways I’m not going to tell him where I’m going unless he force it out of me but you can come get me ion feel like driving there

Binky💗: alrighty girl I’ll come get you around eight tonight okay?

Klo🩵: kk bestie see you then

Binky💗: kk

Kholë glanced at her phone, realizing it was time to make her way to her final class of the day. As she tidied up the clutter on her table, tossing the remnants into the trash, she noticed someone approaching her. He was tall, sporting long dreadlocks, and wore a charming smile that brightened his face.

“Excuse me.” He said as Kholë looked up at him.

“Yes?”

“I couldn’t help but to see a pretty girl like yourself all alone.” She smiled at him. “Oh I was just heading to my last class for today before heading home.” The home that she really didn’t want to go to due to her being married.

“What class are you taking? I can walk you down there.”

“Child development room 230.”

“Actually we are right next to each other—let’s walk together.” Kholë gave a nod as she and he started walking side by side to their final class together.

As they engaged in conversation about their classes, they also took the opportunity to learn more about one another. Meanwhile, she felt an unsettling presence, as if someone was attempting to delve into her thoughts or convey a hidden message.

“Kholë get away from him.”

She attempted to shut out anyone attempting to engage her in conversation. It almost seemed like Jey was trying to reach out to her, despite her not being a werewolf, while she continued her dialogue with the guy.

“Kholë it’s Joshua, I’m telling you to get away from him he’s dangerous.”

What the fuck?

She gazed at the guy who was chatting with her, distracted by the fact that his teeth appeared sharper than hers. Once they arrived at her class, they embraced, and he inhaled her fragrance before stepping back.

“I’ll see you around Kholë.” Trick said softly before going inside of his classroom that was next to hers.

She entered her classroom and took a seat at the back, struggling to comprehend the recent events and the strange way Jey was connecting with her mentally. She felt different from the others.

There it was again someone trying to communicate with her through her mind.

“Kholë be careful driving home aight? I’ll be watching over you.”

At least Jey cares about her wellbeing or whatever the fuck was going on right now she will soon find out about it later on.

As Kholë finished her class, she gathered her belongings and retrieved her keys from her purse. Stepping out the door, she glanced around cautiously, ensuring that Trick or any unfriendly faces weren’t keeping an eye on her.

She suddenly heard footsteps approaching from behind, realizing it was Trick trailing her as she exited. A wave of unease washed over her, prompting her to quicken her pace in an effort to stay ahead of him.

Her heart pounded wildly as she reached her car, quickly unlocking the door and jumping inside. She slammed the door shut just in time, having spotted him attempting to open it. With urgency, she inserted her keys into the ignition, started the engine, and secured her seatbelt, all in one swift motion.

“Drive Kholë Now.”

As she drove out of the parking lot, following Jey's directions, she left Trick behind. Uncertain about what was happening or why he appeared threatening, she resolved to uncover the truth once she reached home.

Upon arriving home, she spotted Jey, Zilla, and Jimmy waiting for her in the driveway. As she stepped out of the car, she noticed Trick dashing toward her with incredible speed. Just then, Jimmy wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close as she looked up into his eyes.

“Trick you ain’t welcome over here dawg, so get the fuck on.” Jey warned him.

“C’mon boys, I just wanted to have a little taste of shawty. She smelt so good.” Trick replied while licking his lips.

“You ain’t tasting shit, so fuck off you’re trespassing the treaty rules.” Treaty rules? Is he not supposed to be here?

Trick cast one final glance at Kholë, offering her a smile as he departed. Meanwhile, Kholë dismounted from Jimmy and made her way into the house, attempting to process everything that had just unfolded.

She was filled with questions but hesitated to voice them. Instead, she planned to discuss everything with Bianca later that night before heading to the club together—fingers crossed that Jimmy would be asleep by then, allowing her to steer clear of him.

She took a drink from the fridge, pretending that the recent events hadn’t affected her, even though she was fully aware that they had. She chose to keep her feelings to herself.

“You good Kholë?” Jey asked.

“Yeah, I’m good.” She replied with a smile on her face.

“You sure? You don’t have to lie about it.” Kholë gave a slight nod to indicate that she was fine and planned to relax upstairs. With that, she ascended the stairs, making her way to her bedroom and closing the door softly behind her.

Jey and Zilla looked at each other.

“She’s lying, I could tell by her body language.”

“Yeah, especially when she’s around Jim it’s like she’s trying to avoid him or us as well.”

Jimmy had looked at Jey and Zilla joining in the conversation.

“What are yall talking about?”

“Kholë”

“Why? Is something wrong?”

They looked at each other again.

“Nah, she’s fine, that's all.”

“Mhm.”

Jey and Zilla understood the importance of keeping Kholë's emotions hidden from Jimmy, allowing her to steer clear of him and not disrupt his relationship with his girlfriend. To Jimmy, this marriage held little significance compared to Kholë's feelings. Jey had listened to her thoughts the previous night, and today he felt a deep sense of sympathy for her. However, he took solace in the fact that he could provide her with some comfort.

Kholë had just stepped out of the shower, a towel snugly wrapped around her as she settled onto her bed, allowing her skin to air dry. Her mind wandered back to the events that had unfolded just moments before.

It was as if she had stepped into a scene from a twilight film when that moment unfolded. A whirlwind of questions swirled in her mind about the earlier conversation—what agreement had been made against him, and why was he not accepted in this place?

A knock on the door broke her train of thought, and she looked up to see Jey—her favorite person—entering the room with his arms crossed.

“You know you should shut your mind off sometimes, Klo.” Jey said softly as she chuckled at him.

“I’m sorry I’m just an overthinker that’s all, I try to keep them closed off to avoid your brother.” She replied.

“I understand, I know you have a lot of questions about what happened so I’ll just tell you class in session!” Kholë chuckled at him as she had seen him taking a seat next to her.

Jey starts to clarify the agreement they have with the vampires—vampires? She was completely unaware of their presence here. This treaty, established ages ago, allows the vampires to remain in their designated territory while they seek out blood, ensuring that the werewolves can also inhabit their own space without any clashes between the two groups.

Should one party violate the treaty by encroaching on the other's territory, it could ignite a full-blown war between them. The only scenario in which they might unite is in the face of a significant threat, prompting them to collaborate.

He warned her that Trick was not someone she should associate with, referencing some troubling actions he had taken years earlier to join the vampire pack, though he chose not to elaborate on the specifics.

“That’s why I had to communicate with you through your mind because if you would’ve befriended him it would’ve been bad.” He said.

“I understand, Bianca didn’t tell me all of this.”

“Bianca is yo’ best friend?”

“Yeah, since we were like seven years old basically.”

He seemed shocked hearing that from her, “damn I didn’t know that I didn’t know she was talking about you at work.”

“Mhm, little old me but I need to put some clothes on if you don’t mind Joshua.” He gave a slight nod as he rose from the bed and made his way to the door, closing it softly behind him while Kholë started to change into something more comfortable.

She gained extensive knowledge about werewolves and vampires, but now it felt as though she had a bullseye on her back. With Trick aware of her location and the classroom she frequents, she needed to remain vigilant and constantly assess her surroundings.

Kholë completed her preparations and glanced at her phone, noting that it was nearly eight o'clock. She picked up her purse and house keys, making her way toward the door. As she stepped into the hallway, she noticed the TV was on downstairs. Curiosity piqued, she tiptoed down the stairs and peeked into the living room, where she spotted Jimmy engrossed in a show.

Shit—All that occupied her mind was the thought, and he caught wind of it, a smirk curling on his lips as he sipped his beer. Kholë had composed herself, donning a mask of bravery as she descended the stairs with assurance, deliberately avoiding his gaze as she entered the kitchen adjoining the living room.

He glanced over to check out her outfit, and wow, she was in a completely white ensemble that left little to the imagination, accentuating her curves. To top it off, she was perched on the counter, bent over, engrossed in her phone, her thumbs flying across the screen.

He finished the last gulp of his beer and set the glass down on the table before he began to speak.

“Where you goin?” Jimmy asked.

“I’m just going out with my best friend Bianca, I’ll make sure I’ll be back home if you care or not.” She responded.

He was startled by her words, his brow furrowing as he thought, What the hell? I actually care about you. Watching her lean over the counter stirred something within him.

“You wanna fix your posture?”

She looked at how she was standing only forming a playful smile on her face, “what I’m just bent over does that bother you?”

“Yeah it does.”

“Come fix it then.” He leaped over the couch without a moment's pause, moving swiftly in her direction. As he positioned himself behind her, he grasped her hips, drawing her nearer until their bodies were flush against one another, their faces mere inches apart. His hand encircled her throat, adding an intensity to the moment.

Their eyes locked, hers reflecting the warmth of his chocolate brown gaze as he held her stare.

“Don’t provoke me.” His voice became low and gravelly.

“Or what?—what’chu finna do about it?” He gently held her face, pressing his lips against hers as they dove into a passionate kiss. It was a slow, intense embrace that had a raw edge to it, and she found herself enjoying every moment.

Their tongues intertwined playfully while she sensed his firm arousal pressing against her backside. She hadn’t anticipated finding herself in this situation with him once more tonight—this was precisely what she had been trying to steer clear of.

He kisses her lips gently several times before they part, both gazing at her blushing face, which makes him chuckle. He truly admires her from head to toe, savoring the moment as he licks his lips.

“Make sure, you come home you hear me.” Jimmy says as he places a kiss on her forehead.

Kholë acknowledged the notification on her phone that indicated Bianca had arrived to pick her up. She quickly snatched her purse and keys, stepping out the door with the awareness that Jimmy was observing her. The moment she left the house, he started communicating telepathically with his twin and cousin.

“We need to keep an eye on Kholë tonight.”

“Where is she going?”

“Out with Bianca tonight we need to keep an eye on her just in case Trick shows up—he knows her scent very well.”

“Looks like someone cares for Kholë”

“Shut the fuck up and let’s go.”

Jimmy slipped on his shoes, snatched his car keys, and made his way to the door.

Kholë and Bianca were having a blast at the club, dancing closely and enjoying a few drinks together. Kholë preferred to keep her drinking in check, so she only had a couple of shots to feel a little tipsy.

While they twirled together on the dance floor, Bianca leaned in and mentioned that she needed to step away for a moment to use the restroom. Kholë nodded in understanding and kept dancing solo, lost in her own rhythm.

As she completed her movement, a hand rested on her waist, releasing a familiar fragrance that engulfed her senses like a raging fire. Turning around, she was met with Trick's smirking face—the very same guy from her college, now dancing with her.

Her heart raced wildly, desperate to escape his hold, yet he effortlessly drew her back against his chest—his tongue teasing her earlobes, sending delightful shivers coursing down her spine.

“Well, well. What do we have here hm?” Trick said softly.

“P-please don’t hurt me.” She begged.

“I won’t hurt you princess just keep doing your thing on me, I wanna see how long it takes for your husband to come save you from me.” Unaware that Trick was lurking behind her, she kept up her game of make-believe, convinced that Jimmy wouldn’t show up at all. She thought he was indifferent to her plight, leaving her to face the threat of this damn vampire alone.

While she danced, her body moving in sync with his as his hands rested on her hips, she sensed someone attempting to reach out to her amidst the music playing in the background.

“Klo, get the fuck off of him.”

It was Jimmy attempting to reach her mentally, similar to how Jey had done earlier that day. She informed Trick that she needed to locate her best friend to ensure her safety. After accomplishing that, she successfully escaped from him, prompting Trick to notice and pursue her.

Fear gripped her as she worried for her safety, praying that this wouldn’t lead to any turmoil within the family, especially as she felt Jimmy’s presence drawing near once more.

“Go outside, we got Bianca.”

She dashed out the door, carefully scanning her surroundings after noticing two cars arrive in the parking lot. It was Jey and Zilla, with Jimmy emerging from their vehicles, as she hurried over to join Jey and Zilla.

Trick emerged from the shadows, his fangs glistening as he surveyed the surroundings for Kholë. Upon spotting her with the others, a sly smirk crept across his face.

“Again? C’mon we were just having fun.” Trick says.

“Get goin Trick, we ain’t finna play with yo’ ass.” Zilla spat.

“I mean she does have a nice body and that outfit just caught my attention—I’m surprised to see her husband is here didn’t think he would come to rescue her when he’s at home fucking his girlfriend.” At that moment, Jimmy felt the urge to charge at him and land a solid punch right in his face, but Jey intervened just in time to prevent him from doing so.

Jey shook his head while giving Trick a death stare, “leave Trick before things get ugly around here.” With that Trick threw his hands up, surrendering as he blew a kiss towards Kholë before leaving off in the distance.

Kholë's mind was consumed by thoughts of Bianca, especially after spotting her slumped in the back seat of the car. Just as she was about to speak, she felt Jimmy tugging at her arm, leading her toward his vehicle. He appeared quite upset with her, but she couldn't understand why.

“What the fuck is yo’ problem Klo?” Jimmy asked.

“My problem? I don’t have a fucking problem.” She replied.

He raised an eyebrow at her, “oh so you dancing on a fucking vampire wasn’t the fucking problem Klo?” She scoffed, not understanding why he was so triggered by this when this marriage didn’t mean anything to him. “Why do you care? Aren’t you the same nigga that said that this marriage didn’t mean anything?”

“When it comes to your safety I have to protect you Klo that’s my job.” His responsibility—his damn responsibility—was to keep her safe. But what about loving her in the same way he loved his girlfriend?

“Yeah, your fucking job—actually I don’t know why we are even speaking to each other.” Kholë struggled to break free from his hold, but he pressed her against his car, growing increasingly irritated by her sharp comments.

He was staring into her eyes intensely, “fucking relax with this damn attitude Mama.”

“No im not because don’t fucking stand there and pretend like you fucking care because you don’t Jon.” He was surprised to witness this emotional side of her, revealing feelings she had suppressed to maintain her composure.

He held onto her waist with both of his hands, “I do care about you Klo.”

“Actions speak louder than words Jon take me home I’m done talking to you about this.” She pushed him off of her until he pinned her again but this time with more force. “Watch it Klo why do you have to be this difficult? I don’t have to deal with this with Trinity.” He drew a comparison between her and his girlfriend, which struck a nerve. She realized that her past relationship was being measured against someone challenging, a standard she never intended to embody.

She nodded her head while chuckling, “you know what I fucking hate you.”

“What? Say that again?”

“You heard me nigga, I fucking hate you I don’t mean to be difficult because I don’t need my feelings to be played with but unlike you—you don’t care comparing me to your girlfriend is crazy.”

A stirring sensation welled up inside him at her words, igniting a spark of desire he hadn't anticipated.

“Say it again.”

“I fucking hate you bitch ass nigga what more do you want me to say you fucking piece of shit.” Jey and Zilla kept a close watch on their dynamic, exchanging glances as they connected through their minds.

“You see this shit?”

“Yeah, he finna shut her up in a few seconds.”

“Let’s just see how this will unfold.”

Jimmy leaned in, their noses nearly touching, while his hands remained firmly on her waist. “mhm say that shit again mama.”

“Get away from me I’m not doing this with you anymore I fucking hate you so much Jon I fucking hat—“ In that moment, he seized her by the throat, pressing his lips against hers as they lost themselves in a fervent kiss, silencing her instantly.

The kiss unfolded slowly and deliberately as he drew her closer, deepening their connection with his tongue exploring her mouth. Despite her attempts to resist, he skillfully intertwined his fingers with hers, holding her firmly against his car.

“You hate me baby?” He murmured between the kiss as his hands were roaming around her body.

“I-I do…I fucking hate you..so much…” her voice barely rising above a whisper, mingled with a soft moan.

He gently grasped both of her curves, trailing his lips along her jawline as he felt her shiver beneath his caress.

“you saying you hate me but I got yo’ ass in chokehold…tell me you hate me…say it..”

It felt like she was losing her mind with him touching on her like this.

“J-Jimmy….wait…fuck…”

He positioned her exactly where he wanted, successfully opening the car door and guiding her into the backseat while casting a glance at his twin brother and Zilla.

“Go ahead and take Bianca home. I'm finna handle her and take us home.”

“A’ight then c’mon Zilla.”

Jimmy forcefully closed the door behind him, pulling her onto his lap as she straddled him, her arms encircling his neck while he showered kisses along her neck.

“You gon’ act right when I’m done.”

“Fuck you like I just hate yo’ ass so much…fuck.”

“Mhm, keep saying it imma fuck you.”

In that moment, her eyes grew wide at his words, unaware that she was still a virgin. Gently, she pushed him away and said, “Please take us home.” He noticed a complete shift in her demeanor as she rose from his lap, making her way to the passenger seat. Once settled in, she fastened her seatbelt, ready for him to drive them home.

He approached the driver's seat, inserted the keys into the ignition, and started the engine. As he backed the car out, he stole a quick glance at her, but she didn’t look his way. Shifting into drive, he navigated the road home.

Kholë sat alone in her room, distancing herself from everyone as she attempted to shut out the memories of the night she had just experienced with Jimmy. He was as captivating and perilous as Bianca had warned her he would be.

The way he kissed her to silence her ignited a fire within her, even though she was a virgin and unaware of the depths she was diving into with him—his experience far surpassed her own. The mere thought of being near him in this way filled her with a mix of excitement and fear.

Particularly when he drew comparisons between her and his girlfriend, it struck a nerve with her, even though he was completely unaware of the impact. She never intended to react this way; all she desired was a bit of his attention. However, it was clear that his affections were directed more towards his girlfriend, leaving her to grapple with the painful realization that their marriage held little significance for him.

She heard a knock at the door just as Jey peeked his head in, but she didn’t notice him since her back was turned.

“Hey, we all wanted to watch a movie together if you were down.” Jey said softly.

Kholë brushed away the tears streaming down her cheeks while gazing at Jey, who stood patiently awaiting her response.

“Sure I don’t mind.” She replied softly while sniffing her nose as she got up from the bed.

Jey caught the sound of a sniffle, suspecting that she had been in tears. He noticed how her energy transformed into a strained smile, as if to prevent anyone from probing into her troubles.

“Kholë you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He reassured her.

“It’s fine Joshua let’s go.” As she swept by him and made her way downstairs, she noticed the living room was shrouded in darkness, save for the glow of the stove light. Jey trailed closely behind her, and all eyes were on them as they descended the steps, including Jimmy, who was nestled comfortably with Trinity.

She plastered a phony smile across her face as she picked up the blanket and pillow beside her, preparing to settle onto the couch to enjoy the movie.

Jimmy observed her closely, noticing how her energy could change from vibrant to somber in an instant. He sensed that something was amiss, particularly in light of their recent encounter.

“How about we choose Kholë to pick out the movie for tonight.” Mama Talisua said.

“No no it’s fine you guys can pick whatever.” She replied.

“Please you’re part of the family now honey,” Kholë grabbed the remote from her hands as she began picking out a movie for them to watch, “y’all like scary movies?”

Everyone nodded in agreement as she selected a horror film for their viewing pleasure, choosing "It's What Inside," which had just been added to Netflix. Since none of them had seen it before, excitement filled the air. She set the remote down on the glass table and made her way back to the couch, cozying up by herself under a warm blanket.

While the film flickered on the television, Kholë caught sight of Jimmy stealing occasional glances her way. However, she chose to overlook it, as it held little significance for her—especially when he should be more concerned about his girlfriend clinging to him.

He decided to mind-link with his twin to get some information.

“Yo’ do you know what’s wrong with Klo?”

Jey had made eye contact with his twin.

“She hasn’t said anything to me since y’all came back.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah? It seems like to me you starting to care about her.”

“No I don’t.”

“If you didn’t you wouldn’t be asking me what’s wrong with her in the first place dummy.”

Jimmy looked at his twin brother giving him a stank face while rolling his eyes.

“Just go talk to her for a second just to see where her mind is at. It's not that hard Uce.”

Jimmy stared down at Kholë who was watching a movie not even looking his way—so he tried to get through to her by her thoughts.

“Mamas come holla at me for a min.”

She attempted to shut out whatever he was trying to communicate, knowing she didn’t want to be near him after admitting her hatred for him—but he wasn’t about to let her slip away.

“Just for a second please.” She cast a glance at him, letting out a deep sigh and rolling her eyes. Grabbing the blanket, she made her way to a spare room, seeking some privacy, while he assured Trinity that he would return shortly.

She settled onto the bed, the blanket cocooning her as she watched him enter the spare room, closing the door softly behind him. He paused in front of her, and she averted her gaze, enveloped by the stillness that filled the room.

He settled beside her on the bed, leaning in close in hopes of catching a glimpse of her smile—she recognized that he was merely putting on an act to pry some information from her.

“What did you want to talk about?” She asked.

“You.” He replied.

She sighed softly—here he goes again. “What about me Jonathan?”

“Why you actin’ like this? Ever since we came back home you’ve been actin funny.”

“You don’t care so it shouldn’t matter what’s going on with me—look just head back to Trinity I don’t need her trippin’” Just as she was preparing to rise from the bed, he gently tugged her back onto his lap, holding her there.

“You not finna keep runnin’ away from me Klo.”

She gazed down at him as he looked up, studying her face intently and observing the signs of her tears, evident in her swollen, red eyes.

“I’m not running from nothing, don't act like you know me.”

He scoffed at her comment, “ I know you enough that you’re very stubborn and need to stop actin like brat.”

“I’m not acting like a brat, I just don’t wanna be near you.”

“Why baby?” His voice lowered several octaves as he spoke.

Kholë rolled her eyes at him, “don’t do that Jimmy.”

“Do what mama?”

“Talk to me like this…” A sense of unease washed over her as she rubbed her thighs together, a habit that surfaced whenever she felt a peculiar sensation in that intimate area. There was something about him and his deep voice that stirred emotions within her, leaving her unable to articulate the effect he had on her. “Talk to you like what? I’m just talking to you baby.”

She didn’t like the fact that he had this effect on her.

“Stop it Jimmy…are we here to talk or not? We are missing half of the movie.” Kholë said as Jimmy smacked his teeth at her.

“Fuck that movie it’s just me and you, I’m tryna see what’s wrong with you.”

“What you said earlier was uncalled for and it triggered me.” Suddenly, it happened—she finally found the words to express what had been troubling her all along.

“Maybe if you didn’t act like a brat I wouldn’t have said it.” Once again, he tossed out that brat word, clearly aiming to provoke her. However, she maintained her calm, determined not to lose her cool in front of his family.

“I'm not a brat.”

“You’re a brat even if you don’t admit to being one.” Kholë let out a heavy sigh, realizing that their discussion was at a standstill. She stood up from his lap, taking her blanket with her, but as she turned to leave, she felt him pull her back, along with the blanket.

He pressed her gently onto the bed, intertwining his fingers with hers as he positioned himself between her legs, his gaze locked onto her captivating hazel eyes.

“Where you goin?” He questioned her.

“I’m leaving Jimmy, this conversation isn’t going anywhere. I wasted my time talking with you.” Kholë responded, attempting to shove him aside, fully aware of his superior strength.

“We ain’t done though mama.”

“Jimmy please this conversation is done there’s nothing much to say.” Jimmy appreciated her appearance at that moment, with her positioned beneath him, allowing him to admire her beautiful face more closely. “You look pretty all worked up over me.”

She scoffed, “don’t flatter yourself Mr Fatu.” He leaned closer, pressing a soft, damp kiss against her neck, making her gasp at the unexpected sensation.

“You talk shit but I be having you like this.” Jimmy plants another kiss on her neck.

“I-it was just a sudden reaction.” Her words faltered as she met his intense gaze, a wave of nervousness washing over her. “Nah, you do this all the time when I kiss you on your neck especially when you wrap your arms around my neck yearning for sum more.”

How is it that he can understand her so effortlessly? Deep down, he realizes that she appreciates his warmth, yet he reserves that tenderness for Trinity.

“Do I need to remind you? That this right here doesn’t mean anything to you? Stop toying with me and leave me alone.”

He was completely absorbed in the moment, his lips trailing kisses along her neck as he observed her yield to his caress. In an instant, she fell silent, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck. “I fucking hate you Jimmy…”

“Mhm, I know you do, mama. You can’t avoid me forever.”

“I will and I can, I don't matter to you…” He halted in his tracks, captivated by her gaze as she uttered those words. It was he who had insisted that their marriage lacked meaning, claiming he was only helping her father.

“What? Cat got yo’ tongue? If this conversation is over with, I'll be heading out.” She shoved him away and quickly grabbed her blanket, making her way to the door. But before she could escape, he seized her by the throat, catching her off guard and pulling her face nearer to his.

“You’re such a fucking brat Kholë.”

She smirked at him seeing him all worked up, “and you’re just a bitch ass nigga” He lifted her by the thighs, carrying her back to the bed. As he pinned her down, her legs encircled his waist. He tugged her shirt upward, revealing her breasts, and began to kiss and suck on them.

A side of him she had never encountered emerged, his frustration evident due to her mischievous behavior. She let out a quiet moan as she tugged at his hair, pulling him away.

“I’m a bitch Kholë?” Jimmy says

“Yeah, you most definitely are a little bitch. You can’t handle me, that's why you got her.” Kholë responded.

Just as he was about to proceed, a knock on the door interrupted them, bringing their actions to a standstill.

“Uce! Y’all good in there?” Jey asked behind the door.

“Yeah, we're good , we'll be out in a few minutes.” Jimmy shot Kholë a fierce glare, but she merely smiled at him with feigned innocence, as if she hadn’t just riled him up and provoked him moments earlier.

Kholë adjusted her outfit and hair while he mirrored her actions, wrapping his arms around her waist and planting a gentle kiss on her lips. He continued to shower her with kisses, determined not to let her escape so easily after the events of the night.

“This ain’t over Klo.”

“Oh it is over Jimmy.”

MOON BOUND

uceyjucey, biancabelairwwe, jonathanfatu, and others liked your post.

kholëbabes: a nigga can’t handle me💋😘

uceyjucey: oh? @ jonathanfatu

biancabelairwwe: perioddd tell em again bestie

kholëbabes: @ biancabelairwwe A NIGGA CANT HANDLE ME

jonathanfatu: you tryna be fucking funny huh Klo?

kholëbabes: @ jonathanfatu don’t know whatchu mean sir

jonathanfatu: @ kholëbabes keep fucking playing with me Klo

read all comments.

a/n: welllll things are getting spicy between the two don’t yall love toxic shit 🫠 anyways what do yall think will happen between Kholë and Jimmy?

but I hope yall enjoy this chapter lmk in the comments below ⬇️

STAY UCEY

#black fanfic writer #black writers #black oc #wwelove #black reader #jimmy x black oc #jimmy uso smut #jimmy uso fanfiction #jimmy uso #Spotify

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