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earlgreylatte · 3 days ago

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Returnee

(Justice League Various x Reader) After centuries of surviving in a world without another human in sight, you return and find the heroes you once admired to be the only interesting things around, besides beating the shit out of monsters, of course.

Implied sexual content ahead, minors DNI.

You would describe yourself to be the pinnacle of mediocrity, your life consisting of drowning in course readings and dealing with people’s bullshit in your customer service job. You existed. You may not have been wholly content, but you got by.

And, sure you, like millions of other desolate young adults, had fantasies of escapism, being strong, being someone special. But you ultimately knew your place. You were no hero; no alien or chosen human that could answer to a greater calling. You were just you, average in every way. So unlike the heroes and villains that occupy your world. You’ll never make an impact that’ll even come close to the likes of them.

The only thing you can hope to do is try to make your parent’s suffering of starting a life here worth it. That all the money and work invested in you would have some sort of pay off. Even if it means you had to traverse a path you’re still uncertain about.

You knew your limits, and maybe that rigid acceptance is what led to your own self destruction.

You find yourself in a desolate world void of humans but occupied with beasts unlike anything you have ever seen before, with sharpened talons and razored blades for teeth. No matter how much you cry and scream you do not wake up. The only communication you get comes in the form of ‘tabs’ that resemble something out of a video game. It’s gives you quests to adhere, reminders to keep things interesting, notifications you’re being watched by deities that watch your struggle like a show to tune into. Every moment, no matter how humiliating, is spectated.

You want nothing more to return to the life you had, answer the messages you never got the chance to respond to, try the things you never got to even attempt. You curse your inaction, your own spoiled thoughts from a lifetime ago, your parents for even giving birth to you if this is the reality you have to face.

Your survival hangs on a thread at first, you only being able to run away from the larger beasts. Eventually your tears dry, you fight back against the ones smaller than you. These Outergods sponsor you with a game like currency. You level up. You acquire gear better than a makeshift bone shiv. You consume. You sleep. And you do it all over again for the next couple centuries in this world. You do not age, but you grow taller, strengthened by the creatures you slaughter. Eventually, you don’t need a blade to slay them anymore. Then the beasts try to avoid you. You still kill them. They’re never ending. The least they can do is give you something to do in their infinity.

You stop feeling fear, sadness, indignation, and even hatred. You exist. You somewhat remember the life and name you had before. You don’t really feel one way about it or the other. Your family, obligations, and old identity are all null and void to you now.

Clearly your spectators grow bored as they send you back to the world you once called yours. Apparently barely a year has passed since you were taken, even if you might be the oldest human to walk Earth now.

For the first time in a long time, you’re struck with uncertainty. A world that isn’t stuck in time, one loud with the presence of people, and yet you feel no relief or sanctity in the safety of your old home. No, you’re struck with how just like in that beast world, you’re still horrifically, agonizingly bored.

Until you notice a hoard of androids terrorize the street. You can feel the blood thrumming in your veins, and you realize with renewed vigour that it wasn’t bloodshed that you had yearned for, but the thrill of battle, not knowing if you’ll live, and putting everything you had left on the line after abandoning the softness that once defined your modern life.

And so you fought. You were barely grazed with a laser, but you could appreciate the adrenaline rushing through your body, the uncertainty of a new adversary. You paid little mind to the screaming civilians trying to evacuate the streets, all you cared about was tearing about these metal beings before they could even try to do the same to you.

You’re broken from the euphoria of battle when you feel a whoosh of air behind you, and a dozen androids deactivate before you.

“Hey there, don’t think I’ve ever seen you around,” what appeared to be living electrical energy clad in crimson spoke to you, in a tone you could almost recognize as friendly. “Not that I mind the help! I’m always happy to meet—!”

You can feel your pupils dilate as every inch of your body screams that this man is dangerous. Powerful. Different from the fodder you faced before.

“—so, what do you go by?”

Summoning your broad sword, you swiftly slam it into the ground below, watching the man get tossed back by its force as the concrete crumbles beneath him.

You toss your sword to where he lands, but he quickly recovers and disappears before reappearing before you.

“Woah, what are you—“ you interrupt him by throwing a punch but he dodges again, “Can we talk about this sudden aggression—!?”

Tiring of his evasion, you recall your sword and prepare to strike the ground again before pausing as a sudden rush of memories strikes you.

“Ah,” you hum, before stretching out your hand, halting the approaching speedster that stares at you confused. “You’re that one hero…Bolt, or whatever. Speed guy.”

Yes, a hero. Not a warrior. Not a survivor. And certainly not a killer. You feel the apathy rush back as you stare at him. No, you wouldn’t get a real fight out of him. He’d sooner try to subdue you. Non-lethally. Honestly, he was way too nice.

“Flash? I mean, I’m the Flash, hero of the city you’re in!” The speedster fumbles for a second, starting at you in puzzlement.

“Yeah, let’s just call it here.” You sigh before walking away. You definitely forgot heroes were a thing for a second. And takeout.

You’re stopped in your tracks when Flash blocks your path.

“Woah there, you can’t just leave!” He protests.

“Why not?”

“You took down like hundreds of androids, attacked me, and-and you haven’t even introduced yourself!”

“Hmm, I think I forgot my name,” you reply, bring a hand up to your chin in mock contemplation.

“What-?”

“Do you want to have sex with me or something?” You ask. “Because you’re being a bit clingy, man.”

The hero states at you with his mouth agape, and you can see the red flush growing around his cowl.

“I get it, it’s pretty easy for arousal to mix with thrill in battle. I won’t say I’m not attracted to you, but I’ve got things to do, people to fight, and I doubt I can get what I need from you,” you explain nonchalantly. “But hey, keep your head up, man. There’s some charm in being the fastest man alive. I’d test it under different circumstances, really.”

You back away as Flash remains still as a statue, exposed skin now matching his suit as he blankly watched you leave.

“What just happened…?”

Honestly you don't have anything against heroes. You pity them, really. They remind you of your own inexperience once upon a time, fighting against the inevitable. But you can't deny that there are some with years beyond even yours, continuing to fight in their crusade.

Some more interesting than others.

Hawkgirl, who you recall to have been a member of the Justice Society of America, was someone that made you look like a babe in comparison to the lifetimes held in that strong body. Good fighter too. You're almost disappointed your battle was interrupted by another invasion and she apparently found you to be an ally rather than an opponent after that. You just wanted to see if those aliens were worth a damn.

Wonder Woman also stood out for the same reason, encountering her when you arrived at Themyscira for a duel with their strongest. And boy did she deliver. But sadly you could see that she adopted a non-lethal style, fighting only till first blood rather than to the death.

At least their bathhouse was luxurious even if it was communal. Diana said that it was for bonding. You think she was totally checking you out.

You could say that you were becoming increasingly familiar with the growing Justice League, encountering its members every so often.

You didn't pick a fight, aware it would be more trouble than it was worth. You doubt you'd be too satisfied either.

So when you find yourself encountering the Bat in Gotham after subduing Clayface, you're not surprised.

You're also not surprised when he recites your name and missing status.

He drones on about the circumstances of your disappearance, your return as a much stronger (and hotter) individual, and your dubious intentions.

You throw you sword at him, and he ducks out of the way, throwing you a glare just as sharp as your blade.

You explain that he's not a great speaker, and he should invest in some interpersonal communication courses. And that's coming from you. You then add you'll leave after you try the recently opened batburger.

He gives you a ride in his Batmobile.

Superman was a bit of an irritating figure. A boy scout, despite his godlike abilities. Staring at him, you wonder how much kinetic force it would take to burst the blood vessels beneath that impenetrable skin.

"We would really like for you to visit the Watchtower! We understand if you may not want to commit to being a full time member, so if we could call on you—!"

He pauses when you outstretch your hand and stare at him with a raised eyebrow. He places his hand in yours, almost as if it was instinct, blushing when you brush your thumb across his skin.

You hum in thought before departing.

"Uh, wait! Was that a yes!?"

You're pretty sure you're about to bed Green Lantern. You had come to Coast City, curious to see if any disasters would occur to alleviate your boredom, but had instead ran into a man with swoopy hair and an nice aviator jacket in a bar. He was pleasant. He seemed charmed by your Superman/Lex Luthor conspiracy theories. And he talked about flying with a passion unfamiliar to you.

So when you ended up at his place, back against his door as he kissed and nipped at your neck, you pulled him back by his brown hair to look at you.

"I'm a virgin, by the way."

He stares at you incredulously with a touch of concern. "Are you sure this is how you want your first time to go? We don't have to do this."

You doubt you'll get a fight out of him. He'd probably just trap you in a construct, but there are other ways for you to get physical.

...and you needed the experience for the next time an Amazonian propositions you.

"I like you well enough. And I've waited a long time to actually do something like this," you reply, still playing with his hair.

"You really want to do this with an older guy?"

You laugh, "I'm definitely the older one here."

His lip twitches as he shoots you an amused look, "And I'm Batman."

"Do you really want to talk about him before we-?”

The lantern silences you with another hot kiss that you grin into.

Yes, this Justice League certainly made things interesting, even if some of them were obnoxious do-gooders.

Hal: So, what's your name?

Returnee, with jumbled memories: Demonic Blade of Slaughter

Hal:

Returnee: Do you want to have sex?

Returnee: So, yeah, I was trapped in a monster world for presumably centuries with these outer world gods being the only other sentient beings and they only made contact via stream chat donations. And the only thing that even elicits any emotional or physiological response in me is violence.

Batman, internally dying:

Returnee: Don't worry, I don't fight street tiers like you.

Diana: It's been a while since l've last had such an invigorating bout, I would love to spend more time testing how far we can push each other to... our limits.

Returnee, who spent the last centuries off Earth as a virgin: I hear the glory of battle calling, must be off, let's fight again soon!

Outergods: Okay, so the human has definitely cleared this world, so how about we return this bloody thirsty heathen back to their original world and see what entertainment we find in the chaos—!

Outergods: Okay, so they're just having sex with all these superpowered individuals. And is that—-Oh my god, is that Constantine!?

Outergods: Yeah, no, this is hot, I'm donating 10k coins for that.

Clearing out my drafts! I really love the whole system in ORV and I found the returnee concept so interesting. Masterlist

#dc x reader #dc imagine #green lantern x reader #hal jordan x reader #barry allen x reader #flash x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #wonder woman x reader #diana prince x reader #superman x reader #clark kent x reader #hawkgirl x reader #kendra saunders #orv #justice league x reader #Justice league imagine #gender neutral reader #various x reader

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yourcutelittlegayfriend · 2 days ago

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✧✦✧ Chapter 4 ✧✦✧

Oh Love, Why can't I See You?

Yandere Platonic Bat Family x Neglected Regressing GN Reader

Warning this part contains: Blood, Biting, Fighting&Yelling, Batman beating the shit out of people and Joker, almost drowning, usage of Lazarus pit and Mental breakdown.

Notes: Bruce's POV HA! I hope I did him justice and not too OOC, I notice a lack of actual Yandere themes on this fic from the family so I started with the patriach first because why not?

MASTERLIST Pages ↻3 , ...

Now Playing ↻◁ ||▷↺ Underground - Cody Fry ılıılıılılılıılıılı

𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪

It's weird

I see her face again, but not on her; I see it on her child's face. If I met her when she was young, their chubby and plump cheeks would look like hers, and their small stature would be strong and fierce, just like hers, if I remember correctly.

and yet why-?

Why do I see myself in her eyes? tired and exhausted, burnt out even? feeling like the world has already killed you from the inside and only your body can be seen by people who would never look past your walls?

Why do you look so much like me?

I stare at them as they tense up behind Alfred's legs after they told me their name, they were scared yes but I could see their anger behind those eyes, hatred and hateful like the boiling pits of lava, Scalding to touch by anyone and ready to erupt any day something that I couldn't stop if it were to happen.

As I watch them walk away from me and hide, I turn to Alfred and talk to him about last night. Unconsciously, something in my mind is already forgetting about them.

I haven't even known you that long, yet I'm already guilty of choosing a whole city over you.

𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪

It was a rough and tough night in Gotham, I was new and the evil I've been fighting has been longer than me.

Groaning I limp out of my office and head to my father's medical room when I stumble and crash on the floor, wincing I hold my side from the gunshot in one of the fights tonight, Eyes turning blurry as the air in my lungs get scarce as well as my body who beg for a rest, I can only hear my heartbeat and rushing of my blood on my ears as I lay on the carpet floor bleeding heavily until-

A tiny pair of footsteps reverberate on the floor, thudding slowly until they stop and shuffle in front of me, opening my eyes and look up to see the child looking down at me, they tilt their tiny head before turning on the side as they open their mouth like they're talking to somebody.

"...........do I-?.......... won't matter-...............never remember anyway". Their voice were all over the place as they conversed alone then their eyes turned back to me, they stared deeply through my soul, Judging me and criticizing me with just one look, Something a child shouldn't have, and yet this one was more mature, Like me- funny how they look like an exact replica of when I was just a boy, Who would have thought that there's another kid like me laying around, having the exact pain and trauma I've endured.

I feel my body get dragged on the floor as I hear their grunts and pants from pulling my cape turning, I see their face, even with frustration written on them I can still see a sliver of a child peeking through behind their cold and quiet front betrayed by their tiny pout and small huffs, never notice that before- why did I never try to notice you before?

Blinking back from the darkness, I suddenly found myself staring up at the ceiling with the familiar warm lighting from my father's old fireplace illuminating the design carved on it- Mother loved it and Father wanted her to feel welcome when she stayed on the couches reading books with me as we wait for him to finish his paperwork.

I grunt in pain when I felt something touch my side, Looking down a pair of small hands was wrapping my abdomen with a roll of gauze, They stop and look up at me, A look of indifference on their face before looking back down again and continued on before cutting the wrap and finished.

"....You.....when did you-". I tried to talk but they just looked at me making me quiet.

"..... It's best if you just stayed quiet and rest Mr. Wayne... You won't be of use when you're....." Their eyes traveled on my wounds and shots that were perfectly clean and wrapped before continuing.

".....Dead". They hummed making me tense from their choice of words before walking away as I watched them clean up the medical tray and any bloody equipment and put away saline solutions and gauze back.

My brows frowned when their words came back into my head, I touched my face not feeling the familiar texture of the cowl on my face making my eyes slightly widen and I stared at the back of their head.

-Why do I feel less scared on the thought of you knowing my identity was revealed?.

Why do I feel hurt when you won't call me Fa-.

Hearing a clutter I turn and see them adding more wood to the fireplace and poking the embers with a fire poker before putting it away and turning to me.

Both of us stare at each other, the fire behind them grows larger as their shadow grew and cast over me while their eyes seem to glow and light up with a roaring fire, a child too small and vulnerable to face the world and the evil within this city and yet they looked more than ready to burn this city to the ground and eradicate the devil's weed growing on the cracks of broken concretes of the people, something Batman has yet to do, something I can never do.

"Goodnight, Mr. Wayne". They said before walking out and closing the door behind them with a soft thud.

I look at the wooden fixture and become surprised when I see my good arm thoughtlessly reaching out for them.

𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪

A few more months have passed since they started living here and I find myself paying attention or moving my sights over them more and more, how they walk so silently that you can't even hear it until you finally spot them when they practically stand out in the open, They even blend perfectly anywhere like they don't want people to see or even look at them and how their voice is always on that same lower volume where you can hear them perfectly but thought it was just the wind whispering something.

But I do, I always knew, it was like seeing gold shining around their form, and anything they did it's like everything was duller except them, I even took note of little things like the twitch on their lips when something annoyed them or a raise of their brow when they're interested.

So why do you look so angry when I just want to give you attention?

"No I don't want a debut, Mr. Wayne". They replied with a glare as they sat on the other side of the table barely eating the dinner Alfred made when I asked them to join me.

I was baffled and slightly vexed at their choice and the way they didn't even take the time to think about it, or maybe it's because you still kept looking at me with that-.

"No? What do you mean no? It's only right for you as a Wayne to debut especially for your birth-". I insisted but they cut me off by slamming their hands on the hardwood surface of the table, The dishes jumped, and the pitcher of water almost tipped over from the force while my glass of wine tumbled on the side and spilled the contents.

"I said No! I don't want anything, especially from you-!". They send me a hateful look pointing a finger at me.

"And don't you ever use my birthday on anything!". They shouted before pushing back their chair and walking away, Everything was moving so fast, I could hear my heartbeat pumping harder as my breathing became heavier and faster before I knew it I was already out of my chair as my hand was just reaching for them then gripped their arm tightly.

"Where do you think you're going? This conversation isn't over". I snap as I tug them harder, They look at me in surprise as I saw fear peeking in their irises before hiding it back and hardening their eyes as they pry off my fingers from their arm.

"Yes, it is! Now let go!". They cried as the two of us continued tugging before I let go when I felt sharp pain erupt from my hand I looked and saw a bleeding bite mark on the side of my palm.

Looking up in shock, they stood there holding their arm back as a trickle of my blood dripped down their lips while they bore their teeth at me like what a scared animal would do.

"I'm sorry-". I tried to reach out for them but they only backed away until Alfred came -probably from the ruckus we made- who escorted them away before focusing on my hand.

As Alfred was cleaning my hand I kept looking at the direction they left as I listened to him chastise me on how I approached the situation.

"I only wanted to give them what any child would have wanted Alfred". I reasoned with him but I knew deep inside I already said the wrong answer.

"You are correct to some extent sir and I understand you have good intentions, Master Bruce, They may be a child but a different one, Their only world is gone not too long ago and not only that but their Mother died on their own birthday as well". Alfred confessed the reason behind their actions making my blood turn cold from the truth.

"-You, yourself must understand what it must feel like to have everything gone in just a flash". He said before tying up the gauze and backing away from me.

"Give them time and if you are still persistent about the event then let me have a discussion with them first and let the child have a say or even a few choices on the matter". He added as he started to fix up the mess while he left me thinking.

𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪

After Alfred had a chance to consult with them, from what he relayed is that they agreed as long as they have the choice to leave whenever they wanted and no fancy stuff that exceed on what most normal people's party should be. By taking any wins that I could get, I personally planned everything that where only proper to call a normal party making sure it's not too extravagant, an event of finally viewing them as a Wayne, to show everyone that they are my child.

How did everything go so wrong so fast?

Joker and his newly formed goons who escaped Arkham Asylum after I foiled his plans months before crashed and destroyed the party and took them away.

"So sorry for being fashionably late Mr. Wayne! I was a little heartbroken when you decided to invite all of Gotham except lil' o me SO! I've decided why not both of me and this little ball of joy have the same debut! I'm sure Batsy won't mind right?" They cackle before driving off to who knows where while I stress as the people run like ants in the rain.

I was quick, I knew I was, searching for them like hell and made sure no stone or concrete was unturned in the city even if my hands were covered by the blood of his goons or other criminals that tried to get in my way but-

When I saw them falling down that green boiling pits I knew I should have arrived sooner, I should have never let them go in the first place, I should have hidden you instead.

I yelled out for them like a desperate man till my throat was raw as their hands -just inches- slipped pass mine, their body plummeting down the liquid as they tried their best to reach out the surface and stay afloat, I pounded my wrist on the metal catwalk that I dropped onto before rushing down and rounded the clown till he was down on the floor wheezing and bloodied, his face more purple and black than his pale white ashy skin.

I knelt down in anguish gripping the rocky shore of the green glowing pool when I heard a splash, looking up to see them crying out in pain and screeching like a bat out from hell making my heartbeat stop and started to pump again as adrenaline shot through my muscles as I quickly fished them out, they cried and cried in my arms while screaming out as their body spasm and muscles twitch as green veins cracked their skin.

Shushing their cries as I hold them close and tightly, tears slowly dropped from my eyes, running down the mask till they landed on their face as they whined from fatigue yet their head looked up as our eyes met, I pulled them near my chest as I lay their head on my shoulder as I try to whisper sweet nothings into their ear, hands trembling as I dig on anything my hand could touch, my voice wavering but not my promises to protect them, to give them what they want, to love them and to stay with them forever.

"Everything is alright now, you'll be alright, Father's right here I'm not going anywhere." I whispered as I kissed the top of their head and swaying them back and forth trying to lull them to sleep.

"I see you now, I'm right here and I won't let you out of my arms ever again"

𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪 𓆩𓆪

Hope this ain't too shitty hahaha inspired when silco tried to save jinx with shimmer kept dreaming about it last night.

#No More Chances #yandere batfam #batfam x reader #x reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere #yandere platonic batman #yandere platonic batman x reader #yandere platonic Bruce Wayne x reader #yandere bruce wayne #yandere bruce wayne x reader

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pbuckets-5 · 3 days ago

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uconn’s lost player

what happens when Uconn loses a key player? what happens to Paige?

warnings- angst??, injuries, alcohol

author note - hi this is my first fic lol so sorry if it’s shit

tv-billie eilish

did you see me on tv?

Uconn Daily News

player #5, Paige Bueckers, mourns loss of fellow teammate #12.

Number 12, y/n l/n, on the Uconn Huskies women’s basketball team has seemed to utterly disappear after the game versus Iowa. She sustained a life-threatening injury, involving three cracked ribs and a punctured lung. She has not shown up to a game or practice since leaving the hospital. what happened to Uconn’s star player?

your eyes scan lazily over the article, the television in the background playing a Uconn game. it’s been months. you are cleared to play again. you know you should. but you just can’t bring yourself to touch a ball again. not after the game, the game where you couldn’t breathe, where the pressure on your chest built throughout the game until it felt like your lungs were going to cave in. it was unbearable. you sigh, half-heartedly turning your attention back to the game displayed on your television. your eyes follow #5 as she darts around the court, effortlessly landing threes, diving for loose balls and yelling out commands to her teammates. paige. she was everything to you before the accident, she was there, she never left your side until you pushed her away. until you could literally hear her heart shatter like porcelain as you hissed at her from your hospital bed, machines beeping over your low, untrue words you wish you could now take back.

the game ends a whopping 92-43, Uconn. paige walks off the court, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. she slaps nika on the back, wrapping her arms around her.

“you played great!” she says, pulling back from the hug and smiling broadly. “we have media, though, after this.” paige drones on, smiling widely and yapping to nika about a play she made.

“yeah, yeah,” nika says, shoving paige’s shoulder gently. “go say that to the cameras. look, look, they’re calling your name.” she says sarcastically, pushing the blonde to the chairs where the cameras were directed at.

paige couldn’t help but roll her eyes, stumbling over to the chairs where the interviews would take place. she continues talking to anybody she can, her energy high from the game. when the cameras turn on, she falls silent. azzi slumps into the chair beside her, smiling and looking at the person behind the large camera.

“how was your team affected by the loss of number 12, y/n l/n?”

paige’s smile falters immediately. azzi glances almost nervously between paige and the camera, and then proceeds to answer the question confidently, intertwining her fingers with paige’s under the table.

“she was a great player. she was a main part of the team and she was our personal hype man,” azzi says with a sympathetic smile. “she brought the heat to the court, locking people down with her defense. she was great. i really hope she comes back.”

all of this was a blur to paige, the words going in one ear and coming out the other. none of it made sense. her eyes were unfocused, the rest of the interview a blur to her. she answered with half-hearted, short answers to the unsatisfied interviewer.

the whole night of celebrating and drinks was a way for paige to escape her racing thoughts. she threw back shots, one after another, drowning her shattered heart in alcohol. soon after, all the wasted and drunk Uconn players fled to kk’s apartment, laughing and whooping about the win.

it was unusual for paige to be a quiet person while drunk, but that’s what happened tonight. she was slumped on a bed, watching her teammates fool around while she sat in her own sorrow. she couldn’t stop her racing mind from spitting out thoughts at her.

was it me?

was it something i did?

it couldn’t be. i was with her the whole time. right?

..right?

you stare at the television, jaw agape. the beat of silence after the question only secures your unease. you watch her happy expression turn into one of discomfort, but guilt and hurt hidden deep within. you heart aches, watching her shift on her seat.

your eyes land on your abandoned basketball shoes tossed into the corner of your closet, along with the signature uconn basketball and your playing shirt.

before you even know what you’re doing, you grab the shoes, toss your hair into a lazy ponytail, tuck the basketball under your arm and somehow end up into your car all under 10 minutes.

you didn’t know if you even had access to the Uconn gym anymore, having not been there in months. its worth a shot, you tell yourself as you park in the lot.

you walk into the gym, the smell of basketballs hitting you like a punch to the face. the gym is empty, the lights shining brightly down on the wood floors. you stand at the door, taking in the place you used to love so much. the place where you met paige. the place where you fell in love.

it now held sorrow from all the previous injuries the team has faced. the torn acls, the broken arms, the broken noses.

you dribble the ball tentatively, discarding your jacket on the floor somewhere, a sudden overwhelming feeling of courage and confidence.

the confidence to fix what you broke.

that confidence immediately fades away as you hear a ball dribbling. but yours was tucked underneath your arm.

thank you for reading!! i think im gonna make a part 2 if this gets traction and people like it!!

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers angst #uconn huskies #nika muhl #azzi fudd #angst #basketball #connecticut huskies

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foreingersgod · 2 days ago

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Bathroom . KM

pairing: kate martin x reader

synopsis: you and your ex-situationship sneak off to the club bathroom to make up for lost time ;)

warnings: SMUT (minors/men don't interact) and strong language.

it's finally here ya'll! merry late christmas everyone!

your throat burned as you downed your third or fourth drink of the night, to be honest you hadn't really been keeping track. the whole night had ended up being a mood killer and trying to keep yourself away from the bar was your last priority. the anger and disappointment that had swirled in your gut was probably enough to stomach a few more.

it was supposed to be fun, go out with your girls and have a few shots, maybe meet some girl you never catch the name of and dance with her till your head was fuzzy. anything to take your mind off of kate.

she's what you'd deem an 'ex situationship', but the longer her contact sat unblocked in your phone, the more she had just seemed like a mistake. you had met her some time ago at an after party for one of her games and you hit it off instantly. it was the perfect depiction of a meet cute, something straight out of the movies. she bumped into you on the way to the bathroom, spilling her drink all over your white top, and offering to graciously lend you a new one. one thing led to another, and the both of you ended up falling for one another.

or so you had thought.

after months of going back and forth, sleeping together and fighting over what you two even were, you decided you had enough of waiting around. if all she wanted was to fuck you on the side, then you wouldn't stay around for it. you had made it extremely clear that you had feelings for her, and she could barely manage a text back.

which is why you were even here in the first place. your friends decided you needed to stop moping all day long after your decision to cut things off, let yourself go and forget all about her. it was a good idea at first, great even, but now you were regretting even getting out of bed. whilst you were surrounded by numerous crowds of people, a ke$ha remix enveloping the entire club as you danced with your friends, a wave of familiar blonde hair caught your eye.

you were slightly regretful to admit that you could recognize her anywhere. it'd be hard to miss her perfect face, her headstrong and confident and sexy demeanor as her entered the club. it was like all the oxygen had been sucked from your body as you watched her make her rounds. you tried to drown out her presence in the glasses that your friends repeatedly shoved into your hand, but nothing managed to take your focus off of her. so, you resorted to sulking at the bar and wallowing in your own misery. no matter the level of buzz, your eyes always wandered over to her.

just as you were about to call it good, fed up with how spoiled tonight was and ready to call yourself an uber, you felt a large hand press into the small of your back. the contact sent shivers across your skin, and you could already tell who it had belonged to.

"mind if i sit?" her voice was like spun sugar that masked a bitter aftertaste. it made you cringe, but you couldn't help but melt into her touch.

she appeared at your side before you could respond, sliding into the barstool and ushering the bartender to grab her a beer. you shot her a skeptical glare, but let her sit nonetheless.

"help yourself, i guess" kate shook her head with a chuckle as you turned back to nurse your drink unamused. this was the last thing you needed.

"so," she spoke again as she tapped mindlessly on her glass bottle "long time no see huh?"

"yeah" you scoffed, rolling your eyes "and i intended to keep it that way until you came over here"

now it was her turn to scoff, adjusting her position on the stool to spread her legs more comfortably. it took everything you had to not advert your eyes and look, let your mind wander to what was hiding underneath her neatly pressed slacks.

"damn, no need to be so harsh" she defended.

"i don't really want to talk to you kate," you said as you swallowed the last gulp of your drink "i ended things for a reason, you know"

you could sense the change in demeanor, watching the way her cocky smirked had tilted downwards. her shoulders had slumped sadly before she cleared her throat.

"i know" she said "that's why i couldn't stop myself from coming over here-"

"look," you interrupted her before she could give any reasoning "if you came here expecting another quick fuck out of me, then forget it. i'm not interested in being another one of your hookups, kate"

you weren't sure if it was from the heightened emotions or your drunken state, but your eyes had begun to water. you realized that it probably seemed silly to cry over running into your ex, but something inside of you felt crushed by the confrontation. couldn't she just take the hint and let you move on in peace?

kate stared at you blankly, but you didn't let her gaze linger for long. you pushed yourself out of your seat before she could utter a word, trying to usher the bartender over swiftly so you could pay your tab and leave.

before you could wave over the man behind the counter, kate had reached out to grab onto your wrist. her grasp was gentle but firm, fingers wrapping tightly around your carpus. the action had taken you by surprise, but you lowered your arm anyways.

"that's-" she attempted, almost choked up "that's not what i'm here for alright?"

"okay, so what exactly are you here for then?"

she inhaled deeply before letting out a lengthy breath, a habit to calm her nerves. her looked down to her hands that were now focused on picking at her cuticles. this was a different version of kate, not the headstrong girl you once knew, now diminished to a stuttering mess before you.

"i need you know that i regret it," she shouts, just barely reaching your ears over the thumping music "all of it"

"what do you mean, kate?" an ounce of hope coursed through your veins, anticipating some sort of dream that would never come true.

she finally looked you in the eyes once more, her expression desperate and pleading. her light freckles shimmered under the vibrant lights and her cheeks had turned a soft crimson. she looked like an angel, the blue and purple colors making her positively glow.

"i mean that i regret letting you go" she blurted "and i wanted to text you..fuck, i was almost ready to show up at your door to apologize. but then i saw you here and i- i don't know, i just couldn't keep myself away from you"

the world could’ve stopped spinning on its axis, as far as you were concerned, everything around you coming to a halt. a confession like that was the last thing you would have expected her to say, and you weren’t quite sure how to feel about it. this is what you’d been wanting this whole time and now the decision didn’t seem so easy. your trust had crumbled when she admitted to not reciprocating your feelings, were you willing to let her earn it all back?

“kate, i-” you muttered in shock “i don’t know what to say”

"you don't have to say anything..." she said, leaning towards you, eyes flickering between the features of your face. she could have been soaking in your presence, the way she had licked her lips with desire. the look on her face had you choking up, like any resentment you had towards her had suddenly caught in the back of your throat. you hated how easily this all unfolded. every bone in your body, every single coherent thought was telling you to push her away and not forgive her. but at the end of the day, you were only human, a sucker for the sultry words that fell out of her mouth next.

"just let me make it up to you"

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

you didn't need to be sober to know that this was probably a bad idea. letting your past fling drag you into a dirty club bathroom and lock the door in a haste behind you was more than stupid. you hadn't even comprehended her request before you nodded urgently, allowing her to grab onto your waist and lead you to the only area of privacy in this god forsaken building. normally you'd laugh in her face and tell her to get lost, but the way her lips danced across the crevices of your neck was too addicting to resist.

kate had you pressed up against the porcelain sink of the small bathroom in a matter of seconds, hungry hands already gripping every inch of your body as she kissed you deeply. her tongue slid across yours in a haste as it fought for dominance. you could feel the bass of the music through the walls, its rhythm matching the pounding of your heart. your hands gripped the edges of the sink as you let out a desperate moan. even if you wanted to deny how much you longed for this, your body certainly couldn't.

as her lips trailed from your lips to your collarbone, you felt yourself loosen up in her touch. you could feel her smirk against you, her confidence obviously not lost.

"you have no idea how much i've missed this" kate groaned, head buried into the nook of your shoulder. her voice was muffled by each dark bruise she left against your exposed skin.

her hands slid down the front of your abdomen, only stopping when they came in contact with the hem of your shirt. her fingers toyed with the fraying threads as she sneaked a strong thigh between your weakly parted legs. you whined into empty space in some poor attempt for relief. you needed her urgently, and she was more than happy to oblige.

"kate" you panted, hands gripping onto her biceps tightly "i need you"

your hips slowly began to rut, grinding slowly against her leg. you were far too impatient at this point to wait for her next move. the added friction had only made you more aroused and you could tell you were already soaking through your panties.

"i know, baby, i know" she purred, the rasp in her voice giving you butterflies "i'll take care of you, just be patient fore me okay?"

you stifled out a hum, eyes squeezing shut in sexual frustration. you didn't know how much of her teasing you'd be able to hand, fully prepared to get yourself off on her leg if you had to. but before you could move again, her strong hand settled on your hip to stop you halfway.

you let out a long groan as kate prevented you from the pleasure you sought after, but your pathetic complaining was cut short when you felt her undo the button to your jeans. a gasp left you lips as she hoisted you onto the edge of the wash bin, tugging your pants down around your knees in the process. she was always so smooth with her movements, quick yet undeniably enticing.

"told you to be patient for me, didn't i?" she taunted you, watching the way you looked down at her with glassy eyes and furrowed brows. there was a sheen of sweat that encapsulated your forehead, making your skin glow so sweetly under the florescent lights. though you nodded your head in agreement, kate was a woman of words, and requested you try again "use your words"

"yes" you trembled.

she murmured in satisfaction, proud of your obedience to her every word. you were wrapped around her finger already and you'd only been in here less than 10 minutes. perhaps you’d regret your willingness later, but for now, this moment was all that mattered.

"good" she said whilst examining your pathetic state. she wanted to tear you apart, eat you whole, hypnotized by the way you pleaded for her "now tell me what you want"

her demanding nature almost made you furious. you liked to be in control of situations and having kate towering over you with an exceeding level of authority had you utterly weak.

“i want you to-” you gulped harshly when you felt her hand move from your leg to your throat. her thumb brushed along the sensitive skin, adding pressure in just the right spot. it excited something in you, your whole body shuddering at the sensation “to touch me”

“that’s my girl” she smirked.

your neck felt cold when you felt her move away from you again, only to feel that igniting flame consume you once her fingers prodded at the waistband of your panties. she took her time with you, the pads of her fingers tracing over the delicate cotton and satin bow before she absolutely destroyed you.

"you know how much i missed you baby?" she whispered, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips. she slowly pushed past your underwear, finally reaching your aching core as you moaned again into her mouth "so fucking much"

her finger zeroed in on your clit, rubbing soft circles that were just enough to tease you. you cried out from the sudden sensitivity, but her free hand was quick to shut you up, palm clasping over your mouth. your chest heaved as another anticipatory groan racked your body, thighs beginning to quiver the more she touched you. kate couldn't bring herself to look away from such a delicious sight.

you were struggling to keep your composure, grabbing her wrist as if to stop the pleasure, but kate knew you'd never want her to stop. you were on the border of giving in to the buildup in your body, yet you were still fighting for some sort of control.

"y'like that huh?" kate's lips had managed to find your neck again, tongue tracing the curvature of your jaw like she was mocking you "need more?"

"yes, oh my god please, kate! please!" you sobbed. you were unable to hold back anymore, a complete mess in her wake.

she smiled without another word, her lengthy and slim finger now toying with your entrance. it felt like torture, the way she'd gather up your slick so agonizingly. mere seconds felt like hours until she finally pushed into you, curving upwards at the perfect angle. the sounds that had escaped you were the most inappropriate thing kate had ever heard and she silently hoped anyone waiting outside could hear just how good she was making you feel. your head fell back against the foggy mirror behind you as you brushed stray hairs off your sticky face, trying your best to fight the desperate and strangled moans that nestled deep within you.

the sound of your slick, squelching and dripping as kate's finger glided in and out of you, was enough to make kate cum in her pants herself. she felt prideful, almost gluttonous, as she watched you unfold beneath her. and with this newfound pride, she felt generous enough to add another finger to your throbbing cunt.

"jesus christ" she keened "you feel so good around my fingers"

she watched the way your arousal dripped from your slit, about to drool at the sight. what a privilege it was to have you like this. her mind was clouded with every thought of you, every time she had you in her bed and every time, she took it for granted. she wished she wasn't such a fool, letting someone like you go. and she certainly wished that it didn't take fucking you in a filthy bathroom to realize she had truly fallen for you. you could feel it too, from the way she looked at you and from the gentleness of her motions, that something had changed within her.

"kate, please, i need-" you squeaked out "i need your mouth"

she let out a low rumble as she thought about tasting you again. ever so eager, she slowly knelt on the ground, not even caring about how her expensive pants were going to be covered in grime. soft palms moved from your needy pussy to massage at your thighs as she perched between your legs. her face was inches from you now, exactly where she was meant to be, and she couldn't wait much longer.

kate took her time with you at first, kitten-licking your clit to make you squirm and leisurely lapping up anything you'd give her. then she'd make you suffer a little bit more, flattening her tongue against you and quickening her pace. the pleasure sent a jolt through your spine, making you even more sensitive to her tongue than you were to her fingers.

"Ah! oh...fuck-" the sensations had full control of your body as you shrieked.

"your pussy tastes so good baby," she husked, creating low vibrations that only added to the mix of slapping and saliva coated sucks "could eat you out all day if you'd let me"

you frantically grabbed the back of her head, fingernails scraping her scalp as you pulled her faced deeper. you tugged lightly at her hair, and it coaxed a gratified whimper from her. your hips began to jerk against her face violently and you were convinced you were suffocating her. but knowing kate, she welcomed that sort of thing.

every strike of her tongue on your puffy clit, every dip into your entrance, and every vulgar noise exchanged within this tight space had you reeling. you hooked a weak leg around her shoulder, a heel digging into her back as felt yourself getting closer to your peak. she was like a woman starved as she devoured every last drop of you.

"babe-i'm gonna...i think i'm gonna cum" you said as you worked towards your orgasm on her tongue.

"i got you, let it out. let me feel you" she urged with the sweetest tone, words like thick honey.

your stomach began to flex, the hand that was tangled in kate's hair coming to squeeze at your breasts in rapture. she quickened her pace once she saw how close you were, pushing your thighs even further apart to widen her angle. and it worked like a charm, your orgasm hitting you like a truck as you rode out the thrill.

she looked up at you with adoration in her eyes, standing up off the floor and coming to kiss you. it was passionate and delicate, lingering for a moment as you came back to your senses.

"you okay?" she whispered, helping you up as she pulled your panties and jeans back up.

"mhm" you replied with a ditsy smile and nod. her hair was a mess, you noticed, and you reached out to tuck a rogue strand behind her ear "more than okay"

you stared at each other as you took it all in. the look on her face was a combination of overwhelming joy and a renewed sense of commitment, making you quirk a genuine smile. it felt good to be back in her arms again, even if it wasn't the most romantic place to do so.

"hey" kate broke the silence "i'm not kidding when i said i regret letting you go. that was the dumbest thing i've ever done and i'm so sorry"

she inhaled before she continued, trying to find the right words to prove her remorse. you opted not to say anything though, wanting to give her the time she really didn't even deserve in the first place. but something in you told you to give it a second chance.

"i think i realized i was falling for you and that scared me. the last thing i wanted was to hurt you or-or be a bad girlfriend or something i don't know. but i know now that i was hurting the both of us by pushing you away"

"you're right, it was pretty dumb" you chuckled to lighten up the mood. she humored you too, unable to suppress her own laugh "but i understand, you had every right to be scared"

"but not at the expense of hurting you. i promise it'll never happen again" she cut in "that is...you know- if you're willing to give us another shot?"

you playfully shoved her shoulder to hide the fact that your heart probably just exploded. that question had been hanging over you in a swirl of anxious tension, and you were more than relieved to have finally been asked it. maybe it wasn't an ideal situation, nothing like those scenes you see in movies, but it was enough for you.

kate began to grow panicked by your reaction, nervous that you might be laughing at her or think she was silly for asking for you back. but all her worries quickly washed away when planted both hands on her cheeks and pulled her in for a final kiss.

"of course, i'm willing to give it another shot you idiot" you snorted as you pulled away breathless "but maybe we should get out of here first, can't really ask me to be your girlfriend in a dingy bathroom"

"you're right" she grinned "let me take you home?"

"i'd be honored"

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captain-hawks · 18 hours ago

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when osamu casually turned to you yesterday and invited you to swing by the store for a new year’s eve party, you figured it was out of pity.

because he knows your shitty boyfriend broke up with you two weeks ago. and he knows you only moved here for university, most of your family and friends are all hours away back at home.

he knows because you’ve been working for him at onigiri miya for just over eight months now (longer than said shitty boyfriend’s tenure if your life), and he’s somehow become your closest friend around here along the way.

well, as much of a friend as you can consider your boss—who’s truthfully only a couple of years older than you.

but now it’s 11:57 PM, and the inside of the closed store is lit by the glow of string lights as music plays through someone’s bluetooth speaker. msby players and various other people in osamu’s life that you’ve come to know in the months since you started working here are mingling and laughing and drinking and dancing.

and admittedly, it feels nice. even if it was a pity invite because osamu knew you were going to spend the night home alone at your apartment otherwise.

even if it’s a little too much seeing osamu like this, with hat hair-turned-finger mussed locks, with his full lips tilted upward in an easy grin that leaves your stomach in knots. because you have no reason not to admit it to yourself now—how handsome you find him. how pretty his eyes are. what the warm rasp of his voice does to you.

how much you enjoy his company. how your fingers sometimes itch with the urge to card through his messy hair when he lifts it to adjust his hat. how you—

“i hope ya know i invited you because i wanted ya here,” osamu’s voice suddenly interrupts your thoughts, his shoulder brushing yours as he comes to stand beside you.

you turn to face him, heart ricocheting against the confines of your ribcage at the expression on his face—one that feels almost fond.

“you have too much sympathy for strays, osamu,” you chide, throat going tight.

osamu shakes his head before taking the cup you’re holding and placing it on a table. “you belong here.”

partygoers start excitedly counting down from ten, though it’s mostly drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in your ears at you meet osamu’s gaze.

“would it be okay if i kiss ya now?” he asks softly.

the question is punctuated by cheers and laughter and a symphony of party poppers exploding.

it’s gentle, the way he cups your face. the brush of his nose along your cheek, the tickle of his hair against your skin.

it’s gentle, but in this moment, you don’t feel fragile anymore. not with the warmth that floods through you as osamu’s lips slot against yours.

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #rambling: o. miya #haikyuu #dee writes

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sirenedeslily · 1 day ago

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‘tis the season, i guess. 𑇓 ⊹ ᳝ ࣪ | ( bf!matt & fem!reader ) angsty fluff + soft hours. established relationship 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 wc 778

the clock on matt’s bedside table glowed with a faint red hue, its numbers ticking steadily toward 3 a.m. the room was dark except for the soft light from the window, where snow swirled lazily under the streetlamp’s golden glow. the window was cracked open just slightly, enough to let the sharp, wintry air curl its way into the room, nipping at your skin and chilling the tips of your fingers.

you sat by the window, knees drawn tightly to your chest, chin resting against them as you stared out at the falling snow. your breath fogged the glass faintly, though you didn’t notice, lost in the endless rhythm of watching each flake vanish into the ground below.

the world felt unnervingly quiet. it wasn’t the comforting stillness of rest but a hollow kind of silence that stretched far too wide. the kind that let the weight in your chest grow heavier, pressing down until you felt impossibly small. the kind that seemed to amplify the ache that had settled inside you, that had been there for as long as you could remember.

it wasn’t any one thought—not really. it was everything and nothing all at once. that indescribable pull in your chest, a tangle of dread and melancholy that you couldn’t unravel. the exhaustion of it all, of having to do this over and over, year after year, dragging yourself forward when it already felt like too much.

the holidays only made it harder. they brought with them the weight of expectation, of cheer and light and warmth, when all you could feel was the sharp edges of everything you weren’t. no amount of laughter or sparkling lights or soft music could drown out the voice inside, the one that reminded you, over and over, that it would never be enough.

you didn’t notice the cold at first. the way it had seeped into your skin, numbing your fingers, stinging at your nose. you had been downstairs earlier, curled against matt on the couch, the chatter of his family filling the room with a kind of joy you couldn’t quite reach. at some point, you’d drifted away, first in your thoughts and then up here, drawn to the window like it might hold an answer to a question you couldn’t even form.

the door creaked open softly behind you, but you didn’t react. you felt him before you saw him—the shift in the air, the quiet, familiar weight of his presence. matt didn’t say anything as he stepped inside, the door clicking shut gently behind him.

you heard his slow, steady footsteps, the soft sound of his breathing. he didn’t ask what you were doing or why you were up here alone in the cold. he didn’t need to. matt knew. he always knew.

he came to sit beside you, close but not touching, the warmth of him cutting through the chill. for a long moment, he was silent, his gaze following yours out the window. the room filled with the faint sounds of the outside world—the snow brushing against the glass, the distant hum of the heater below.

“you’re freezing,” he said finally, his voice soft, more observation than admonishment.

you didn’t respond, still watching the snow fall.

matt shifted, his movements slow and deliberate, pulling the blanket off the bed and draping it around your shoulders. his hand brushed against your arm as he adjusted it, his touch warm and grounding. he didn’t say anything else, didn’t try to fill the silence or pull you out of whatever space you were trapped in.

instead, he just sat there, his presence steady and unwavering, as if to say, i’m here.

the cold started to ebb away, replaced by the quiet heat radiating from him. you didn’t lean into him—not yet—but you let the weight of the blanket and his closeness pull you back just a little, enough to remind you that you weren’t entirely alone.

when he did move, it was with that same gentle purpose. he slipped his arms around you, lifting you effortlessly, and you let him. let him carry you from the window to the living room, where the christmas tree still glowed faintly in the dark. he set you down on the couch and settled in beside you, pulling you into his lap and wrapping the blanket more securely around you both.

matt didn’t speak again, didn’t try to fix anything or chase the feeling away. he just held you, his chin resting against the top of your head, his arms locked around you like a barrier against the world.

and for the first time that night, the quiet wasn’t so heavy.

𝒢𝜚 💭 ࣪ ✸ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ∿ winter blues hitting hard ///: love you all so very much, i know how hard the holidays can be.. please take care of yourselves and your beautiful hearts !!! hugging you all through my screen 🫂 !! credits for the layout inspo to the talented @kiemiu

❝ 𝟐𝟐𝟐 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @flouvela @waitforyrlove @elizabebabe @ncm9696 @marrykisskilled @maggot3647

❝ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @l34n @sturniolossss @lovingregulusblack @cl1tlover3000 @mattslolita @mattssgf @le4hsblog @brvtall @mattscoquette @chratts-left-ball @jetaimevous @angelesqve @starlace111 @secretlocket @starkeyszn @etherealval @slut4chriss @star-yawnznn @nickmillersn1gf @sturnsmia @tastesousweet @strnilolover @xoxo4chrisss @madifilipowiczslvt @ifwdominicfike @emely9274 @fratbrochrisgf @2augustsago @sturn777 @st4rsturns @bluestriips

#sirenedeslily ✶ ˖ ࣪#matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x you #sturniolo triplets x reader

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to-thelakes · 1 day ago

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who's been at your apartment?

pairing; carmy berzatto x reader

content warnings; MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY (pls), angst turned to smut, afab!reader, oral (r!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, light dom/sub dynamics

summary; you and carmy had ended things a month ago but you just couldn't keep away from each other.

this has been sat in my drafts for far too long, like last month i was obsessed with 'your apartment' by wallows (i saw them on tour, hearing the song live was insane), and this was born, it's probably one of the more horny things i've released so please enjoy <3 my little end of the year treat for you all <3

also i have a whole ass playlist for this dynamic with carmy and it's eating my brain up when if i think too hard

You and Carmy had been dancing around each other for months. Your situationship - that neither of you had ever been brave enough to call a relationship - had ended messily but mutually. It hurt you both but as you both did, you bottled it up and pretended like nothing had happened.

You were amicable with him inn person but when you got home, you cried on the phone to your best friend about how much you missed him. And then you went back around, doing it all over again the next day.

Your best friend had tried to get you to move on, think about someone else but it never happened. Nothing seemed to distract you from him.

Carmy had similarly been struggling. Even the stress of opening The Bear hadn’t distracted him from you. Even Syd and her refusal to sign the partner contract hadn’t distracted him. Seeing you every day made him crazy and seeing you laugh and smile and seem so care-free drove him even crazier.

He didn’t understand how you weren’t falling apart at the seams. He was. Even if he hid it, he was falling apart without you. And he would lie awake at night thinking about how you were moving on and imagining all the ways you had moved on. It was his own unique form of self-harm. Or that’s what he thought because he didn’t know that you were also falling into that same pattern.

You knew that Carmy didn’t sleep around but he had gotten closer to Claire recently. He had been friends with her for as long as you had known him - so your entire lives - and that made it even worse.

Was he sleeping with her? Did she hold him like you had? Was he moving on?

It drove you crazy.

And service at the Bear was driving you crazy. It was stressful, the new menus every day basically made it impossible to be efficient. Everything was difficult and the company was drowning and Carmy was drowning. He was stressed and you could see it but you couldn’t do anything because you were drowning too; drowning in your own feelings and your own self-inflicted mental wounds.

Service was the most stressful you’d had since Carmy had joined months ago and the intensity in the kitchen seemed to increase with every passing second.

Every second counts.

That was becoming increasingly true as you rushed your way through dinner service. When the last order went out and everyone cooled off and Carmy had stopped asking for food to be re-fired over and over and over and everyone began to clean up, you felt like your head had finally come up from under the water.

The tides were calming but then you made eye contact with Carmy and it was like you were drowning again. He was anxiously chewing on nicotine gum as he quickly averted his gaze from you. You looked away and ran your hands across your face.

“Fuck,” You mumbled to yourself before you turned away and went straight to the back door. You couldn’t exist in that kitchen, you felt like you were drowning. The night air was soothing as you dropped onto the bench next to the back door. Your hands rested in your lap as your whole body slumped back into the brick wall.

You couldn’t get the thoughts out of your head. Carmy with Claire, Carmy fucking Claire, Carmy touching Claire. It was driving you fucking insane. You let out a rough breath.

“Fuck,” You muttered again. You leant forward, elbows on your knee as you rested your head in your hands, “Fuck!” You shouted before you let out another rough breath, kicking your heel into the bench.

It felt impossible to think. Nobody could distract you enough to keep him off your mind. Sydney, Marcus, Tina, even Ebra had tried to help but nothing. He was stuck in your head, invading every bit of free space, sinking his claws in.

The memory of him was branded into the deepest part of you. The genuine look of relaxation when he was asleep beside you was seared into your mind, his smile when you said something funny, his laugh that you rarely ever heard, the way he became pliable and obedient after a stressful service and his face when you kissed and praised him was burnt into the very deepest parts of you. The reminder of how good he felt between your legs and how easy he slipped inside you and fucked you until you couldn’t think persisted in every corner of your mind.

It was like every part of you was clawing, desperate to get back to him.

But you couldn’t talk to him, you couldn’t speak, any time you went to text him, you couldn’t do it and the words clawed at your throat, desperate to spill out but they never did. Instead, your throat was left sore.

“Yo, Chef, gonna finish cleaning your station?” Carmy asked as he appeared outside the door. His voice was a little awkward, trying to be casual but both of you could sense the tension that needed desperately to be broken.

“Yeah, uhm, give me a sec,” You said as you lifted your head out of your hands. You cleared your throat and wiped your hands down your apron - force of habit. You glanced at him, giving him a small smile. That was a mistake. He was looking at you so softly. It made your head spin and you had to look away, “I’ll be there,” You added, hoping he would take the hint and walk away.

“Yeah, take your time,” He responded. You nodded and when you didn’t hear him move, your body felt like it was burning up. This was so much. There were words on the tip of your tongue, desperate to get out but finding no way, “Everything good?” You didn’t even know how to respond to that as you stared blankly at the night sky.

“Are you fucking Claire?” The words fell from your lips before you even knew what the fuck you were saying. But they were out there. It wasn’t what you wanted to say but you needed to say it, to do something about this because fuck, you were losing it. With or without him you were losing it.

Carmy was baffled by your question, pausing and not entirely sure what you wanted to hear. He cleared his throat and glanced at the kitchen before he stepped down out of the restaurant into the back alley.

“No,” He retorted. You nodded and rested back against the wall, “Are you?” He asked. Your eyebrows furrowed.

“What? Fucking Claire?” You asked, unable to help the way you teased him as an amused smile spread over your lips.

“No, fuckin’ hell, no. I meant, fucking anyone,” He quickly corrected, stumbling over his words.

“No.” You didn’t feel the need to elaborate. Both of you knew why. It was fucking obvious to everyone.

You both fell silent and a soft breath escaped your lips, somewhere between relief and annoyance. You felt like you were being tortured by this, by him. It wasn’t exactly all his fault but you fucking needed him. You wanted him so badly and you had no idea how to tell him, how to do it.

“Want me to help with your station?” He asked after a beat. You nodded and he nodded back in response. You then got up from the bench and the two of you headed into the kitchen. The silence that lingered between the two of you was somehow comfortable as you cleaned. You worked in tandem, together, perfect and in rhythm. It was easy.

The two of you had always been easy, well, until it wasn’t but it had been mistake to quit just because it wasn’t fucking easy anymore. You felt so stupid.

Once you were done with your station, you took the trash out together. You were both deep in thought, not needing to speak to understand what was going on here. Carmy held the bin open as you chucked the black bags inside.

Your mind was running around in circles. You felt like you were going crazy and every time you looked at him, you wanted to scream and cry and kiss him all in the same instant. It was mind-numbing and dizzying and you didn’t know what to think. And his hand was on your back when you stood on your tiptoes, supporting you as you threw the bags into the trash.

His hand was on you, his eyes never left you. It was making your head spin and he wasn’t saying anything.

Granted, neither were you, but he wasn’t saying anything. You didn’t know what to do. You wanted to kiss him and when you made eye contact, you caught the way his eyes briefly glanced to your lips.

You were halfway picking up a trash bag when you let out a ragged sigh.

“Fuck this,” You stated. Carmy’s eyebrows furrowed and you dropped the bag. You were done, done with this fucking back and forth bullshit. You turned to him and kissed him.. He let out a sigh of relief into your mouth as he kissed you back. His hand kept the bin lid up, frozen and yet relieved all in the same instant. After a moment, you pulled back, “My apartment or yours?” You asked bluntly.

“Mine.”

You threw the last few bags out, washed your hands, grabbed your shit from the locker and got into Carmy’s car - heading straight to his apartment.

The tension was only growing and neither of you really speaking as he drove.

“You really haven’t been fucking Claire?” You asked as you stared out the window.

“No, not fucking Claire,” He retorted. You nodded and let out a breath of relief.

“So I was the last one to touch you?” You questioned as you turned to look at him. He nodded, glancing at you from the driver’s seat. You nodded, letting your hand slip over the console to rest over his thigh. His head snapped to you again, taking in your face.

Your mind was screaming good, good, I’m the only one who should touch you but you kept those thoughts to yourself as he continued to drive.

The second Carmy had the apartment door closed, your hands were on his face, pulling him in. You were kissing him, arms wrapped around his neck as you tugged at the curls at the nape of his neck. He gasped and you used it as an excuse to lick into his mouth, pulling him towards the couch. You didn’t care about getting to the bedroom, you just needed him, right fucking now.

You pushed him until he was sitting on the sofa and he groaned into your mouth as his hands roamed up your sides. His hands slipped under your t-shirt, his cold fingers slipped over your warm skin. It made you shiver as you whined softly into his mouth. He smirked against your lips and tugged you down so you could feel how hard he was.

You whined just a little louder, grinding down against him but his hands snapped to your hips, keeping you still.

“No,” He panted against your mouth as he gently began to kiss across your cheek and jaw. His nose nudged your jaw up as he sucked and nipped and kissed at the skin of your neck. His arms wrapped around you, keeping you pressed against him as you let out breathy whines, “Good girl,” He praised softly when you threw your head back so he had better access to your neck.

You were needy and compliant in his arms as he flipped you both over so you were lying across the couch beneath him. He used his knees to nudge your thighs open. His hands slipped over your crotch and he could feel the heat, glancing up at you. A shit-eating grin was spreading across his face.

“Really fucking needed this, huh?” He asked. You whined, using your heels to wrap around him and tug him closer. He quickly grabbed your calves, holding you back as he looked at you, “Words, baby,” He reminded.

“Take them off, please,” You begged as you wiggled in his lap, desperately trying to get something from him. You needed him. It had been too long.

He needed it too which is why he was quick to strip your jeans off.

“Fuck,” You said softly as he threw your pants to one side. He moved so fluidly and the look in his eyes, the desperation was making your head spin.

His thumbs then hooked under your panties and he glanced at you, seeking permission again. You nodded your head, “Yes, please,” You reaffirmed, desperate and needy. He pulled them off and threw them in the direction of your pants before his head was between your thighs. His tongue was licking up across your inner thighs, kissing and biting and nipping at the skin as you whined and squirmed under his ministrations. Your fingers were quick to bury into his hair, gently tugging them closer to where you desperately needed him as you squirmed.

“Please,” You begged softly. Carmy hummed, smirking against your thigh as he pressed kisses along the skin. Whenever a little whine escaped you, he took his time to bite and nip at the spot.

“Carmy,” You were fucking breathless and needy, unable to think straight and he had given you nothing. “Stop- stop teasing,” You whined, just as he pulled your thighs a little wider. His hands moved to your pussy, using his thumbs to gently push your folds open. He leant forward and used the flat of his tongue to lick from your opening all the way up to your clit. The feeling made you grip his hair even tighter, a needy whine escaping your lips. Tears formed in your eyes, desperate and so beyond needy.

“Forgot how good you tasted,” He murmured against your pussy before he began to lap at your opening like a man starved. The mix of his saliva and your wetness coated his face as he reacquainted his tongue with every part of you. His tongue then moved to your clit. He gently sucked it into his mouth and your back arched off the couch.

All that fell from your lips were whines of his name as he sucked and lapped at your clit. He used his hands to pin your hips down to the couch, not giving you even a moment of reprieve. You couldn’t decide whether to watch him or stare at the ceiling or close your eyes. The pleasure was so overwhelming; you didn’t know how to think. One hand gripped his hair, nails digging into his scalp while the other gripped the couch cushions for dear life.

He gave a particularly harsh suck to your clit before he began to lap across your cunt again. His tongue licked across your entrance before he traced it all the way up again. His fingers replaced his tongue at your entrance, one finger gently nudging past your walls. It took him with ease, greedily sucking him in. You whined softly.

“Oh, Carm,” You let out as your head fell to the side. The feeling of having someone else inside of you - even just his fingers - was a new kind of euphoria. You let out a soft whimper when he began to curl his finger, pulling in and out.

“Such a pretty pussy,” He murmured as he pulled away to watch his finger sink in and out of you. Once he was sure you were ready, he added a second one and glanced up to see the way your face contorted. You were squirming, desperately shoving yourself further into his fingers, “So fucking desperate.” You looked down at him, using your hand to tug him towards your mouth.

He swallowed your moans as he kissed you, his fingers starting their brutal pace inside you. Every time he thrusted them in and out, he crooked them at just the right angle to make you see stars. You could barely think straight, let alone kiss him. Carmy swallowed every moan as he licked into your mouth. Your eyes closed, head thrown back as he pulled you closer and closer to orgasm, just from his fingers.

“Baby,” He whispered against your skin as he trailed his kisses across your face and towards your ear, “Feel good?” He whispered directly against your ear. Your loud moan as he crooked his finger at just the right angle was the only way you could respond as your thighs began to shake.

“Please, please, please,” You begged as you gripped his hair, pulling him into your neck as your back arched. You could feel the coil tightening and then you were hit with a blinding orgasm. You were panting and whining and moaning as you released around him, walls throbbing around his fingers. He gently coaxed you through before pulling his fingers out. Your grip on his hair had loosened almost completely as he sat up, taking his fingers into his mouth.

You watched with wide eyes as he slowly licked up your wetness from his fingers. You had forgotten how dirty Carmy could be and watching him had your head spinning.

“You look so pretty, baby,” He praised as he trailed his saliva-slick fingers across your thighs. Your cunt was throbbing and he watched with a smirk on his face, admiring how wet you were. It was all just for him.

“Carmy,” You let out, whimpering as you gently reached out for his arm. He looked up at you and you gently pressed a kiss to his fingertips, kissing up to his tattooed knuckles. The action made his heart melt and then you placed his hand on the hem of your shirt, silently begging him to strip it off. He did, without hesitation. He was quick to trail kisses along your stomach, taking in every inch of the exposed skin. He breathed heavily, transfixed by the taste and smell of having you this close. His tongue slowly licked up and across the skin of your stomach before he nuzzled his face back into your cunt. His nose pressed up against your clit which made your hips instinctively hump against it. The feeling made you breathlessly and Carmy chuckle against you.

“Needy,” He said as he pressed a kiss against you before licking his tongue all the way up to your clit.

“You’re the one who told me to leave, haven’t been able to fuck anyone else,” You murmured back. The smirk that spread across his face was dangerous and you felt the way his licks and kisses became more confident. His fingers held your thighs apart as he began to eat you out like a man starved.

“Fuck, Carmy,” You moaned out, not expecting the sudden stimulation. Your back arched as he sucked on your clit, his tongue flicking back and forth across the sensitive bud. Your eyes rolling back at the stimulation before his mouth moved down. His tongue nudged past your entrance, licking into you while his nose continued to press against your clit. The double stimulation was driving you wild, desperation clinging onto every whine and praise that fell from your lips;

“So good, Carmy, make me feel so good.”

“Tongue feels so good, keep doing that, please, please,”

“No-one else can fuck me like this, no-one makes me feel this good”

“Don’t want anyone but you.”

You felt like you were losing your mind as Carmy used his tongue and nose to slowly break you apart. You didn’t expect the orgasm until it was cresting over you. Your back was arched, pushing your cunt into his face, your hands gripping his hair, thighs wrapped around his head as you moaned out his name like a prayer.

Your thighs loosened around his head as he licked up the slick and cum that leaked out, cleaning you up before he sat up. He looked pleasure-drunk as he used the back of his hand to wipe the slick from his chin. You were staring, watching the way his mouth turned to a smirk. His hands slipped over your thighs, tugging you towards him.

“You okay, baby?” He asked softly. You nodded, following his lead. You dropped into his lap without a second thought and wasted no time, grabbing his face and kissing him. Carmy was a little breathless still but would never deny the kisses as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You kissed him over and over again before he tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss.

You groaned out in satisfaction as you wrapped your arms around his neck, lifting yourself up to get a better angle on the kiss. You gently licked across his bottom lip, begging for permission. He opened his mouth, letting you lick your tongue into his mouth. It was hot and heavy and you felt dizzy from kissing him but this was all you had wanted.

For weeks, this is what you had craved. Your hands slipped down to the hem of his white t-shirt and you slowly began to tug it up, desperate to get it off him. Your hands clawing for any touch of skin. You broke the kiss, only for a moment, before your hands were wrapped around him again. The shirt was discarded somewhere with the rest of your clothes and your hands roamed his chest.

The strong muscles made you feel somehow even wetter and all you wanted to do was kiss and lick your way down his chest. But another part of you desperately needed him to fill you up, you needed him to fuck you like he always did.

You broke the kiss, whimpering his name. Carmy opened his eyes, pressing kisses here and there as he asked what was wrong.

“Need your dick,” You admitted shamelessly. Carmy let out a soft ‘mhm’, his hands moved down to your waist.

“Yeah?” He asked as he pressed kisses over your face. You whined, wiggling in his lap and pressing your still wet cunt against the fabric of his jeans. The grunt he let out was music to your ears.

“Let me take them off, please,” You begged softly as your hands trailed down to the waistband of his jeans.

“Okay, baby,” He responded. You smiled happily, dumb on pleasure and desperate for his cock. You unbuttoned the jeans and tugged them down, standing up off the couch to finish pulling them off his legs. Once they were gone, you could see just how hard he was.

The tent in his boxers was hard to miss and it made you smirk.

“Did I make you this hard, Bear?” You cooed, teasing him. Carmy looked up at you and he tugged you back into his lap.

“Don’t be rude or you won’t get this cock at all,” He snapped back, his voice right in your ear. The dominant way he spoke quickly put you right and you nodded, swallowing thickly. He cupped your face with his hand and gently but slowly kissed your lips. It was the kind of kiss that made your head spin which is why you didn’t notice Carmy nudge his boxers down or flick the tip over your cunt until he was pulling your hips down to sink into him.

You let out a stuttering whine as you sank down onto him. You weren’t used to taking him so Carmy took to slowly pushing in but it wasn’t long before he had bottomed out. You felt so full, your forehead pressed against his as you panted, breathless. You felt so fucking full.

“Carmy,” You whined his name, high-pitched and needy as you buried your face into his neck. It felt so good.

“Good girl,” He praised, his fingers running through your hair. You whimpered at his words, slowly lifting off him. You followed his movements, letting him guide you up and down. You slowly got used to the movements, eyes rolling back, mind going blank as you felt him fill you over and over again.

“You take me so well.”

“I’m so proud of you, baby, look at you.”

He let out soft words of encouragement as he guided you. It was soft and slow, every thrust hit the spot that made you see stars. Your fingers dug into his hair and when the pace became too soft, you slowly began to speed up. Carmy smirked against your hair, your head still buried in his neck.

But your thighs were exhausted and he could tell from the needy whines you were letting out that you wouldn’t be able to keep this pace up for much longer.

So, Carmy grabbed your hips and pulled you all the way down onto his cock before flipping you both so you were lying on the couch again. His arms caged you in as he began to fuck you. Every movement of his hip was quick and sharp as you threw your head back. His cock made you see stars as you grappled for anything to hold onto. His thrusts were speeding up, taking you quicker as he felt your walls throb around him. Part of him was chasing his own orgasm, desperate to cum in you.

“That feel good?” He asked as he pressed kisses along your chest and shoulders and neck, his teeth nipping at the skin as he fucked into you. Your eyes were squeezed shut as you gripped his shoulders, legs wrapped around him as you moaned and whimpered his name like a prayer.

You nodded, unable to let out anything coherent especially when he added a finger to your clit. The quick circles he ran over the sensitive bud made your walls throb around him. You were both desperately chasing your orgasm as you moaned his name and begged for him to take you, to cum inside you. You needed it.

And then you both fell apart.

Your legs were shaking, head thrown back, chest pushed up as you let out a loud moan of his name, devolving into heavy panting as Carmy filled you up. He worked himself through the orgasm, painting your walls white with his cum before he pulled out completely. A soft whimper fell from his lips and your eyes opened to take him in. He was panting as he watched a mixture of yours and his cum leak out of you.

Some carnal part of him wanted to scoop it up and push it back in but he held himself back. He watched it slowly leak out over your couch cushions as he panted, desperate to get his breath back.

“Carmy,” You said softly, grappling for his attention. His head snapped up as you looked at him, “Come ‘ere, please,” You begged softly. He followed your hand and then you tugged him down onto your chest, allowing you to move him however you wanted. Once you had settled him, you buried your face in his hair, “Missed you,” You muttered softly. Carmy nodded his head, pressing a soft kiss to your skin.

“Missed you too.”

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you #reader-insert #reader insert

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drowning-in-paragraphs · 2 days ago

Note

I loved not again<333 would you think about making a part 2!?

IT TAKES A MESSAGE

a/n: I hope you like this part too!

jude bellingham x exgf!reader

warnings: okey this one has a (little bit of) angst.

summary: After months of holding strong, resisting the temptation of breaking the promise you two swore you’d keep, one hand gripping your phone, and other holding a glass of tequila, is just what you needed to silence the voice of reason. You told yourself not to press send, but the moment your thumb hovered over the screen, your resolve crumbled. And now, here he is, standing beside you so real that regret is nowhere to be found. You shouldn’t have sent that message, but maybe, just maybe, this is exactly where you were meant to end up.

PART 1: NOT AGAIN

The music in the bar was loud, but not loud enough to drown out the sound of your own thoughts. The dim lights cast everything in a haze, but that didn’t help either. You swirled the drink in your hand—a cheap tequila you didn’t even like—staring into the amber liquid as if it held some kind of answer.

Tonight wasn’t supposed to go this way.

You had a date. A proper one. A guy from your coworker’s circle—smart, funny, attractive enough. He’d suggested dinner at a cozy little place uptown, and you’d agreed, hoping for another fresh start.

But when the time came, you couldn’t do it. You’d stood outside the restaurant for fifteen minutes, staring at the entrance, your heart pounding. The idea of smiling politely, of pretending to care about someone who wasn’t him, had made you chest ache in the worst way.

So, you walked away and felt like shit.

The cab dropped you off at a bar you’d never been to, somewhere far from home, far from familiarity. You told yourself you’d just have one drink. Maybe two. But as the hours passed and the alcohol dulled the edges of your misery, you found yourself slipping.

Your phone was heavy in your hand.

You shouldn’t. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t. For months, you’d kept your promise—no texts, no calls, no accidentally running into each other.

It had been a long time. Months. You’d blocked him everywhere, and he’d done the same. You hadn’t seen him, hadn’t heard his voice. You should’ve been proud.

Instead, you felt hollow.

The tequila burned you throat as you took another sip, your finger hovering over his name in your contacts. You’d unblocked him just minutes ago, telling yourself it didn’t mean anything.

But it did.

And then you did the unthinkable.

“I hate you.”

Your thumb hit send before you could stop yourself.

The moment the message left your phone, panic set in. Your stomach twisted, your heart raced, and you cursed yourself under your breath.

What the hell were you thinking?

You stared at the screen, breath catching in your throat. Maybe he wouldn’t reply. Maybe he’d hadn’t blocked you or he had changed his number, or maybe he’d—

Your phone buzzed.

“What did I do now?”

Your breath caught. The sight of his name on your screen sent a jolt through your chest. The words stung with their casualness, as if no time had passed. You stared at the message, your heart pounding, your hands trembling. You could leave it. Ignore him. Pretend it never happened. But that wasn’t who you were.

“Existing. Leaving. Coming back.”

The three dots appeared, disappeared, and then reappeared.

“You drunk?”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. Tipsy wasn’t drunk. You wanted to throw your phone across the bar. Instead, you typed back:

“No.”

Another reply, almost instant.

“Where are you?”

You hesitated, chewing on your lip. The smarter version of yourself—the one who’d spent months trying to move on—screamed not to answer. But the other part of you, the one that had sent the first text, the one drowning in whiskey and regret, won out.

“Blue lights. Why?”

He left you on read and thirty minutes later, he walked into the bar. You didn’t look up immediately. You felt him before you saw him, even in the dim light, he was unmistakable—tall, sharp jaw, the leather jacket fitting perfectly... You hated how your pulse quickened.

He spotted you immediately, his dark eyes locking onto yours as he crossed the room, approaching you slowly, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. His dark curls were now longer than you remembered, he had a beard now, and the faint scruff on his jaw made him look rougher, more tired. Your stomach twisted, and you hated the flicker of relief that coursed through you.

“You look like shit,” he said, sliding onto the stool next to you. It was a lie, of course—a flimsy one at that. The sight of you, even in the light light of this rundown bar, hit him like a sucker punch. Months without you, and now here you were, disheveled but infuriatingly magnetic. His pulse quickened, and he shifted uncomfortably as the denim of his jeans grew uncomfortably tight.

“Wow. Thanks,” you muttered, staring into your glass. You didn’t look up, but the faintest twitch at the corner of your lips betrayed a flicker of amusement—or maybe irritation. It was hard to tell with you, and Jude hated how much he loved that about you.

The bartender gave him a questioning glance, but Jude held up a hand. “Just water,” he said, before turning back to you. “How many have you had?”

“I’m fine, Jude,” you snapped, hating how small his concern made you feel.

“Sure, you are,” he said, his tone softer now. “So, what’s this about?”

You looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. The truth sat heavy in your chest, too raw to voice.

“Don’t do that,” he said, leaning in slightly. “Don’t shut me out after summoning me like a bloody genie.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “I didn’t summon you.”

“No? What would you call unblocking me to send that?” He gestured at your phone, his voice quieter, less biting.

“You had me unblocked too.” you tried to avoid his questioning, but he did not bite.

“What is going on, Y/N?”

The whiskey burned its way down your throat as you struggled to meet Jude’s gaze. His presence was suffocating and grounding all at once, the familiar pull of him as inescapable as gravity. He didn’t say a word as he reached over, his fingers brushing yours as he slid the glass from your hand. His movements were calm but firm, the unspoken message clear. You glared at him, but he didn’t flinch, setting the drink out of your reach with deliberate care.

Then, you took a deep breath, the words clawing at your throat, desperate to be spoken yet terrifying to release. You didn’t look at him as you said it.

“I had a date,” you admitted, the syllables falling like a fragile confession.

The air between you shifted instantly. Jude froze, his body going rigid as the words landed. For a moment, his expression was unreadable, his face schooled into a careful neutrality. But the tell was there—his jaw tightened just a fraction, and his fingers twitched, curling slightly against the counter as if trying to grasp something solid in the room.

“A date,” Jude blinked, his brows knitting together as the words sank in. The faintest flicker of something crossed his face—hurt, maybe anger—but he quickly masked it. “And you left him to come here?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “I didn’t even make it inside. I just… couldn’t do it. It felt wrong.”

His jaw tightened, and he looked away, his fingers tapping lightly against the counter. The muscles in his shoulders tensed under his jacket, and you could tell he was biting back a hundred different responses.

Wrong. The word echoed in his mind, carving into him like glass. He didn’t want to care about what you’d done or who you’d almost been with, but the thought of you sitting across from some stranger, smiling in that way that made the world feel brighter, or laughing at someones stupid jokes, was unbearable.

“What do you want me to say to that?” he asked finally, his voice low and rough.

You shrugged, staring into your hands. “I don’t know. Nothing, maybe. I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I hate that. I hate you for still being in my head.”

Jude exhaled sharply, running a hand through his curls. He wanted to say something cutting, something to push you away before you dug any deeper into the fragile balance he’d spent months trying to maintain. But he couldn’t.

Because the truth was, you’d never left his head either.

“You’re drunk,” he said finally, his tone gentler than before.

“I’m not drunk,” you shot back, your voice sharper now. “I’m fine.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Right. That’s why you’re here, texting me that you hate me instead of… what’s his name? The guy you were supposed to be with tonight?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

His voice was firm, but not harsh. There was something else there, hidden beneath his words—a need to understand, to place blame somewhere, anywhere, that wasn’t on himself.

You shook your head, refusing to meet his gaze. “I’m not doing this, Jude.”

A charged silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. His hand brushed yours on the bar, a fleeting touch that sent shivers down your spine. His voice, when it came, was quieter.

“You deserve better than this,” he said, his words softer but no less piercing.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. “Coming from you, that’s rich.”

His lips twitched, almost into a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He studied you for another moment, as if debating whether to push further, before letting out a resigned sigh. “Come on,” he said, standing and holding out his hand. “Let’s get you home.”

You stared at his hand for a beat too long before taking it. His grip was warm, steadying, and you hated how it made you feel grounded.

The night air was crisp as you stepped out of the bar, the coolness biting against your flushed skin. Jude walked beside you, his hand hovering near your back but never quite touching. It was a strange kind of intimacy—protective, yet distant.

The cab he hailed arrived quickly. He opened the door for you, his hand brushing yours again as he guided you inside. He slid in next to you, his presence filling the small space.

You leaned back against the seat, your head buzzing not just from the alcohol but from the sheer weight of the evening. The silence between you was deafening, filled with words neither of you dared to say.

The driver glanced at you in the rearview mirror but didn’t comment. Jude gave your address, his voice low and steady, and the car lurched forward.

The streetlights cast fleeting shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth. You caught yourself staring and quickly looked away, focusing on the city lights blurring past the window.

“You’re quiet,” he said, breaking the silence.

“I don’t have anything to say,” you replied, your tone sharper than intended.

“Since when?” His voice held a hint of amusement, but it was tempered by something softer, almost tender.

You didn’t answer, crossing your arms over your chest and sinking further into your seat.

When the cab pulled up in front of your building, Jude paid the driver without hesitation. You opened your mouth to protest, but the look he gave you stopped you cold—firm, unyielding.

“Let’s get you inside,” he said, stepping out and waiting for you to follow.

The short walk to your door felt longer than it should have. You fumbled with your keys, your hands unsteady, and he reached out, gently guiding them into the lock. The small action made your chest ache, a reminder of how easily he could slip into the role of protector, of something more.

The door clicked open, and you stepped inside, the familiar scent of your apartment wrapping around you. Jude hesitated in the doorway, his hand resting on the frame as if he wasn’t sure he should follow.

“Are you coming in?” you asked, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

He didn’t answer right away, his dark eyes scanning your face. Then, with a sigh, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

The tension in the air was palpable as you set your purse on the counter and turned to face him. He stood near the door, his hands shoved into his pockets, watching you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

You turned to face him, suddenly unsure of what to say. “You don’t have to stay.”

“I know,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “But I’m not leaving you like this.”

The space between you felt smaller. The air felt warmer. And when you turned to face him, his eyes met yours with a mix of frustration and something softer, something that made your chest ache.

“Jude…”

His name slipped from your lips like a plea, and before you could stop yourself, you were closing the distance between you, your hands fisting in the leather of his jacket as you pressed your lips to his.

For a moment, he froze, his body stiff beneath your touch. Then his hands were on your waist, pulling you closer and the kiss deepened, your bodies pressing together, the heat between you building like a tidal wave. But, suddenly, his hands came up, caressing your arms till they gripped your shoulders firmly but gently as he pushed you back.

“No,” he said, his voice rough, breath uneven after the short kiss.

Your chest tightened, your lips missing the warmth of his. “You don’t want me anymore?”

His eyes darkened, his grip on your shoulders tightening slightly. “That’s not... Don’t. Don’t do that.”

“Why not?” you asked, hating how your voice cracked.

“Because you’re upset. You’re tipsy. And you’re not thinking straight,” he said, his tone softer now. “And if we do this, you are not going to like it.”

“I always like it with you.”

His eyes softened for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. A small, suppressed smile tugged at the corner of his lips and a “Me too”. Instead, he let out a breath, his hands still resting on your shoulders, steady and grounding. “Y/N, I’m not going to let you regret this in the morning,” he replied softly, shaking his head slightly.

His words settled over you like a cold weight, and you hated how right he was.

“You should…, you should get some sleep,” he said, stepping toward the door.

“Jude?” you called, your voice barely above a whisper. He froze, his hand gripping the doorknob so tightly his knuckles turned white. His shoulders stiffened, his heart thundering in his chest as he begged silently—prayed—that you wouldn’t say something to make this even harder.

“I hate you,” you said, and though the words spilled from your lips, they were hollow, stripped of the venom they once carried. Your smile followed, soft and heartbreakingly familiar, the kind that struck him like a blade, carving through the walls he so desperately tried to keep up. He felt his resolve shatter. You didn’t mean it. God, you didn’t mean it.

Slowly, he turned to face you, his gaze locking onto yours, raw and aching. He lingered, looking at every detail of your face, so he could sleep tonight. “I know,” he murmured, his voice trembling as his smile returned—a shadow of itself, fragile and fleeting. “I hate you too.”

And then, he left, closing the door behind him, carrying the weight of everything that was unsaid, but known.

#jude bellingham #hey jude #jb5 #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham comfort #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham one shot #jude #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x reader #jude victor willliam bellingham #judeswifey #jb5 x reader #bellingham x reader #bellingham

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sasheemo · 1 day ago

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Friday Thoughts

Chapter 5

Chapter Summary: Sunday morning’s spicy haze gives way to a heartfelt conversation about your future together. But with Agatha’s signature flair, it’s anything but ordinary.

Chapter Tags: Jealous Reader, Domestic Bliss, Nicky is Basically a Tiny Wingman, Happy Ending, Fluff Ending, Slow(ish) Burn Payoff, Smut

Word Count: 8.9k

A/N: Chapter 4 dropped on Christmas Eve, and now Chapter 5 is here New Year's Eve—what can I say, I aim for festive timing! 😬

I know I’m not the fastest writer, and I’m sooo sorry about that, but this final chapter had me second-guessing everything right up until the very end.

It was supposed to be short and sweet. No smut. No Rio cameos. Just a heartfelt conversation to wrap everything up neatly. But… well, apparently I can’t resist a little extra spice and some fluff. So instead of “short and sweet,” you’re getting “long and indulgent.” You’re welcome.

Oh, and fair warning—this chapter has a lot of dialogue. But I promise I did my best to make it… engaging wink wink 😏

This is my first-ever completed multi-chapter fic, and honestly? I’m a mix of proud and devastated to be saying goodbye to it. These two have been living rent-free in my head for a while now, and I really hope this ending does them justice.

Thank you to everyone who’s been along for this wild ride—it’s been a joy writing this story, and your support has meant everything. As always, I can’t wait to hear what you think! Here’s to the happy ending these two (and you, let’s be real) deserve. Enjoy and Happy New Year! 💜🥳

Chapter Index

Read on AO3

All you can hear is the relentless pounding of your own heartbeat, each thud drowning out your thoughts as you search for the words.

Agatha’s watching you, her gaze sharp but not unkind. Her hand rests lightly on your arm—a simple, grounding touch—but it might as well be a flame branding your skin, its warmth sending waves of tension rippling through you.

The weight of her presence, the intensity of her eyes, the way her touch seems to anchor you in place, it all builds to a point where you feel like you might snap. You take a step back, breaking the connection, though the movement is hesitant, almost reluctant.

Agatha lets her hand fall without protest, her brow lifting slightly in curiosity as she watches you retreat.

Your feet begin to move instinctively, pacing back and forth across the room as you try to untangle the storm of thoughts in your head. The soft sounds of your bare feet against the hardwood floor create a rhythm, something tangible to focus on as you walk a short line, turn, and walk it again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Agatha shifting her stance. She takes a couple of steps back and leans casually against the dresser, crossing her arms over her chest with an ease that contrasts maddeningly with your spiraling.

Her hair falls loosely over her shoulders, the soft light catching on its dark waves. Her expression is calm, almost amused, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips as she tracks your movements.

After a couple of minutes of incessant pacing, you don’t even need to look at her to know she’s probably fighting the urge to laugh. She sighs, low and exasperated, though there’s no real annoyance in it.

“Come here, hon.” her voice cuts through the fog in your mind like a blade, steady and commanding.

You freeze mid-step, glancing toward her, your pulse quickening at the simple authority in her tone.

Slowly, you approach, hesitant but unable to resist the pull of her presence. You stop just short of closing the distance, leaving a fragile sliver of space between you—a barrier you cling to, as much for your own composure as for a chance to steady the storm inside.

Every part of you aches to close the gap, but you hold back, convincing yourself that this small distance is the only way to face her with a clear mind.

Agatha doesn’t push, doesn’t reach for you. Instead, she stays where she is, leaning against the dresser, her eyes fixed on yours with piercing intensity. Her stillness feels intentional, as though she’s giving you space to breathe, to think, while still holding you firmly in her orbit.

“Well?” she prompts, her voice a velvety blend of calm and command. “Whatever’s got you pacing like a caged animal, it’s time to spit it out.”

You let out a sharp breath, your shoulders slumping slightly as the tension inside you finally breaks.

“Doesn’t this worry you?” you ask, your voice tight with nervous energy.

“You’ll have to be a little more specific, hon.” she replies smoothly, her tone effortlessly confident. “What part of this is supposed to worry me?”

You gesture vaguely with your hands, the words tumbling out clumsily as you try to give shape to your thoughts. “I mean… all of it? Us. Nicholas. What if—what if this gets messy?”

Her smirk deepens, and she tilts her head, studying you with that maddening, amused expression, like she’s already figured you out and is just waiting for you to catch up.

“Messy?” she repeats, the word rolling off her tongue with a teasing lilt. “Sweetheart, the only thing messy about this is how you’re tying yourself into knots over it.”

“I’m serious, Agatha.” you scoff defensively, crossing your arms over your chest.

“So am I, hon.” her voice sharpens slightly, firm but not harsh. “Look, I’m not saying there won’t be challenges. But whatever they are, they’re not anything two grown women can’t handle.”

“So… what exactly is it that’s worrying you?” she presses, her tone softening just a fraction.

Her question hangs in the air, and the weight of her gaze settles over you like a warm, steady pressure. You glance away, trying to collect yourself, before meeting her eyes again.

“It’s everything.” you admit, your voice quieter now. “I just… I don’t know how this works. How we work.”

Agatha doesn’t respond. She just watches you, but there’s no rush in her gaze, no impatience—just a quiet expectation, as if she knows the words are there and trusts you to find them on your own.

Her unexpected steadiness makes something inside you loosen. For some reason, you thought Agatha might struggle with conversations like this—emotional topics, deep and vulnerable. It never seemed like her thing, at least in your mind.

But now, seeing her so composed, so unshaken by the storm you’ve brought to her, you realize that maybe she was expecting this, maybe she’s known this conversation was inevitable long before you did.

And somehow, her calm confidence makes it easier to breathe.

“I just…” you trail off, running a hand through your hair. “I need to know. When did this start? When did you start… feeling like this about me?”

Her brows lift slightly, and for a moment, genuine surprise flickers across her face. It vanishes as quickly as it came, replaced by that familiar smirk curling at the corner of her lips.

“That’s a tough one to answer.” she begins, her voice carrying a thoughtful edge. “It wasn’t some grand epiphany. More like… a collection of little moments, each one adding up until I couldn’t ignore them anymore.”

There’s a faint trace of annoyance in her tone, not aimed at you but at the sheer audacity of the realization itself. Like the idea that you’ve been occupying so much space in her mind is a personal affront she’s still coming to terms with—and even now, it seems to bruise her pride just a little.

“Like what?” you press with quiet insistence, a thread of determination woven through the words.

Agatha tilts her head, her smirk softening as her gaze narrows, calculating. For a moment, she looks almost reluctant to speak, as if she’s weighing how much to tell you.

“You remember that afternoon a couple of months ago,” she starts, her tone deceptively casual. “when you showed up drenched from head to toe? It was pouring outside, and you still walked in here grinning like an idiot, dripping all over my floors.”

You blink, caught off guard by the memory. “Yeah, what about it?”

“I thought to myself,” she murmurs, her eyes drifting as if replaying the scene, “how does someone look that damn happy while freezing and soaking wet? And why the hell can’t I stop staring at her?”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, your cheeks heating as your gaze darts away from hers. Instinctively, you feel the urge to take a step back, a reflexive retreat from the intensity of the moment.

But this time, Agatha reaches out, moving as though she’s read your mind.

She leans forward slightly, her hand grazing your wrist as her fingers curl lightly around it, tugging with just enough firmness to pull you a fraction closer to her.

“And then…” she continues, her voice gaining that teasing edge that always leaves you off-balance, “You’d leave those little treats from the café on the kitchen table. Like some saintly delivery girl, making sure Nicholas had something sweet after school and I had something waiting for me after work. You didn’t think I noticed, did you?”

“I just thought—” you begin, stammering slightly, but she cuts you off with a wave of her hand.

“You thought I was too busy to notice, or that I didn’t care.” she says, her tone mockingly serious now, though her smirk never wavers.

Her fingers trail from your wrist to your hip as she speaks, and it takes a moment for you to realize you’ve unconsciously taken a step closer, the space between you narrowing with each passing second.

“And you,” she continues, her voice dipping lower, “always smelled like coffee after your morning shifts. That scent… it stuck with me. Sometimes I’d walk into the kitchen at night, hours after you left, and I could still smell it. God, I started to notice it everywhere. It drove me insane.”

Your breath catches at her words, and again as her other hand joins the first, both settling firmly on your hips. With a final, deliberate tug, she guides you into the space between her legs, her warmth radiating against you, drawing you into her orbit completely.

“And then there was last Friday night.” she breathes, her voice steeped in an intimacy that makes every word feel like a secret. “I came home and found you on the couch with Nicky curled up next to you. I stood there just staring at you both. I couldn’t stop thinking about how… safe he looked with you. How much he trusts you. How cute the two of you looked together like that.”

The weight of her words leaves you momentarily stunned, but before you can process them fully, a darker thought claws its way to the forefront of your mind.

“And the other Fridays?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

Her brow arches, and the sharpness in her expression returns, a glint of mischief sparking in her eyes. “What about them?”

“You know what I mean.” you say, crossing your arms tightly, trying to shield yourself from the sudden vulnerability you feel. “All those nights you came home late, looking… like that.”

Agatha sighs, the sound low and laced with mock boredom, yet the gentle squeeze of her hands on your hips betrays her true feelings—anything but indifferent. It’s not real annoyance, more a carefully crafted exasperation tinged with amusement, as if, deep down, she’s savoring how your relentless, probing questions are playing perfectly into her hands.

“Most of them were business dinners.” she says, her voice firm and matter-of-fact. “Clients, potential partners. Necessary evils, nothing exciting.”

“But not all of them.” you press, your voice sharper now, frustration lacing your words.

“No.” she remarks dryly. “Not all of them.”

“How many were dates?” you demand, the jealousy you’ve been trying to suppress bubbling to the surface hot and fast despite your best efforts to tamp it down.

“Does it matter?” she counters smoothly, her tone cool but not dismissive.

“It does to me.” you snap before you can stop yourself.

“Fine, a few. But none of them were serious, hon.” she says, and you could swear her voice is playful, almost teasing, as if she can sense the jealousy burning you alive and is enjoying every second of it.

“Define ‘serious.’” you scoff, your hands coming up to push lightly against her shoulders, but she doesn’t budge an inch.

“One dinner.” she states with a shrug, her tone infuriatingly calm and offhand. “Maybe some fun at their place afterwards, but that’s it. It was never anything more.”

Her honesty stings, even if it’s what you wanted, what you asked for. You look away, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the jealousy from overtaking you.

“And last Friday night?” you press, your voice barely above a whisper. The words feel heavy as they leave your lips, your pulse quickening with a mix of apprehension and the need to know. “What happened before you came home and found me and Nicky on the couch?”

Her grin turns inexplicably wicked as her hands slide lower to firmly your ass. With a deliberate tug, she pulls you flush against her, your hips colliding in a way that sends heat racing up your spine.

“Last Friday night was a date, sweetheart.” she begins, her tone maddeningly casual, like she’s recounting a a dull anecdote rather than making your blood boil. “She tried to kiss me outside the restaurant and invited me to her place.”

She pauses just long enough for the words to sink in, her eyes glinting with amusement as she gauges your reaction.

The words hit you like a cold gust of wind, and your chest tightens, jealousy fizzling hot and insistent in your stomach. Her nonchalance feels like a knife twisting, and you’re sure she can sense it, her smirk widening ever so slightly as her eyes lock onto yours.

You force yourself to hold her gaze, but the casual edge of her tone, the way she seems so unaffected, is almost too much to bear. A hundred thoughts race through your mind, each one more unbearable than the last. You’re not sure whether to scoff, snap, or step away, but before you can decide, Agatha’s voice cuts through the tension again.

“But…”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, and her expression shifts, the confidence that usually cloaks her like armor faltering ever so slightly. It’s subtle, but enough to make you feel the weight of whatever she’s about to say.

She exhales through her nose, the hesitation palpable as though she’s debating whether to say the words out loud.

When she finally does, her voice is lower, dipping into a gentleness that catches you completely off guard, each word laced with a quiet vulnerability that makes your heart stutter.

“When I politely declined her offer… I called her by your name.”

You blink. Once. Twice. your brain firing on all cylinders yet somehow managing to stall completely. Surely, you must have misheard her.

And then she winks. And it’s game over.

Your eyes widen to comical proportions, your jaw drops like it’s auditioning for a slapstick comedy, and you’re pretty sure your entire face is now brighter than a chili pepper under a spotlight.

At your reaction, Agatha’s smirk blossoms into its full, mischievous glory, positively dripping with wicked delight—a clear indicator that she’s savoring every second of your mental implosion.

“You what?!” you practically squawk, the words bursting out louder and more incredulous than you thought humanly possible.

Agatha chuckles, low and rich, the sound rolling over you like a warm wave. The sheer satisfaction glinting in her eyes is almost maddening, and her hands, still resting on your ass, shift slightly—her fingers brushing against the loose fabric of your shorts in a way that feels far too casual given the bombshell she just dropped.

“No, no, wait.” you stammer, still trying to process. “You’re telling me you, Agatha Harkness—confident, poised, never-misses-a-beat Agatha Harkness—actually called someone by the wrong name? My name? On a date? I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t exactly strike me as the type to… you know… trip over your own rizz like that.”

She tilts her head, one brow arching in mock warning as her eyes lock onto yours, a look that clearly says, Careful, hon, don’t push your luck. It’s playful, yes, but there’s just enough edge in her gaze to make your breath hitch, like she’s daring you to test her patience.

“Trust me, sweetheart, no one was more surprised than me.” she admits with dry amusement as the faintest shrug rolls off her shoulders.

But there’s a betraying flicker in her eyes, a glimmer of self-deprecation, and you can tell she’s trying very hard to hold back laughter herself at this point.

“So, you’re standing there, at the end of your very hot date or whatever, and just—what? Randomly blurt out my name?” you ask, the teasing edge in your voice growing sharper as you fight the urge to giggle.

“It wasn’t quite like that.” she corrects, “We were outside the restaurant, and she leaned in—clearly angling for a kiss. I… stopped her before it went that far.” she continues as her smirk deepens. “But then she still invited me back to her place, and… well, that’s when it happened. Your name name came out instead of whatever hers was. Clear as day.”

The image plays out in your head: Agatha standing there with some impossibly glamorous woman, utterly composed until… she isn’t. The thought sends a strange mix of emotions swirling through you—jealousy, disbelief, and something dangerously close to triumph.

“Why didn’t you…?” you hesitate, your voice faltering as the question comes out before you can stop yourself. “Why didn’t you just go home with her?”

“It wouldn’t have made much sense, would it?” she replies with a shrug, as if you’ve just asked the most obvious question in the world.

“Why not?” you push, your heart pounding now.

“Because it wouldn’t have mattered. The whole date was a lousy attempt to stop thinking about the fact that I wanted my hot, younger babysitter.”

Your breath hitches, heat rushing to your face at her words. They land between you, heavy and electric, making it impossible to look away.

“And I knew,” she continues, her voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial, “that if I’d gone home with her, it wouldn’t have changed anything. I’d have spent the whole night imagining it was you. Hell, I spent the entire dinner doing that.”

The honesty in her words steals the breath from your lungs, leaving you momentarily stunned. Her confession is playful and teasing, but it’s also raw, stripped of any pretense, leaving no room for doubt.

“You’ve been in my head, sweetheart, for longer than you realize. Last Friday night just made it impossible to keep pretending otherwise.”, her words come out almost in a sigh, laced with exasperation, like this whole ordeal has been just as maddening for her as it has been for you.

Your thoughts are spinning, a chaotic swirl of emotions you can’t quite untangle, but the way she’s looking at you—steady, unshaken, and utterly sure—anchors you in place. Her gaze is magnetic, pulling you toward a singular truth that feels impossible to ignore, and there’s only one thing your mind is screaming at you to do.

Your hands fly to her neck, fingers tangling in the soft waves of her hair as your lips crash into hers. The kiss is anything but gentle—urgent, unrestrained, a collision of pent-up tension, jealousy and raw need.

Agatha stiffens for a second, caught off guard, but the hesitation melts as quickly as it came.

She responds with equal fervor, her lips moving against yours with a commanding urgency that steals the breath from your lungs. When she finally breaks away, it’s not in retreat but with a low, surprised laugh that vibrates against your lips.

“Well.” she drawls, her voice roughened with amusement and provocation, her lips still brushing yours, “If jealousy makes you this needy, I might just make it a habit to mention my Friday nights more often.”

Your face burns as you glare at her, though the heat in your chest only intensifies.

“Don’t even try it.” you snap, tugging slightly at her bottom lip with your teeth as your voice drops to a playful warning. “I mean it, Agatha.”

Agatha chuckles, the sound rumbling through her chest as one of her hands drifts from your hips to the front of your shorts, her fingers toying lazily with the waistband.

The casual, almost absent motion ignites a wildfire beneath your skin, leaving every nerve alight and your body coiled tight with anticipation.

She slips one thigh between yours, nudging gently to widen your stance, and your hands instinctively clutch her shoulders for balance. Before you can steady yourself, her fingers dip beneath the fabric, brushing the edge of your panties.

Her smirk deepens, her eyes gleaming with sinful intent that sends a tremor through your knees, as if she’s already savoring the exact moment she’ll make you fall apart.

“But baby…” she murmurs, leaning in until her lips brush the shell of your ear, her voice dropping into something dark and honey-sweet. “Needy looks sooo good on you”

Her voice alone sends a pulse straight to your core, and when her fingers dip lower, slipping past the edge of your panties to press against your soaked folds, the moan that rips from your throat is nothing short of pornographic.

You’re drenched, embarrassingly so, and the slick sound of her fingers gliding through your arousal only makes it worse.

She doesn’t even try to conceal her delight, letting out a throaty, satisfied hum that vibrates against your skin. It’s a sound of pure indulgence, as though she’s reveling in the way your body responds so eagerly, so quickly, to her words, to her touches.

“Agatha—fuck!” you gasp, your voice trembling with a mix of need and protest as your hips buck involuntarily against her hand. “We’re not… we’re not done talking.”

Her lips curl into a grin as she pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, her eyes gleaming with a challenge as her fingers slide deeper, spreading your wetness with excruciatingly languid strokes.

“Oh, I know.” she purrs, her tone dripping with faux innocence as her fingers tease your entrance. “Go on, baby. Keep talking.”

“You can’t seriously expect me to—”

The sentence dies in your throat, replaced by a strangled moan as two fingers slide into you effortlessly. The sound of your wetness fills the room, obscene and loud, and you can’t stop the strangled cry that escapes when she curls her fingers just right.

“I’ve been patient, haven’t I?” she asks smoothly, her smirk widening as her thumb brushes a lazy, maddeningly light circle over your clit. “I’ve let you ask all your questions, answered them, and I’m still here for the rest. But…”. She punctuates her next words with a deep thrust, her palm grinding against your clit in a way that makes your breath hitch. “It’s time you start giving me something back, don’t you think?”

“Oh my God—fuck!” you groan, your head dropping to her shoulder as your hips grind against her hand, chasing the pleasure she’s so expertly coaxing from you.

Your legs tremble, barely holding you up, and the wet, filthy sound of her fingers moving inside you makes your face burn with humiliation and need.

“That’s it.” she hums, her voice low and approving as her free hand moves to tangle in your hair, tilting your head so her lips graze your ear. “Be a good girl and try for me, mmh?”

“Agatha, please.” you whimper, your nails digging into her shoulders as your walls clench around her fingers. “I can’t—I can’t focus when you’re—mmh—when you’re doing that.”

“Sure, you can. And you will.” she murmurs, her thumb pressing harder against your clit in rhythm with her thrusts. “You’ll think, talk, listen, and take everything I’m giving you, just like the clever girl I know you are.”

Her praise is a double-edged sword, both a balm and a brand, sending warmth flooding through you while also igniting a stubborn need to meet her challenge. Gritting your teeth, you force your voice to form a single, coherent thought.

“N-nicholas.” you stammer, your voice barely intelligible as pleasure and worry collide in your chest. “What about—oh, fuck—what about Nicholas? What if— what if this messes everything up for him?”

Agatha’s smirk softens just slightly, though her fingers don’t falter, their pace steady and relentless.

“Nicholas is smarter than most adults, baby.” she murmurs, her voice impossibly calm and confident even as you whimper against her shoulder. “He’s practically a human lie detector. Honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already picked up on something.”

“Besides, he adores you.” she continues casually, as if you aren’t completely falling apart in her arms. “As long as we handle this carefully—and don’t, you know, start fucking in the living room while he’s watching cartoons—he’ll be fine.”

You let out a strangled laugh, though it quickly dissolves into a moan as her fingers curl deeper, hitting a spot that makes your entire body tense.

“But—but what if he—oh my God—doesn’t take it well?”

“Sweetheart.” she murmurs, her free hand tilting your chin up to meet her gaze, her eyes impossibly tender yet razor-sharp. “Stop overthinking. We’ll handle it. Together.”

You nod weakly, unable to form a rational response as she quickens her pace, driving you closer to the edge with every thrust.

But before you can let yourself fall completely into the haze of pleasure, another thought claws its way to the surface.

“And Rio?” you choke out, though your voice is barely a whisper now, trembling with the effort of holding on. “What happens when she—fuck—when she finds out?”

“Rio doesn’t have a say in my life anymore.” she drawls, her smirk widening into something downright predatory as her fingers thrust deeper, harder, drawing a strangled cry from your throat. “Sure, we keep things civil for Nicholas’s sake, but beyond that? She can think whatever she wants. It won’t change a damn thing.”

“But—but what if—mmh yes—what if she makes it hard for us?”

“What’s she gonna do, huh?” Agatha arches a brow, her free hand gripping your waist to steady you as your legs start to tremble. “Get all huffy and judgmental? Let her.”

Her confidence ripples through you, grounding and infuriating all at once, even as her pace grows brutal. Your walls clench tighter around her, the pressure in your belly building to an unbearable height. Yet one last question remains lodged in the back of your throat.

When it finally tumbles out, your voice cracks under the weight of it. “And what if you… what if you get tired of me?”

Agatha freezes for a heartbeat, her gaze pinning yours in place with a fierce, almost dangerous intensity that takes your breath away.

“I won’t.” she snaps, her tone so firm, so unshakable, it’s as if the very idea is offensive.

Her gaze drops pointedly to where her fingers disappear into you, sliding out glistening before thrusting back in with a wet, filthy sound, over and over again.

“If you could see yourself right now—falling apart on my fingers, so perfect, so mine—you’d know just how impossible that question is.”

Her words land like a thunderclap and your body shudders violently, your legs trembling so hard you’re certain you’d collapse if it weren’t for the firm, possessive grip she keeps on your waist.

And then, as if to punish you for your suggestion, or perhaps to drive her point home with devastating clarity, she slides a third finger into you without warning. The stretch is intense, toeing the line between pleasure and overwhelming, and you let out a strangled cry that tears through the room.

Her thumb presses harder, faster, against your clit as her fingers work you open. It’s deliberate, merciless, as though she’s staking her claim in every possible way, daring you to question her devotion again.

“That’s it, baby.” she hums, her voice dark and velvety, her satisfaction palpable in the way her lips curl into a smirk against your temple. “Taking me so well… so fucking perfect.”

Her words only add fuel to the fire blazing inside you, and you’re helpless to stop the wrecked, broken moans spilling from your lips as her pace quickens.

Your body arches involuntarily, seeking more, needing more, as the pressure builds impossibly higher, threatening to snap with every flick of her thumb and thrust of her fingers.

You silently call on every divine entity, ancient force, or cosmic fluke you can think of, just to ensure she’ll grant the desperate plea teetering on the edge of your lips.

“Please!” the word escapes you as a desperate sob, raw and aching as your hands clutch her shoulders. “Please, Agatha—fuck, I need to—”

“Come for me, baby.” her command cuts you off, slicing through the haze like a blade and shattering you completely.

Your body seizes, the coil in your belly snapping violently as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, relentless and all-consuming.

Wetness gushes from you, coating her hand and soaking the fabric of your shorts as she continues to work you through it, her fingers dragging unrelentingly along your walls, sending shivers through every nerve.

“Fuck, look at you.” she breathes, her tone edged with awe and sinful pride as your walls spasm around her fingers, gripping her so tightly it’s a wonder she can still move. “So messy for me.”

The intensity is almost unbearable, your cries escalating into a scream that rips from your throat as the pleasure crests in waves, each more powerful than the last.

Agatha doesn’t let up, her movements steady and calculated, prolonging your pleasure until the last waves finally begin to ebb.

Her hand on your waist tightens, grounding you as her lips press soft, soothing kisses along your jaw, a stark contrast to the raw intensity of what she’s just done to you.

As you collapse against her, your breathing ragged and uneven, she slows her fingers, her touch gentler now as she carefully withdraws, her hand glistening with your release.

She presses a lingering kiss to your temple, her voice impossibly tender despite the smug satisfaction lacing it.

“See? I knew you could do it. Such a good girl for me.” she murmurs, her words a caress that feels like velvet against your frayed senses.

Her free hand strokes slow, appeasing circles against your lower back, grounding you as the tremors in your body begin to ebb.

The room feels impossibly quiet now, the only sounds your labored breathing and the warm, satisfied chuckle that hums through Agatha’s chest.

“You’re insufferable.” you mumble weakly against her neck, your voice hoarse and cracked, though there’s a stifled laugh buried beneath the exhaustion.

“And yet….” she purrs, lifting your chin with a single, deft finger until your gaze meets hers. Her piercing eyes hold yours captive, but there’s a glimmer of something softer beneath the smirk curling at her lips—something achingly tender, almost reverent. “Here we are.”

Her thumb brushes over your cheek, the simple, affectionate gesture robbing you of what little breath you’ve managed to reclaim.

You blink up at her, still dazed, a faint, incredulous smile pulling at your lips.

“Here we are,” you echo, your voice trembling but steady enough to carry the weight of a moment that feels suspended in time.

It’s a connection that needs no embellishment, one that feels intimate and inevitable, like it had been quietly waiting for the two of you all along.

The rest of Sunday unfolds in a blissful, lazy haze.

After the emotionally charged conversation in the morning, the day slows to a gentle rhythm. Agatha suggests a walk to clear your heads, and the two of you meander through a nearby park.

The air is crisp, the sun peeking through the clouds as you stroll side by side, talking about nothing in particular—favorite seasons, forgotten childhood stories, ridiculous hypotheticals.

It feels easy, natural, like you’ve been doing this forever.

Back at home, the afternoon fades into evening. You help Agatha prepare a simple dinner, and she insists on pouring you a glass of wine while you work.

Later, the two of you curl up on the couch, a movie playing on the screen, your head resting on her shoulder. The sound of her quiet laughter at the film’s witty dialogue makes your heart ache with something sweet and new.

But the serenity is interrupted by the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. Nicholas bursts in, his bag slung over his shoulder, his cheeks flushed from the cool evening air.

Rio follows, her gaze sweeping briefly between you and Agatha, lingering just long enough to convey a subtle curiosity, before she offers a polite nod. Bending slightly, she presses a kiss to Nicholas’s cheek, her voice soft as she wishes him goodnight.

Without another word, she straightens, casting one final glance in your direction, then strides out the door with the same poised elegance she carried in.

“Hey, kiddo!” Agatha calls out, sitting up slightly but keeping her arm draped over the back of the couch, her fingers brushing your shoulder.

Nicholas closes the door and freezes the second he turns, his eyes darting between the two of you.

His brow furrows, and then, with his hereditary dramatic flair, he lets out a loud, exaggerated sigh.

“Finally!” he groans, dropping his bag on the floor with a thud. “I was wondering when you two were gonna figure it out.”

You blink, startled. “Wait—what?”

Agatha’s smirk is instant, her lips curling as she leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “What do you mean, ‘figure it out,’ Nicky?”

He rolls his eyes with as if the answer is painfully obvious.

“I mean the two of you! You’re always talking about each other and asking me stuff.” he quips, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “You’re like, ‘What’s your mom’s favorite breakfast?’, and Mom’s like, ‘Do you think she likes scary movies?’. Ugh, it was soooo annoying.”

Nicholas shakes his head, letting out another dramatic sigh as if he’s been a long-suffering martyr to your mutual pining.

From beside you, you hear the unmistakable sound of a small snort escaping Agatha.

Heat floods your cheeks as you glance at her, but it only makes her grin widen. She arches a single, perfectly smug eyebrow at you, her expression dripping with satisfaction.

“Told you.” she says simply, giving an exaggerated shrug.

You cover your face with your hands, groaning. “This is mortifying.”

Agatha’s laughter fills the room, warm and unrestrained. She reaches out to tug one of your hands away from your face, her thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture so casual yet affectionate it leaves you breathless.

After that day, You and Agatha decide to take things slow, despite the months you’ve already spent orbiting each other. You want to step out of the roles you’ve occupied—Nicholas’s babysitter, his mom—and discover who you are to each other beyond that.

At first, you were almost afraid. Afraid that someone like Agatha, who seemed so independent and unapologetically confident, might be all fire and intensity, with little space for tenderness beyond fleeting moments.

But slowly, carefully, she proves you wrong.

When Agatha loves, you realize, she doesn’t hold back. She loves with her entire being, fiercely yet gently, as though nothing outside the world she’s built around you truly matters.

Sure, the sex is breathtaking—raw, unrestrained, and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. But with Agatha, it’s so much more than that.

She doesn’t just make you feel wanted, she makes you feel profoundly seen, utterly cherished. Every touch carries intention, every kiss a pledge of devotion.

She quickly learns your body like a map, her fingers and lips tracing each curve with reverence, savoring every discovery as though unveiling a hidden treasure meant only for her.

But beyond the fiery passion, there’s an unexpected warmth, a softness that takes you by surprise.

Her teasing sarcasm and sharp wit—cornerstones of who she is—remain ever-present, capable of making you groan in exasperation one moment and laugh until your sides ache the next.

And yet, as new facets of her emerge, they gradually begin to share space with so much more.

At night, when the world is quiet, Agatha reveals a rare, thoughtful vulnerability, speaking of the things that scare her or the mistakes she’s afraid of repeating.

In the evenings, she pulls you onto the couch, wrapping you in her arms as she teases you about your movie choices, only to stay glued to the screen the entire time.

In the middle of an argument, even when her irritation is clear and the sharpness in her tone feels like a shield she’s reluctant to lower, her gaze softens. Against her own nature, she takes a breath, letting the frustration ebb just enough to say, “I’m listening, go on.” It’s not easy for her, you can see that—but she tries. She chooses to stay, to listen, to understand, even when every instinct might tell her to close off.

Each moment is a small glimpse into a side of her that feels like a gift, a quiet affirmation that she is so much more than you ever imagined.

You also come to realize, that Agatha, for all her snarky remarks and commanding presence, craves affection too.

She’ll never say it outright, of course, but the way she seeks those little moments of closeness gives her away every time.

The way she tucks you closer to her chest in the morning, long before the rest of the world is awake. The way her hand brushes your hair back as you lean over a book, a casual touch that lingers just a second too long. The way she kisses your temple absentmindedly as she passes you in the kitchen. The way her fingers trail down your arm before settling on your waist as you both stand in the backyard at night, watching Nicholas excitedly point out constellations while Agatha murmurs their names with a quiet smile. The way her fingers softly brush against yours when she hands you a cup of coffee.

These aren’t grand gestures—they’re quiet, unspoken reminders of how deeply she cares. They’re Agatha’s way of saying what she can’t always put into words, of reaching for connection in ways that feel achingly sincere.

Agatha surprises you constantly.

She starts showing up at the café during your morning shifts, always impeccably dressed, her heels clicking against the tile floor as she strides in like she owns the place.

“I’m between meetings” she claims casually, though you notice she always stays just long enough to leave your coworkers flustered and whispering about ‘the gorgeous older woman’ who sits at the corner table, sipping her black coffee and glancing at her phone like she has nowhere better to be.

When she catches you watching her from behind the counter, her smirk is instant, as if to say, Yes, hon, I know I’m distracting you. And it never fails to make your pulse race.

She spoils you shamelessly, too. Thoughtful gifts appear with alarming regularity—books she’s noticed you eyeing, a beautiful scarf she swears “just screamed your name,” or your favorite pastries from a bakery across town.

“Stop fussing.” she says one evening as you eye the expensive wine she’s ordered at a rooftop restaurant. The city lights glitter around you, and the cool night air brushes your cheeks. “You deserve it.”

You roll your eyes but lean in to kiss her anyway, her hand slipping up to cup your cheek. Her smile softens, that guarded edge melting just enough to reveal the depth of her affection, and your heart aches in the best way.

For Agatha, you could have stopped working altogether if you wanted to. She made it clear from the beginning that money would never be an issue, brushing off the idea as though it was laughable.

Still, you hold onto your job at the café. It keeps you busy in the mornings, gives you a sense of independence, and lets you stash away some savings of your own. Besides, you’ve worked there so long it feels strange to think about leaving.

At the same time, you insist on keeping your part-time babysitting job, though you flat-out refuse to let her pay you anymore.

That particular conversation becomes a recurring battle. One day, however, you reach your limit.

It’s the umpteenth time Agatha offers to pay you for the hours you spend with Nicky. She leans casually against the doorframe as you fold Nicholas’s laundry, her voice calm but insistent, a mix of exasperation and charm she wields far too well.

You freeze mid-fold, the heat of your frustration bubbling over.

“Agatha, I swear to God, if you bring this up one more time…” you snap, throwing a pair of socks straight at her chest with uncharacteristic force.

Her smirk falters as she catches them, her eyes widening at the sharpness in your voice.

“You’re seriously yelling at me over socks?” she quips, clearly thrown off but still managing to sound incredulous.

“I’m yelling because I’m done with this conversation.” you fire back, your voice louder than you intended. “I’m not taking your money for this anymore. Period. End of story. Got it?”

Agatha blinks, stunned into silence. It’s not often you raise your voice, and judging by her expression, she doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

After a long, weighted pause, she finally lets out an exaggerated sigh, her shoulders slumping dramatically as she tosses the socks back at you.

“Well, you’re impossible.” she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest as she leans back against the doorframe with a look of mock irritation. “I can’t win with you.”

You narrow your eyes at her, still fuming, but the hint of a grin tugs at the corners of your mouth.

“You already have.” you mutter, chucking another pair of socks her way.

This time, her smirk returns in its full glory. She catches the socks with ease, her expression relaxing as she throws them back with a playful flick of her wrist. “Flatterer.”

After that conversation, the balance you strike feels so natural, so effortlessly right, that it’s hard to remember a time when things were any different.

You spend your mornings at the café, while most of your afternoons are dedicated to Nicholas. Over time, Agatha begins working from home more often, and those afternoons blend seamlessly into dinners shared around the table, followed by evenings that melt into cozy, lazy hours on the couch.

Even if you don’t see her much while she works—her door often closed as she immerses herself in work—there’s something undeniably comforting about knowing she’s just upstairs.

It’s in the faint hum of her voice during a call, the creak of floorboards as she shifts her chair, or the brief moments when she steps out to grab coffee, check on Nicholas, or steal a quick kiss from you in the kitchen.

Her presence lingers throughout the house, steady and grounding, offering a quiet reassurance you hadn’t realized you craved.

The roles you once played haven’t disappeared, but they’ve shifted, harmonizing gracefully into this new dynamic that feels equal parts exciting and comforting.

Agatha doesn’t push you to redefine everything overnight, doesn’t demand more than you’re ready to give. Instead, she meets you where you are, and together, you explore the space between who you were before and who you’re becoming now.

Five months in, Agatha brings it up over breakfast.

“You know…” she begins casually, buttering her toast with the kind of ease that suggests she isn’t about to change your life forever, “it’d make a lot more sense if you just lived here.”

You nearly choke on your coffee, coughing and setting the mug down with a sharp clink. “Are you—are you serious?”

She looks up from her plate, her expression calm but her eyes warm, filled with a certainty that grounds you even as your heart races. “Of course. It feels right, doesn’t it?”

It does. Deep down, you’d known for a while now that this was where you belonged. Still, hearing it aloud, from her, catches you off guard. But there’s no hesitation when you answer.

“Yes.” you say, the word coming out soft but steady. “It does.”

Everything falls into place with an almost disarming simplicity and, by the end of the weekend, your things are integrated seamlessly into her home.

Your favorite mug finds a spot on her kitchen shelf, your books line the living room walls alongside hers, and the faint scent of your perfume lingers in her bedroom.

Nicholas adjusts effortlessly, almost as if he’d been waiting for this to happen all along. The three of you settle into a domesticity that feels natural, filled with laughter, shared meals, and quiet moments.

Even Rio seems unbothered when she comes to pick Nicholas up on the weekends. She exchanges polite words with you, her demeanor perfectly cordial, before whisking him away for their outings.

Whatever tension you’d feared never materializes, leaving you to wonder if Agatha had talked to her privately or if Nicholas, in his own way, had smoothed the path between you.

On Saturday mornings, Nicholas claims the kitchen as his domain, declaring himself “Head Pancake Chef” as you and Agatha lounge at the table, sipping coffee and exchanging amused glances while he works.

In the evenings, after Nicholas has gone to bed, the two of you often find yourselves curled up together on the couch, her arm draped lazily over your shoulders as you share quiet conversation, watch a movie or simply sit in comfortable silence.

Every day, every moment, strengthens the sense that this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

Yet, for months, you’ve held onto your old apartment, keeping it as a safety net—a place to retreat to if things fell apart, if Agatha ever grew tired of you, if it all turned out to be too good to be true.

You’d told yourself it was practical, that it didn’t mean anything. But deep down, you’d known it was fear keeping you tethered to the space.

One random evening, everything changes.

It’s late, and the house is quiet. You and Agatha are curled up on the couch, one arm draped around your shoulders as you trace lazy circles on the back of her hand. There’s an ease between you, the kind that has grown naturally over the months.

Out of nowhere, she murmurs, “I love you.”

The words land softly but powerfully, knocking the air from your lungs.

You freeze, your hand stilling on hers as your mind races. For a brief moment, you think you’ve imagined it, your own thoughts playing tricks on you.

But then you glance up, and she’s watching you. Her expression is open yet achingly vulnerable, her lips slightly parted as if she’s bracing herself for your reaction, the faintest flush coloring her cheeks.

Agatha Harkness, who exudes confidence and poise in every other moment, suddenly looks almost shy.

Your heart swells, the response spilling out without hesitation. “I love you too, Agatha. So much.”

Her eyes widen briefly before a slow, radiant smile spreads across her face, lighting her up in a way you’ve never seen before.

She leans in, her movements deliberate yet tender, and when her lips meet yours, it’s as if the world tilts on its axis.

The kiss starts soft, her lips warm and gentle against yours. But it deepens quickly, her hand coming up to cradle the side of your face, her thumb brushing your cheek.

You feel her smile against your lips, a small, unguarded curve that sends warmth flooding through you. When she finally pulls back, her forehead rests lightly against yours, her hand lingering on your cheek as if she’s reluctant to let go.

Her eyes search yours, glowing with a mix of joy and relief, and you realize that this moment, this love, is as real as it gets.

The next morning, you list your apartment for sale.

Weeks later, it sells, and it’s time to clear it out for good. Agatha insists on coming with you to help despite your protests that there isn’t much left to do, since most of your things had already made their way to her house when you moved in.

Together, you sift through the last remnants of your belongings—forgotten trinkets in the back of drawers, mismatched furniture that doesn’t fit anywhere anymore, and boxes filled with things you can’t remember why you kept.

As you bend down to pick up one of the boxes, you feel the weight of her gaze on you. By the time you straighten, she’s right there—closer than she was a moment ago—her hand curling possessively around your waist, her presence electric.

“What if…” she murmurs, her lips grazing your ear as her fingers slide to the small of your back, “We give this place a proper send-off.”

Before you can respond, her mouth is on yours, claiming and insistent. The kiss is searing, a collision of teeth and tongues that leaves you breathless as she presses you back against the nearest wall.

“Agatha—fuck!” you gasp as her hands wander, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against her. “We’re supposed to be clearing out, not—” your voice falters as her lips graze your neck, stealing your train of thought entirely.

“Oh, we will.” she purrs, her voice dripping with wicked intent. “After.”

What follows is nothing short of ruinous. She doesn’t just touch you—she consumes you, her hands, mouth, and body working in perfect, devastating harmony to claim every inch of you.

She starts in the kitchen, bending you over the counter with a commanding ease that makes your breath hitch. Her nails dig into your hips as her fingers slide into you, relentless and thorough, her mouth hot and demanding against your neck. The slick sound of her movements mixes with the sharpness of your cries, echoing off the bare walls as her pace quickens, leaving you breathless and clawing for the edge.

In the living room, she pushes you down onto the couch—the same one where you once sat alone, overthinking everything. Now, it’s where she strips you bare and buries her head between your thighs, her tongue working with maddening precision. She doesn’t stop, even as your hips buck against her mouth, her grip on your thighs unrelenting. When you fall apart, her name breaking from your lips, she takes it all, her smirk sinful as she looks up, licking her lips like she’s savoring every second.

Even the bedroom—now a sparse, nearly empty space that offers no distractions—doesn’t escape her attention. She pins you to the mattress with a ferocity that leaves no doubt as to who you belong to, her name a broken mantra on your lips as her pace builds, her body pressing against yours in a way that demands surrender. Her fingers push you over the edge again and again, each climax leaving you trembling and weak, her breath hot on your skin as she praises you through the haze of pleasure.

By the time she’s done with you, every surface bears the evidence of her passion, and you’re left spent, boneless, and utterly wrecked in her arms.

Later, as you sit on the floor together eating takeout amidst the remaining boxes, she looks over at you with a satisfied smirk.

“So…” she says, her voice a lazy drawl. “Think you’ll miss this place?”

You laugh, shaking your head as you lean into her side. “Not even a little.”

Because your home isn’t a space anymore—it’s her.

Exactly one year after that Sunday morning when everything changed, you find yourself reflecting on how far you’ve come.

It’s Friday night and you’re sitting at a cozy restaurant, the golden glow of candlelight reflecting off Agatha’s beautiful features. Her hand brushes against yours on the table, her touch as natural and grounding as the rhythm of your breaths.

Fridays used to be a minefield, an endless loop of questions you were too afraid to ask, feelings you didn’t dare name. You remember those nights vividly, steeped in quiet agony, where every thought, every fleeting moment tied to Agatha—her voice, her gaze, her very presence—was laced with an ache so consuming it felt impossible to escape.

At times, you can still taste the bitter certainty that nothing you longed for could ever be within reach. Looking back, though, you almost laugh.

Agatha had nearly driven you insane with her looks, her touches, her maddeningly unreadable smirks. You’d been so sure you were imagining it all, you’d almost lost your mind trying to figure her out.

But now, Fridays have transformed into something else entirely. They’ve become a ritual of joy and love.

They’re your nights. Date nights. Moments stolen just for the two of you while Nicholas stays with Rio or a babysitter. Whether it’s a fancy dinner in the city or a quiet evening at home, these Fridays are sacred.

You glance across the table at Agatha, who’s sipping her wine, her eyes flicking up to meet yours.

Her smirk curls in that way you know will always make your stomach flip, no matter how many times you see it. But there’s a softness behind it now, a tenderness she doesn’t bother hiding anymore.

“What’s that look for?” she asks, her voice low and familiar, the sound of it wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

You smile, bliss flooding your chest. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes in mock disbelief, but the way her thumb strokes the back of your hand betrays her.

“You’re insufferable.” she mutters, though her tone holds no bite.

“And yet…” you tease, leaning forward slightly, your voice dipping conspiratorially, “Here we are.”

Her lips twitch as though she’s fighting a full smile, and for a moment, you both laugh, the kind of easy, unguarded laughter that fills every quiet corner of your heart.

And as you sit there, her hand in yours and the echoes of your journey fading into the warmth of the present, a quiet certainty blooms within you: you can’t wait to see where this love leads.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness fanfic #aaa fanfic #agatha all along fanfic #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha x y/n #agatha all along au

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midnight-bay-if · 2 days ago

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Hi! :3

What if MC had to break up and marry that new person? Maybe it was blackmail, maybe it was political threat or something. So, for many years MC had to live with this lie and abandon the person they truly love? But somehow RO gets to know about it??

(It took me a long time to figure out how to answer this; I hope these are okay!)

S: They hear the rumour through the grapevine; a coerced marriage, heartbreak, fear, all leading to sombre acceptance. It's everything their parents wanted for them, but somehow the fate has become yours. It all balls up inside them; the anger, the hurt, the sadness for you... it's overwhelming. Why would you choose to settle? Why would you not come to them for help? These are questions they are desperate to ask but can do nothing until they have looked you in the eye and seen the answers that lie within. This time, they promise, they will not look away.

Too many years wasted already, they refuse to waste a second more. Now, they will do what they do best; concoct a plan, arrange a meeting, coerce their way to your side. Nothing is off the table. They are prepared to bet it all to see you returned to a life of happiness.

They made a promise to you, after all.

Rain: S tried to protect them from any news of you, knowing how much it hurt. But once they hear the truth, it tears them up inside. Had the roles been reversed, would they have done the same? The thought they might have shames them. They do not blame you. Your desire to protect was just one of the beautiful shades of your mosiac they fell in love with. So much of their colour dulled when they lost you. They fear the same may have happened to you. They want it back; they want you back.

So, they will find you. They will stand firm, steady. If you tell them you are unhappy, if they see it within you, nothing in this world could prevent them from pulling you free. Even if it means dragging the ugliest parts of themselves from the deepest dredges they drowned back to the surface, they will. For you.

Taj: Taj doesn't remember the exact moments that followed being told the news, only that the room was turned over, furniture clawed into, and ornaments shattered on the ground. Their heart thunders against their ribs; their bones rattle with the uncontained fury as their hands shake. Anything is preferable to the stinging sensation of tears they desperately try to abate.

They are pissed at you. How could you decide this all on your own? Why? Did you think they would feel sorry for you? Not even a little bit. You should have come to them, trusted them. Did you think your act of self-sacrifice would ease your fuckin' ego? Well, since you took the choice from them, they will take it from you. They will find you. Get you back. Pull you into their arms, and never fuckin' let go.

Your spouse is going to feel every ounce of pain they suffered without you.

N: How you continue to surprise them is a mystery all on its own. They never believed you were the type to just roll over. They still refuse to believe it. It would be easier for them to think you had truly changed your heart and fallen for another who wasn't riddled with their cruelty. But no. You had given yourself over to someone just as cruel. It infuriates them, the rage tearing in their gut, burning through the magical disguise they once wore so easily.

Who did you think you were protecting? Clearly not yourself.

Well, perhaps they will find out why while squeezing the life out of your spouse; they can explain it all through the gurgles of their death rattle. As far as they are concerned, the demon they buried for you deserves some play time.

Umbra: They do not hesitate. All the pain, the discomfort, the fear; they shove it all down, pushing their body past its limits to find you, to reach you. They never should have let you go. They should have been there. It's all their fault. Useless. Pathetic. Worthless.

It's been a long time since they thought to press a dagger to a man's throat without your say so, but they regret not doing so the moment your spouse thought to snatch you away. They wanted to be the person you saw in them; they did. But in the end, they were always this. If you tell them to stop, they will consider it. They promise.

But they would be lying to themselves if the thought of letting their hand "slip" wasn't ever so sweet. They may be a monster, but so are those who dared force this on you.

#ask answer #taj #umbra knight #nazu raumon #naera raumon #simon selby #rain #simone selby #interactive fiction

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gghxliday · 1 day ago

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The Starting Line- Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader

The Starting Line: The Marauders had another best friend, and it was easy. But what wasn’t easy, was pretending they weren’t madly in love with her. So, one night, alone in the dorms... They stopped pretending.

DO NOT COPY, REPOST OR SHARE MY WORK TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM OR SOCIAL MEDIA

Hogwarts was finally at peace for the moment, exams were over and the student body had run out of subjects to pour over till the moon shone. Many of the students were ready to take advantage of this, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs poured at the doors, running to Hogsmeade. Many a Slytherin were racing with their brooms to the free Quidditch fields and Gryffindor did what they did best... Party.

Music was reverberating off the cold stone walls, a fire glistened and the smell of fire whisky filled the air. Huddles of warm bodies filled every corner, the chatter loud and busy. Many were asking the same question, where were the Marauders?

Upstairs, in a desolate corner was a heavy wooden door with a silencing charm and hidden inside was you, James, Sirius and Remus. Snuggled up in blankets and surrounded by pillows, you all couldn’t have seem more at peace but something was brewing beneath the courageous surface.

“I don’t understand how they could possibly be partyin, right now. That potions exam threw me on my ass.” Sirius whined; his face scrunched up as he dramatically dropped his head on Remus’s shoulder.

“I asked you if you wanted to study with me but no... you said, and I quote ‘I have a blunt that is calling me.’ so I don’t want to hear it.” You threw him a pointed look, as quickly as you had thrown him under the bus.

Remus and James shake their heads, the latter chuckling warmly. You can’t help but meeting his eyes. God, those eyes. So easy to drown in, they were the most perfect and pure hazel color with the flickering's of gold. You swore that the gold appeared there with his mischief because you never could see it before that.

James on the other hand, had a head swarming with so many thoughts that he thought they would start pouring off his tongue just to escape. His thoughts traveled from the locks of your hair, down to the lengths of your legs. When your eyes met, James thought he might melt. Your eyes caressed his features with a sort of gentleness and adoration that left him with nothing but dreams of you.

You didn’t know when you realized you two had been holding each other's gazes for a moment too long, but when you did you couldn’t help but whipping your head around like a child. Hoping to hide the red blush creeping up your neck. How long could you bare the stolen glances, and the running away.

You were embarrassed to admit the thoughts you had been hiding about your three friends. But as you snuggled close to the other side of Sirius, you couldn’t help but imagine more as the smell of pine and fire enveloped you. You twirled Sirius’s hair between your fingers, and the question was... what was more? Would the universe allow it? The precious touches, the closeness no longer of friendship but of love, and to imagine loving them was torturous but oh... was it glorious.

But you shook your head, this wasn’t the time. You needed to banish these thoughts before they drove you mad unanswered.

“Why so quiet tonight, Moony?” Sirius asked, raising his eyebrows while turning to lay his head onto your thighs and his legs across Remus’s. “Keep playing with my hair, why don’t you? It feels damn amazing.” Sirius flashed you one of those brilliant smiles that made your heart stop and the only thought you had was of how badly you wanted to kiss him.

“Nothing worthy of noting, Sirius. Nothing at all.” Remus sighed, and turned to look at James who was sprawled in an armchair behind you. You would’ve thought the two of them had a silent conversation and they had. Remus and James jump up, slipping into the bathroom.

“Don’t mind us, we’ll be back in one moment.” James grins, quite suspiciously and departing with a wink that you still aren’t sure whether was towards you or Sirius. But this was the moment the universe decided to favor you.

“Mm that feels just lovely.” Sirius groans, as your hands found their way to his scalp. Sirius’s hair had always been you’re favorite feature of his. It made him look ethereal, so completely unattainable. You chuckle and, in that moment, only Gryffindor courage could be the explanation. As you leaned down and left a gentle peck atop his forehead, and you hoped all of those dreams you had, had for months would play in his mind.

As you pulled away, Sirius looked up at you with much more than shock but possibly even happiness. “What was that? Was that a kiss, love?” Sirius moved before you had even realized, now sitting up, face to face and the pet name rolled off the tongue like he had been waiting for this moment.

“Yes, it was. Oh my god, Sirius. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have...” Your face went up in flames, as you realized that maybe you had judged it wrong or with too much hope. But before doubt or embarrassment could overtake your thoughts, Sirius had your face gently between his hands and he kissed you. There was nothing but the two of you, the dormitory disappeared from view and the passion, fire and dreams erupted from your mind and transformed into requited love.

“What did I tell you?” James’s voice, washed the haze over the two of you away and you jumped back from Sirius but he only let you move so far before dragging you back into his embrace.

Sirius grinned at him, the smile wolfish and full of pride. “You win, Padfoot. But I say, you better get over here before I keep her all to myself.” He says, before pressing another kiss to your lips. Your head spins as you lose yourself, did they know how you’ve longed after them all this time, or did they possibly long after you in the same manner.

“I’m so confused.” You breathlessly speak, when you break apart. James now sitting on the floor beside you and Sirius as Remus leans effortlessly against the wall with a hopeful smirk pondering on his lips.

“Oh love, don’t you know?” Sirius asks, his eyebrow quirked and a finger wrapping in your hair. “We’ve been chasing you like fools for ages now, haven’t you figured it out?”

“Well frankly, I feel like I’ve been the one chasing.” You quip back at him, at any minute you feel like you’ll wake up from another delightful dream, filled with more disappointment.

“Shit, I wish I would’ve figured it out sooner. I only had the thought tonight because Sirius looked ready to devour you and I had hoped that it would play itself out.” James laughs as he speaks, his hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“What I think their trying to say, sweetheart. Is that we’ve have been hoping that this very extraordinary, gorgeous and absolutely astonishing girl would notice that we were head over heels, foolishly in love.” Remus speaks, his words caressing over you like poetry. He crosses the room almost mistrustfully, like at any minute you’ll bolt out the door.

“And frankly. I myself was a bit frightened to... say anything. But I think I’ll go mad if I don’t have at least this... one moment.” Remus kneels at your side; his hands caress your face and you can’t stop from leaning into it. And in that moment Remus couldn’t help but to kiss you.

All reserves were gone, the slow and cautious were abandoned. The kiss was powerful, passionate and heated. The weeks, months and years of waiting crashed upon the four of you. Too much time had been lost and when you finally got to kiss James, who took you into his arms like he had caught something so much more valuable than his golden snitch. You only had one hope.

That this was the start of forever...

#fanfic #poly marauders #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders smut #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders fic #james potter x reader #james potter #sirius black #sirius x you #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #marauders x reader

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tangerinesgirl · 3 days ago

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Push Your Buttons

Sergei Kravinoff x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+, explicit

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: pure smut, public sex, asphyxiation, sex used for information, rough sex, sexualised reader, mean boss, stranger/anonymous sex, creampie (wrap it up folks), size difference

Notes: slight canon deviation (yeah sure Kraven doesn't wear his wet button up during the Mr Tackling scene but he does now)

Totally oblivious to the man shouting at you to hold the elevator, you drown out your sorrows with your cheap, slightly on the turn, instant coffee, marinating in the same rusty travel cup you have used for years.

Even though you didn't exactly like working for Mr Tackling, you were in too deep now, you couldn't leave even if you wanted to. Honestly, you probably more know about his business than he does. Mr Tackling doesn't even see you as a human being most days, you're sure he only hired you to be his receptionist and personal assistant as a front, only wanting the eye candy, and barely thinks you do any work.

You're late coming in today. Originally on time, but sent home by Tackling as your outfit wasn't "short enough". He makes your skin crawl. But you have to obey his demands, trying not to think about what happened to the last man who did.

You're snapped back into reality by the sound of something loud hitting the door button on the elevator. Eyes widening as you immediately clock the source of the noise being a small metal knife. The doors remain open as the man slides through the gap before retrieving his knife.

Straight away, you feel unsafe being alone in the lift with him. You take in his appearance through the awkward silence, as the lift whirs upwards. Memorising him to warn someone when you are out of the enclosed space.

Young, you want to say 30s, brown hair, damp and slicked back, as if he's just been swimming. Beard, trimmed to a suitable length, but still with a wild quality to it. You can't get a good look at his eyes, his gaze furrowed, staring at the ground.

You almost double take when you glance at his bare feet. What happened to his shoes?

Black trousers and white shirt, dripping wet. Unbuttoned at the collar teasing the muscles he is hiding underneath. Rolled up at the arms, his veins and muscles nearly pop out as he clenches his fists. Angry? Or preparing for something?

You can't deny he is a handsome man, even though you are scared, you can't help but be attracted to his ruggedness. Your breath hitches in your throat, unable to help clearing it with a cough.

As you do so, the man snaps out of his trance to look at you. His brown eyes tracing you up and down. You avoid his gaze and nervously pull down your short skirt, suddenly becoming self conscious at him oggling you.

Suddenly the man lunges forward, his body towering over yours, you back into the wall as he reaches behind you to press a button on the lift panel. The lift comes to an abrupt halt, the alarm starting to ring in your ears.

The noise of your own heart beating drowns out the alarm as you stare at the man in front of you, neither of you moving even after pressing the button. His hand next to your head, looming over you as his beard statts to tickle your face. You wait for him to make the first move.

"You know Mr Tackling?"

His voice rumbles through his chest, the deep bassy notes going straight to your core. You can't help but wonder what your name would sound like with his Russian accent.

"I uh...yeah, I'm his PA."

SHIT why did you tell him that? You don't know who this man is, you fear you may have put a mark over your head now. You guess he would find out anyway, your job being common knowledge around the office.

The man hums in thought.

"Would you tell me where he is?"

You hesitate, less likely to give up that information.

"I, I'm not sur-"

He moves his arm by the side of your head to your chin, cupping it to moving your face upwards, making you look at him. On closer inspection, you start to notice blood specks on his white shirt. You doubt it is his own.

"I won't ask again", he continues.

"What are you going to do to him?", you ask, but really, you already know the answer.

"You really have sympathy towards him? The man who sends you home to change as you don't look hot enough for him?"

"How did-"

"Never letting him touch you...", his hand travels down your body, catching on your blouse, "but yet let a complete stranger do so?"

You look away guilty, blushing at his words. You do like the attention he's showing you, part of the anonymity scares as well as excites you.

His hand snaps back onto your head as he pushes your cheek, making you look at him once again. Your coffee cup falls out of your hand in shock, spilling onto the laminate floor.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you."

His words sting, but end up going straight to your core. You should be afraid, but your body is saying otherwise, and he knows it.

"Will you show me where he is? ...or am I going to have to fuck the information out of you?"

The damp of his shirt starts to seep into yours at the close proximity. You can't seem to find the words, taken aback by his boldness. You start to move your leg up his, saying more than what you could have done with words. Your bare legs catching on the creases of his trousers.

The man looks at your lips, hungrily, as you trail up his leg. Seems you're both just as into this. He nods subtly, picking up on your consent, before his lips crash into yours. The force pushes you further back into the wall, both his arms leaning against the glass for stability as his tongue explores your mouth. You glance at his arms, his hands steaming up the mirror, as you moan softly into the kiss. You can't help but wonder what those hands look like wrapped around other parts of your body. You start to grind your hips on his crotch at the thought, slowly starting to feel his erection through his trousers.

He pulls away from the kiss briefly to yank your shirt open, the sound of buttons popping off around the elevator. His hands immediately palming at your bra, dipping inside to caress your breasts. You melt into his grip as your hand dips underneath your underwear.

The man stops to unzip his trousers, his cock bouncing free in the very little space between you. He wastes no time as he pulls your panties to one side to slide his cock inside you. You're grateful you decided to touch yourself before he did this, making entry a little easier, not quite realising exactly how big he is. He struggles to fit himself inside you.

"Fuck, so tight", he whispers absentmindedly next to your ear.

He grips hold of one of your legs, lifting it, spreading you further apart to make room for more of his cock. Slowly starting to thrust into you, you squirm underneath him, desperate for more. The wall behind you digs into your back with each push. You wrap your leg around his waist, making him fully insert himself into you.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head feeling him stretch you completely. Looking at him, you notice he's also totally blissed out, with some small shock and impressed looks glinting in his eyes. He takes a second before continuing to thrust inside you. Part of you wonders if he's ever managed to fully seat inside anyone else before, with his reaction.

The force of his pace winds you, unable to make any noise. You somehow can hear him pant and moan over the continuing alarm. Your body goes limp as you let this complete stranger fuck you however he seem fit, your hands digging into his back through his shirt, clawing into him for stability, craving for him to be even closer to you.

His lips start to trail down your jaw, before reaching your neck, feeling him leaving bites and bruises, you wonder what your boss would think seeing them. You swear he even growls as he does so, like a wild animal. His hand instinctively pushes some of your hair behind your ear, giving him more access. But his fingers linger there, teasing the pulse point on your jugular. Lifting his head, he sees your eyes pleading with him, letting him use you however he wanted to.

His hand effortlessly engulfs your entire neck, as he gently presses the sides. You can feel him still spearing up inside of you as the oxygen escapes your throat. His other hand ghosting at your entrance, before his fingers start to rub at your clit. He watches you closely, enjoying this power over you, and the way your walls swallow his cock perfectly.

He can feel himself close to release too, he tries to pull himself from you, but your steel grip on his back lets him know to continue. Before you know it, his pace starts to stutter, pushing one final time up into your cervix. Warmth rushes inside your cunt, his seed filling you up is nearly enough to make you orgasm again. You hum gently at the feeling. His cum starts to seep out of you, onto his trousers, but neither of you care right now.

The overstimulation is enough to make you cum. The combination of him fucking into you, playing with your bundle of nerves and seeing the veins in his hands flex and control your breathing, makes you unravel. Your toes curl inside your heels as your walls clench around him, feeling every vein of his cock as your orgasm washes over your body.

There's a pause as you both come down from your high. He removes himself from you, tucking his cock back into his trousers, pressing the alarm button again, the elevator whirring back into action.

You catch your breath as you pull your skirt down, going to do up your blouse but cursing when you remember it no longer has buttons. The man can't help but smirk seeing you have no choice but to have your bra on display. You can still feel his seed drip out of you, through your underwear and onto the floor. The elevator gives you no time to regain your thoughts as you reach the top of the building.

As soon as the door opens, you're greeted to a handful of people waiting for the elevator. Various murmurs of "about time" and "what's the hold up?" pause when they see the doors unveil the two of you. The smell of coffee and sex wafts through the air as you quickly squeeze past them, avoiding the embarrassment. The man in the lift following you, quick on your heels.

One worker eventually pipes up.

"I guess I'll take the next one."

#fanfic #kraven the hunter #kraven the hunter 2024 #kraven #kraven x reader #fem reader #sergei kravinoff #kraven movie #kraven x you #sergei kravinoff x reader #reader #aaron taylor johnson

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elikajinnie · 14 hours ago

Text

The Last Breath - S.J

P: Demigod!Jake X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Death, Violence, Confessions, basically right person, not enough time.

Synopsis: On the battleground, you lie on the edge of death, knowing there’s nothing left to do but let go. But then you see Jake, the one you’ve loved for so long, fighting. With a final surge of adrenaline, you muster the strength to confess your feelings, hoping to hear him say it back. But by the time he does, it’s too late. Two people in love cannot survive when one of them is gone, and as you slip away, so does the light of the world for Jake.

a/n: this is kinda short, but angsty :) so enjoy!

now playing: i love you by billie eilish

percy jackson au!masterlist

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to be in this battle—not today, not like this. But the gods, your so-called parents, had once again decided to throw you and the other half-bloods into the fray, using you like pawns on a celestial chessboard. It wasn’t fair, and some of you had dared to say so, but really, who could stand up to Zeus? Who would risk it, knowing the cost?

The fight had started off manageable—a few monsters, nothing you and your friends couldn’t handle. You’d thought maybe, just maybe, this would be one of the easier ones. But that hope shattered when the Minotaurs appeared, chaos erupted, and before you knew it, the battlefield had turned into a gruesome field of broken bodies and spilled blood. Friends, strangers, creatures—dead or dying everywhere you turned.

You should’ve been stronger. As the daughter of one of the more prominent Greek gods, you were supposed to rise above, to lead, to fight. But even godly lineage has its limits. You were cornered before you could react, outnumbered and outmatched. Their strikes were brutal, unrelenting, and though you fought back with everything you had, it wasn’t enough.

Now, here you are, crumpled on the ground, blood soaking through your torn armor and pooling around you. Every breath burns, every movement feels like a thousand daggers stabbing into your flesh. You can hear the shouts of your friends somewhere in the distance, but their voices are drowned out by the pounding in your ears.

You can’t die here. You won’t die here. But as the darkness creeps in, swallowing the edges of your sight, you can’t help but wonder if this time, the gods have pushed you too far.

You looked down at your wounds, at the crimson streaks running down your arms and hands. Your fingers were stained red, trembling as you struggled to make sense of the pain. It was everywhere—your chest, your legs, your ribs. Every breath you took felt like fire, every movement sent waves of agony through your body. You’d never been to Tartarus, but you swore this was what it must feel like. This was suffering, pure and unrelenting, and you didn’t know how much more you could take.

For a moment, the thought crossed your mind: you could just close your eyes. Let the pain take over. Give up and let the darkness swallow you whole. But before you could give in, something in the corner of your vision caught your attention. Him.

Sim Jake.

Son of Ares.

Even now, bruised and bloodied, barely holding himself upright, he kept fighting. He refused to back down, even when it looked like his body might give out at any second.

And he was your crush.

From the moment you arrived at Camp Half-Blood, clueless and scared, he had been there. You’d met him on your first day, wandering aimlessly, overwhelmed by the realization that you were a demigod. He had found you and, without hesitation, taken you under his wing. He’d taught you the ropes—how to hold a sword, how to defend yourself, how to survive. He showed you kindness when you needed it most, and slowly, over time, you’d fallen for him.

How could you not? There was so much to love about Jake. His soft curls that always seemed to fall perfectly into place. His warm, puppy-like eyes that somehow made you feel safe. His confidence, his humor, the way he smiled like he had the entire world in his hands. He was fierce and brave, yet gentle in a way you hadn’t expected from someone like him, someone whose father was the God of war.

Jake was... Jake.

And to you, he was everything.

But what were you to him? A friend? A sister figure? A pupil he’d taken under his wing out of pity? You didn’t know, but the idea of confessing your feelings only to be rejected kept you silent. Why would someone like him ever like someone like you? Jake deserved someone strong, someone who could stand by his side in battle without faltering. Not you, bleeding out on the ground, helpless and weak.

You shook your head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they lingered. You didn’t deserve him. That much, you were sure of. And yet, even as you tried to convince yourself to let go of the hopeless dream, you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

You loved him. So, so much. Even when you didn’t want to. Even when you tried to tell yourself it was foolish, that it would never work. But no matter how hard you fought it, your heart always betrayed you. And somehow, that hurt so much more than any of the physical pain you were feeling. The ache in your chest burned hotter than the cuts on your skin, sharper than the bruises blooming across your body.

You told yourself you’d had enough—enough fighting, enough struggling, enough everything. So, you stayed where you were, content to just watch him in your final moment.

But then you saw it.

A creature.

It was creeping toward Jake’s blind spot, its movements silent. He was too busy fighting off another monster to notice.

He didn’t see it.

Your body moved before your mind could process what was happening. You didn’t know where the sudden rush of adrenaline came from, but it didn’t matter. Pain surged through you as you forced yourself to your feet, the wounds screaming in protest, but you ignored it. Your hand found your sword, then your shield, both slick with blood as you grabbed them from the ground.

You staggered forward, limping and breathless, but your focus never left him. The creature was getting closer. Too close. Panic clawed at your chest as you tried to move faster, your battered legs trembling beneath you. Every step felt impossible, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

“Jake!” you screamed, your voice hoarse but desperate enough to make him turn. His wide eyes found you, shock flashing across his face as you barreled toward him, pushing yourself past the limits of what you thought you could endure.

Before he could say a word, before he could ask what you were doing, you threw yourself against his back. The impact sent a fresh wave of agony through your body, but you bit down the cry threatening to escape. You raised your shield just as the creature lunged, its attack colliding with the metal in a sickening crash.

The force of the blow rattled your bones, nearly knocking you over, but it didn’t hit Jake. It didn’t hurt him. You held firm, your shield braced as you stood between him and the creature, refusing to let it lay a single claw on him.

For a moment, everything else faded—the chaos, the deaths, the battlefield, the blood. All that mattered was that Jake was safe.

And you wanted to make sure he stayed safe. That was all that mattered. With a shout that burned your throat, you pushed the creature back with all the strength you had left, raising your sword and slashing it across the neck. The monster let out a guttural cry before falling, its body crumpling to the ground, lifeless.

You stood there for a moment, panting, trembling, and turned to Jake. He had just bested the last of his opponents, his blade still in hand, his chest heaving with exhaustion. The relief that flooded you was overwhelming. He was okay. Jake was okay. That was all you needed to know.

But your body had reached its limit. The adrenaline that had kept you standing drained away in an instant, leaving only the crushing weight of your injuries behind. Your legs buckled beneath you, and you fell. Your sword and shield slipped from your hands, clattering to the ground with a dull metallic crash.

You barely registered the sting of the impact as your body hit the ground, too numb, too tired to care. The edges of your vision blurred, darkened, but you could still see Jake turning toward you, his eyes wide with alarm.

“No!” His voice was panicked, cutting through the haze that threatened to pull you under. You wanted to respond, to tell him you were fine—or at least lie and say you were—but the words wouldn’t come. Your body felt heavy, your limbs like lead.

You tried to lift your head, but the effort was too much. All you could do was watch as Jake dropped his weapon, and rushed toward you. You wanted to smile at him, to reassure him, but the darkness was too strong.

You felt so numb, so cold… like the warmth was slowly draining from your body. The pain that had consumed you earlier was gone now, replaced by an eerie emptiness. But then, you felt it—Jake’s arms around you, pulling you close. His warmth pressed against your chilled skin, his frantic movements jolting your mind just enough to keep the darkness at bay. His voice was desperate, trembling as he spoke, though his words were distant, muffled by the haze clouding your mind.

You blinked sluggishly, trying to focus, trying to understand, and that’s when you felt something wet against your face. It wasn’t blood—it was warm, and it fell in soft drops that rolled down your cheeks. It took you longer than it should have to realize they weren’t your tears.

Jake was crying.

Your Jake. The brave, unshakable son of Ares. The boy who faced monsters and gods without flinching, who always smiled even when the odds were stacked against him. His face was twisted in anguish, his tears falling freely as he cradled you like you were the most fragile thing in the world. His voice broke as he spoke your name over and over, his hands shaking as he tried to keep pressure on your wounds.

Why was he crying?

Your mind felt too foggy, too far gone to make sense of it. You wanted to ask him, to tell him you were fine—even if it was a lie—but your lips wouldn’t move. Instead, you stared up at him, your heavy eyelids threatening to close, wondering why he looked so heartbroken.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m so sorry. Please… please stay with me. I can’t—” His words choked off into a sob, and his grip on you tightened, as if holding you closer could somehow keep you here.

Sorry? What was he sorry for? You didn’t understand. Your chest ached, not from pain, but from the look on his face—the fear and desperation in his eyes. You’d never seen him like this before, and it hurt more than any wound ever could.

“Jake…” you finally managed to whisper, though your voice was barely audible. It took every ounce of strength you had left, and even then, it felt like the effort might break you. His head snapped up at the sound of your voice, his tear-streaked face hovering above yours.

“Yes! Yes,” he said quickly, his tone a mix of relief and panic. “I’m here. I’m right here. Don’t—don’t you dare close your eyes. Stay with me. Please.”

You wanted to obey, to stay awake like he begged, but the numbness was spreading, the world around you blurring again. Still, you fought to keep your gaze locked on him, his familiar face the only anchor you had left. You wanted to tell him everything—to tell him you loved him, that he was the reason you kept fighting, that he was your everything. But all that came out was a weak, trembling whisper.

“Why… are you crying?”

Jake’s face crumpled again, and a fresh wave of tears spilled from his eyes. He shook his head, brushing your hair back gently as if trying to soothe you. “Because I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice breaking with every word. “I can’t. I—” He swallowed hard, his chest heaving as he forced the words out. “Because I can’t lose you,” he choked out, his voice trembling like it was on the verge of shattering. He looked so lost, so helpless, his usual confidence stripped away.

“I can’t lose you, not you,” he rambled, his words tumbling out like a dam had broken. “I wouldn’t know what to do without you. You’re—you’re everything, and I should’ve told you that. I should’ve stayed with you during the battle, I should’ve protected you better—” His voice broke again, a sob catching in his throat. “But I wasn’t strong enough, and now… now you’re—” He cut himself off, shaking his head furiously, as though refusing to even acknowledge the possibility.

His hands trembled as he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away blood and dirt like he could somehow make everything better by sheer force of will. “You can’t leave me. You can’t,” he said, his voice rising in desperation. “I can’t live without you. I don’t want to. Do you hear me? I need you. I need you.”

Tears streaked down his face, landing on your cheeks and mingling with the blood there. You stared up at him, your body too weak to move, too drained to respond. But your mind… your mind raced. His words, his confession—it didn’t feel real. Jake, your Jake, was falling apart in front of you, his heart laid bare, and you didn’t know how to process it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice raw with guilt. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault. If I had just stayed with you, if I’d just—” He clenched his jaw, his fists tightening as though trying to hold back the anger at himself. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve been by your side, protecting you. That’s all I ever wanted—to keep you safe. And I failed.”

You wanted to tell him he was wrong, that it wasn’t his fault, that he’d done more for you than anyone ever had. But the words wouldn’t come, your body too weak to obey. All you could do was stare at him, wide-eyed, your heart pounding despite your exhaustion.

Jake’s gaze searched yours, his desperation deepening when he noticed your silence. “Please, say something,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Yell at me, tell me I’m an idiot, anything. Just… don’t leave me. Please..” His forehead pressed against yours again, his warm breath mixing with your shallow, ragged gasps.

The world around you felt distant, muted, but Jake… Jake was so close, his presence so overwhelming that it was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. And even through the haze, you could feel your heart breaking at the sight of him. You’d never seen him like this—never seen him so completely shattered.

You wanted to reassure him, to tell him it was okay, that you weren’t giving up. But all you could do was keep staring, stunned by his confession. The boy you thought could never love you the way you loved him was here, holding you like you were his entire world, begging you to stay, telling you he needed you.

You didn’t know how this would end, whether you’d survive the injuries tearing you apart, but in that moment, you found the strength to part your lips, even if only slightly.

“Jake…” you whispered, barely audible, but it was enough to make his head snap up, his tear-streaked face inches from yours. You saw the hope flicker in his eyes, the way he clung to the sound of your voice like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

“I…” Your voice faltered, the effort too much, but you managed a small, trembling smile. You needed him to know, no matter what happened next. “You’re wrong. You… you didn’t fail me.”

“No,” Jake said sharply, his voice trembling with barely-contained emotion. “I did fail you.” His hands pressed harder against your wounds, though you both knew it wasn’t helping. He looked at you like he was trying to will you back to life with sheer determination, his tears falling faster now. “If I was just a little stronger, just a little faster… you’d be standing with me right now. Victorious. Unharmed. Unscathed.”

His voice cracked, and he shook his head, his lips pulling into a thin, anguished line. “You wouldn’t be here, bleeding out in my arms. You wouldn’t—” His breath hitched, and he closed his eyes for a moment, his shoulders trembling. “You wouldn’t be dying.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, that none of this was his fault. But you couldn’t. Not because you agreed with him, but because you already knew the truth. He wasn’t wrong about one thing—you were dying. The warmth in your body was all but gone, replaced by a chilling numbness that crept deeper with every passing second. You could feel it now, the faint pull. You wouldn’t survive this. No godly intervention, no miracle could save you.

So what was the point in denying it? If this was the end, you knew there was something you had to do. You’d carried the weight of your feelings for too long, burying them out of fear of rejection, of heartbreak. But now… now you didn’t have to be afraid. If he rejected you, it wouldn’t matter. You’d be gone, and there’d be no heartbreak to endure.

What better time to confess than when you had nothing left to lose?

Your lips trembled as you summoned the last of your strength, your voice a mere whisper. “Jake…”

His eyes snapped back to yours, the desperation in them piercing through the haze clouding your mind. “What is it? Don’t try to talk—just hold on, okay? You’ll be fine. I’ll get you out of here, I swear.”

You wanted to smile at his stubborn hope, but your body was too weak. Instead, you forced out the words you’d never had the courage to say before. “I… I need to tell you something.”

Jake’s brow furrowed, his panic deepening. “No, you don’t. You can tell me later, okay? When you’re better—”

“Jake,” you interrupted, your tone firmer this time despite the weakness in your voice. He froze, his lips parting slightly as he stared at you. You swallowed hard, forcing the lump in your throat down as you looked into his eyes, memorizing every detail of his face.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words leaving your lips so softly they almost got lost in the chaos around you. But Jake heard them. You saw the way his expression shifted, the way his eyes widened in shock and disbelief. “I’ve loved you for so long. And I… I’m sorry I never told you before, but I couldn’t. I was scared.”

His mouth opened as if to say something, but no sound came out. You pushed forward, desperate to get it all out. “I didn’t think you’d feel the same. But I—I needed to tell you. Just once.” A weak, bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “Even if you don’t feel the same, it’s okay. I just… I needed you to know.”

Jake’s face crumpled again, his tears falling faster now as he shook his head. “No,” he said, his voice breaking. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to say that and then—” He stopped himself, his hand cupping your cheek as he leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “I feel the same... I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.”

Your heart ached at his words, both with joy and sorrow. You wanted to hold onto that moment forever, but you could feel yourself slipping away, your vision blurring at the edges. “Jake…” you whispered, his name a soft breath on your lips.

“No, don’t you dare,” he said, his voice rising in panic as he shook you gently. “Don’t you dare close your eyes. You’re staying with me, do you hear me? I love you, and you’re staying with me. Please.”

But his voice was growing fainter, the world around you dimming as the darkness closed in. All you could see was him, his tear-streaked face and trembling hands, his love for you written in every broken word he spoke.

And as the last of your strength faded, you managed one final smile, your fingers brushing weakly against his hand. “I love you too,” you whispered, and then everything went still.

You wouldn’t know that Jake’s screams echoed across the battlefield, piercing through the chaos like a dagger to the heart of everyone who heard it. His cries were filled with so much anguish that even the monsters seemed to hesitate, their bloodlust momentarily stalled by the sheer force of his grief.

He clutched your lifeless body to his chest, his arms trembling as he held you as tightly as he could, as though refusing to let you slip away completely. His tears soaked into your bloodied clothes, his face buried in your hair as he sobbed. “No, no, no,” he chanted over and over, his voice cracking with every word. “Please… not you. Anyone but you.”

Jake felt like his entire world had collapsed. His heart was shattered, broken beyond repair, leaving nothing but a hollow void in its place.

“You can’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and barely audible now. “I can’t… I can’t do this without you. You promised me. You said you’d stay.” His fingers brushed against your cheek, smearing the blood there as if trying to bring color back to your pale skin. But it was futile. He knew that. Deep down, he knew.

Yet he couldn’t let go.

His body shook as he leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, his tears falling like rain onto your face. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice breaking again. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve protected you.”

But no matter how many times he apologized, no matter how many tears he shed, it wouldn’t bring you back. And that thought… that reality… was unbearable.

Jake felt his breathing grow ragged, his chest tightening painfully as the weight of your absence threatened to crush him completely. He couldn’t imagine a world without you. A world where your laughter didn’t fill the air, where your smile didn’t light up his days. A world where he didn’t get to tell you how much he loved you every single day.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Not without you. I can’t.” His hands shook as they clung to you, his knuckles white from the force of his grip. He didn’t care about the battle raging around him. He didn’t care about the blood still staining his hands. All he cared about was you. And you were gone.

He pressed a soft, trembling kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as his tears continued to fall. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice so soft it was almost lost in the wind. “I always have. I always will.”

But the pain didn’t go away. It only grew, consuming him like fire, burning through his resolve and leaving nothing but ashes in its wake. He didn’t know how to go on. He didn’t know if he could.

Because a world without you wasn’t a world worth living in.

Jake’s trembling hands slowly reached for the pendant around your neck—the one he’d given you months ago, after you’d bested him in a sparring match. It was simple, unassuming, but it had meant the world to him when you’d accepted it. Now, it was all he had left of you. He unclasped it with shaking fingers, clutching it tightly in his palm as if it were the only thing tethering him to what little sanity he had left.

“I’ll see you again,” he whispered, his voice so broken it was barely audible. “I promise. I’ll come to you. Just… wait for me.”

As the battle raged on, Jake didn’t care about the outcome anymore. He didn’t care about the gods or their games, or the war that had taken everything from him. All he cared about was the promise he’d just made. To you. To the only person who had ever truly mattered.

a/n: oooooooooookay! so this marks the last fic of 2024 :) wooow... what a year. Thanks for all the birthday wishes <33 Love all of youu! Now time to get drunk, ugh i need it after this year. Reblogs and commentary are welcomed <3

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