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xylatox · 2 days ago

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with wings of wax and thread | hik

Another fic from Cam and a Kai fic no less, this interests me so much, unto the review!!

Before I even start, I've always been obsessed with angel and demon themes and the fact that Kai is mode or less fallen makes me more obsessed.

Feathers, soft and white, twisted in the golden glow from the slow-setting sun. Raining down like a thrown stone, sinking and littering the waiting ground. — god the beginning is so enrapturing.

His mouth had filled with blood, the ichor more sugar than iron, his stomach turning from the flavor, or maybe it was the feeling of falling. Flying had been something like this, the air rippling in his hair, every strand kissed with the soft hands of the north wind, a mother's touch. Flying had felt so close to life that even in falling he understood what it meant to have all your memories rush in front of you one last time. Because falling was like the memory of flying, the echo of it so close it was like a shout right in his ear. — this description is absolutely insane what the fuck.

They had come, found your hiding spot, and planned to finish you off, that laugh was only the start. It had not yet turned cruel as it was that day, the parroting of the group still ingrained right behind your ears, following you around no matter how you tried to shake the thoughts. And now they were coming down like a meteor into the only safe space you had ever known. The entrance was hard to maneuver with wings; it only made sense they would have a rough time with landing except there was a giant splash, the water in the moonpool lapping up, the crashing sound like the waves hitting the rocks only now echoing in the carved out cave. — I love this. I am absolutely geeking out over every word so far. It's all phrased so wonderfully. I'm also super interested in reader, she's so intruding. I also love that contrary to typical demon behavior, reader chooses to save Kai, that further makes her such an interesting character.

You had not grown the horns that most of the demons possessed, you could feel the spot they must have wanted to sprout through if they had been given the chance, the area always colder than the rest of your scalp. It had been one of the things they had picked at when taking their dues. — it's so cool that reader is technically demon by birth(?) but lacks all the physical attributes to deem her one, it's makes her even cooler.

Reader's personality!! I love it, I love that there's already thus barrier between them as a result of it.

They had told him never to bite the hand that fed him but this was a forceful hand coming out to get him, twisting its fingers in his hair and pushing his face in the dirt until it was nothing but a given that he had to eat whatever it was that was handed to him. But he listened, taking in each word and trying to keep them as close as he could get them. — Cam...you have such a way with words.

I love that despite the hesitance from reader when they first interacted, it's really sweet now like —“That would be horrible and if you don't listen to me they will be gone, keep your hand away,” you left no room for argument in your tone and Kai listened. He curled his hand into a fist and sat it in his lap. “Today we will let the area breathe and while I’m out we can get whatever we need to make a salve to help the healing process,” Kai nodded knowing that you were right. He didn't even have the first thought of where to start to find out how to help himself. — her caring is super cute.

Also I just wanna say, candle wax is an interesting method to stick the feathers back??? like I wouldn't have thought about it.

He pictured you over and over again in his head. Imagined you with your wings of night in the air next to him, that laugh you had turned his way unlike the one he heard but one he wished you would give him so that he would know something in his dream would be real. This laugh was somewhere caught between a giggle and a sprinkle of light from his fingertips. He locked in on thinking of the laugh over the feeling of flying because it was impossible to not hurt when thinking of the air. But you, thinking of you, felt safe even if it was some kind of hope caught in a dream. — im going to sob, how could something be so sweet yet so sad.

Kai could not feel the process, not when he was lost in his thoughts. He tried to separate the knowledge of you being a demon away from the proof he had of you being nothing more than someone who was lost. The two could be synonymous is what he reminds himself over again. — :((((

Also the way reader fights over her natural feelings as a demon?? my heart breaks. —But waking up to know he had been here the whole time, knowing that if he had been there he would have helped just the same, settled something inside you that had been overrun with worry. You unfurled your arms from around yourself, throwing them around Kai’s neck and pulling him into a hug. — poor baby.

You whimpered when he brushed over the scars on your back but did not pull away, letting him have a part of you that you would never give to anyone else because he knew what it was like, he knew what it meant, this level of trust rushing into you almost as fast as your coming orgasm. —HELLLLLLIIIIIOOOO??? This was actually so attractive good bye, like the trust, the intimacy behind this???

And then the feathers started to rain. A few white tumbled down along with you as you looked up at him, wax melting from being so close to the sun for only a short time. The edge of his right wing was still tipped in black as if your feathers had infected his mind and thoughts as if they had been the cause of the drop and not the sickening worry he had of losing everything that had just been returned to him. But you could not stop yourself from thinking again of the story you had been told as a child. That demons had been the same as angels, cast out for the bitterness lingering in their near-empty hearts. You two were the same, cast out, and only now did he truly see it. — oh my god. From Kai letting her go to this...it's insane. It reminds me of Icarus :(

If falling felt like flying you would welcome the feeling because anything was better than nothing at all. — oh my god.

I'm so glad I finally got to take my time and read this.

Cam, your writing is beautiful, the way you've described things has left me beyond words. I absolutely love the end where they were both able to relive falling but their emotions were so different at the time. I just love that they're the same ah, this was so amazing♡

with wings of wax and thread

angel!huening kai x demon!fem!reader

‧₊˚ ⋅ synopsis: In the kingdom of Aethera, an angel is pushed from the heavens. Wings torn and feathers spilling, he finds himself in the den of a demon who wishes to have never been found. Long having lived with your own fall from grace, wingless and bloody just as he is now, you help stitch back up what once was. Can nurtured understanding be crueler than nature? ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ warnings: 🔞!!!demon fem!reader, angel!huening kai, angst, blood, depression, mentions of death and gore, reader talks about being violently attacked, cpr performed, slight open ending that could lead to mc/member death if interpreted that way, unprotected sex, no pull out mention, prob forgot some sorry

⊹₊ ݁ . wc: 19.6k . ݁₊ ⊹

𓅪 ⸝⸝⸝ now playing: I, carrion (icarian) - hozier an: im so in love with this event, the work that all these amzing writers put into this is so astonishing- it’s so wild to participate in something like this when I still feel like a baby writer with so much to learn but thats always the fun bit I guess lol im so happy we could all stretch our creative abilities to come together and make this work <333 thank you for reading!!

[m.list] [aethera!event m.list]

ONCE UPON A TIME… In a land far far away, where the treetops touched the soft clouds of the sky, and the water sparkled under the glowing sun. Where mountains rose high and in which long, deep caves ran. Where the sea met shore in a collision of tall waves. Where the undead walked among the living. Where the winged flew above the finned. In a land where things beyond any reason and rhyme existed. And amongst those very beings, within the veils of Aethera, there was…

Feathers, soft and white, twisted in the golden glow from the slow-setting sun. Raining down like a thrown stone, sinking and littering the waiting ground.

The fall from grace had been sickly sweet. The shock of that first second of flightlessness was frightening enough to cause Kai to sink his teeth into his tongue. Holding back the staggered scream he wanted to let out, still protecting the ones who wronged him. Who had sent a blistering pain down his back, the cracking of cartilage ringing in his ears as he screwed his mouth shut, pleading with glistening eyes, forgiving them the second that his foot had met nothing but air.

And he laughed, the sound a strangled choke, fighting its way out from between his lips, teeth stained and heart sinking. He had never felt heavy, not when lifting off the ground was second nature. Kai had imagined his bones had been hollow like a bird's, but plummeting only showed him how led he was lined. Heavy, too much for even the mother's air to carry him, slipping through fingers, through feathers.

He didn't think that having a wing ripped right from his back would have made so many of his feathers come free, whirling around him, in a thick plume. Maybe it was his wing's way of bleeding. He had witnessed the damaged appendages before on others and they never bled, not unless wounded at the base, right at the shoulder blade. But even his feathers now were dotted with thick spots of blood, the droplets rising instead of falling with him, lighter than his lead bones. He reached out, trying to catch any feathers he could, trying to grasp them as if they would be the edge of a cliff he could pull himself back up from. But he came away with nothing but understanding.

This was a brutal way to make a grave but it was the hand he had been dealt, the cards pushed into his waiting palms without question. He only hoped the ground wouldn’t damage his wings worse than they already were. Half hanging on by tender threads of pink life, he hoped to tuck whatever was left around him like he had when he was a child, creating a small cave for him and him alone.

Kai was thinking in full circle thoughts, that crippling adult understanding washing away to childlike hope as he counted the seconds down to when someone would realize he wasn’t catching air, their rush to reach him deterred by the weight of him hurtling towards the waiting dirt. If his bones were not lead-lined they had been made of magnets, his ruined wings having kept him from the realization sooner; the grave always called the body.

The carrion had made the decent look appealing. Kai had grown up seeing the demons sore up only to tuck their tar-colored wings close to their bodies, looking freer than when Kai stretched his out, the span of his shadow over the sea. If they could feel the thrill of descent he could find it in him to enjoy the last of his sorry life.

The wind picked up, spinning him, round and round, dizzying and giggling. It was his twinkling laugh that made you look up. The jagged rocks circling his falling form, the ceiling of your cave the perfect opening for him to find himself invading. The sun was setting just enough so that the shadow of him cut deep into you, palms slick as you pushed up from where you sat at the edge of the moon pool, sand coating your fingers as you pressed a hand to your racing heart. Blood rushing in your ears, serpentine fear wrapping around your limbs running a chill down your spine.

Everything was getting wet, the water cold to your skin as it dotted your legs, feeling like a burn when you were so shocked. Because as the water settled, the churning sound still worked its way through your skull and it began to rain. The soft white feathers swung down billowing side to side, drifting as if they were a newborn butterfly, always knowing flying was in their bones but never knowing they could do it alone. Drifting to a final stop on water starting to calm. And there sinking to the bottom, face up and eyes closed, was an angel.

His white wings torn and weighed him down lower and lower to the sandy floor of the pool, the plume of derby shadowing him as he hit the bottom. Hands out on either side of him like someone welcoming in the sun after a long winter, the look you saw before a much needed embrace, not as if you had ever seen it before.

Stepping to the edge where sand turned to rock you looked back up at the sky, the fading light of the day slipping into hazy darkness, the blue hour working its way over the land before the moon fully made its appearance. But you could only see the slow falling feathers, catching wind and making way in other directions far from where you stood now. If he had been pushed by a demon they would have been on their kill without a second thought, they tracked them without mercy, like the hunters who aimed to play with their food instead of showing it the grace of kindness. If they had hit to watch him run they would have chased until it was over not let him sink in this water so far from home. They would have wanted the angels to see what they had done to such a pretty face.

Because he was pretty, even in dying. The last bubbling breaths fluttered to the surface until they broke through the tension. You trembled, cold all over from the moment's rush of fear that was still coursing through you, hands clenching and unclenching as you thought over what to do with him. In the water he could rot without much worry to you, the fish would pick him over but it wasn't as if you got many swimming around anymore. The sea folk had warned of swimming too close to your pool, for the first couple months of you finding shelter in the hollow cave, the fish had been your only source of sustenance. But the sea folk kept to their own, even the lowest of the food chain, warning them about you had been easy enough. So his body would rise unless his wings found themselves lodged under a rock.

You were ready to turn, find company in him even if he was at the bottom of the water until a single lone feather caught your attention. Eyes tracing the swaying descent like a cat following the trail of a mouse. Bleached white like a bone, pearlescent once it landed on the now still water, cupped like a curved leaf or petal. And there, dotted like a heart, was a single spot of blood. You could remember the way your own feathers looked, black enough for the blood to seep in and disappear like it had never existed.

It had felt like drowning the day you found yourself here. Falling from where they had dropped you had hurt, the salt water burning your open wounds like a quick scratch from a cat. Your mouth full of the ocean, choking and suffocating you as you claw for anything to grasp. They had left you, the rain of black feathers not unlike this angel's white ones now. Only you had been still fighting, ripping at the hold that death had on you because in death you would have to go back to some kind of hell and you wouldn't be able to survive an eternity with your worst moments, not when at that peak they felt that excruciating.

The angel now had given up, his twitching hand slowing to a stop. If the day you had found yourself drowning in this very pool had been your worst you would not let the same death kill someone else when you knew that it had been survivable. You would not take the name of your brethren as a brand but only the burden as it was, this action a shoulder shake to lessen its hold. So you dove in.

You had reached the bottom before, the sandy ground only six feet deep, a proper grave for when your arrow rang true on the rare fish that came in. They sank from how heavy the weight of their death hit them. But they had never been truly heavy and you still felt weak in comparison to the other demons you should have taken after. It wasn't until you reached him that you realized you would have to touch him to take him to the surface.

Your hands slid around his wrist, trying to lift him just enough to get your arms under his. Legs kicked behind you as you struggled to keep yourself in the right position, lungs constricting. He was lighter than you imagined and it was mostly because of the water's help, but his wings, broken, bent, and barely hanging on, weighed him down, hanging behind him like a sheet torn to bits.

Kicking and kicking you went, feet pushing against the rocky walls lined with coral, sharp enough to cut into your feet. Blood was darkening the small space, his and yours, mixing as you went. The need to breathe begged at your aching lungs, throat tight with the need. He was so limp, no help as you finally broke the surface, gasping air by the mouthful as you reached an arm out for the edge.

It hasn't crossed your mind how you would pull him out only that it was better to have his head above the water than below it. But you tried, not caring if he got scratched up as you pushed him needing to get him halfway out of the water so he was easier to pull out. Your grunts turned into near cries, he was heavier and heavier the more you pushed him out of the water, sopping body, wings, and clothes adding on to the bricks piled up you felt you were pushing out. When he was halfway up when your arms weak, you pulled yourself out of the water. No time to take a breather as you wrapped both your hands around his wrists. You groaned, putting all your weight back, tugging and tugging until he was just feet resting in the bloody water.

Your arms are trembling, half limp only held up with the adrenaline crossing through you from the fear that was still making its way through your veins. Pushing him onto his back his partially open mouth looked as if he had already gone and died, effort wasted if you gave up now. You had never been taught the art of saving anyone but you knew what you would want if someone had been kind enough to lift a hand to help you. Fingers locked together you press on his chest, shoulders burning with the effort. Dripping water fell from your chin as you went, the droplets sliding down his cheeks like tears as you cursed. “Don't,” it was all you could make out from your clenched teeth, a demand that he not die right here, right now. Sand digging into your legs, grains between each feather pressed under him, turning them golden as the fading light hit in just right.

You pressed so hard you felt your arms out snap, elbows locked, chest heaving in the way you wanted him to and then he coughed. The strangled choke like a morning bell, that slim chance of promise of another day. His body jerked to life, shocked like lightning he bolted, turning to the side and vomiting a mess of sea. Your nose scrunching as you sat back, joints electrified and shot, you fell back into the sand, watching the high mouth of the cave as you listened to him continue his fit.

In the time you had spent in the Moolpools cave it was easy to only make small movements, you hardly went out unless you were truly hungry enough to risk it. This had been the most motion you had done in a long time, and now you knew exactly why it was easy for them to target you. You felt weak, you were weak, this was only proof enough. But you had saved him, if even for a second, and they would have thought you weak for that too.

You could hear their laughs right behind your ears. You had not been facing the sky then, but you had hoped, their hands forcing your face into the dirt. Childish demon cruelty taken a step too far even in the eyes of the elders. It had taken you a long time to catch your breath then, your lungs never obeying you but it's another reason why they had believed you dead, the sudden stillness that had taken over your body as the pain made its way through you. You wondered if your angel felt that way now. Only you had been kind enough to let him see the sky before he slipped into unconsciousness.

Because he had, as you regained your strength to look at him, eyes closed, breathing rapid and uneven. You had given him a chance and now you didn't know what to do with him. His wings were bent and broken. Hardly any feathers clinging to the frail bones they had been attached to. It would be hell to fix them, pain unimaginable to bind and snap them back into place, stitch them together, and pray for some way to make them better again. You stood over him, the white shirt that had once been billowing in the wind was now transparent and clinging to his skin, the thread strong and fine.

When they had ripped your wings off you had nothing left to attach, not that you haven't tried, but alone with no help there was no way to reattach wings with your hands. No way to reach behind yourself except to feel the spots they had once been, the jagged scars still there now, the ghost pain of that day still shooting down your back every time you dreamt of that day. And on the worst days, you could imagine them still behind you, heavy and protective, enough to curl yourself into your personal space, alone in the dark velvet home you had been born with already built in. Wishing they were back was worse than knowing the pain of them being taken away. And even as a demon, you would not be so cruel as your brethren had been to leave you without so much as the one thing that should never be taken from a person, angel or not.

You still had your embroidery kit, the soft bag had been tied to your finger the day they had ruined you. The thread was dark, dyed to match the rocky mountains you had been sewing into the fabric. You wonder if they had burned your work after you were gone. All the hard hours doing the thing that you had hoped would get you by in the underworld. People loved to be flashy, spend on extravagant things, and there had been nothing more extravagant than the garments you had embroidered.

Tucked in the bottom of the small pouch was a thin sharp pair of scissors, the handle shaped like a bird, wings laid back with its beak glossed in gold. They had been a gift when you started to learn, your needles next to them clicking around, silver and all different sizes. Everything was so small, your only weapon that day as if it would hurt them. They Had been useless but they would be put to work now. He would need to be wiped of the sand before you went in and started to clean the wounds enough to see where you would have to help sew him back together.

You had collected a fair amount of things having lived in the cave for so long, your stash that was similar to a magpies, pretty but never something you used. Sometimes you would find things and keep them just because you might want them because it was better having something over nothing. The crate of glass bottles filled with alcohol is one of those things. It had washed up on the beach after a ship had hit the rocks, too close during a storm to leave anyone alive in the mess. You had picked over the wreckage just as the carrion you were nicknamed after. Someone would have wanted it and so you had taken it just because of that fact, if the gold meant nothing to you but everything to another you would have it, as was your nature. Now you could use it, uncork the bottle, and pour it over his back if you could get him to roll over again.

Kai did not see you move to the dark corner where your stash was hidden when he blinked himself awake. In his confusion his lungs still felt full, his throat constricting as if he was waking in the water and not beside it, choking because his mind was trying to catch up to his reality. He hurt all over, his chest and stomach scratched and burning, heavy with an ache of bruised ribs. His back was on fire, screaming at him, begging him to scratch and rip at the pain. It made him whimper, the only sound that could come out from his raw throat.

He could not think past anything but the look of the sky above him and not behind him as he fell. And when you showed yourself, a bottle of clear liquor in one hand and a small pouch in the other, he believed you to be a human stumbling upon him on a lone beach. He had not seen many humans, accustomed to staying up in the heavens with his brethren. And how could he have known what you really were when you were wingless? You had not grown the horns that most of the demons possessed, you could feel the spot they must have wanted to sprout through if they had been given the chance, the area always colder than the rest of your scalp. It had been one of the things they had picked at when taking their dues.

To them, you had been no demon without the markers they had been so used to seeing, your wings the only thing tying you down to their depths. Even your power had been faint, strong enough to only wave a candle's flame to life, no roaring forest fires and destruction. To Kai, in that moment you were nothing more than a girl who looked like the saving grace he had been begging so fiercely for when falling.

For an angel, his dark eyes cut through you like knives. You had not been looked at so intensely since the attack, people who caught a glance had known to keep going and turn away. This gaze was a line of glimmering hope that he had thrown around your shoulders tightening until it was nothing but a collar of expectations tugging you forward. You had been taught to crush looks that felt suffocating, praise broken bonds, and burnt bridges before ever letting someone take you for a helping hand and honest heart. “Do not look at me like I'm something to be thankful for,”

It was not the first thing that he had expected you to say to him. Not when he was so close to thinking you to be some sort of angel like him without the matching wings. Your voice cut through him, sharp and demanding, nearly as painful as it had been to wake up like this. Everything was falling apart; his body, his grip, which he had believed to be tight, around his good faith in people. But you had pulled him out of the water and maybe he had come to expect too much from people. A package deal that had been wrapped up in the warped expectations of the angels. Not that most of them followed the rules, but it was better to hide behind the guise of kindness than the truth of wrongdoing and instinctual indifference.

The fallen angel only blinked back at your words instead of taking them in, eyes softening at the realization that it had been you alone to pull him out, your chin still dripping with the saltwater that stung the open wounds on his back. He could not do anything but look at you thankfully because it was the only thing he could focus on feeling without turning back into a pit of despair that had let him give up the second he had hit the water. Thinking even about that second of thought that would have led to forever was nothing but crushing rocks landing on his back heavier than the wings still trying to hang on by nothing but thin ribbons of flesh.

And in truth what the look did was make you nervous. Like some lone schoolgirl who couldn't be under the pressure of her class watching a presentation. It frustrated you to no end, twisting a bloody knuckled hand around your insides and tugging them down to your knees. He was in no way able to make a move to hurt you that you wouldn't see coming first. You knew the small cave better than anyone alive and he was weak, his hands opening and closing limply like the steady wings of a butterfly resting. And all his feeble voice could muster up in response was, “Thank you,”

The words strung together felt like thrown stones hitting you one after the other. You had been kicked out of your home and told you were no more demon than the humans roaming the castles pretending to play ruler and kingdom. To be told thank you for saving anyone, or even more specifically an angel’s, life was the final nail in your coffin. Every last thing they had said to you as they ripped your wings from your shoulders buried deep enough to burn, those two words sprouting from the grave to show the fruits of your tormentor's labor. The final stamp to seal the truth of your wrongfulness.

It would have been easier to kill him then, easier than having to hold him down as you tried to help him, and easier than pulling him up from the depths of the moon pool. But they had been right to call you a sympathizer, right in calling you weak because looking at him needing you it was impossible to turn him away. “I'm going to hurt you,” it was a warning bell, the echo of your voice mimicking the sound of some faint prophetic truth. It was not your intention to cause pain on him but the only way that you could help him. It was easier to confess to that than to say you would try and fix him.

But Kai did not listen, he did not care if you hurt him so long as it made his mind stop working over his last thoughts. The blinking of tears the second he had been pushed had made him feel little again, a child wondering why bad things happened at all. Why would someone push him, why would someone rip his wings until they were nothing but dead weight trying and failing to hold on to their last breath, drowning him, pulling him under into nothing but darkness? He had been wronged more than he thought would ever happen to him and if those who claimed to be honest, kind people,were the ones who hurt him, what was there to believe when those claiming to hurt him had done nothing but pull him free from death? It was a mess of contradictions and his gut was not helping him pick sides. He was a mix of emotions that felt hollow like a long dead tree waiting for a victim to fall into and perish just the same. Being hurt meant nothing to a newly found desolate creature, betrayed, and seeking grace.

And so he would let you hurt him because he had nothing to lose, no more to give but turn over and let you try whatever it was that you had planned to help fix him. It was like a mutual understanding had fallen over the two of you like a blanket. He saw the bottle in your hand and knew, watched your fingers as they pulled out the needle, watched the way the metal turned red and you started to heat it enough to sterilize it. It was then that he knew what you were.

It did not make him cringe, not when he knew that to have a demon at his back was akin to death incarnate welcoming themselves to twist a knife right into his spine. He knew that there were hardly enough people on this island who would have helped him enough to the point that they wouldn’t have gotten ill at the sight of his blood. Demons had steady hands; they did not tremble and they did not cower away from gore. To have been stumbled upon by a demon as generous as you were was a blessing he could not fight back against.

So he let you turn him over, your warm hands working to take off his shirt, cutting it away until it was nothing but scraps, his face pressed into the sand, the grains catching in his lashes. You were gentle with him, laying out his wings that had lost most of their feelings, numb all the way up until they hit the spots right where they were supposed to be connected. It was the only place he could feel the pain anymore, his lungs and throat secondary to the pain he was feeling right there at the root of him. If everyone else had worn their hearts on their sleeves angels had found a way to wear their hearts on their back, their life source, and now it was screaming at him.

You picked over the scraps of his shirt, peeling away the thread in long stands, looping the thread around your fingers, and making a small ball for you to pull from as you worked. He kept his eyes closed, lashes laying so peacefully across his cheeks as if he was dreaming in the moonlight and not waiting for you to put him back together. There was no going back the second you started, not unless you picked him apart again just to see the way he looked again while hurt. The thought made you feel a bit sick. The intrusion of it is either your mind trying to work around the situation or your faint demon instinct kicking in, playing with the idea until you fall into the trap of it.

But it was still enticing even if it was sickening. You were so alone and bored, with nothing to do and no one to see. You had been hurt and had not yet found the outlet for that pain even years later, this was the perfect opportunity and yet you could not bring yourself to do anything but cringe the second you straddled his back. Holding him down with the weight of you as you poured the liquor over his wounds and watched him writhe from the pain. There was little enjoyment to find here.

Kai tried to keep his mouth shut nearly as tight as his eyes but the second the first wave of the anesthetic washed over him he could not help himself from screaming. It echoed around the cave, loud enough to find itself spilling from the cave's top entrance. If anyone had been walking around they would have run, believing some wolf had gotten too far from the woods and taken a victim. You did not try to shush him, just placed your warm palm in the center of his back and pushed him back down, trying to keep him still even if it was an impossible task at that point.

Then the first stitch came. It was easier to hold back, easier to try and focus on anything else but the blinding pain he was feeling, it was something other than the emptiness settling over him. He could not think of anything good coming from this, could not see himself going home again, to see his friends, the ones who had pushed him, his mother, his sisters. There was nothing but shame and treachery. They would have welcomed him back even wingless but there was no way for him to ever feel at home again, not when he knew what it was like to be nothing but air and death.

He did not care if he did not move from that spot, the sand the only thing grounding him as he sunk his fingers in curling them until he could feel nothing but his mind trying to work and count every grain he could imagine on his skin. It was nothing but a tactic to let the pain wash away for even a second. He didn't even realize he was crying until the wetness was making more sand stick to his cheek. The soft rumbling of his whimpers mixed in with the faint groans he would release after a particularly tender part of the stitching.

“You are very lucky to have me, when they took my wings I had nothing to do but bury the one they had left hanging. I don't know what it had looked like but I do know that it felt like this,” you were muttering, talking to yourself and letting the words come out without a filter just as you did when he hadn't been here. “I would have wanted even the one to be stitched back but I remember the pain and I'm-” The word sorry was not one that came from you often or at all, there was little you could do but say it now but still your throat caught. “I would not wish it on anyone,”

Your fingers worked fluently, picking up the memory of the old stitches you had perfected long ago in a life you did not care to remember. This was nothing but an old way of passing time that you had practiced over and over again. You had never stitched up flesh and blood but it was no different now than it had been then. In a way, it was a comfort you should not have found in the task but it was impossible not to.

“I do not know how well this will work but I will try,” his wings, covered in sparse feathers, twitched every once in a while as you carefully threaded your needles, tightening the stitches and watching the way the wings came back to life like a marionette doll pulled at its strings. It was hope and nothing more.

Kai couldn't grit out any more words, the sound of your voice washing over him like a balm but nothing more. He wanted to hate you but knew it was necessary to feel this way when it came to pain. They had told him never to bite the hand that fed him but this was a forceful hand coming out to get him, twisting its fingers in his hair and pushing his face in the dirt until it was nothing but a given that he had to eat whatever it was that was handed to him. But he listened, taking in each word and trying to keep them as close as he could get them.

Tried to imagine you with dark wings at your back. The silky feathers always shined so nicely in comparison to his white ones. His wings had looked plush and downy, nothing like the oily temptation of the demons. But he could not get the image around his head, could not see what it looked like any more than what it would look like to go home again. It was with you in his mind that he passed out, eyes closing until there was nothing but peaceful darkness where he had no reason to think of hurtful homecomings and angels dressed as death.

You noticed almost as soon as he fell into the pain. Body going slack underneath you, all of his muscles loosening before he was nothing but twitching nerve ends from each insertion of the needle. It was not delightful work but clean and concise, the expert precision of a fiber works artist long since skilled in their field. Every so often your fingers struggled to keep hold of the slipping needle, the tips of each digit dipped in crimson as you went on with your task. And even as he lay there you went on with your muttering. “We will have to look for more feathers, only a few fell in here, I still have a couple but I don't know how well you will feel looking spotted like a pigeon,”

For a long time, you had been sick at the sight of the clutch of feathers that you had kept from your wings long gone. It had been nothing but pain to see them, the sight cutting into you like a knife just sharpened on a whetstone. You had wanted to bury them right along with the wing you had put to rest, ripped the rest of the way from your back from your own hands, and yet you couldn't part with them just as you couldn't let go of the needles from your past life.

Helping him right now, pinching skin to pierce through and thread, felt like it was somehow stitching up a bit of yourself. You acted fast almost as soon as he was out of the water because it was the way you would have wanted someone to help you. Without discrimination, just understanding. They had given you no chance and if you could not give it to yourself you would give it to someone not far off from you. Because you knew what it was like to live here stuck wingless with nothing to do but try not to rot like some discarded apple. It had taken everything in you to help yourself once you had let go of your past life. The feeling was nothing like you had ever felt before.

It was emptiness, no more and no less, just an expanse of nothingness that unraveled the farther and farther you went into the recesses of your mind. To pull yourself from that pit and find some kind of routine was nothing short of a miracle. But if someone had been waiting here, even if they didn't pull you out of the water but took the wing you had and gave you the hope to live with that once comfort would have been better than nothing. Even if he didn't have full control over his wings like before he would still have his childhood home still there right at his back protecting him when no one else had. If you could give him that it was enough.

But then when the sewing was done there was nothing to do but let him rest. The work you had done was as neat as it could be, the prickling skin around the base of each wing would hold steady and let the skin heal. You stood looking over him, sleeping with his soft cheek on the sand, his hair once wet now dry and resting against his sleeping brow. Angelic was the only word that would surface and it felt silly to attach something so obvious to him. He was nothing but angelic down to the bone; to his blood. But even still freckled in dried blood and his half-feathered wings you could tell it was written all over him fallen or not.

You had seen little of the angels when growing up but occasionally they made a pass over the moonpool's mouth. Their bell-like laughter twinkled like the stars in the night that they flew with. They had seemed so far off and distant. But what you had been told about them was that they were nothing but selfish and self-righteous. Underneath the beauty was callous arrogance, they helped others but only if they had already achieved more and found that they could take the last step without them. Take help but never give credit unless it is beneficial to them to say, drop everything to look good, or fend for themselves.

They had said all demons had shared blood with the angels, until one was banished, the bitterness infecting their souls until their wings turned ebony with rage and the promise of revenge. The story had been on your mind the second they had picked on you for being weak, wondering if somehow your blood had run thin and showed assets of your long since dead ancestors who had seen the heavens and walked with wings of ivory at their backs. Because although you found yourself thinking cruel things you did not dream to be a cruel person.

So you cleaned him up as best you could, cleaning the blood from your hands and his back, taking the time to take your wet cloth over his feathers to try and clean them as best as you could. You watched his wings twitch in response every so often but he did not stir, there was little you could do in terms of his pain, little more you could do if he found himself with an infection. You could hardly keep yourself alive in the space, you don't get many fish unless you make it out to the beach at night, or find a rabbit in the woods easy enough to catch with a trap. Two mouths to feed was a limit you would have to push yourself to reach.

But it was something you would think about in the morning, not when the sun was gone and the cave was dark enough that the only thing you could see was the faint glow of the moonpool. The water reflected onto the walls of the cave, washing everything in an eerie blue hue that minced what it would have looked like if you plunged in and swam with the sea folk. It was one of the few beautiful things you could indulge in and yet now you could add to the list because you had him to look at.

Without turning your back to him you found your usual spot against the wall, the perfect place so that it was just hidden in the dark with the view to see the ceiling's entrance. There was nowhere else to look with him blocking the water as you lay down, back pressed up against the smooth stone wall, washing your heated skin with the faint coolness it had been seeking. You traced the lines of his sleeping face, scared to fall asleep with him so close. Wishing that in that moment you had your own wings to wrap you up, block you from the fear of waking up with him so near with nothing but questions and demands.

You curled up with your small blanket, tucking it under your chin keeping the angel in sight. It was only when your lashes were fluttering closed that you noticed his eyes start to peek open. He only blinked faintly, a tremble starting in his arms but he was unable to move them. Kai felt weak, drained of everything, vision blurry with the sight of you lying down in the blue darkness.

Whatever fear you had before was slowly washing away with the look of pain written all over him. He had no way of hurting you when he could hardly breathe properly from the pain. “What is your name?” you could not keep calling him the angel in your head or out loud.

Your whisper carried in the room and he closed his eyes at the sound, it had been what he had heard before he passed out and it only made his mind feel at ease, something to grab onto in the pain. “Huening kai,” it was low and the only thing in the whole room besides the two of you.

“You need to rest Kai, tomorrow we have to look for any feathers that may have dropped around the beach or the woods,” but Kai didn't care about that, not when he was still trying to find more of you to hold onto.

“What’s-” he couldn't think of the rest of the sentence, not until it was tumbling into him like the rocks off the side of a cliff. He wanted to know your name and hold onto it so he could attach it to the thoughts and memories he was building of you in his head. “What's your name?” He was looking through his lashes only able to keep his eyes open the smallest bit because even that had felt like it took too much energy, the small twitches of his fingers taking most of the rest of his will.

For a second you could not remember what you had been called before you were just you, because in here, alone, no one asked and no one cared. But it came back to you like the moon had come back each night, there was no forgetting it even if it sounded foreign on your tongue after so many years. Saying it, Kai could hear how unsure you felt until you repeated it again for him.

So that's how he said it in his head, the slight second between the two the repentance following the state of his mind, that question lingering at the last syllable, and the sigh of content following the tail end when he said it again. So he let it go over and over in his head, counted the letters like sheep jumping over him, letting the thought of you lull him back to sleep instead of the pain. And you followed right after him, sleeping fitfully because every time you heard a small hitch in his breathing you had to make sure he was still alive. Make sure that your effort has not gone to waste.

And he did live through the night and with your aid you helped him sit up in the morning. Watching him ball his fist and rub at his cheek to rid it of the sand that had built up. He looked like a cherub fallen to the stone and looking up in the foreground of the painting waiting for someone to notice his absence. Because all he could think about was if anyone missed him, if they knew what had happened to him and how he had been pushed instead of just caught in some wind he could not find control in as if he was little and learning to use his wing again. They must have said something, maybe they had blamed a demon for what had happened.

But now with your eyes on him, watching him as you made to clean his back again, checking if in the night there was no more redness or sign of illness, he could not think to see a demon the same again. Here you were being a complete contradiction to everything he had ever been told in his life. Demons were nothing but troublemakers who thought nothing about others. They kept to themselves and made fun by bringing people down. There was no room for him to think about how good a demon could be to anyone let alone an angel like him.

Sitting up, letting your warm hands look over his back, he wanted to lean into the touch, let you care for him until he could find a way to fly right out of here. There was no way that he could repay you for something like this, nothing for him to do but sit in the silence you had built around you. But he wanted to break it, crack against the hold that the stillness had over him, and scream at the top of his lungs and curse the heavens even if he had forgiven them for so much already.

He did not know if he deserved what had happened to him but he understood that it had happened and there was nothing for him to do but take it. Cursing and screaming would do nothing but make him bitter and bitterness took too much from the soul, it drained people and he needed all the energy he could get. “Thank you,” it was again the only thing that he could think to say.

“I told you it would hurt,” because every brush of your fingers to check your work was making him suck in the air between his clenched teeth, the sound fast and snakelike.

“Would there have been another way to do it without pain?” it was nothing but a question to poke fun. Kai wanted to lighten the mood but it did not help the situation.

“Do you think my kind would have taken it if so?” you didn't care to look at his blinking reaction, because as much as he knew you were his only option he still held some kind of grudge against demons. It was written all over his face and you didn't even have to see it to know. It shut kai up in a slip second of shame for thinking the instant no.

“You're helping me nonetheless,” his hand reached across his body to press at his shoulder, delicate fingers so close to the torn flesh.

You waved his hand away, “don't touch it, the worst thing would be an infection,”

“The worst thing would be to lose them all together,” he did not say it to be mean or pick at you, he was not like your kind in that way where they know the thing that would tear you down and pick that option every time. No, he was just stating his truth and he was not lying. Infection could be helped but losing them would be closer to death. It was nothing but words but it made your back burn.

You had heard of ghost limbs, the feeling of a hand still being there after it had been cut clean off. People believed they could scratch the limb if they thought hard enough to get rid of the feeling. You didn't know how real the feeling would be until you were there with your wing buried in the woods, the other long lost and tossed in a fire if you knew how any of them would have cleaned up the mess they made. If anything was to tear into you it was that first night where everything ached. Your back where the scabs started to turn to scars began to itch and the feeling traveled down to where there was nothingness but the hope of where your wings would resprout if that was ever an option. You wanted to wrap them around you and wished if you felt the ghost of anything it would be the home they had helped you feel but all you had felt was pain. A pain you could not help because there was nothing to do but let it work its way through your system. The pain was not an itch; not so easily taken care of.

“That would be horrible and if you don't listen to me they will be gone, keep your hand away,” you left no room for argument in your tone and Kai listened. He curled his hand into a fist and sat it in his lap. “Today we will let the area breathe and while I’m out we can get whatever we need to make a salve to help the healing process,” Kai nodded knowing that you were right. He didn't even have the first thought of where to start to find out how to help himself.

“Can you try and pull your wing in,” you didn't want to push him so early but you needed to know if it was worth the trip to even go out and look for feathers if he could not use them.

For Kai, it felt like an impossible question to answer. He felt distant from his heart back, like he was cut in half but then he felt your fingertips, the feeling of them dragging along the edge of his wings, tracing the span of them and following the curve. “Can you feel that?” This was easier because it was the only thing he could focus on. The heat of you was constant, radiating from your body onto his like a blanket he wished he could pull in closer.

“Yes,” it was shallow as he followed the feeling in his mind. He had never been sensitive to touch on his wings, he knew others could feel any brush of their feathers but he felt nothing until now. If he had lost the ability to fly he had gained the ability to have sensation right along the spot he feared he would lose anyway.

You curled your fingers around the top of his wings slowly following the natural way they folded into themselves and helped him push them close to his back. Kai groaned but it was not as horrible as he expected it to be. With your help, he found whatever connection he had lost because now he could keep them pulled in without your help. But you still helped to tuck the other one close just as neatly, checking around his stitches to make sure they could handle the movement without being impossibly stiff.

The sight made you clench your jaw. Jealousy had not been a familiar feeling here but it was alive and well now. But it did not matter, you could be jealous and still help him. But you had to get up and turn away, busy yourself with finding your own feathers, the ones you kept at the bottom of your stash of things, making sure they didn't accidentally get seen by you when you didn't want the reminder.

It had felt easy to say you would give them to him in the moment but the second you pushed aside the spare clothes you had and laid eyes on them it was like saying you would clip off your fingers and let him use them on his own hands. You let the stack of clothes fall right back into place, picking up the loose shirt you could find that would button over him. He would have to wear it backwards because it was not made with wings in mind but there was nothing else for you to do unless he wanted to walk around shirtless.

But Kai was thankful pushing his arms through the sleeves and leaving the buttons for you to do up for him. You made sure to keep yourself from brushing him accidentally, no need to touch him more than you needed to as you secured the fabric around him. But Kai instantly missed your warmth the second you pulled away.

“The only way out is up but it's nothing too bad, you only need to raise your arms about this high,” you demonstrated, “it's mostly leg work,”

“You want me to leave?” he didn't know why it was the first thing he would think, you had just told him about collecting materials to help him but as soon as the words left your mouth all he could think was no don't kick me out don't push me like them, as if you could hear him you shook your head.

“Do angels only sit around when faced with adversity or do they get up and work?” you slung your bag over your shoulder, slipping both arms in to have it securely against your back. When going out it was the only thing that felt comfortable enough to have at your back when you had little else. “If you want to stay, I say we work together to make sure that we can keep you here for a bit longer, but I cannot do everything and you cannot stay forever. Tonight we only need a few things,”

“Okay,” Kai stumbled to stand, feeling unstable and wobbly enough to reach out for the walls to hold him up.

“You can stay here for tonight, rest more if you're not up for it,”

“No,” it was a slight snap back against the way he was feeling. It was not only because he was feeling weak but because he did not like to sit around doing nothing, he did not want to wait for you to come back or worse wait and think that you were never coming back for him. He's sure that is something a demon would do, leave him here without help just to see how long he would stay without the help. But he was thinking badly because he didn't want to face his own truth, “I need to do something,” anything would be better than sitting around and thinking up ways to hate you over nothing at all. Because there was nothing to hate you over, you had done nothing that would make him hate you but the longer he stayed up with his thoughts they seemed to poison the image of you slowly. And he could not do that to his savior.

“Fine, you can go first so that I can make sure you don't fall back,” and you had been telling the truth about the way out, the grooves of the walls made perfect spaces for his feet to fit. Only after a few steps up did he have to raise his arms to try and hold himself steady as he kicked his feet out the top of the opening. It was only possible because the side you had set him to get out of was shorter than the rest of the jagged ring of rocks forming the entrance of the cave. And as soon as he was out it was easy to sit and rest with his legs dangling into the open mouth as if he would just jump right into the water he had nearly died in.

You had no trouble pulling yourself up and out, the rock smoothed down from the amount of time that you had made the trip up even if you avoided it most times. “There is no other way in or out?” Kai asked as you showed him the way down to the grassy underbrush.

“You could swim in and out, it's not very practical but it's better that way if you want to make sure no one sees you coming in. But I don't think that would be good for you and you have to hold your breath for a long while,” Kai could not think about what it would be like to go back into the water after yesterday, he's sure he would instantly imagine himself drowning again.

Instead, he focused on following you and your steps through the thick mess of trees surrounding the spot where you had made your home. Distantly he could hear the sea, the soft crashing of waves on the shore lightening as the two of you went until he saw the first blood-dotted feather.

His wings twitched at the sight, the soft white tucked in between the branches and leaves of a tree. He was silent as he watched you pluck it between your fingers, reaching it like you were picking up a gold coin found on heads for luck. “You will tell me eventually why it is you fell from the heavens won't you?” he watched you twist the feather, examining the dark dried crimson stains.

“There is little of a story there,” he was clenched all over, fists and jaw tight as you held the feather out for him to take, “you hold it,” he jutted his chin out, the only movement he could bring himself to make or else he would fall apart.

Kai had gone through many feathers of different sizes growing up. Preening them and feeling grateful to have grown fully so that they did not fall out as often as they had when growing from downy softness to strong enough to let him fly. But it was different to see them like this. He knew they should not be in your hand, or even his. They should not be spread around the woods like bunches of snow that had not yet melted with the coming spring. But it was as if the longer he looked out over the expanse of woods in front of the two of you the more speckles of white he caught mixed in with all the green.

He was frozen in his spot, stuck just looking out at all the pieces of himself spread out like nothing more than a chess board thrown to the ground, with no intention of being picked up after a soiled game. You could see in him the same kind of evil that was in you twisting itself around your brain the second you moved that stack of clothes and saw your own feathers. When you were young they meant nothing because they had always been there but once it started to go away, once it was nothing more than a pile in front of you it made you feel small and insignificant.

“When they first ripped my wing it didn't hurt like I had imagined it would have,” you had been frozen, stuck like a kitten who had been picked up by the scruff of its neck. You had looked up with eyes that nearly rolled in your skull the second you realized what had happened. How could you not have felt something so huge? Maybe it was because you could not see it, your mind not catching up with your body until seconds later and it was all you could think to feel. There had been blood, slick down your back and on your fingers as you reached to try and hold onto anything that was left. “For a second you almost think you can fly away from the pain,”

Kai watched your eyes go unfocused, lost in a thought that had been his reality just the day before. It was almost as if he could feel that foot pressed right into his back again. His ‘friend’ with the heel of his boot cutting into Kai’s spine. He had asked him to look out over the edge of the last cliff, claiming to have seen carrion flying around too close for comfort. It was only a second, looking over the edge so high up he knew that if he flew down and caught the wind that it would be a rush he could never replicate.

The boot had been nothing but a second before his hands had been on his wings pulling them back until that sickening crunch and tear. It had happened so fast kai had felt nothing until it was all too late.

“There is always a story and you don't have to tell me yours but know that if I could get revenge on the ones who took my ability to fly, I wouldn't hold back from repeating over and over the same pain they inflicted on me,” you tucked his feather into your bag, “they wouldn't think twice about you so don't give them the grace of never speaking up for what they did to you,”

“You’d think that because you're a demon,” and for the first time Kai saw you crack a smile, a twisted tarnished thing.

“We are not too different, the only thing that sets us apart is you thinking you are any better than me. You forget we both woke up in that cave only I was alone and you had me, and how lucky for you that I'm nice and don't just build you up to pull you right back down again,” you turned walking because you needed the distance, “go back if you can't see that we are the same,”

“My first thought wouldn't have been to hurt someone I helped,” Kai kept pace with you, watching you pick up each one of his feathers as you went.

“Just because I say I resist hurting you physically does not mean that what you say or think cannot hurt me. You want to freely throw your judgment around and stick a label onto me, reducing me to nothing but blood I did not ask to be born with and still you cannot see how we are exactly the same. We are only doing the same thing in different seasons, only one of us is plain as day and the other is hidden behind some thick smokescreen allowed in whatever game we have found ourselves,” he could tell there was no room for argument with you. Set in some demon way that made you want to burn instead of heal. But even he knew he was just being bitter, proving you right even if he didn't say it out loud.

He was grateful and he was upset, he had been a pot of water his whole life and it had never been set above a fire until right now and the bubbling was unwelcome and made him itch all over. He didn't see the reason for revenge when there was no way for him to get back up to the heavens without walking up the stairs and that would feel more shameful than coming back wingless. The only thing he could feel about the topic was that if it had been him or you he's not too sure that it would have been him you would have picked to help. But even he couldn't hide from the truth of wanting to pick himself every time.

So he kept his mouth shut knowing there was nothing he could say that would make him look better and nothing he could say to make you look worse because faintly you were right about the both of you being so similar. He followed you like a lost puppy, watching you pick over the brush, collecting pieces of him until you found every part of the set to make enough of a picture. You were careful with them, fitting them all together in a neat stack and wrapping a loose string of thread around them to keep them from spilling all over again.

By the time you two had combed most of the area, the sun was setting into nothing but stars. Two handfuls of feathers and a pit in Kai’s stomach made for little conversation. Keeping his eyes on his footfalls he did not see what it was that made you tense up until it was right there burning in the distance.

A little ball of fire, dancing seemingly above nothing but the air. A Willo-the–wisp, bright enough to feel like a beacon one could not turn to look away from. But you hissed at the thing, reaching down to pick up a rock, smooth in your palm before you threw it. “Hey!” Kai's voice echoed in empty woods, previously the only sound heard was his crunching footsteps. Your years of walking down here had taught you how to keep yourself light as you made a journey this far out from your home. “See only proving my point, hurting things without reason, what did they ever do to you?”

But you didn’t feel like explaining yourself to him, it felt silly to believe in rumors about the little creatures but it was impossible not to feel conflicted about bad signs when your life had been full of misfortune. “Its bad luck to see them,”

“Well it showed up there was no need to throw a rock at it, bad luck or not it was given the second it popped up,” his statement made you roll your eyes. What was there to do but watch the flame snuff out? It felt better to make the flame extinguish the second you saw it as if they were the thing that leached luck from you the longer they stayed around.

“I'm not going to sit and let the death promiser dance around and curse me, or you for that matter, I don't know how I would pull your corpse from the cave if you were to die from the infection they wanted to warn you about,” you watched his face pale, your eyebrows lifting letting it known that you had seen that you had won written on him, “see, so let me throw stones, I'm doing it for both of us even if you don't believe it,”

“It's only an omen, it doesn't mean anything real,” but he was trying to convince himself to fear the little flame, small and weak enough to be taken out by nothing but a pebble.

“You know we have people who read the stars? Creatures deep in the sea, the woods, the kingdom, even your precious sky. They all have stories and folklore that came from some kind of truth,” you picked up another stone in case you saw another little flame lingering around not wanting to risk a sighting even if you could help it.

“How are you planning on getting the feathers back on?” Kai wanted anything else but to talk about being the same or not, about folklore and truth. He was tired and didn't want to think about anything else besides what was supposed to come next.

“Wax, I have lots of candles stored up that will do, if I get the layers thin enough it shouldn't weigh you down. It's also soft enough so that it won’t restrict any growth when they start to grow back,” it felt far away to think about having to go through the process of aging all over again, he had been through the phase of watching his feathers transition he did not want to wait again. The wax would give him an option, anything that would help to keep him from feeling as if he fell so far back from everything he had ever known.

He wonders if you had thought through the same things with your wings before it was too late. If the idea for the wax had come before or after you buried your last option. He did not think it would be okay to ask that, not when you were helping him already. Demons being fickle was not uncommon; he wouldn't be surprised that you tossed him aside for something new to tinker with if given the option. Rather he gets as much information for you on how to help himself before you leave him with nothing at all.

You showed him the way back up and down into the cave and for a sickening second, he thought you would push him while he looked for a way to make it down without landing in the water. Your hand had been on his back to steady him and yourself on the edge together. His flinching from your touch only registered as pain and not fear. You jumped down angeling yourself so that you landed right at the edge of the water and you looked up, stepping out of the way waiting for him to follow your lead.

Kai pushed himself down feeling nothing but air for only a second but it was a second too long. He stumbled as soon as his legs hit the ground, leaning back and looking at you for a sickening moment before he was ready to accept falling back into the water, but you reached out making a fist in his shirt as his arms waved trying to find something to hold onto. The heels of his feet almost tipped him into the water, his wings shuddering and trying to pull in closer, hiding back away as if they could when this damaged. The buttons on the back started to pop with the strain of his weight and he had to reach out for you, hands wrapped around your forearm as you pulled him back to the safety of the sand.

“You're very clumsy on your feet,” you muttered, pulling yourself away from him and his tight grasp. He was embarrassed but only because he was washed in fear and being caught for it on his face.

“There was not one time you fell while jumping down?” he waved at the short distance that was available for him to land.

“Once or twice but you get used to the angle and learn,” you don't put your bag down, not when you have to turn around to look for your candles, keeping your back covered even if now you knew he would do little to hurt you physically. Everything you had picked up from your conversations and just watching him walk around made you realize just how his label fits him so well. He had been more upset over the will-o-the-wisp than his own ruining. But it still didn't make you drop your guard.

Finding your stack of candles you tucked them under your arm and turned to find Kai sitting in the sand all over again, looking out at the water and watching the way it swayed. He traced the dark outline of the opening leading out to the sea, hardly noticeable if you hadn't said there was a way out before. He would have believed there was only the two of you and not the world's ocean just a few feet away from him. So much just inches away from his tomb that he believed he would have been stuck in until someone found his heavy lead-lined bones.

“We don't have to do it tonight if you don't want to,” your voice was soft as if you knew he was stuck in some darkness in his mind, struggling against the hold of some blanket of depression he had thrown over himself and couldn't find his way out of. “It would be better too because we need the light and I can hardly make a fire big enough to produce enough,”

Light, once so easy to produce on the edge of his fingertips, wasted power on his childhood innocence trying to find ways to light up his bedroom when he was supposed to be sleeping. It had been easy back then and now sitting here wanting to get it all over with he couldn't get up enough energy to heat his skin. He was cold all over, blood leached, and hollow. Lifting his palm he focused in on his hands, the soft ridges tracing around the center supposed to be the lifeline or so he had been told. That was where he had always watched the light come from first, starting right at his wrist and working its way up curving between his thumb and pointer finger before it was nothing but light held in his hand like he had caught a star.

Now it was nothing. Not a flicker of illumination nor a hum of warmth. He balled his fist clenching until he felt his nails digging into his supposed lifeline wishing that if he squeezed hard enough he could find a single drop of anything left in him. And still nothing. Not even enough to help him now when he wanted it, needed it most. “Tomorrow,” the word was a bitter thing, in his chest and making it sound rough with hatred.

“It takes a bit to get back,” you tried not knowing why you didn't just curl up in your spot and wait for the rest of the sun to set so that you could sleep. Ignore him and his well-deserved mood. But you had done the same thing, sitting in the dark trying to make even the smallest flame and nothing would come, “I was never the best at lighting anything on fire, not even the blades of dry grass they let the little ones practice with,”

Kai listened, watching you from the corner of his eye as you took a seat next to him, legs crossed just like his, your knee so close to hitting against him he could feel the heat from it. “I should have known then that I wasn't like the rest of them, tailless, hornless, powerless,” you gave a dry humorless laugh, fiddling with the candle sticks you had, letting them spill into your lap picking one only one up and examining the wick. He traced the side of your face, following the bridge of your nose right till the end and watching you blow so softly it wouldn't have taken down the light of a birthday candle.

But a flame bloomed, catching on the wick, and dancing in the coming darkness. It lit up the features of your face, your eyes shining in the light as you watched the small reflection of your power. You had little to give, children had been playing with fire long since they were learning to crawl and you had only come to master a few tricks. “The only thing that had labeled me a demon were my wings, and they had been…” the edge of your lips wobbled, your jaw clenching closed at the itching in your throat as if this was even too much to say to him. “They had been beautiful,” it was said just as softly as the exhale you had done to light the candle, hardly there and weak.

“I didn't even care about the fire, anyone can light a match or strike flint and create a spark. But…”

“Not everyone can fly,” he could feel the way you struggled to say it as if it was traveling from his mind to yours. In the firelight he watched the tear fall, tacking down your cheek faster than you could wipe it away. But you caught it erasing it as if that would take your feelings away from you as if it would keep those intrusive memories from surfacing. Because no one would know how it felt to be that high, physically and mentally, unless they had been up there with you catching air with a laugh bubbling up from your chest like it was coming from a faucet that could never be turned off.

You blew out the candle, sticking it in the sand and pushing yourself to stand, letting the rest of the candlesticks stay laid out for tomorrow. “Don't worry about what you don't have just yet and be thankful for what you're still holding onto. I'm going to bed.” No more was needed to be said when the two of you both knew it hurt too much to find yourself in the mix of confessions and shared sympathy. So you tossed your bag to the side, turning your back to the wall and closing your eyes so that you couldn't look at the blessing you had given him and hadn't received from anyone else.

But it was incredibly hard, there was nowhere to look except him or the back of your eyelids and all you could see when you closed your eyes was the vision of you in the sky. It ached to remember and the pain was fresh looking at his new stitches that you had done even with his wings pulled in and sparse of feathers. Because he sat there at the edge of the water trying and failing to open his wings up again without your help this time.

He could tell they were stiff and he was unfamiliar with the feeling. Before it had been second nature, his wings moving as his lungs did without the need for his mind but now that he focused on them it was like they couldn't work and wouldn't unless he focused on not paying any mind to them. But it was hard to do that when his healing stitches were itching and he was told over and over again by you not to touch them. So he sat there watching the water with his back to you as if that would keep him accountable for not messing up your hard work.

All that was keeping him up was the promise of tomorrow when the sun would come out and you would help him put his feathers back even if he felt that it wouldn't work. In a way he worried it was too unnatural to work, that somehow it would just fail because it was not right, the wind would not agree and still, if it did work he had no intentions of going home. To go back with wings made of nothing but wax and thread felt like a lie of himself. Some imposter trying to pass as himself to fit back into the same life he had before. But with his wings stuck together like a forged abomination felt like he was never going to find himself comfortable there again.

He didn't care if they took him in as he was, whispered behind his back, because he knew they would, and let him pretend that everything was the same when it so clearly was not. He knew little of the world below and even less of the world below that one from where you came from, leaving home would be an adjustment but necessary. He just needed his wings healed enough to hide them back inside of him wherever it was they unfurled from when he wanted them. It had been uncomfortable back in the heavens because there was no need to hide who you were. He would have to get used to the feeling but it would not be something as horrible as this ache was now.

It wasn't until the morning, the sun just peeking over the edge of the cave's mouth that he realized he had not gotten any sleep at all. He listened to the water, the chitter of the animals in the distant woods, and the sound of your easy breathing while you dreamt. He wondered if you would have dreams of flying, if they hurt just as bad as the pain of knowing you never would fly again but he knew they must have been tethered feelings; unable to have one without the other.

Because you would never fly again he knew that much because you were so certain of it. He had known of people who wanted to mimic the feeling of flight. Making things out of clockwork and magic as if it would help them but that felt worse than having to go home stitched up. To walk in with wings not even close to the ones you owned, or were born with, felt like the worst kind of death. You wouldn't have even known that you had died, that the only thing keeping your body animated and moving were the strings of your delusion tied so tight around your joints that you never got a chance to look down and realize this was not you at all.

So he tried to grasp that laugh because it was the only thing that felt close to real; the only thing that felt close to happening at all even with all the distant hope he was supposed to be having. And when you woke you could see it all over him, the failure written on every inch of him. It fueled an anger you had not felt in years, the simmering pot inside you turned up to boiling over nothing more than an empty glance.

You kept to yourself, let him stay seated by the water, and went about to find the two of you food. And it wasn't until the two of you had eaten that you set into getting yourself ready for the long days work waiting for you. Candle in hand you watched him look back out over the water and you couldn't take it anymore. Kicking at the sand you watched the grains puff up in a plume around his legs his hands waving away the dust, brows scrunched as he scowled at you, “Stop looking as if I'm a failure already,”

“I didn't say anything,” but he knows what you're talking about, the thought had infected him and was spreading as rapidly as the infection you had warned him would happen if he touched his back.

“You didn't have to say anything, trust me if saving your life meant little to me I wouldn't have done it in the first place, I wouldn't waste my time,” you grab the handfuls of feathers, his eyes locking in on them in hand.

“You have nothing better to do,” he didn't mean to say it but it was true he felt it and it made him believe it was the only reason why you were helping him. Because you were bored here, sitting in a cave doing nothing that he could see because there was nothing to do but sit. He had made it so that you had something to do. In a moment you would turn him away and tell him not to come back, to find someone else willing to help him. But you wouldn't let him give up on you.

“No, I don't but I could have done anything else besides this. Hell it might be more fun watching you fall again than it would be to watch you actually fly but I guess we won't know unless we try,” but Kai’s scowl was back and it was better than seeing him feel nothing at all.

“Why would you say that? You know what it's like-”

“Exactly why would I help you for nothing at all but boredom? I wouldn't help if I didn't want to see you succeed, I wouldn't be doing this at all I would have let you die. So stop wasting my limited kindness and accept my effort without believing it will lead to nothing but failure,”

“You would do that, wouldn't you?” because it had caught on him, the idea of being watched as he fell again by someone who would enjoy it. Unlike the first time, it would be worse, he would never come back from that fall, because even if he had forgiven the person who had pushed him he had known the second he felt their foot on his spine that it had been out of pure evil, if it were you doing all this just to watch him fail again it would be worse and there would be no forgiveness. “Build me up only to prove I should never fly again,”

“You are incredibly cynical,” you blow on your candle, watching the flame heat the ivory colored wax so close to matching the color of his feathers. “Did you ever think that maybe I want you to succeed? That it would help me see you make it out of here more yourself than I ever would have left this place?” you stand behind him, pushing back the first row of feathers as gently as you can before placing the feather over the node you knew a new one would find to grow. You tilt the candle just enough until the wax drips, translucent dots pattering around the area as you watch the way they dry the color blending in perfectly. You let the feather go watching the way it sticks and stayed in place, right where it looked like it had never been gone.

He did not bring up his thoughts again, he let you work and passed himself off as being hopeful when it was the last thing he felt he was. He was grateful that you cared enough to try even if he believed you had ulterior motives but he would not say out loud that he had any hope when it was not true and if it was it felt wrong to jinx it.

And so you worked, the slow repetitive motions evening out your heartbeat. And even when the wax fell to your fingers you did not flinch, taking the slight burn and continuing. Even Kai did not back away from the fallen wax when the sparse drops landed on his back. Anything was better than the pain he had felt before and now this felt pleasant, trembling from the shock the first time and accepting any other spot that made itself known to him.

Then the two of you began to talk, small things that felt so insignificant when you were alone. His first question filled up the silence, “What's your favorite color?” you had not been asked in years something so lighthearted, there was no need to have a favorite when you wouldn't seek it out.

“I don't know,” you had shrugged, dripping the wax over the next feather in the lineup. By midday, you had done one whole wing. The way the feathers overlapped made it so that you never even saw the wax since most of the top feathers had stayed in place.

“You don't know? How could you not know your favorite color?” It was hard to explain to him how it didn't matter because Kai would take nothing short of an answer he saw as being good enough. He asked again, asked what it had been like when you were a child, and he listened as you tried to explain. Answering his own questions and trying to take everything off his mind besides you and who you were.

He asked you everything and anything he could think of until it was too late and the only thing he could think about was the fact you had stopped and were looking over his stitches again. “Is it bad?”

“No,” it was the opposite of bad, he healed exceedingly fast because of his angel blood, the once torn flesh already looking a day away from having the stitches removed. “It's doing well, but I ran out of feathers for your right wing,”

“Oh,” he felt like he had been deflated, his shoulders already bent forward so that you could have the best access to his back and he did not think he could sag anymore, yet he did. Periodically as you added more feathers in you would tap your wax-coated fingertip against his spine asking him to stretch his wings out. In the length of a day, he felt stronger and more like himself as the time passed. He could hold the weight of his wings up fine even with the thread still pulling him together bit by bit. And now he couldn't even finish what had been started.

You had not thought before you spoke up next, the words spilling out as easily as the continued answers to his constant questions, “I still have a few from my wings if you don't mind the color,” but once it was said it felt right. You had no need for the feathers anymore, the only thing they did was bring you pain. They should have been buried right along with the rest of your wing and now you knew that there was some reason out there why you had kept them besides the reminder of a painful past. If they could help it felt right just as it felt right the second you pulled him out of the moon pool. You could give them up because in some way healing him was healing you. What better than to let your feathers fly again when you could not?

And Kai did not mind, not when now he was itching to fly again, the hope somehow filtering into him the second you had told him to stretch his wings out again, to try. He let you put the feathers on, looked at the glossy ink color, and had not turned away because now he was tying the strings of his delusion on and he could not bring himself to stop.

You did not feel loss this time around when seeing your past spilled out in a heap in your lap as you took wax to each one, fastening it to the angel boy's wing to give him one last chance that you wish you could have had. It felt cathartic, watching the way the colors contrasted and blended so well together. Your fingers ran over the line of them the second you had finished. A soft sad smile on your lips as you told Kai to stretch one final time before trying to fly.

It felt so sudden, so soon from the last time he had taken flight. He hadn't even realized it was his last time at least before the fall. He wondered if you remembered your last time, what it had been like, and if it felt just as insignificant to you as it had to him. Wondered what you would have preferred your last flight to have felt like, where you would have gone. But the thoughts were a distraction to him trying to fly now.

Kai stretched his wings, the white expanse only broken up by the tip of black at the end of his right wing. He couldn't remember what it felt like to lift off the ground instead of hurtling towards it but then he felt it, his heels lifting first, and the soft beat of his wings echoing in the small space. You stood back watching with a blank expression, tingling all over because you couldn't believe you had done it. He was up, the tips of his shoes just hitting the stirring sand before he felt his wings give out.

Shouting he fell, the distance nothing but a foot but feeling like he had come crashing all the way back down the side of a mountain. His back ached but not from pain but the strain of weakness. “You can try again tomorrow, we just have to keep at it even if it's a little bit every day,” Kai had fallen to his knees, looking up at you with his slumped shoulders and puppy dog eyes.

“Thank you,” the words still tumbled into you, but it was easier to accept when the fruits of your labor were still right at the forefront of your mind. He had flown even if it was just a foot, it had been more than what either of you had expected. You had worried of his stitches ripping, worried of the feathers falling with only a few beats of wind and they had not, both holding stronger than your conviction.

Your smile could not be contained, the edges of your mouth trying to hold it back like a stranger at the door because it had been far too long since the last time you felt this happy about anything. “It worked,” disbelief made itself known in your tone but Kai was just as surprised. He did not care at that moment if he got any higher off the ground, only that he did not have to lose so much of himself. “It worked,” he mimicked his smile wobbling as he fought back his tears, “it worked,”

It was the way he said it last that hit home. You did not think about it hurting so bad to see him succeed, jealousy thick and alive in your blood. You wanted that feeling, you wanted those words to come from you not just from being an aid but from being the project. The words were felt all throughout you as he whispered them, just enough to watch the stress of never again flying dissipate into nothing but happiness. He had been empty and you had tipped in a bucket of everything you had to give, he had gained so much and you lost more than you had to offer him.

There was nothing more to call it besides envy; sickening jealousy. If you could rip the wings right off his back and give them to yourself in that split second you would have. It was not productive but it was the only thing you could see when you looked at him. But you shook your head as if you had been caught in the rain and needed to get the water from your hair, pushing the thoughts to the side. You would never have what he did, no way for you to have given yourself the chance in the way that you had given it to him.

So you squashed the feeling, talked yourself out of the need to cry once the two of you had laid down. Your back to the wall again as you look at him with that faint smile on his lips because he was getting to sleep peacefully since the first time he had come here without the aid of his pain. The outline of his wings in the darkness made them look just like a shadow behind him. And it was so hard not to cry as soon as you knew he was asleep. Wanted to turn and face the wall to give yourself the illusion of privacy in your struggle to keep the burn in your throat from turning into a sob you had fallen into to fitful sleep.

What had awoken Kai was the strain in your voice, the way you muttered, again and again, the word no, the noise of it getting louder and louder until it was impossible to ignore the sound as if it was nothing more than the hum of a mourning bird's song. He opened his eyes and there you were on your makeshift bed, your face pressed into the blanket, your back turned to the sky and you reached back trying to scratch at your shoulder blades. But even in sleep, he could see the way it pained you, hands only just brushing over your shoulders when you found yourself pinned down in sleep. You were whining, crying in your sleep, and it was full of pain.

Because in your sleep you had dreamt of that first night without your wings. You could not lay on your side, could not lay any other way but with your face to the ground like they were pulling your wings from you all over again. Back facing the sky praying that they didn't come in because you had no strength to turn over, no strength in you except to try and restrain yourself from scratching at the healing wounds, unaided by careful stitches.

It had been a long time since you had felt the dream so real that it made you believe there was something wrong with your back. Because you were somewhere on the edge of your dream telling yourself it was real, that the pain was right there at the surface and you didn't know it unless you woke up. If only you could just wake up instead of struggling as you had back then. And when you looked to your side there was no kai, just the outline of that wing, the one you had to pull off there dead and waiting for its burial.

But Kai would not let you sleep through it, not let you scratch at your shoulders and wade through the dreamscape colored in nothing but the shade of a nightmare. He grasped your sleeping hand, the one fluttering at your back like a moth to a flame and curled his fingers between yours. Your hands fit neatly against his, locking in place as if you had been reaching out for him the whole time. His free hand was at your lower back, keeping away from the top where he knew you were trying to reach. And when your eyes opened your gasp followed the way you shot up, back pressed back to the wall and you tried to cure the burning.

You knew this feeling, the momentary ghost wings pretending they still had feelings for which could be hurt. Everything about you felt as if it was shaking, like a rattling cabinet of glass in an earthquake because your world was shaking at your feet telling you something was wrong but you couldn't tell what it was. “It's okay it was only a nightmare,” Kai tried to sooth, thumb running over the back of your hand that he held in both of his.

In your dream you had been alone, so much of it had been like it always was. Pain circling around everything you had come to know. But now there had been pain but the faint hurt that Kai had not been there to help you. As if he could go back in time and do what you had for him even if it was no use you had just wanted him to be there next to you. But he hadn't been and in the mix of the sobs you had found his name and prayed he would hear because if they were your dreams you should have been able to grab them by the neck and control them, not follow them down the dark hall that felt neverending.

But waking up to know he had been here the whole time, knowing that if he had been there he would have helped just the same, settled something inside you that had been overrun with worry. You unfurled your arms from around yourself, throwing them around Kai’s neck and pulling him into a hug.

He did not freeze up under your hold but melted into you, sliding his hands around your back and pulling you closer to him, your face pressed into the space between his throat and his collarbone. He hadn't known how much a hug would have helped him just as it was helping you. You were warm and clinging to him in a way no one had ever needed him.

Kai could have sat like that with you in his arms until the sun came up and you would have let him because you needed to be closer and needed something that only he could give you. Your fingers ran through his hair, his hands sliding down your lower back pulling you to straddle his hips because he needed you chest to chest, needed to feel the weight of you against them to make sure that he knew it was real just the same as you did. “You're okay,” he whispered the words, a hammer against the dam you had walled up in place to keep you from ever getting close to anyone ever again.

It was so quick you are unsure why it was your instant reaction. Your lips kissed over the mole he had right along the column of his throat. The feeling of his words pressed right to your mouth when he hummed your name. Everything was so much easier to do in the half dark, the room alight in that blue glow of the water, the moon still high in the sky as he slipped his hands under your shirt, cool against your heated skin and only making you arch further into him, hips sinking as you kissed up his neck.

Neither of you stopped the other from the exploration, you curled your fingers in his hair right at the base of his neck and he found any expanse of skin that he could let his fingers touch. And when you finally made your kisses stop right at the edge of his lips he couldn't help but turn his head, chasing after your mouth with his desperate desire to get lost in you. Because once you started neither of you could pull yourself away from stopping.

He tasted like nothing short of twinkling light filling the darkness that you had let wash over you for far too long. His soft moans caught in your mouth with each drag of your hips now perfectly placed over him and his wanting need. It was the only way to describe the way he was feeling, he did not just want you, he needed you, so hard from just a few devouring kisses that you couldn’t resist.

You pulled away for only a second standing so that you could take the few clothes you had on off. Kai sitting there watching in awe as you peeled off your shirt, his hands itching to have you back on him with no layers between the two of you, chest to chest but closer now being skin to skin. He reached out for your hips pulling you closer to him so that he could rest his chin on your stomach, looking at you like the fallen angel he was, like you were the only savior he had written in his stars.

He let his lips pepper over you, your hands brushing the hair from his brow, his fingers dipping into your waistband holding the fabric in a way that asked you for permission to tug them down and off. “Please,” he whispered check pressed to your hip, “I need you,” and you would give him everything he asked for if he continued looking at you in that way as if nothing in the world mattered but you at this moment, not your blood or cruel words, just a boy and a girl seeking out the pleasure of another.

You let him take your pants off just as easily as he had let you tug him free from his. And when you sank onto him, took all of him in with a gasp at the stretch working its way through you, nothing had felt more right. Because he was curving into you, your lips were his only salvation as you slowly rocked your hips back and forth on him. His face washed in the pleasure of having you his hands growing warmer and warmer as they held your back. You did your best to avoid his stitches, ignoring his wings that twitched along with his body every time you found a new slow rhythm to move to.

The angle the two of you had was grinding against your pleasure point, your moans so sweet and rumbling against him. He traced up the line of your spine with one hand, keeping the other wrapped around your back to make sure you stayed in the circle of space the two of you had created. You whimpered when he brushed over the scars on your back but did not pull away, letting him have a part of you that you would never give to anyone else because he knew what it was like, he knew what it meant, this level of trust rushing into you almost as fast as your coming orgasm. And right behind him the soft blue light of a will-o-the-wisp on the water, gone as quickly as it had come into your field of vision but you would not have cared in that moment anyway.

Both of you neared the end, and when you came, the feeling in your belly took all the space to think because it had been reduced to feeling only him and the pleasure he was giving you. His hands felt hot and alive with the power he had believed had been lost to him as you trembled in his hold, swallowing down each little noise you made. He guided you down to the blanket stretched out on the sand, rocking his hips now chasing after his own high watching the hazy look wash over your face as you held onto his shoulders. And behind him his wings spread covering the two of you in that safe space you had craved more than anything, his panting breaths pressed to your neck as he spilled all he had into you.

You could only focus on him and the way he brought you the closest you had ever felt to being whole again. Wrapped up in nothing but him was close to being saved because you both knew how similar you were and to be seen like this, to be understood, was healing all on its own and you welcomed everything he had to offer. You would let him take you again and again because you felt linked, the jealousy washed away because being held like this was enough to sedate the torment you had found yourself subjected to being here alone for so long.

And in the morning, when the sun came in on the new day you never felt as excited to see the light as you did in that moment. Because Kai was grinning looking over at you knowing what it meant. He would go out and try again and again until he knew that he could fly even if it took time but here starting today would be the beginning and he would be starting it all with you at his side.

He did not need help out of the cave's mouth this time, pulling himself up as easily as if he had been doing it his whole life. And he stood, looking out over the water below him and knowing that if he fell he had you there willing to pull him out if he needed it. He looked to the sky the second you pulled yourself up next to him, his wings spreading out and beating softly enough to draw your attention. “We don't have to start so high up. I know it's a short distance to the ground and it won't hurt much if you fall but just in case it might be better to go to the beach,”

He should have listened to you but he was too excited to think about where he was when all he wanted to do was fly. “Just this once and we can go to the beach and try again if not,” he reached his hand out at his side, low enough to find yours and your welcome squeeze in support.

“It's okay if you don't get up too high so long as they can carry your weight that's the main issue at the moment because of the stitches,” Kai nodded along half listening as he focused in on the clouds. He pulled your hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it before letting it go once more before trying.

Both of you held your breath, the seconds passing slowly as you waited for his heels to lift again only this time it was so much higher, Kai was rising, each beat of his wings only raising him and widening your smile. You had done it, you had made him fly again and it didn't hurt but made you elated.

Kai could feel the wind welcoming him, pushing him up and up until he could see nothing but the expanse of blue and you were gone. It was that thought that had him going back. He could have spent all day up there if he could, if he knew that it wouldn't hurt him if he pushed himself so far but thinking of you watching him without being able to feel it tore into him. He flew back down landing right where he had started and laughed like it had caught him by surprise.

And he looked at you, his arms open enough for you to run into them, that smile you wore was going to be tattooed along the insides of his eyelids because it was the only thing we wanted to see. Because you had done this for him, you had given him his flight back, his hope, and wrapped in nothing but sarcasm and truth because it was your way. So he hugged you tight, kissed you until your arms were locked around him just right and he took you with him.

It had only been in dreams that you felt the faint feeling of being weightless. The wind hits your face as you let the laugh bask in the morning sun with you. It had been everything Kai had wanted, his dreams coming to reality as he caught the wind to carry the two of you higher and higher, until it felt as if you both would be made of nothing but clouds and happiness. He knew what it meant to be up in the sky like this again for you and knew that it would never be much of a thank you in return for what you have given back to him.

And when he found a place to be steady, beating wings behind him, no pain in sight as the two of you looked out over the green and blue land and water below you. He held you close, arms keeping you up and in place even with your dangling feet picking up the memory of what it had been like before when you were a child with nothing to be scared of because you had not been wronged yet, you had only been a girl with wings happy to be in the air.

Kai pressed his forehead to yours, nose dipping and bumping your cheek as he kissed the edge of your smile. And it didn't matter anymore if you felt weak, or had been told it was all that you had ever been because you had saved someone worthy of being saved, picking up yourself along the way and flying through him when flying was only a word thrown around to hurt you. You had put his wings back when they had been nothing but torn flesh and nothing made you feel this good, only the knowledge that you knew he would take you again if you asked.

The trail of your fingers did not cross your mind when you felt this good, your subconscious working over the thoughts you were having and putting together the puzzle you had made by following the seam of his stitches. You could feel the knot you had tied to secure the wing in place, the spot you would have to cut away when pulling the thread free after you had checked again that his fast healing had done its job.

But the ghosting of your touch on the closed wound was akin to you pushing him into a frozen lake, the ice breaking beneath him and reminding him just how heavy he had been when he had nothing behind him to support his body. It was the fear mixed with your words that you had said what felt like ages ago, as if when the two of you had shared then you had been different people. But here at his core, he felt it, that foreboding and gut-turning maggots wiggling into his skin and poisoning his already made-up mind. ‘Hell it might be more fun watching you fall again than it would be to watch you actually fly but I guess we won't know unless we try,’ you had said those words, he had rolled them over in his head over and over again because it had not sit right with him, but he could not remember the rest of the conversation, not when your fingers were messing with the stitches right on his back like you were fulfilling a promise.

It had been quick, the intrusive thought taking over because all he could think again was that you two were similar. He would have helped you yes but if it had been him or you at the bottom of the water and both of you had to pick who got their wings back he would not hesitate to make sure he felt this feeling again. And having you here, threat alive in his mind he could not help himself from leaning into the cruelty if it meant saving this.

And so he let you go.

When in his arms it had been the illusion of flying, still grounded to him just by holding on but falling from this height was even closer to the feeling of flying. The wind rippled around you as you fell in slow motion, his sweet angelic face washed in shock at what he had done and all you could do was think about how you would forgive him because you knew that if it had been you in his place, demon or angel, you would have done the same.

You did not feel heavy, you felt free and the laughter echoed around Kai as he realized his mistake. His fear had control over him in ways he had not expected it to and his shouting did nothing to make it any closer to you as he tried to catch up to your falling form hurtling closer to a waiting grave that had once had a tombstone with his name written on it. You had missed this feeling of freefall and descent, missed the open arms of the wing kissing your skin in the same way Kai’s hands had only the night before.

The last of his feathers started to come free, his control over his wings lessening as the two of you fell, the sky a perfect image of just you and him with feathers all around as it had always been. The spotting of inky black feathers floating around you, finally ready to be buried alongside the body they had come from. You reached out, Kai’s hand already trying to find anything on you to grasp but was just far enough to miss by the brush of his fingertips. The expanse of blue widens around you and is impossible to tell if you were rising in the sky or sinking closer to the waiting ocean.

If falling felt like flying you would welcome the feeling because anything was better than nothing at all.

<333 thank you to @beomiracles who wrote the opening paragraph that is italicized for this event so that we could all start on the same page- taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire @no1likemybbgcharlie @chasingthatjjunie @taegyutomorrow @izzyy-stuff @yeoningz @filmnings @jellymochii @dawngyu @bamgyuuuri @lickingan0rchid @felixleftchickennugget @thetxtdevil @luvsicktyun @hyukascampfire @prince-jjae @liverspaghett want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join!want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

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idekwtf-is-happening · 9 months ago

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Seeing people on Twitter trying to hate on Taylor swift is so funny like, she’s living in their heads rent free as they scramble for reasons to hate her

#the only valid argument I’ve seen is the CO2 emissions from her private jet #but funny enough I never see any of those same people complain about other huge artists using their private jets as frequently as her #I’ve even seen people suggest she just get tickets on a regular plane but guess what #having someone THAT famous on a flight could actually be a hazard to all involved #people would flock to her or cause a scene or record her the entire time #and that’s just on the plane #then people talk shit about her releasing music the same week as other artists #girl there are only 52 fucking weeks in a year and those other artists teams picked that week for specific reasons just like Taylor’s team #some weeks will obviously be worse for a new release than others like holidays and such #they don’t all collaborate and decide on who gets what week #it’s just so funny that they think she does this on purpose #and they think the argument makes sense just because she’s had so much coming out the past few years #which she only had to do because she wanted to actually own her own music #I’ve also seen a few people try to claim that she doesn’t write her own mucus which is even more hysterical ngl #one of the funniest claims I’ve seen is that she is ‘manipulating the top charts’ so she can stay at number one #first of all wtf do they think she’s doing #how the fuck can someone manipulate the charts #if they’re talking about how she strategically releases her music then sure #every fucking artist under the sun does that #that’s not manipulation that’s just understanding the industry that you’re in #they also can’t seem to grasp that she’s at number one so often because she makes good music and people like listening to her #and then I saw someone try to claim that she could never sell out a stadium #…#honey #wanna try that again?#I looked into it and they specified a 100000 seat stadium #one that’s she has funny enough sold out three times before #omfg it wasn’t just three times it was THREE NIGHTS IN A ROW #also if you want other artist to get the spotlight #THEN STOP COMPARING THEM

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inkskinned · 2 years ago

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no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.

#spilled ink #writeblr #this is a real story lol #looking back i liked larry as a person SO much more than my ex hollyyyyy shitttt #compulsory heterosexuality will do you DIRTY #edit to correct effies name my apologies to effie and effies family

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stealingyourbones · 2 months ago

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Danny, being a halfa, falls under the strange category of people who can converse with the dead and act in their names. Most mediums simply convey messages. It was rare for someone to be able to fulfill a ghost’s dying request and have that act tied to the ghost’s core.

Honestly it’s annoying.

He doesn’t get any alone time anymore for homework or hobbies. The dead are constantly pestering Danny to help with their desires - which, sure, it helps them move on which means they’re out of Danny’s hair, but come on!! Give a guy a break! Just because he doesn’t need as much sleep as a fully living person doesn’t mean he can go without entirely!

“No Scott,” Danny repeated for the fifth time, “I am not flying to California tonight. Do you know how far that is? Literally the other coast of this massive continent. Meet me there in August like everyone else on the list.”

Spending the first spring break of college creating a map and calendar for Last Rites was not something Danny expected when he moved to Gotham.

Why did this city have so many ghosts?! It was ridiculous. And he thought Amity Park was bad? At least the ghosts here were mostly Shades. Not visible to anyone unless they were also dead-adjacent or had The Sight or a bloodline curse or a magical amulet… you know what? There were enough of those in this curse ridden city, why couldn’t these ghosts go find one of those people instead? Danny was exhausted.

So exhausted he didn’t notice the vigilante dropping down from the rooftop.

“Hey there kid, you alri-”

“Yeah yeah,” Danny waved a hand dismissively at the voice without looking up. “Wait in line like everyone else. But honestly you’d be better off coming back tomorrow when I’ve had some sleep.”

“Think maybe you outta get started on that sleep now, bud?” the voice behind him spoke in a calm careful tone.

One Danny had heard all too often since dying.

His head jerked sideways to stare wide-eyed at Nightwing, who tensed just a little as if expecting Danny to run or fight. Instead he let out a groan and slumped onto the park bench, rubbing his eyes to ease the burn of fatigue. He’d been coming out to this park at the corner of campus each night to keep the Shades from mobbing him all day long in classes, but they’d spread the word around Gotham that he was here and his precious spring break had become a non-stop line of requests and arguments. Made sense he’d caught the attention of one of the Bats. Should have expected it sooner.

Danny ignored all the voices around him and looked at Nightwing directly as he prattled off his usual list when someone caught him talking to thin air.

“No, I’m not hallucinating. I got all my Rogue Gallery immunizations the day I checked onto campus. I’m not schizophrenic. The only meds I take are for adhd and the occasional Tylenol. I’m not a danger to myself or others. Unless they attack me first.”

Nightwing nodded along, but tilted his head at the end.

“I’m talking to the dead,” Danny answered the unspoken question in a tired monotone, waiting for the usual skepticism or plea for help with lost loved ones.

“Oh. Okay then.”

“What?” That wasn’t expected.

“No yeah, that makes sense.”

Danny was sure his jaw was on the ground. “You… you believe me?”

“Well sure,” the hero shrugged and chuckled. “I can’t see ghosts myself but I know a couple magicians who work with one, and my little brother Robin has a ghost on his team - she’s actually visible most of the time so I don’t know if that’s a special skill or something else going on. But I’m glad you’re okay and don’t need any emergency medication. I know a couple 24 hour pharmacies that would help but it’s nice when they’re not needed. We don’t get a lot of mediums around Gotham holding court at night so you really can’t fault me for checking in.”

Danny was still floating in the relief of not being questioned or doubted. That hadn’t happened since Jazz found out his secret. She’d had plenty of questions about his halfa status, of course, but never called him crazy for talking to things others couldn’t see. Even Sam and Tucker would forget sometimes and give him strange looks before realizing he was dealing with a Shade, Wisp, or Memory.

He didn’t realize he was wobbling until Nightwing’s arms shot out to stabilize him.

Danny blinked up at the pretty face that was trying not to chuckle, held by strong arms, and so far past tired he might be getting delirious after all because his brain seemed to have lost its filter and he said out loud,

“You actually believe me. I think I love you.”

Then the horrifying embarrassment hit at the same time as Nightwing’s laughter. Which… sounded delighted rather than mean spirited?

“Well now it’s your turn to wait in line, cuz that’s the fourth confession I’ve had this week!” They both devolved into snorts and giggles, Danny still relying on those arms for balance, but when they’d caught their breath the vigilante said, “Come on, you’ve really got to get some sleep. I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

Ignoring the whispers and grumbles of the Shades was easier with someone walking beside him.

This is so incredibly cute oml. It’s so rare to see the bats actually go with the flow and god it isn’t done enough. 12/10 immaculate, glorious.

The entire plot I can see so clearly in my mind dude:

Danny chatting to Nightwing as they walk to his dorm

Nightwing asking some casual questions about ghosts and Danny asking about vigilante work.

Nightwing informs the Bats of Danny as he might be a valuable asset in the future.

Nightwing helps free shades with Danny and he realizes why Danny is so incredibly tired all the time.

Nightwing managing to stumble into Danny every day of his break, slowly getting to know each other more and more and becoming really good friends (perhaps lovers 👀).

Wonderful stuff man ty for the ask!

#dpxdc #danny phantom #dp x dc #bones replies

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thepitlanepress · 1 month ago

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NEVER TOO BUSY FOR YOU –

↳ oscar piastri + gf!reader

⌗ :: masterlist

⌗ :: a/n: i like to think im the sweetest person alive so this is written for my girl nadsies while she isnt having the greatest day ever. just a short lil fic bc im working on the smau pt2 and some other ones ;)

you dont like bothering oscar when he's at work. its a weird thing you have, one that oscar's tried getting out of your head on more than one occasion. does it stick? no.

the cramps you had been feeling for the entire day had made it almost impossible to move, so you weren't exactly able to reach your phone to tell oscar either.

that is a fact you use in a later argument. which by the way doesn't work.

so when the door to your apartment swings open and you hear your boyfriend's voice, you nearly flat out start crying. its so nice to hear a comforting sound.

"sweetheart?" oscar calls out for a second time when you don't reply, even talking feels like too much right now. you hear some shuffling around and then the soft footsteps as he walks down the hallway.

"hey, baby," he murmurs when he enters the room, coming to sit next to you on the edge of the bed. his hand comes to rest on your back rubbing slowly through the duvet. "how are you feeling?"

a noncommittal grunt escapes you and you wince in pain as another wave of cramps hit you like a train. fuck periods actually.

oscar sensing your situation quickly, he gets up and places a quick but soft kiss to your forehead before walking back out to the kitchen promising to be back soon. you stay awake for a little while but eventually the sounds of him moving around, and the soft clinking of dishes quickly puts you to sleep.

it was a comfort knowing someone else was home with you.

some time later you feel a dip in the bed beside you, two arms wrap around your waist and pull you into their warmth.

"hey you," you whisper.

"hey you," he whispers back his hand drawing circles on your skin. "are you feeling better after that nap?"

"sort of," you sigh. "mainly im-"

"hungry?" oscar guesses, you can hear the smile in his voice and you slowly sit up, cautiously testing different positions before finding one that doesn't make you feel like you've been shot.

you look over at oscar who has turned away bringing a tray of snacks over from the bedside table. it has all your favourite snacks, chocolates, your phone and a warm cup of tea.

"i called mum, while you were asleep earlier," he said almost nervously. "and asked her what type of tea to use because i was worried and wanted to help and she said to use-"

you shut him up by placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth "its perfect thank you osc," you settle back against the pillows - and him, okay mostly him. his arms are wrapped around you as you soak in the quiet afternoon, the soft sound of the show you had playing on your computer earlier the only noise in the room.

"why didn't you call me?" his voice rumbles through you.

"i didn't want to bother you while you were at work," you look down to the cup of tea in your hands and realise now that you probably won't be winning this conversation. there is no one who cared more about you than the man currently wrapped around you. he would drop anything in a second for you.

hence why you didn't call him. he cant be distracted from work. its so important to you.

but he won't take that as an answer.

"you know i always have time for you, sweetheart, i'm never too busy for you. you're my number one priority. always."

the cramps didn't seem so bad after that.

2025 © thepitlanepress | please do not steal, use, translate or repost any of my works

– comments, likes and reblogs appreciated !

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1980shorrorfilm · 2 months ago

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i know it’s over

click!!!

pairing…ellie williams x gn!reader

in which…ellie doesn’t have the heart to tell joel you had broken up before the holidays; so you pretend you didn’t.

before you read...18+. angst. sad sex. afab reader. written with modern au in mind.

slow christmas songs play lowly from a record joel had put on, setting the mood of the crackling wood in the fireplace, and the twinkling tree in the corner.

the older man is laughing with ellie about something in the kitchen, and for a moment, this feels normal. like you belong here, and you’re happy to be here; something so wrong.

three weeks of heartache, shoved to the pits of your stomach, forced to smile and act as though you didn’t carry that overbearing pain. as if you and ellie were okay. she might be. you’re not sure, she doesn’t open up about her feelings to you anymore, especially not about your breakup.

it would be too hard, for her, for you, for your loved ones that view you two as inseparable. sure, the time will come when it can no longer remain a secret, but you’re in no rush to admit to something you still cannot even fathom happening in the first place.

to tell the world that ellie isn’t yours anymore, that the small insignificant arguments had somehow piled up and led you down an unhappy path. something so odd to think about now, because you’ve only ever been happy with ellie. until now.

you see her from the corner of your eye, taking a seat on the couch beside you, but not next to you. not directly, not close enough to place her hand on your lap, to allow your head to rest on her shoulder. even as much as that hurts, it doesn’t compare to the emotional distance between you.

your eyes remain on the glowing fire before you, not daring to look at the woman who was already looking to you. searching for something to say, to make this less awkward. her mouth stays shut, allowing the quiet void to be filled with whatever sad christmas song was playing.

you’re grateful the moment is soon interrupted by a knock at joel’s door, signaling his brother and his wife have arrived. you watch the flip switch in ellie, her cold demeanor around you suddenly dropping with a smile, hugging tommy and maria while you fiddle with your fingers.

you’re next to be engulfed in tight embraces, the couple had done an incredible job at making you feel welcomed in their family. they have since they realized ellie was pretty fucking serious about you, but that was three years ago. three years now down the drain.

you force a smile when you catch the negative thoughts spilling in your head, though it doesn’t reach your eyes, ellie noticing from a few feet away.

she hated it.

joel interrupts with the announcement of dinner, bringing you a great sense of relief. just get it over with, pass out in the guest bedroom you two are occupying for the night, and leave in the morning. go back to life without her.

you sit in the chair next to ellie, feeling her hand cling to yours under the table. she squeezes gently, and you’re unsure if it was out of reassurance or habit. regardless, you sharply pull your hand away, her head snapping towards you, but you don’t look at her.

you pick at your food, drowning ellie out with whatever conversation joel and tommy are sharing, even laughing at their stupid jokes. and it’s genuine, ellie spotting the twinkle in your eyes when your lips curled upwards.

she was so fixated on you looking…happy, that she hadn’t realized she was the topic of discussion, joel telling a story about her rebellious teenage years.

you forget the tension between you two at the moment, especially when ellie chimes in, correcting joel on some of the details, and eventually just taking over.

you direct your attention to her, the tint of red painting her freckled cheeks due to embarrassment, which slowly faded as she chuckled at her younger self.

she was always so adorable when she got flustered, and you’re reminded how much she hated it when you pointed that out. or so, she pretended to. she never admitted that just made her even more flustered.

her eyes meet yours now, and you’re pulled out of the moment, smile falling. an exchanged uncomfortable glare. loving gazes now replaced with something bitter and too much for you to bear. you redirect your eyes to your lap.

joel takes in the sight from the end of the table, sipping on his drink, before speaking.

“so… you two gonna keep lookin’ like you’ve got a secret?”

you both turn to him.

“hm?” “what?”

your voices blend with each other, the heat rising in your cheeks at the spotlight put on you two. was it that obvious? did he have to point it out?

“a secret? who’s gotta secret?” tommy chimes in, your head now dipping as ellie lets out an exhausted sigh. “no one— no one,” ellie says, using that firm tone that everyone recognizes as her stop bothering me tone. you got pretty used to it in the days leading up to your breakup.

joel drops it, knowing if ellie wanted joel to know anything, she would’ve told him. tommy dares to pry, though, not recognizing the thick tension.

“y’all hiding rings from us?” he chuckles, but no one laughs. if anything, it makes you want to cry. you would pick that scenario over this a million times over again. you wonder what you could’ve done differently that would’ve led you down that road with her, and down the aisle.

how you could’ve treated her better, despite treating her like the most loved person in the entire world. because that’s what she is to you, even now. how you could’ve solved every issue that snuck into your relationship, despite trying to and ending up feeling like you had only made it so much worse.

how you would be holding her fidgety hand under this table, just longing to feel the comfort of her warm touch, rather than dropping it and being repelled by her touch. how everything could’ve been good. perfect, even. instead, you’re stuck grieving a fleeting relationship in silence.

ellie clears her throat, “maybe one day.”

ouch. your chair scrapes against the wooden floorboard, ellie looking up at you as you walk away, excusing yourself to the bathroom. you don’t register you’re crying until you’re locked safely in the small room, holding onto the sink, letting them fall down your face.

maybe it was the way she said it— like she almost believed it. or wished for it. or the idea that your ex-girlfriend was going to be married, and it wasn’t to you. that you’re here, for the last time. that you’re spending the most wonderful time of year with the love, and loss, of your life, for the last time.

you had managed to wear faux smiles since the break up— it was inevitable for this breakdown to occur.

after a moment of muffling your cries into your hands, there’s silence, you attempting to calm yourself and return to a state of false normalcy. then the gentle knock hits the bathroom door, joel’s gruff voice pulling you from your thoughts.

“you alright, kiddo?”

you dry your face, practicing a smile in the mirror, then swinging the door open. “yeah— yeah, sorry,” you tell him, “just don’t feel well.”

it’s not a complete lie, you truly feel like the earth is crumbling at your feet. you wouldn’t tell him why, exactly, but joel had two working eyes.

“you know…if there’s anything going on between you two…” he drifts off, not even sure where he was going with this. he wasn’t great with advice, he just tried to speak on what he knew. and what he knows is, you’re one of the best things to happen to ellie.

“you two got lucky finding each other. that’s all,” he tells you, giving a sad smile like he is aware of the situation without having it explained to him.

it crushes your heart even more, another nail hit in the coffin of you and ellie. another pile of dirt poured over you two, burying your relationship that you’re not ready to let go of. but holy fuck, is it nearly out of your grasp.

when he walks away, the tears begin to build again. you swiftly walk to the bedroom ellie and you were staying for the night, hearing the muffled voices from downstairs, hoping you weren’t the topic.

you are. not in the sense that you dread, though, rather being spoken about highly from maria. ellie keeps her green eyes trained on the floor, listening to the woman elaborate on the words that tommy had said earlier. a ring. a proposal. a step forward for you two.

not knowing there wasn’t a step forward, there was nothing anymore.

“y/n…they uh, aren’t feeling too hot,” joel changes the topic, ellie picking up her lowly hung head. though she can assume the reasoning as to why, she still leaves the room, a need to check in on you, even if that’s not what you want.

you hear the door open, but you’re laid comfortably on your side, not bothering to turn over and see her.

“hey,” her voice is wary, nervous while approaching the bed. she sees the tear marks on your pretty face, the one nearly covered by the blanket pulled up to the tip of your nose. ellie kneels on the floor beside you, meeting you face to face. sad eyes to miserable eyes.

“it’s too much, ellie,” you whisper, voice cracking near immediately.

“i know.”

“why did we…” you stop yourself, the heat in your cheeks now burning you alive, thinking about it too much. something that’s said and done, something you two discussed to not talk about again, and yet.

“it’s so hard,” you barely get out, now pulling the blanket over your head completely, a safe space to let your tears flow rather than in front of the only person that would ever comfort you.

ellie still does, pulling the soft fabric back down, palm resting against your cheek kindly— wishing she could take the same pain she is experiencing, from you.

she would endure it, and perhaps this would be easier. entering the new year no longer caring for her. putting yourself first for once rather than her. loving yourself more than her. it would all be so easy.

her head falls, and her eyes water. your blurry vision clears when you take notice, suddenly putting your emotions on the back burner and wiping your eyes.

“els,” you whisper, throwing the blanket off of you and sitting up. your legs swing over the edge of the bed, ellie taking it as an invitation to close whatever space was between you, sobbing in your lap. a rare sight, she hadn’t even done this the night you had split. she was monotone, numb in that moment. now, it’s crashing down on her at once.

you stay like this until her crying stops, the house now quiet, tommy and maria having left. joel is assumingly in his bedroom, passed out as a christmas classic plays on his television. the house feels colder, or maybe that’s just the bedroom.

when ellie adjusts herself, she looks up to you, an unspoken conversation being held between your damp eyes.

ellie leans forward, doing the last thing she should do right now, and kisses you. softly. sadly. passionately.

you scoot back on the bed, her lips not leaving yours while she crawls on top of you, neither of you thinking right now— not about what’s happening, anyway.

all you feel is her, and you need her, in every sense, weeks of telling yourself that you don’t now unraveling. this isn’t about lust. even when her cool hand travels to the waistband of your pants, finding warmth inside of them, awaiting a reaction from you. to push her away, or change your mind, she waits for it.

her lips part from yours, face inches from yours, studying you. you speak quietly, “please.”

she gulps.

once more, she leans in, lips moving slowly with yours, while her hand slips into your underwear. you gasp into her mouth when you feel her, busying your own hands beneath her dark shirt, resting them against her pale back.

your nails dig into her the moment her middle finger enters you, but you only whimper when she adds her ring finger, letting you adjust to how she feels inside you— just right.

then she curls them, angling them on that spongey spot without fault, kissing you harder when a yelp attempts to escape from your lips, being reunited with a feeling you had longed for.

the feeling of ellie taking care of you. wanting to make you feel more than okay. not locked in the bathroom crying after an argument, or isolated in your shared bed because she’d rather sleep on your worn-out thrifted couch.

ellie loving you.

the wind howls against the windows in the bedroom, and you hope the eerie noise blocks your crying out. it doesn’t, and ellie suddenly stops.

“fuck,” she whispers to herself, both guilt and shame creeping into her veins. she took this too far, she thinks. ellie attempts to pull away, but your hand grips her arm, preventing her from doing so.

“i’m okay— ellie, please,” you tell her, afraid to stop, and to lose this. you need this. you beg again, “please, baby.”

and ellie repeats herself again, “fuck.”

to your request, she keeps going, fucking you while you cling to her. ellie is going fast, relentless, and the noises between your thighs are indecent. your grasp gets tighter the closer she brings you to that light at the end of the tunnel, but you can’t seem to actually reach it.

you’re drifting, even when she picks up her pace, pressing against the sweet spots that would usually have you seeing stars.

you know ellie is rushing this. she’s not making love to you, she’s fucking you crudely, but right now your mind is desperately trying to blur those lines.

your eyes remain shut when ellie’s face parts from yours, attempting to chase that high running away from you.

“hey,” ellie speaks, “look at me, y/n.”

you obey, brows furrowed with pleasure and sadness. you probably look a mess; she doesn’t think so. “beautiful,” she says, that rasp in her voice that you’re utterly obsessed with.

“haven’t said it enough lately…but you are…so fucking beautiful,” ellie continues, not slowing down the rhythm at which she moved in and out of you. “wish you could see yourself…fuck…”

you know what she’s doing, but it’s absolutely working.

she feels you tighten around her, heart racing and jaw-dropping with a moan threatening to spill from your soft lips. she reacts quickly, palm on your mouth to muffle the noise, these walls too thin for the noises she made you make.

“gonna be quiet for me?” ellie asks, the question more so teasing than sincere. still, you nod lazily against the mattress. she questions you again, “gonna cum for me?”

you don’t answer her this time— your body does that for you, shuddering beneath her and crying out into her hand. ellie doesn’t drag it out, she removes her fingers, sucking them while you collect yourself, calming your shaky breath.

it’s a waiting game for who speaks first, ellie shifting and sitting at the edge of the bed, gripping the blanket beneath her. she’s trying to wrap her head around…all of this…around you.

meanwhile, you force your tired body to move, crawling behind her and wrapping your arms around her torso, head resting on her shoulder. a position you could stay in forever if life was kind enough and allowed you to.

“we can tell him in the morning.”

her words bring you out of the haze you’re in, like a bucket of ice-cold water thrown in your fucking face. that’s what ellie did best. she gave you everything you had wanted, just to take it away.

“okay,” you respond, letting go of her completely— in the physical way.

#-insertcatemoji #freakmas #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfic #the last of us fanfic #ellie x reader #ellie williams #tlou fanfic #wlw fanfic #why are you still reading this? do you want me??

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basicallyjeankirschtein · 2 months ago

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lost and found - toji x reader x sukuna

chapter 7: sukunas roommate

summary: sukuna brings you to his apartment so things don’t escalate with gojo and geto, there you meet his roommate.

* ooc, toji is shameless, crack, MDNI (a bit suggestive), NOT proof read 💔, lowkey i just am making the plot as i go sorry if it doesn’t make sense anymore i like adding random plot twists 💔

masterlist. prev. next

“um. if you don’t mind me asking… why is your roommates contact image frankie from shark tales?” you said between breathless giggles. you were too giggly to worry if the text you sent from sukunas phone sounded like sukuna or not. from the way he texted you, you assumed dry and cold. you hoped you pulled it off.

you were a giggling mess. this was so stupid. this huge, scary guy gave you his phone- willingly- to text his roommate you’d be coming over, and his profile picture is frankie from shark tales??? is sukuna secretly really funny?

your giggles seemed to be contagious, as sukuna couldn’t help but chuckle too. only chuckle, never actually laugh. you didn’t know why.

“he kinda looks like him. it’s a joke my friend uraume and i have.”

uraume? you’ve heard that name before. was it from the argument between shoko and geto? you think so.

that would make sense, actually.. you began to realize, your five brain cells working together to piece that shoko wasn’t the one to get sukuna to beat up gojo- but uraume.

you just giggled in response, looking down at the phone with curiosity by how much this man- toji, was blowing up his phone.

“should i-“ you were about to ask if you should respond to him, but sukuna was quick to shake his dead. “don’t.”

you nodded, biting your lip once more. you didn’t know how to respond to him, unsure if he was mad at you.

you took once glance at his stoic face, a flash of something mean in his eyes. for the millionth time this night, you curled into yourself, self conscious it was your doing to make him so mad.

sukuna is always sensing your discomfort. it made you feel bad for being so sensitive, and when he turned to give you a small, reassuring smile, your worry drowned away.

you were curious to what toji was saying, the phone was still buzzing with notifications from his number… was toji mad that sukuna was bringing you home on such short notice? or- oh no- what if he thought you two were hooking up?!

you must’ve been blushing furiously, because sukuna asked you if you were hot. you lied, telling him you were as an excuse, and without second thought he turned the ac on full blast.

you sat in silence for the rest of the ride, comfortable silence. you were fiddling with your phone, anxiously waiting for a text from gojo or geto, but it never came, much to your satisfaction.

when you arrived, sukuna stepped out of the car. “stay in here for a moment, i just have to call my roommate.” you nodded, noticing the way he locked his car after departing to call toji. did he seriously trust you to not steal his car right now? not that you were going to, but wow, he held a lot of faith in you!

sukuna groaned as he texted toji, a stressed hand running down his face. no way this douche just asked if she was single. he grumbled to himself as he hit toji’s contact and called him.

“yo,” toji spoke, his speech muffled around whatever food he was chewing.

“don’t be weird,” sukuna immediately said, voice cold. “i’m bringing her up now.”

before toji could retort, sukuna hung up. he didn’t want you to think he was taking too long.

moving to the passenger side door, sukuna unlocked his car and took your hand gently, “you okay?” he asked, voice gruff, as if he wasn’t sure how to sound friendly.

“mhm.” you nodded, “thank you for letting me stay tonight,” you smiled sheepishly, taking his hand with an appreciative smile and stepping out.

sukuna had to look away to hide his creeping blush.

“my roommates name is toji.” he began a conversation as he lead you up the complex’s multitude of stairs. “he’s fucking stupid, just ignore him.”

you just giggled in response, nervous yet oddly excited to meet this toji.

when you reached his door, sukuna opened the door for you. you didn’t expect him to be such a gentleman, considering his appearance. maybe it was wrong to judge a book by its cover.

“hey,” a surprisingly deeper voice called out, though it held more emotion than sukunas did.

“hi,” you waved shyly when you caught a glimpse of his roommate. you remember him from your psychology class. sukuna was right, he does kinda look like frankie from shark tales. you stifled a giggle.

toji immediately cracked a smirk at your shy behavior. it felt somewhat predatory… you didn’t know if you should be scared or turned on.

sukunas arm snaked around your waist, pulling you in the moment toji’s eyes wandered over your figure. he shot toji a warning glare, as if to silently say, she’s off limits.

but toji didn’t play fair, sukuna knew that.

“you brought home a pretty lil thing,” toji spoke mischievously, clearly trying to egg sukuna on. you blushed furiously at the comment, unsure if you should say thank you or stay silent.

“i told you toji, it’s not like that.” sukuna sighed, his grip around your waist tightening.

“looks like it,” toji whistled, glancing between your waist and his hand.

you shook your head, stammering slightly as you spoke, “no, no. he’s just… helping me out, tonight. i won’t be here again, i’m sorry.”

sukuna was about to scold you for apologizing, telling you there’s no need to and he invited you, but toji beat him to it.

“don’t apologize. i’d like to see you here again, under different circumstances.” he shot you a wink that had your knees weak.

you didn’t want to question what those ‘different circumstances’ were, but you were sure he was flirting.

sukuna growled, again. that same noise that had you both terrified and aroused.

“don’t say that shit,” he groaned, hitting toji’s shoulder. sukuna took your hand, practically yanking you along with him.

“like i said, ignore him.” he spoke, you could practically hear the way he gritted his teeth. he looked… jealous.

you just nodded, still bright red as you hummed along. “mhm.”

“do you need to take a shower?” sukuna asked, leading you to the bathroom. you smiled appreciatively, “that would be nice.”

though, walking into the men’s shared bathroom, you realized it would in fact not be nice. six in one? was this even legal? this couldn’t be fda approved.

you desperately wished you had your strawberry tree hut body scrub, your precious shampoo and conditioner, and at least a bar of soap! you’d also like some exfoliator and moisturizer, but they weren’t needs.

you have sukuna a ‘really?’ look, and, for the first time that night, he actually laughed.

“okay, order whatever you need.” he said, tossing you his phone as if it belonged to you.

“huh?” you blinked, eyes wide as you stared at him incredulously.

“my cards linked, just get what you need.” he spoke casually, as if this was normal.

you were about to reject his offer, tell him you could pay, but toji (of course) came in to ruin the moment.

“oh doll? you still showering? can i join?” he spoke, his voice low and flirtatious as he didn’t wait for a response, simply waltzing in. you didn’t know what made you blush more, the nickname or his obvious intentions of wanting to fuck.

sukuna looked like he was going to kill a man. that man being toji.

“ohhh i see, you’re already showering with sukuna. i’m sure you can make room for three.”

you choked on a laugh. even if you were interested (which, maybe you were. a little). the thought of both of these men in the same dinky shower together was hilarious. no way would there be room with even just the two of them, nevermind you.

“what’s so funny, dollface?”

“toji.”

sukunas voice had an edge to it you only heard once. when you told him about gojo and getos plans to intercept them in the car.

toji looked a bit taken aback, a scowl on his face now, mirroring sukunas.

“you’re no fun.” toji said after sizing his roommate up, leaving the bathroom, not without slamming the door. how petty.

you bit your lower lip, glancing between sukuna and the door that was just slammed in their faces.

“sorry about him.” sukuna spoke up, sighing. “buy whatever you want. don’t worry about how much it is.”

you frowned, “i’m going to send you the money back either way. besides, i use a lot of products, so it’ll hurt your wallet if i didn’t pay you back.” you laughed, trying to lighten the mood after whatever the fuck just happened.

“i’d rather it hurt my wallet than yours. just get whatever you usually use, i don’t care.”

and with that, sukuna left the bathroom. now you were all alone in two strangers apartment, stuck in the bathroom with one of their phones.

you didn’t know how someone could be so nice yet so cold at the same time. it was like he was a walking contradiction. was he upset with toji?

you could tell him you didn’t care, because truthfully you didn’t. yea, it definitely flustered you a bit (a lot), but it’s not like it made you feel unsafe.

you looked for your typical items, soap, body wash, shampoo, and conditioner. sure, you’d love to have a body scrub, exfoliator, and moisturizer too, but you didn’t want to kill this poor guys wallet.

you opted for cheaper options, though still finding things with your signature strawberry scent.

you felt a bit guilty as you checked out for delivery. you should probably pay back sukuna some how- for giving you a ride, a place to stay for the night, and free shower products.

when you exited the bathroom to return sukunas phone, he was nowhere to be seen. neither was roommate, toji.

this was even more awkward than hiding in their bathroom, you thought.

was it rude to sit on their couch uninvited? you wondered, plopping yourself down regardless. you noticed netflix was still open, whoever was watching was halfway through the first season of squid games.

you fiddled with sukunas phone, impatiently waiting for either of the two boys to come back so you didn’t feel so awkward. though a notification from your phone made you jump, quickly settling down sukunas phone to check yours.

guys this photo is genuinely the funniest thing i’ve ever seen i love it so much

tag list

@starmapz @corvid007 @estella-novella @zezedoesshit @beautifulwitchcandy @jinxiewritings @b0nez9 @pixiedustaddictsblog @nightlysunn @nanamineedstherapy @lvingd3adg0rl @etsuniiru @paradisestarfishh @yanelis-world @str4wb3rryc4k333 @indiewritesxoxo @havkjhdecs @tenthmilo @yunho-leeknow @polarbvnny @gradmacoco @anonnieghost @tyunswifey @ex1acy @t4naiis @shizukaay0 @ivydoesit23 @animereaderinsertwriter @des-todoroki

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skyeistrying · 3 months ago

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Hihi!! I just read your Sevika HCs and I absolutely love them!! I wanted to know if you could (please) write HCs for Sevika and Vi after an argument with their partner? :) Whether it’s an argument the reader started or they started can be completely up to you! Or you could even do both scenarios if you prefer! 💕

Thank you and I hope you have a nice day/evening 💖

🖤Sevika and Vi after an Argument🖤

men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni

🤎Sevika🤎

I don’t think arguments would be common in a relationship with Sevika.

When she locks into a serious relationship, she means serious. She covers all the important bases for a healthy relationship; communication, loyalty, respect, trust, and so much more.

Covering these bases, especially communication, helps to avoid frequent arguments.

It won’t completely cut out the occasional argument though.

When you two do argue, it’s almost always about bigger things. For example, her working so much and not taking much time for herself, or maybe her drinking and smoking.

Post-argument time usually has as “how can we avoid this in the future” moment where you guys have a heart to heart about whatever started the argument.

If you start an argument:

Be prepared to apologize first. And only apologize if you’re really sorry.

You should always finish what you start, after all.

Your apology may be met with an affectionate an eye roll and a huff.

She never stays mad at you for long.

Once you apologize she usually makes space for you wherever she’s sitting and wraps her arm around just to let you know it’s really okay.

If you’re just apologizing because you feel like you need to, don’t. She can see right through you if you’re bullshitting her.

If you’re stubborn like her, sometimes apologizing can genuinely be difficult. She gets that. Which is why her patience with you is a blessing.

Again, when you’re ready to apologize , she’s affectionate and accepts it.

If she starts an argument:

This woman is stubborn. For her to apologize, it just doesn’t feel right.

She’s only ever been truly sorry a few times in her life. In the Undercity, living a life like hers, she never had time to be sorry.

Being sorry gets you hurt. It gets you killed.

But…

It’s obviously different when it’s you. You aren’t a big bad wolf waiting around the corner. You’re her partner, her ride-or-die.

In the heat of the moment, what she said felt right. It felt like something you needed to hear.

The thought of you feeling hurt by something she said just eats her alive.

She comes to you first.

It isn’t anything crazy, usually just a simple, gruff “I’m sorry.”

She’s awkward and stiff about it, but completely genuine.

Asks what she can do to make it up to you, if anything.

❤️Vi❤️

Violet runs hot. She isn’t a loose cannon but someday’s it can be hard trying to keep all of her emotions under wraps.

This has definitely lead to arguments over petty things like dishes in the sink or eating the last of her favorite snack.

It’s also lead to arguments about very serious things. Her pit fighting, drinking, and her occasional impulsivity.

Arguments always hit her hard, even the petty ones. No matter how old she gets, arguments always make her feel like a little kid, just waiting for the ball to drop. The ball being losing you.

That feeling of dread, like this argument could be the last, if that makes sense.

Physical touch is usually present in the make up process after an argument. It helps ground her.

The good news is, the two of you always make up very quickly.

If you start an argument:

If the argument is a petty spat about dishes or snacks, she still apologizes first, albeit rather begrudgingly.

This links back to her feeling like this argument could be the last. What if she never hears “You promised you’d take out the trash this week” ever again?

You, however, shut that down. “It’s my fault, I should be the one apologizing.” You tell her.

These arguments are extremely easy to come back from because you two are always on the same level. Two halves to make a whole, equals

There isn’t a point in staying hung up on petty nonsense for long.

If you start a big argument, you apologize first.

She distances herself and you have to go to her.

You’ll usually find her someplace where she shouldn’t be, like a bar. Or, you might find her someplace safe, like with Loris or another friend she feels comfortable around.

Not only should you apologize, but it would also be a good chance to thoroughly explain why you’re upset or might think something is a bad idea.

Once you do that, she’ll open her arms up to you and usually things can be resolved somewhat easily after that.

If she starts an argument:

Again, she apologizes first.

If she starts an argument, big or small, the dread of possibly losing you over this hits her like bricks.

For smaller arguments, she approaches you casually. If you let her, she’ll wrap her arms around you. An apology hug, if you will.

Says, “I’m sorry, baby,” in the softest voice she can muster.

These smaller arguments are always easier to come back from just because she’s so sweet. How can you ever stay upset when she’s such a sweetie?

Big arguments are something else though.

After she’s said whatever it is that she’s said, the weight of it all is suffocating.

If she said something really stupid and hurtful in the heat of the moment, she might need some space for a bit. Things like that take her back to that day.

But she’ll come to you when she’s ready.

May or may not have a little gift for you for extra measure. Usually it’s something simple like your favorite candy bar.

She tells you she’s sorry and explains why she got so worked up. Usually this leads to a steady and warm embrace and you let her know it’s okay.

hello!!! thank you for the request ♥️ please let me know if you enjoyed it or not. i had so much fun writing these. i kind of got carried away with vi’s headcanons 🙈. . i was purposefully vague about what started the argument so you can sort of imagine your own scenario for why the argument started!🎠

ask box is open for multiple fandoms and nearly every arcane character! check my pinned for rules, fandoms, and characters. i write headcanons, reactions, drabbles, and more!

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tan1shere · 3 months ago

Text

Her Favorite - Pt 3

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: this is the last part of this series I hope you all enjoyed it !! This was one of my favs to write <3

Summary: you're the teachers pet. Her. Favorite.

Warnings: smut, tension ? A small tiny argument, fingering, strap, r sucks billies tits, teasing from both parts, slight angst ??? Scissoring - let me know if I missed anything !

Tags - @trulyy-yourzz @eilishslut @brat-at-the-disco @iluvapplesxh @chrissv4mp @n0vabug @dollyvuu

Masterlist - pt 1 , pt 2

You didn't want to believe it, but she had been distant. Why? It was bugging you because all you wanted was her. Just her. And the more the time passes that's all you could think of. Her. Your God damn teacher. You could barely focus with the thought of her recently so when she had started this weird distancing. You were a bit hurt. But, you decide to try your best to ignore it. "Hey Y/n!" You hear Silvi say, approaching you. You turn to face her. "Oh hi!" You say cheerful. "Since we didn't get to hang out that one time I thought I'd invite you to this party I'm going to tomorrow night." You think for a moment.

"You know what yeah, I'd love to." She smiles and goes about her day. This couldn't hurt anyone right? That was unconvincing, you knew it'd bother someone. But then again that someone doesn't really seem to care currently. Why the hell not!

It was a Saturday and you were in her bed, things were quiet like they have been. Until she turns over and wraps her arms around you. "Sorry I haven't been that present. End of the year so it's hectic as a teacher." You look up into her eyes. Oh.. That's why, now you felt bad about going to this party. But why, you deserved to have fun. You just nod, going to kiss her cheek and sit up. "I uh, I'll just get going." Her brows furrow. "You know you can stay another night babe." You bite your lip. "Yeah but I just don't have a change of clothes here." She looks at you. "Those are fine, no?" You sigh. "I'm going somewhere."

Her head tilts with a grin. "What, no invite?" You stand up, causing her face to shift. Her features changing at your body language. "It's uhm, a school party. So it'd be a bit you know." She caught on. "Right, gotcha." Billies fear was infront of her, she didn't want to believe it. She was 9 years older than you ofcourse you needed to be around people your age. But she wondered if that was romantically too. She didn't want that, she just wanted you. "You hate parties though." It was true, you did. Then that jealousy kicks in. "Shes going to be there isn't she." You stay silent for a moment as you put your pants on, leaving her baggy t-shirt on.

You grab your keys,but she's up and out of bed. "Hey." She says when you don't respond, coming over and making you look at her. There was more silence as she finds the right thing to say. She wants to tell you to be careful and to not do this at all. But shes better than that. "Have fun ok?" You nod again, kissing one another before you leave. The kiss lingers on your lips, and you miss it. Did you even want to go to this party?

It was too late you were already there with Silvi, having a few drinks but never too much. You really didn't like parties but, you hadn't ever been to one so why fight something you haven't even tried. Laughing, talking, music. Honestly it was boring and you'd rather be spending it with Billie, in your underwear in the comfort. Eating crap, watching movies. That's all you'd want right now. But something pulled you out of that little day dream, you feel a hand on your thigh. Your senses going off, growing uncomfortable. You turn to see it was Silvi's you look at her as she must've done it subconsciously. Talking to whoever infront of her. But her next move wasn't so subconscious. Her hand slowly glides upwards making you get up from your seat.

Her face turns to you. But before anything else you go to find your way around into a room, not realizing she had followed. "Shit, I'm sorry I didn't even-" You shake your head. "It's fine. I just think I want to go home." Not think. You were certain. "You sure?" Your brows furrow slightly. Feeling uneasy. "Positive." She comes over and sits by you. "We could go soon, you got somewhere to be?" Yes. At our teachers house. "No I just, don't really want to be here." She gets closer. You felt icky. "Please just take me home." Her demeanor changes. "Fine." Your brows furrow again, what the fuck was up with her.

You were close to Billies place. "Just let me out here." She slows down. "This isn't your place." You go to open the door. "I know it's a friend's." She didn't seem to really care. Wow, Billie was right she wasn't any good. "Bye." You say closing the door, watching her zoom off. You felt gross, wanting to get in there and find some sort of comfort. You knock on the door, getting greeted by a slightly sleepy Billie. "Hey, no fun?" You shake your head, noticeably seeming down. You step in. Being greeted by the smell of her place. It was such a beautiful smell. "Something happen?" You give it a moment. "Nah, just wanted to be in comfort tonight." She sensed something was up, but going to let it be for now.

"Ok well, the beds missing you." You smile at her. "I'm missing the bed." She puts a hand over her heart. "You and my bed might as well date, you like it more than me." You giggle, shoving her lightly. She loved making you laugh or even smile. It made her feel powerful that she could make that happen, it made her heart happy to hear and see. You both get into the bed once you get out of that annoying dress. You eventually fall asleep in one another's arms.

Wednesday, Wednesday. Wednesday. Things seemed to be normal again, which you were thankful for. Today was a stripped shirt and tie day. And she looked tasty as ever. You were in a very playful mood so today you went with yet another short skirt. Her eyes land on it instantly. Giving you a look, but you just returned it with an innocent smile. The shirt you were wearing wasn't helping either. Tight. You were honestly thanking the universe that Silvi wasn't there today. You don't need some repeat of a few weeks ago. At the end of the lesson you slowly get your things, everything was so slow, intentionally so. You go over to her desk, her eyes not meeting yours just yet even though everyone's gone.

"Hi!-" "What are you wearing." Her tone was calm, knowing good and well she was far from that. "Well hello to you aswel." Your eyes roll. "And I thought you loveddd my skirts." She stands. "Why are you testing me today hm?" You shrug. "Good thing Silvi wasn't here to drool over it." You cringed slightly, remembering she was right about her. But you soon roll your eyes again. "Whatever I seriously-" But her hand was around your neck, you tense slightly but only for a moment. It was just her, you didn't need to worry. You had actually been doing that alot recently, that whole interaction had frightened you to say the least, you felt weak and out of your own control in that moment that night.

It was frightening without a doubt. "Don't test me babygirl." Her tone was full of warning, you gulp. Clenching your thighs. Her head motion down as you do, letting out a dry chuckle. "Really? You like me doing this?" Your words go. But her hand soon leaves, causing you to whine. You wanted more. She goes back over to her desk. "I'll just finish that up then we can head to mine." You had forgotten it was the end of the day. Score. You think for a moment. "Yes ma'am." She laughs a tad, shaking her head. She thought you were being silly. No, you were dead serious. So when that doesn't work you resort to your next trick. Your eyes scan her desk.

Seeing a pencil laying there, your fingers go to move it off. "Oopsies, my bad." She wasn't really paying attention, she was finishing a few things. But her head turns as shes faced with your ass. Her eyes widen as she spots the second fucked thing you did today. Her eyes look around as if someone would see. Everyone left. Her eyes return as you slowly stand up. She grabs the bottom of your skirt pulling it as much down as she could. "Are you serious?" She then says. Your head turns to her. "Whattt?" Her eyes widen again, brows furrowing tremendously. "You were sitting there. For almost an hour with nothing on!?" You giggle. "Nooo, I just took them off. But you weren't looking sooo." Her temper shines through. "Jesus fucking christ."

She's surely worked up from seeing your bare cunt on display for her. "Office. Go." You bite your lip. And boom, you got what you want. So you thought. She locks the door behind her, coming up behind you and pushing you over her desk. Causing you to bend over. "Might just tease the fuck out of you and leave you here." Your head turns to look back at her. "You wouldn't." - "Oh yeah?" Her finger makes contact with your folds. "Imagine if someone had walked in." She was still mad, making her finger retract. This was going to piss you off sooner or later. She grabs her tie, bringing it over your exposed ass.

"Out in the open like that." It travels around to your neck, she wraps it around tightening ever so slightly. "With this stupid fucking skirt." It tightens more, you gasp. But it then loosens as she grabs your wrists, tying them together. Causing you to fall further into the desk, the coolness hitting your cheek. Her hand makes contact with your hair, pushing just a tad. "Please, I'm sorry." You then plead. She chuckles maniacally. "Bad girls don't get treated nicely." You bite your lip as you think of a response. "Teach me to be good then." You say, your voice soft. It was her turn to bite her lip. "You gunna listen?" You nod. "Answer me." - "Yes, Ms O'Connell." She lets out a breath, finding the way you say it so hot.

Her hands fiddle with the belt around her waist, pulling out your favorite one of her straps. It was the second most large one she owned. And in an instant it's prodding your hole, ready for access. Your back arches, moving around to try get it in. "Don't dig your grave further." She says stilling your hips. "B-" You stop yourself. This was already bad you couldn't make things worse. Little did you know. The tip slides in, not fast enough but you keep your mouth shut. No whines, no protests no nothing. Not until she bottoms out inside you. Your mouth hangs open at the feeling. "This fucking skirt." Her fury was still evident. Very. Evident. Especially when she snaps her hips hard against you.

The stretch made your eyes squeeze shut, your legs almost doing the same but her hands make sure that doesn't happen. Your brain went into a frenzy, biting your lip so hard you draw some blood. Your tongue swipes over it, letting out a small hum. She looks at why you had done that, seeing your blood lip. She looks at it for a split second, then your eyes. The way they roll back as she's giving you backshots on her fucking desk. You were like a drug to her, she found you to be the most precious thing ever. "Gunna cum? Can feel you getting tighter." Her body leans over yours, her hands on the brown wood. Either side of your body. Her thrusts were ungodly. "Mm, yes!" You gasp as it hits your g-spot. "Found it." You moan. Cumming immediately.

She pulls out bringing you up and making you sit on the desk. Kissing your lips, tasting that same thing you tasted moments ago. Slowly pushing you back, feeling the cold desk against you. She was hovering over you, no words being said. She gets up close to you. "Maybe you should get it into your head..." Her voice low. Her hand moves to wrap around your neck her strength pulling you up and off her desk just slightly. Your eyes widen as she does. "You're mine." But you smirk, sealing the whole situation with one last kiss.

Fridays were probably your favorite, not only was it the end of the week, but you got to see your hot girlfriend. As you enter you're blinded by today's outfit. How would you ever focus. The dang glasses. The way her top fit perfectly, the long skirt. You sit down in your spot. Fixated on her cleavage. You needed to stop this was bad. Then you thought for longer. Was this pay back? Was she giving you a taste of your own medicine from the other day? Your heart skips a beat when she makes eye contact with you. Your thighs squeeze. She was so evil.

You were begging for this to be over and soon. You were also begging to suck on her t- "Y/n? You with us?" You gulp quietly, but her eyes watch your throat. She knew. "Oh, yes. Sorry." This was absolute torture. But you let out a relieved sigh when it was finally time. Everyone goes to leave as you go over to her. "Hi!" You say happily. She smirks. "Hi babygirl." That fucking nickname. "You good today?" Oh God the way she was speaking. "Yes." You knew she was asking how you were feeling, not how you would be acting for her. On your knees, obeyi- "Earth to Y/n?" Your head shakes. "Huh?" She smiles. She's got you right where she wants you. "I asked if you were ready to go my love?"

"Mhmm!" You say wanting to get out of there as fast as possible. You needed her. So bad. So when you get to hers your legs rush to her room, her slowly following. You whine at how long she's taking. "Billieee." She laughs. "Yes pumpkin?" You glare at her, getting frustrated. But you were just so needy there was no room for your bratty remarks. "Pleaseeee." You say, from your spot on the bed. She comes over, getting ontop of you. Thankfully there was a slit in the skirt so she could maneuver properly. Her hand moves over your body, moving to your soaked underwear. She hums to herself. Knowing exactly what she's upto. And glad she's succeeding.

Her finger slips past and enters you a little bit. You gasp. "Remember to breathe." ..... "Good girl." Her fingers enter you slowly. But your eyes are glued to her tits. They just looked so incredibly good in that outfit. Your hands move to touch but she grips them. "Uh uh. Since you didn't have a proper punishment the other day you need to learn your mistakes." You huff, is she serious? She can't be. You just wanted to wrap your lips around them and you wanted to do it now. "That's not fair." You mumble. Her brows raise.

"No? Not fair huh? Let's circle back to you wearing that tight, shirt and tiny tiny skirt. I had to focus on teaching, I had to refrain from fucking the living shit out of you because you indeed looked God damn hot in it. I had to wait a whole. Hour. You can't wait that, and a bit more. Can't you?" You swallow. Having no words. "Bu-" "Uh uh. Don't but me, you know good and well." You let out a moany, huff. "Come on now, don't be like that angel. You'll get what you want. You just have to work for it." You wriggle. "Ah! Lesson learned, I won't do it again." She doesn't even let your hand move to touch before she's pinning them down. "What, did I say."

And you caved, you were too far gone with need to care. "Please, Billie I'm sorry I wore such a revealing skirt like that in public, you know I won't do it again. I promise and if I break it you can do such horrible things and I'll have to take it just please. Please let me suck them." You were almost on the verge of tears, but man was she enjoying every bit of this. "You want to suck them huh?" She ponders as you nod manically. "Please, I need to so bad." She still thinks. "No wonder you were so wet." You whimper. Oh that sweet whimper. And within an instant that shirt is loose. Her tits spill out right before your eyes.

Your thighs sqish tightly as your mouth latches so fast. Closing your eyes. She bites her lip, watching you suck. Bite. Do it all. You were too far gone. Incredibly far. The way you swirld your tongue made her grunt. The feeling so good. Her hand makes its way into your hair, stroking it as you do so. "You are a good girl, shit." She breathes. But she nearly goes mental with your next words. "Mmm, mommy." Her eyes look at the headboard processing. She grabs your face, kissing you with such hunger. Your subby state makes it sloppy. Moaning into the kiss. "Say that again." She says against your lips. And as you were about to. Her finger is back in your pulsing cunt. "F-fuck! Mommy." - "Mm, good. Louder."

Her fingers speed up as you go to again. "Mommy!" It was music to her ears. If she wasn't inlove before she sure as hell is now. "Cum for me, go on." Her fingers enter deep. Making your head spin, and eyes roll back. Gushing all over her fingers. Her eyes look down, looking at the white substance. "You, my girl. Are just one sexy thing huh?" Your head rests back out of breath. "You're sexier."

Weeks pass. Things were back to how they were a few months back. Everyime something beautiful happens it gets ruined and by what? It was eating at you. Was it you? What was going on. You wanted to ask but that'd just opened room for her asking what had happened that night. She had asked the day after if you wanted to talk about it but you declined and said it wasn't important. Maybe you should've told her. You didn't want her freaking out or even saying- 'I told you so.' But when she notices your strange behavior over the last few days its making her want to know more.

The other day.

You had just woken up, making some food, when you hadn't heard her come in. You had on her t-shirt and some underwear, humming away to yourself. When a hand touches your thigh, the same thigh that she touched. You jump back, turning to look at her. She was about to apologize for giving you a fright, but then she remembered. She's done that dozens of times before. You always knew it was her and you always put your head on her shoulder. So when none of that happened she gets more confused. "You've been doing that alot recently angel, everything ok?" You're silent for a bit. "Yeah! Just didn't hear you come in." Such a lie. Even if that was true, she knew something had to be up with the way you reacted. "Okay.."

She thrusts into you slowly, it was all sweet. Everything was. The eye contact, the intimacy. Her thrusts soon speed up, wanting to get you to that bliss feeling. Loving how she always could. She was getting closer to. But everything in the room changes. She touches that sane spot on your thigh making you tense up and gasp. She hadn't noticed at first seeing as you gasp all the time. What was it with that thigh. It wasn't even because of Silvi. But for some reason she triggered it. Something happened ages ago and it was slowly coming back to you. Your hand wraps around her wrist.

Causing her attention to be on you, her brows furrow as she sees your discomfort. She would never ever want to hurt you in any way. "Too fast?" You think for a second, you had to lie you couldn't tell her what was truly bothering you. You then nod, her hand moving to your hip. Soothing any further discomfort. "Sorry babe."

She begins the lesson for today, writing on the board. After that one night things were still dry in the air. You honestly hated it, but it was probably all your fault all along. That's what you'd been telling yourself. But it wasn't all you. Billie was in fact distancing. It was the last thing that she wanted but she was falling hard for you. One half of her didn't care about the fact she was falling for someone so amazing. She loved it, and then the other half wondered if you could do better. When your in your early 30s she will be in her 40s. It didn't sound that bad but it was intense to think about. Let alone the fact she's still your teacher. Even if the year was ending for you this year, you wouldn't have to be as secret atleast.

This was her brain constantly, weighing out the pros and cons. But why should she, she knew what she felt was real despite all of that. But she cared too much about you. She just wanted you to be happy and she didn't know if that was with her. But she definitely looked good today. It made you miss how closer you were before the weird change. You hardly went over to hers anymore and it hurt. It really hurt. "Sorry I'm late." It was Silvi, she had been gone for over a month. You had no idea why. But you avert your gaze, feeling uncomfortable. Remembering that night so clearly. "That's alright, take a seat." Billie gives her a kind smile. Continuing to talk about today's lesson. When her eyes land on you, she notices that sane discomfort like the other night. All she wants to do is comfort you. But she had to stay professional.

She can deal with this afterwards. As the class nears the end she spots how you shift in your seat when Silvi walks past. Her brows furrow, now she was determined to figure out what had happened. Did she do something?

The car ride was silent. It was bugging the both of you but none of you say a thing. As the night goes on it proceeds to consist. Until she speaks up, finally. "You've been weird lately, especially that night that you came home strange from that party and you'd refuse to tell me what happened. And even the other night when-"

"Not now Billie please." - "So you admit something happened?" You stay quiet continuing to take your makeup off. "If not now when? Huh? You keep putting it off whenever I ask you if you're ok. I worry about you for fuck sakes." You turn around so fast. "Bull fucking shit. You've been distancing yourself again! I know damn well its not school. So what is it?" Now she's silent. "What, happened. At. That. Party." You turn to face the mirror. "If you won't tell me why you're distant I won't be telling you that." She was seething, you'd never seen her so angry before. But you didn't care you were getting annoyed too.

Then within seconds her hand Flys to your wrist, you jump getting a fright. She stops in her tracks. "She touched you. Didn't she." You Avert her eyes. "No." Hers squint, not believing that for even a second. "Did she?" - "Billie."

"Did she fucking touch you?"

"Yes. But I stopped it God, why are you so worried." Her brows furrow. "Because, you didn't give her consent to do that! That stupid bitch just thought she could do whatever."

"Why are you so worried when I stopped it." - "She could've pressured you." You shake your head. "Do you think I'm stupid or something?" She puts her weight on her left foot. "You know I don't think that." - "Again. Why are you so fucking worried when you're the only one I want touching me." The room fell silent, a slight need creeping in the air. Her face moves, eyes locking into your own. Her feet move, but so do yours. Lips instantly crashing on the others. Everything grew heated. "Only one?" You nod. "Only one." You both say between kisses. "It's only ever been you." Those words fuel everything in her.

Backing you up out of the bathroom and onto the bed her kisses trail down your neck, down to your cleavage. She takes all that you were wearing off, seeing you all. She then takes her clothes off, leaving you in awe about the special moment that was about to happen. Just you and her, closer than ever. When her cunt slots perfectly into yours you both let out a long well needed moan. This was all you ever wanted, it's all she ever wanted. To have you close in this way. She moves against you, her body moving closer to your own as your breasts touch. Her lips meet yours as she kisses you.

It was the sweetest kiss ever. Full of every emotion. As her movements pick up she pulls back loving how this all felt. "I love you." You were taken aback for a second. But that soon goes away. "I love you." You then reply, she was so happy. Your hands go to her face. "I'm inlove with you." Her heart melts, that's all she ever wanted. She just had no idea if you'd feel the same. "Together." She says softly, putting loose strands of your hair away from your face to see you better. You nod as she picks up momentum, feeling that amazing feeling building up. She feels it too, she feels it all. And with one last move of her hips your both gushing against one another.

You grab her face going to kiss her again, both smiling into it. She lays back on the bed, holding you in her arms. "Why I was distancing honestly had nothing to do with you. It was just my fucked up brain scared I'd ruin things and I nearly did." Your hand rests on her shoulder as you're both on your sides. "Bills. You could never ruin things, I think I've loved you for a very long time, but I too, was afraid. I'd never want you to feel like you had to choose me." She shakes her head. "I'd choose you in a million life times, over and over again." Her hands hold your face. This whole moment was just perfect. It was good to clear up things and communicate. Her eyes wander to your thigh. "I hope you know you can tell me anything at all. I'm here for you, always."

You nod as she says that. You trust her, which was hard for you. You thought this whole school would change that and it had. All because of her. You grab her hand moving it to that exact thigh. You let out a small breath as she watches your face, scans it. Her thumb moving over it soothingly. "Did something deeper happen to you?" You look at her. Thinking for a moment. "Nothing you need to worry about."

Except there was something deeper. Massively, that you knew youd have to tell eventually. And you would. Youd tell her everything. She was now your everything.

#billie elish icons #billie ellish lyrics #billie eilish imagine #billie #billie eilish smut #billie eilish #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish fandom #billie eilish x reader smut #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish oneshot #billie eilish x you #billie eilish series #Her Favorite

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biteyoubiteme · 3 months ago

Text

spilled drinks

taehyun x fem!reader x huening kai

synopsis: your now ex could never get you off, so they show you they can.

warnings: 🔞!!! threesome, fingering, oral (f!rec), sex toys, slight spit kink, double penetration (light mxm because of this) , no protection, creampie(s), overstimulation, subspace mention, bondage, reader called dumb/cockwhore/baby prob forgot some sorry

wc: 2.5k (again me when I lie and say I could do these under 2k)

an: thank you so much for requesting @prince-jjae ! ily but I don't think I got exactly everything you asked for but I tried <333

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

The tear tracks on your cheeks burn from the frost tinted air. They weren't tears of sadness but pure unadulterated tears of anger. You hadn't even felt them slip until they turned cold, all your emotions bubbling up, the tears a direct reflection of that emotional pot making your skin hot. The dusting of snow in the air only added to the annoyance. Every step had to be watched as you made your way down the street, the dotting of couples and friends splitting up as you walked near, sensing your need to lash out at one bumped shoulder.

Although you weren't necessarily happy this morning, it was better than this. You could hear your now ex’s voice ringing in your head, that last little line that finally pushed you over the edge to end a relationship long overdue for the guillotine. You had stormed out of his apartment, phone already in hand when you texted the boys that you would in fact be able to make it to drinks.

The invitation was always open for you to join in a moment of changed plans, even ones as big as a breakup. You had sensed the end and felt a need to keep the monotonous relationship like a shirt you wore to summer camp six years ago. It had to be thrown out, but why throw out something that could be useful if you needed it? Even if you weren't spending time with your now ex he could be used as an excuse to get out of something, mostly when your coworkers invited you out for something you didn't want to do. And occasionally the sex was good enough to bring you back, but it was few and far between that you found yourself wanting to spend the night with him.

It's what started the conversation in the first place, your offer to try something new and his defensiveness that soured your mood. But it wasn’t only about sex, everything just started to come up without you being able to hold it back any longer. And now you’re here, standing at the bar waiting for a drink to calm you down before you went back and ripped your ex apart.

“You know if you’re sad-“

“I’m not sad,” you cut Kai off, “I’m pissed he probably thinks he came out on top in that argument because I needed to leave before I started breaking things,”

taehyun chuckled beside you, “You should have broken something. The guy was an asshole,”

“I don't even want to think about it anymore,” but it's only after the bartender places your drink down in front of you that you speak back up, “No actually if your girlfriend came to you and said ‘Oh the last few times we had sex I didn't finish we should fix that’ you don't just start listing things like she forgot to do the dishes once last month,”

“He couldn't get you off?” Kai lifts his brow, fully invested in your ranting. His drink is right at his lips when he asks, head tilted in the question.

“Not really but it wasn't the end all be all, I was willing to work around it and figure it out together, hell I started the conversation about wanting to try new things and yet I was completely shut down,” it's then that someone behind you bumps into your shoulder, the glass in your hand slick from the condensation slips from your hand.

The sound of the shattering glass is an echoing representation of your inability to keep yourself from lashing out. “Fuck him and his stupid short fingers that he didn't know how to use,”

“If you had said he couldn't get you off sooner I would have advised you to break up with him a year ago,” taehyun is quick to move you away from the bartender who comes to sweep up the mess made. “It's probably the same reason why you're so crabby right now,”

“Yeah, I think a few orgasms could fix you right up,” Kai’s gentle giggle calms you down for only a beat.

“I'm too angry to think about going home alone to my vibrator, the one I specifically bought so that I could use when we had sex and was told repeatedly that it wasn't important to use,”

“I can do most of the work if you wanted,” “I wouldn't mind helping.” you can't even remember who suggested leaving, you remember less the journey back to your apartment. Every fumbling move washed over in a sex-induced haze.

It wouldn't be the first time any of you had flirted with the idea, not even the first time you had kissed one of them, let alone one after the other. But it was nothing like this.

It was dizzying to have both of their mouths on you at the same time, kisses all down both sides of your neck, your hands twisting into their hair, moaning when Kai shoved his hand down your pants. His long fingers skillfully work over your now puffy clit. “You’re fucking soaked,” he moans, tongue lapping the trail of bruised marks he's sucked onto your skin.

“Am I?” It's a stupid question when the sound of your wetness is enough to hear the second he's slipped two fingers into you. Neither of them had ever heard sweeter sounds from you in all your years of friendship. That desperate plea to have them touch you slinked in with every soft whimper escaping your pink kissed lips.

Taehyun is the one to pull off your top, pushing you back against your bed so that he can have easier access to your chest. His nose follows the center of your body, mouth finding your pebbled nipples and taking slow turns between them. His teeth nip at the sensitive buds, tugging until you're whining, not only from the sensation but from Kai's third finger pushing into you. He's already gotten your pants down, reluctantly pulling away your panties slick with your arousal.

The duel sensations make it hard to feel anything but pleasure, their hands sliding over your skin, fingers stretching you open, and when Kai gives a tentative kiss to your clit it makes your body jolt alive. Taehyun chuckles, the rumble of it pressed right to the underside of your tit, his task of sucking marks onto your chest forgotten when you sound this good.

Taehyun pulls away asking, “Where is your vibrator?”

You almost get a response out, pointing in the direction of the nightstand before Kai wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and rubbing his tongue at an expert pace. Your legs fall open, melting into the mattress as he works your cunt.

The question didn't even fully process in your mind until you saw Taehyun behind Kai, a soft kiss to the head of your vibrator like a taunt. “Just look at you, already getting dumb on nothing but fingers,” your hips rolling down onto Kai's Hand, mewling at the way he curls the digits right against that perfect gummy spot inside you.

He doesn't even have to work hard for your orgasm to crash down on you, the perfect pressure mixed with his mouth is enough to have you trying to snap your legs closed. Freehand coming up to wrap around your thigh to push your legs open. When Kai finally pulls away his chin is dripping with your release, the back of his hand working it away as he groans, “fuck, you taste so good,”

You should feel exposed laying out on the bed like this in front of them, both of them just with their shirts off, looking down at your aching cunt, still fluttering around nothing, wishing to be stuffed with one or even both of them. Even just the thought has your hips moving, “please, I need you,”

“Who first?” Kai asks, but Taehyun is already unbuttoning his jeans with one hand.

“Me,” he leaves no room for argument, the slight demand going straight to your clit.

“But I want first,” the both of them are looking at each other like they could spend the next ten minutes arguing, the sound of your soft whines in the background to their stare down.

You feel so empty after having Kai’s fingers in you, the loss of both of their hands adding to the desperation circling your bloodstream.

“I want both of you, I need both of you,” your writhing form, drawing them back in, your hand slipping through your folds for only a second before taehyun is quick to push your hand away.

“do not touch what's mine, If I already have to share you I shouldn’t have to worry about you cumming early on your own fingers,”

“But you're not doing anything-” it's the last thing you say before he presses the vibrator to your clit, the little clicks made to turn it on ringing in your ears as you let out a squeak, the pressure on your already sensitive clit making your legs snap closed around his arm. His little smile is so teasing as he asks, “What was that? I don't think I heard you,”

Kai chuckles his belt sliding through the loops of his pants until it's held in fingers he has licked clean. You feel the pressure of your next orgasm coming too fast, the tremble in your legs telling them exactly what they need to know, and you try to push the vibrator away, getting just past the valley of your thighs before Huening grabs your wrists in his hands, stealing both of them away.

The leather of his belt is warm circling your skin, the tightness of your stomach matching that of your core seconds before you're cumming again. With your wrists now tied and in Kai's hands, you have nothing to hold onto when you arch off the bed, nails digging into his belt, his lips kissing your raised knuckles while you feel a gush of fresh release leave you.“Look at that, I don't think someone who's doing nothing could get you to squirt,” Taehyun teases, pulling away the vibrator from your throbbing clit.

You're trying to find your voice, stuttering over your words incoherently. It's then that Kai presses a swift kiss to your cheek, “Tell me if you want me to stop baby, I'll take this right off okay?” Your weak nod is answer enough before he pulls you up the bed, slotting himself behind you. Your thighs are a mess, all your slippery slick making him moan. Your back is pressed to his chest, every word spoken felt against your hot skin as you roll your head back on his shoulder. He's Got your bound hands in only one of his, keeping your arms in place while Taehyun tosses him the vibrator before slipping off his pants and leaving his standing before you.

Even just looking at his leaking cock was making you see stars, Kai’s cock already pressed to your thigh ready and red, begging to push into you at a moment's notice. When Taehyun climbs up on the mattress, knees digging into the sheets, he pushes your legs apart.

It's only a few seconds but it feels like a lifetime waiting for them both to get their cocks in place, Taehyun using his tip to circle your clit, tracing your folds like he plans to map them out, Kai prodding at your entrance. “Please, it hurts- I want you- I wanna be stuffed full of both of you,”

Taehyun spits on his fingers, needing as much lube as they can get if they are going to both slip into you. He gives a few loose pumps to his shaft meeting Kai right at your waiting hole. They both go slow as they push in, the stretch already having your eyes roll back in your head, it's unimaginable the way your body is feeling, the slight pressure mixed with the sting of being stretched so well around the both of them not even fully yet just their tips is making your brain short circuit.

Kais rumbling moans are ringing in your ear, pressed to your back and fanning over your skin. Taehyun wants to take his time, but the second he's in far enough to let his hands fall away from himself and just hold your legs in place is his last straw, he's shoving into your warm walls, filling you out and needing more, the pressure from kai’s cock against his makes it feel like you're perfectly squeezing around him, sucking him in and wanting more. Kai is so still, trying to savor the way you feel around him but when he feels the movement of taehyun picking up his pace he can't help but move too.

They are uneven in their thrusts, when kai finds himself buried deep inside you, taehyun is only just pulling halfway out. It's a constant mind numbing feeling, being this stretched, this full, it's working over your bones and making you lose all proper thoughts. “Fuck your pussy feels so good baby,” Kai's mouth is hot on your ear when he says it, your legs twitch at the praise.

“Stretched around us so good and look at how dumb it made you, our little cock whore, I bet you want us both to stuff you with our cum too hum?”

Your back arches at the insinuation, the new angle making Kai hits your cervix just right, and when taehyun pushes in he's pressed right against your g-spot. “Pl-plea-,” Kai uses his free hand not wrapped around your tied wrists to reach for the vibrator next to him. Your soft pleas turn to sharp yelps as he presses onto your clit. The vibration is enough so that both of them feel it even shoved into you.

It's maddening to have you clenching so much around the both of them, sucking them in so much so that they can hardly pump in and out of you anymore. Both of them press so deep that when you finally cum it's a rush of pleasure taking over everything in you. Every little sensation building up to this moment as you break apart, the fluttering on your perfect pussy making the both of them moan, taehyun’s hold on your thighs tightening enough to bruise as he finishes, cock pulsing and filling you up only seconds before kai is adding him load into the mix.

The brain fog you're experiencing slips over your body as Kai clicks off the vibrator. Kais kisses the side of your neck, pepper down over your beating pulse. The weak whimper when Taehyun pulls out follows the jerking of your legs close, still stuffed on Kai and yet missing having them both already.

Huening unwraps his belt from you, tossing it, and giving you a rest, rubbing one hand on your tummy and the other on your thigh. Taehyun disappears for a second before climbing back into bed with a warm damp washcloth, used to clean up your aching cunt after Kai has pulled out, although not before they both admire the way your body pushes out their combined cream until it pools down to the duvet.

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask! and a thank you to my favorite person @hyukascampfire the light of my life, fire in my soul keeping me warm, the one who took the time to proof read/ beta read this for me.

#cams!1kevent #txt x reader #txt smut #taehyun x reader #txt taehyun #taehyun smut #huening kai x reader #txt huening kai #huening kai #hueningkai x reader #yeonjun #soobin #beomgyu

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izunx · 10 months ago

Note

Hello! Can I request a Luck x Black bull Reader fanfiction where the reader is head over heels for him, but he's not really interested in romance. She often gives him cheesy pick up lines, and tries to flirt with him only to be met with a neutral reaction. But slowly, Luck begins to see how much she cares for him, whenever they go on missions and whenever she protects him. And he slowly starts to fall for her. Thank you so much for taking requests!! 🖤🖤

LUCK x reader

She fell first, he fell harder

. she tries her ultimate best to gain his attention, protecting him and using her ‘best’ pickup lines on him!

“dhdhd” is speech and ‘fhrhd’ is thinking!

no warnings.

“Y/N come on you know how Luck is!” Vanessa took pity on you, this was the a hundredth time Luck turned down your fruitless attempt at trying to flirt with him, “He’s just not interested at romance at all.”

“He will once I use this line!”

Vanessa could only shake her head at how stubborn you were being, it’s been over a year of your attempts.

You got up in a hurry once you heard the door to the base open; you knew it was him.

“LUUCKKK!!”

Even Gauche was rubbing his temple, knowing the outcome of what you were going to do.

Luck smiled when you came crashing down the stairs.

“Hey Y/N!”

“Luck, do you like raisins?”

Vanessa groaned, knowing what was going to be said.

“Hmm, I guess I do!”

You smirked looking back at the few members watching this play out, ‘I got this guys!!’

“Then.. how do you feel about a date!”

“I guess they’re quite nice too” Luck simply smiled and walked up the stairs in a rush, trying his best to conceal his reddening face.

… everyone looked at you in pity.

“I think it’s time you let that man go Y/N” Noelle pat your back and gave you a sad smile.

“NO” You stormed up following him to try another one of your stupid pickup lines, but we all know how that would turn out.

—

Yami knew what he was doing placing you and Luck on your fifth mission together. You were both sent to clean up after the mess he made and round boars up.

“This’ll be fun Y/N trust me!”

You sigh and keep your arms crossed, you’re running low on these pickup lines.

“Yayyy!!” You try to make the best out of this.

It’s been a few minutes since starting to round these boars up and you had the brightest idea to try again.

“Hey, hey Luck, did you just come out the oven?” You strike the boar with your magic and sit atop it.

Luck just giggles and after hitting the last boar, sits next to you.

“Because you’re hot” You looked at him hopefully.

“That one was a funny one!!” He didn’t want to acknowledge it, but his heart skipped a beat.

…

That was your last straw. It’s been coming up to a year and a half of your efforts in vain, it didn’t look like it was getting any closer to dreams coming true. Hopping off the boar, you sat down against the tree fed up.

“Yep. I’m sure you can handle the few that are left, goodluck Luck.”

He looked at you confused, but didn’t say anything in argument.

Luck went off and it had been a few minutes since he had been rounding the rest of the boars up.

But something was off.

You sensed someone with an overwhelming amount of mana nearby and that didn’t make sense considering the mission was supposedly near by a village in the forsaken realm.

You got up and went on a search for Luck.

“LUCCK”

“hey Y/N!” he just got done with the last boar.

“Did you also sense that mana?”

“Yeah, you too?”

“That’s not normal, we should go check it out”

“Never thought you’d ask!” Luck exclaimed.

Both you and Luck scouted the area, coming towards the source of mana. But you wanted to use this opportunity of silence -

“Hey Luck, have you ever had a crush?”

He giggled at that question, but he didn’t seem to happy, “Crush?! I’ve never felt that kind of thing before, I don’t think i’m even capable of feeling butterflies when I like someone”

He was lying. Of course he was. He feels it when he’s with you, although he would never admit it.

He’s been liking you since he’s realised your constant efforts of trying to protect him, since your constant attempts trying to go out with him.

He was planning on never telling you.

You paused in your place, watching him go onwards. Maybe Vanessa was right in thinking he wasn’t interested in romance, or maybe he just didn’t like you.

Not knowing how to feel, you slowed down letting Luck go first. It was getting closer to the open area near the village.

But at that moment, a strike of fireball magic was flashing towards Luck’s head.

It was instinct really, instinct for you to throw Luck out the way and for you to absorb the impact of it.

You’d die before letting Luck get hurt. Even though he might’ve not done the same.

“Y/N?!” His eyes flew open in shock and he rushed to your side. He heard a cackle coming out the bushes.

“What a shame, I wasn’t even striking for her!” The man in the cloak cackled.

Luck went silent.

‘why would she do that?’ he held onto you tight.

He got up, lightning sparking out of control in his hand.

“Yeah? well I’ll be striking for you.”

—

“Gosh this is bad!” Vanessa held her head in disappointment, staring down at your injured body covered in ointment.

Luck simply sat by you, head down next to your head.

“How’d you let this happen?”

“She threw herself in front of the fireball, for me.”

“She never gives up” she shook her head, “you damaged that man beyond full recovery too”

“He deserves it”

“Well then, make sure to also get some rest, you didn’t exactly get out unscathed either” Vanessa looked at him solemnly before shutting the door.

“… why would you do that, Y/N??”

“Because I like you, a lot”

Luck’s head shot up to look at your painful state just barely opening your eyes.

You groan, getting up and holding your head.

Luck stared at you, ‘Am I deserving of your love?’ he could only think.

“I don’t understand”

“What’s there to understand? I think you have a beautiful heart Luck, ever since I met you you’ve only given me a reason to look forward to my day, you make me happier.”

His eyes watered

“I would do anything for you” you pet his head.

Then and there, he realised how valuable he was to you and frankly how much you meant to him.

“Don’t ever do that again” he hugged you, not tight enough to hurt you but firm, “I’ll do my upmost best protecting you now”

“Can’t make any promises,” you snickered and hugged him tightly.

“I got him good! You should’ve seen his face when I kicked his ass, now he knows not to lay a fucking hand on you again - if he’s even capable enough to recover”

you were silenced.

“I thought I hated romance and love, maybe I was wrong about it” Luck gave his usual laugh and tucked you back to rest.

you were at a loss for words, mouth gaping like a fish.

“no more talking, you gotta recover so we can spar when you’re as good as new!” he grinned widely.

—

“No Noelle, I KNOW it’ll work this time!” You were determined that this attempt was going to be the finale, because it was going to work.

“I’ll have the tissues ready!” she really had no hope for you.

Vanessa giggled and hit you hard in the back.

“come on! I believe you got it this time!”

“The blind leading the blind…” Gauche mumbled.

Luck sped into the house after finishing his spar

“Hey hey Y/N!!”

He sped up and held your hand to his shirt.

“Can you feel my shirt?”

You were puzzled, raising your brow to Magna who followed behind him looking like he was preparing himself for the worst.

“Yeah?”

“You know what material it is?”

“cotton..?”

“Nah. Boyfriend material.”

you exploded red. Vanessa was cackling and Noelle and Magna could only shake their heads in disappointment. Finral was nodding in approval.

“And that! is how you pull girls!” Finral slapped Luck on his back.

Maybe your efforts weren’t in vain, Luck did realise his feelings for you.

“Hey Y/N? How about we spar?”

You were still lost for words yet again, but you smiled.

“Yeah, of course Luck”

#anime x reader #black clover x reader #luck x reader #luck x y/n #black clover #fanfic #oneshot #black clover oneshot #luck x yn oneshot #magna x reader #asta x reader #yami x reader #yami x yn #x reader #yn

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natsaffection · 7 months ago

Note

heyyy so i have this idea and i think no one can write it like you so yeah.

forced marriage between Natasha and reader in the present time. they both don't like each other because of this situation yk but with time they come around each other.

i know this is a really classic one but I've been thinking about this for a long time and sending a request to you seemed like a good idea considering your beautiful writing. but of course it's okay if you don't want to write it! hope you're having a good day!!! (or night idk😭😭) 💗

I see you. | N.R

Warnings: Forced Marriage for a Mission, a lot of arguments, Drinking, mentioned of sex while beeing drunk (both)

Word count: 6,7k

A/n: I hope it makes sense. I thought for a long time about how best to implement this scenario and found this solution to be the most plausible..(The beginning takes place before the invasion of Loki)

Natasha sat stiffly, her gaze sharp and unforgiving, fixed on the man sitting across from her. Nick leaned back in his chair, his one good eye studying her with an intensity that matched her own. “So, what’s this about, Fury?” Natasha’s voice was as cold as the steel walls surrounding them in the underground briefing room of the Avengers headquarters. She had been urgently summoned, pulled out of a mission briefing that had been weeks in the making, and the weight of this interruption hung heavy in the air.

Fury exhaled slowly, his fingers drumming on the edge of the sleek metal table. The silence stretched just long enough that Natasha’s patience nearly snapped. “It’s about alliances.” he finally said, his tone measured, as if he was still deciding how much to reveal. Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we had our alliances sorted out. Stark has the tech, Banner is working on the gamma projects, and I’m ready to handle the intel with Rogers. What’s missing?”

Fury’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he leaned forward, his hands tightly clasped together as if preparing for what he was about to say. “What’s missing is political stability. The kind that can’t be bought with technology or power. We need trust, and that’s in short supply these days.”

“Trust?” Natasha scoffed. “From whom? What aren’t you telling me?” He met her gaze, unwavering. “There’s a situation with Y/n.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed slightly. The name struck a nerve. You were no stranger in her world. Known for your diplomatic skills and sharp intellect, you were a key figure in international negotiations, often brokering deals that kept the world from chaos. You weren’t just a diplomat, you were a force, wielding influence in ways even Natasha respected. But that didn’t explain why you were the subject of this mysterious meeting.

“And what does that have to do with us?” Natasha asked, her voice low and laced with suspicion. Fury’s next words fell like a hammer. “You’re going to marry her.” For a moment, the words didn’t register. Natasha stared at Fury, waiting for the punchline to a joke that never came. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me right, Romanoff." Fury replied, his tone unyielding. “This marriage is the only way to secure the alliance we need. Your influence can grant us access to certain..resources and information that we desperately need. This goes beyond SHIELD, it’s about global security.”

Natasha leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “And you think a forced marriage is magically going to solve all these problems?”

“I’m not saying it’ll be easy.” Fury admitted. “But this isn’t about love or personal happiness. It’s about necessity. We need a visible, undeniable alliance, something that other nations and organizations can see and recognize as a commitment. A marriage between you and Y/L/N would achieve that.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened. She was a soldier, a spy, a warrior..she had never allowed anyone to dictate the terms of her life, let alone something as personal as marriage. The very idea was repugnant to her, and yet..Fury’s expression told her this wasn’t just an idea, it was an order. The stakes were high, as they always were in her line of work, but this felt different. This felt personal in a way she hadn’t expected.

“And what makes you think she’ll agree to this?” Natasha asked, struggling to keep her voice steady. She wasn’t ready to show more emotion than necessary. “She’s already agreed.” Fury said, and Natasha felt the ground shift beneath her feet. “She understands how important this alliance is. She’s as reluctant as you are, but she knows what’s at stake.”

Natasha let that sink in for a moment. She didn’t know you well, but she knew of you, respected you even. You were someone who didn’t back down easily, who saw through lies and acted on your convictions. If you had agreed, then the situation was worse than Natasha had thought.

“And if I refuse?” she asked, though she knew the answer, but she needed to hear it. Fury’s expression hardened. “You won’t refuse. You’re too smart for that, Natasha. You know what’s at stake. You’ve always done what was necessary.”

Natasha exhaled slowly, her mind racing. She didn’t want this, she didn’t want to be tied down by something as archaic as marriage, especially not to someone she barely knew. But Fury was right. She had always done what was necessary, no matter the cost. And this, it seemed, was just another mission, one that would require all her skills to navigate.

“Fine..” she said finally, her voice clipped. “I’ll do it. But don’t expect me to play the happy housewife.” Fury almost smiled, but it was a cold, thin smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Natasha’s mind raced as she left the cold, sterile briefing room. Fury’s words echoed in her ears, a reminder that her life was no longer entirely her own. As she walked through the corridors of the SHIELD headquarters, her footsteps echoed ominously, each step bringing her closer to a fate she hadn’t chosen.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was a message from Fury again:

Meeting with Y/N in conference room in five minutes. Be there.

No time to think, no time to prepare. Typical. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself before heading to the designated room. Natasha arrived at the conference room a few minutes early. The room was empty, the lights dimmed, casting long shadows across the table. It felt oddly impersonal, a stark contrast to the gravity of what was about to be discussed. She stood by the window, staring out at the headquarters’ grounds, trying to gather her thoughts.

The door opened behind her, and Natasha turned as you entered the room. You were dressed in a tailored suit, exuding the same sovereign confidence that had made you a respected figure in the diplomatic world. But there was something else in your eyes. A hint of irritation, maybe even anger. Clearly, you weren’t any happier about this situation than she was.

“Natasha.” you greeted her with a curt nod, your voice cool and distant. “Y/n.” Natasha replied just as coolly. She crossed her arms and leaned against the windowsill, her eyes narrowing as she studied the person in front of her. “So, I guess we’re getting married.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Looks that way. Not that either of us had a choice.” Natasha raised an eyebrow. “And whose fault is that? If you and your people hadn’t been so secretive, we might not be in this mess.” Your face hardened, a flicker of anger crossing your features. “Oh, please. Don’t act like SHIELD is any better. You’re all about secrets and manipulation. This marriage is just another one of your little games.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed further. “You think I want this? To be tied to someone I barely know, just to fulfill a political agenda? Don’t kid yourself.”

“Kid myself?” You scoffed and took a step closer, your voice rising. “Do you think it’s any easier for me? Being forced to marry the Black Widow, of all people? I know your reputation, Natasha. You’re a manipulator, a killer. This is the last thing I wanted.” Natasha’s jaw clenched, her anger boiling up. “And what about you? You’re no saint either, Y/n. You’ve played your games, made your deals behind closed doors, pulled strings to get what you want. Don’t pretend you’re any better.”

Anger flashed in your eyes. “At least I don’t hide behind a mask of false righteousness. I do what needs to be done for the greater good, just like you. But don’t mistake necessity for desire. I have no interest in playing house with someone who doesn’t even know what trust means.”

Natasha felt a sharp sting of anger mixed with something else, something she didn’t want to name. “Trust? That’s rich, coming from you. You’ve built your career on deception. And now you expect me to believe you’re the victim here?” You stepped closer, your voice low and sharp. “I don’t care what you believe. We’re both victims of this situation, but if you think I’m just going to roll over for you, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Natasha’s anger flared again, her voice turning icy. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Let’s get one thing straight, I’m not here to make you happy. This is a business arrangement, nothing more. We’ll play the part when necessary, but other than that, stay out of my way.”

For a moment, they stood facing each other, only inches apart, the tension crackling between them like a live wire. Finally, Natasha turned away, breaking the tense silence. She moved to the table and sat down, forcing herself to focus. “Let’s talk logistics. The sooner we get this sorted, the sooner we can get it over with.”

You took a deep breath, regaining your composure, and sat down across from her. “Agreed. But don’t expect me to make it easy for you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Natasha shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I have an apartment in Brooklyn. It’s secure, and there’s enough space for both of us without stepping on each other’s toes. We can start moving your things tomorrow.” Your eyes narrowed. “Brooklyn? How convenient for you. Always need to have the home-field advantage, don’t you?”

Natasha offered a crooked smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m practical. It’s close to headquarters, and it’s safe. Unless you have a better suggestion?” Your lips pressed into a thin line, clearly dissatisfied but unwilling to argue further. “Fine. But don’t expect me to play the obedient spouse. I need my space, my own office, my own schedule.”

“Fine.” Natasha responded sharply. “I don’t want you around me all the time anyway. We’ll do what’s necessary to make this look real, public appearances, a few shared events, then back to our own lives.” You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed. “And what about the media? They’re going to follow us everywhere, looking for any crack in the facade.”

Natasha waved a hand dismissively. “We’ll handle it. Stick to the script, and we won’t have any problems. There’s no need to make this more complicated than it needs to be.” You remained unconvinced. “You’re acting like this is so simple. But we both know there’s nothing simple about this.”

Natasha’s eyes hardened. “We don’t have a choice, Y/n. We do this because we have to, not because we want to.” Your jaw clenched, your voice turning icy. “Believe me, Natasha, the last thing I want is for this to work. But I’ll do what needs to be done. Just don’t expect anything more from me.” The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the weight of your mutual dislike hanging heavy in the air. This was going to be a nightmare..

In this silent moment, an agent came in with a pile of paper stuff. He sensed the tension immediately and just put it on the table and quickly left the room.

Thebtable was now filled with details on how your upcoming marriage would be presented to the world. It was an intricately crafted plan, covering everything from the official story of how you met to the timeline of your relationship and your behavior in public. Every detail had been meticulously planned by SHIELD’s PR team to ensure that the marriage appeared genuine.

You flipped through the pages with a grim expression, your fingers gripping the edges of the paper as if you wanted to tear them apart. “This is ridiculous..” you muttered, not bothering to hide your frustration. “They expect us to memorize a script? Like we’re actors playing a part?”

Natasha, sitting across from you, “That’s exactly what we are.” she said coolly. “This isn’t a real marriage, remember? We’re playing a role for the public.”

You shot her a sharp look. “I’m well aware. But this..” you gestured contemptuously at the file “is insulting. ‘Shared interest in global politics and mutual respect for each other’s abilities’? Really?” You read the lines aloud, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “They’re acting like we’re two diplomats who fell in love over a discussion on trade agreements.” Natasha’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Would you prefer they invent a fairy tale romance? At least this version is believable. It’s not like we have a real story to fall back on.”

You slammed the file shut with a loud bang that echoed in the small room. “We wouldn’t need to make anything up if we weren’t being forced into this situation.” Natasha’s jaw tightened. “No one’s forcing you to stay. If you have a better solution, by all means, let me know.”

You sighed in frustration, rubbing your temples. “You know as well as I do that there isn’t one! Fury made sure of that.” Natasha watched you silently for a moment, her expression unreadable. “Then we make the best of it. We memorize the script, play the show, and get it over with.”

You looked up at her, your eyes flashing with anger. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re used to lying, aren’t you? Playing different roles, lying to people’s faces. But this..this isn’t just another mission, Natasha. This is our lives.”

Natasha's eyes hardened at the accusation. "You think I don't know that? You think I enjoy being paraded around like a puppet? I've spent my entire life fighting for control over my own decisions, and now I'm being told who I have to marry. So don't act like you're the only one angry about this." Your lips pressed into a thin line, your anger momentarily softened by a flicker of understanding. "Then why are you so calm? Why aren't you angrier?"

Natasha exhaled slowly, working to keep her emotions in check. "Because anger won't change anything. We're stuck in this, whether we like it or not. The sooner we accept that, the sooner we can figure out how to deal with it." You stared at her for a long moment, your expression softening just a little. "So we learn the script, smile for the cameras, and pretend we don’t hate each other?"

Natasha leaned forward slightly, her voice low and controlled. "Yes, we pretend we don't hate each other. But we have to make it believable. People will be watching us closely, if they sense something is off, the whole show falls apart. That means we need to know each other, at least enough to sell the act."

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident on your face. "And how do you suggest we do that? Some getting-to-know-you games? Maybe ‘Two Truths and a Lie’?" Natasha gave a humorless smile. "We start with the basics. We go through the script and fill in the gaps with real information. What's your favorite food? What do you do in your spare time? What’s your biggest pet peeve? Things that couples know about each other."

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed, clearly not thrilled with the idea. "Fine. But don't expect me to share my deepest secrets."

"I wouldn't dream of it." She opened the file again and flipped to a page titled *Personal Details*. "It says here that you enjoy hiking and reading. Is that accurate, or did they make it up?" You rolled your eyes. "It's true. I like hiking when I have the time, and I read a lot, mostly history and politics, but they don't need to know that in detail."

Natasha nodded, making a mental note. "Good. We can work with that. Mine says I'm into physical fitness and strategy games." She paused and looked at you with a raised eyebrow. "Is there anything else we should add?" You looked at her thoughtfully before replying. "You like ballet, right? I read that somewhere." Natasha blinked, surprised by this observation. "Yes, that's true. Not many people know that."

"Well, it’s part of who you are.." you said, your tone less confrontational now. "We could use that." Natasha nodded, slightly impressed by this small concession. "Good. We'll add it to the list." You continued to go through the script, exchanging brief, factual information about yourselves, preferences, dislikes and childhood memories that could be used to support your fake story. But every answer was tinged with tension, each of you holding something back, building walls around yourselves.

After nearly an hour of discussion, you closed the file with a sigh and rubbed the back of your neck. "This is going to be a disaster." Natasha leaned back and crossed her arms. "Not if we're careful. We stick to the plan, stay on script, and give them no reason to doubt us."

You met her gaze, your expression weary but determined. "I just don't know how long we can keep this up. People will expect us to act like we actually care."

"We don't have to care." Natasha said, her voice cold and distant. "We just have to pretend we do." You shook your head, frustration evident in your voice. "And what happens if we slip up? If one of us says something off-script? We can't be perfect all the time."

"We won't slip up." Natasha said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We're both professionals. We've been in situations far more stressful than this. We'll manage." You stared at her for a moment, searching her face for a crack in her ironclad facade. "You really believe that, don't you? That we can just fake our way through this lie without any consequences?"

Natasha's gaze remained unchanged, unyielding. "I believe we don't have a choice." The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of your situation pressing down on both of you. This wasn't just about memorizing lines or putting on a good show, it was about maintaining a facade that could crumble at any moment, exposing you both to public scrutiny and potential danger. Finally, you stood up, your movements stiff with unresolved tension. "I guess we'll see, won't we?" Natasha stood as well, her posture mirroring yours. "Yes. We will."

The days passed in a blurred whirl of public appearances, each one a carefully staged performance that only deepened the rift between you and Natasha. Every event, every gesture, every word was meticulously planned, yet the underlying tension between you was impossible to ignore. The first major event you attended as a married couple was a high-profile gala, the kind of glittering affair where the rich and powerful gathered under chandeliers to sip champagne and discuss global affairs. Natasha had attended similar events countless times before, but never under these circumstances.

You wore an elegant black evening gown that accentuated your every movement, while Natasha was dressed in a sharp suit. As you walked into the ballroom, her hand rested lightly on your back, a gesture meant to appear familiar, but to you, it felt like a shackle. "Ready to charm the masses?" she murmured with a sarcastic edge as you entered the room.

The night was a marathon of forced smiles and carefully calculated interactions. You moved through the crowd like seasoned professionals, your hand never leaving Natasha's back as you met with diplomats and high society, maintaining the facade of a loving couple. But beneath the surface, Natasha could feel your simmering anger, mirroring her own. At one point in the evening, as you were cornered by a particularly nosy journalist, Natasha's patience was put to the test. The journalist smiled broadly and inquisitively as she fired off questions about your supposed whirlwind romance.

"How did you two meet?" the journalist asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. Natasha suppressed an eye roll, but her voice remained smooth and warm as she responded. "We met at a diplomatic conference. We were both there on separate missions, but we kept running into each other. Things developed from there."

You seamlessly picked up the conversation, though your smile was a bit too stiff. "It didn’t take long for us to realize how much we had in common. After that, everything just fell into place naturally." The journalist seemed satisfied with the answer but continued to probe. "And when did you know it was love?"

You hesitated, your smile faltering for a split second before you recovered. "It wasn't just one moment. It was a lot of little things that made us realize we couldn’t imagine our lives without each other." Natasha forced herself to smile at you, her fingers lightly brushing your arm in a gesture meant to appear affectionate. "Yes, it was all those little moments that made it clear."

As the journalist moved on, Natasha could feel the tension in your posture, your hand pressing a little more firmly against her back, as if you were reminding her of your shared discomfort. "That was close.." you muttered as you both retreated to a quieter corner of the room. "We handled it." Natasha replied curtly, her voice barely above a whisper. "That’s what we do."

The rest of the night proceeded in much the same way, the two of you moving through the room, presenting the perfect image of a loving couple. But every touch, every smile, every word was carefully calculated, and by the time you finally left the gala, Natasha felt as if she were about to snap from the strain.

The ride back to your shared apartment was suffocatingly silent. The driver, a SHIELD agent, wisely kept his eyes on the road, leaving you both to your thoughts. When you arrived 'home', you immediately went to the kitchen to pour yourself a stiff drink. Natasha followed you, already on edge, her patience worn thin by the constant charade.

You turned to her, your expression hard. "You're really good at this, you know that? At pretending. It’s almost like it’s second nature to you." Natasha tensed as she heard the accusation in your words. "I had to be good at it. It's my job."

You let out a humorless laugh. "Your job. Right. I guess that's what happens when you're trained to be a spy from childhood. You learn to play whatever role is required." The words hit a sore spot, and Natasha's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Careful, Y/n. You don't know what you're talking about."

You took a step closer, your voice dropping to a near growl. "Don't I? You’ve spent your whole life being prepared for this, haven’t you? To lie, to manipulate, to make people believe whatever you want them to. This whole marriage..this whole act..probably means nothing to you."

Natasha felt her anger flare, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "You think this is easy for me? You think I enjoy lying about every aspect of my life, pretending to be someone I’m not?" You didn’t back down, your eyes burning with frustration. "But you're damn good at it, aren’t you? Must be all those years in that room. They made you the perfect little actress."

That was the breaking point for Natasha. Her eyes flashed with anger as she stepped forward and closed the distance between you. "You have no idea what the Red Room did to me. What it took from me. So don’t you dare try to twist that into some kind of compliment!" You stood your ground, your own anger flaring in response. "I’m not giving you a compliment, Natasha. I’m saying it’s terrifying how easily you slip into these roles. How convincing you are at pretending to care."

Natasha's breathing quickened, her pulse pounding in her ears. "You think I want to be convincing, huh? You think I want to be good at this? I’ve spent my entire life fighting to break free of what the Red Room made me, and now I’m stuck in another damn role..and it’s with you."

Your jaw tightened, your anger now tinged with something that looked like guilt. "Maybe it’s not just a role for you. Maybe you don’t even know who you are when you’re not on a mission." The words cut deep, and for a moment, Natasha didn’t know how to respond. But the anger was too strong, too raw to let go. "You don’t know anything about me. Nothing about what I’ve been through, what I’ve had to do to survive."

You both stood there, staring each other down, the air between you crackling with fury and unspoken pain. Natasha's chest heaved with the force of her emotions, her mind a whirlwind of anger and hurt that she could barely keep in check. You set your glass down with a sharp clink, your face tight with suppressed frustration. "You know what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t know you. But it sure as hell feels like you’re more comfortable in this lie than I am."

Natasha turned away, her hands trembling with the effort to contain her rage. "Go to bed, Y/n." You didn’t respond, simply turning on your heel and leaving the room, your footsteps echoing through the apartment. Natasha waited until she heard the door to your shared bedroom close before she finally let out a shaky breath. She was too good at pretending, far too good. And that was the problem. Because despite all her skills, all the years of training and missions, this felt different. It felt personal in a way she hadn’t anticipated, and your words had struck a nerve deep within her.

As Natasha stood alone in the kitchen, she couldn’t shake the feeling that you had seen through her facade in a way no one else ever had. The truth was, this marriage, this charade, was wearing her down in ways she hadn’t expected. And the more time she spent around you, the harder it became to maintain the mask she had worn for so long. She wanted to dismiss your words as just another argument, another clash of wills between two people who were forced into a situation neither wanted. But the truth was, you had hit on something she didn’t want to admit, even to herself. With a heavy sigh, she finally turned off the lights and headed to bed, her mind still racing. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep this up, but she knew one thing for certain. Whatever this was between the two of you, it was far from over.

The days that followed were intense, with both Natasha and you deeply immersed in your respective missions. Despite the tension between you, you had found a certain rhythm, maintaining your cover as a married couple while focusing on the tasks at hand. Your partnership was more functional than personal, efficient, strategic, and devoid of unnecessary emotional entanglements.

But that all changed when Loki appeared.

When chaos erupted in New York, the two of you were thrown right into the conflict, working side by side with the newly formed Avengers. The stakes were higher than ever, and there was no room for mistakes. You fought shoulder to shoulder, defeating Chitauri soldiers and securing key positions as you tried to save the city from destruction.

It was during one of those intense moments, after Natasha's confrontation with Loki, that everything changed. Loki had made it a point to bring up Natasha's past, the "red" in her ledger, the sins she had committed, the people she had hurt. He taunted her with names and events that Natasha had long tried to forget, using her guilt as a weapon to break her. The words were meant to destroy her, to make her doubt her worth, and they hit harder than any physical blow. But Natasha, the eternal professional, pressed on, using her pain as fuel to outmaneuver Loki and secure the information they needed. But the damage was done. The conversation with Loki had revealed more about Natasha’s past than she ever wanted anyone, especially you, to know.

After the battle, when the Avengers had won and the immediate threat had passed, Natasha returned to the SHIELD Helicarrier. The city was still in chaos, but the focus had shifted to recovery and rebuilding. Natasha was exhausted, both physically and mentally, the weight of Loki's words hanging over her like a dark cloud.

You had always had a keen sense for people, always quick to pick up on the smallest changes in mood or behavior. It was one of the reasons you were so good at your job. But now that sharp intuition was focused on Natasha, and it made her feel exposed in a way she wasn’t prepared for.

After debriefing with Fury, Natasha retreated to the quiet of your shared apartment, hoping to find a moment of peace. She had barely sat down on the edge of the bed when she heard the door open behind her.

“Natasha?” Your voice was soft, cautious, as you entered the room. Natasha didn’t turn around, but she could feel your probing gaze on her.

“What is it, Y/n?” Natasha’s tone was curt. She was too tired for this conversation, too drained to face another confrontation. You hesitated, the silence between you stretched out. “I..wanted to talk to you.” Natasha closed her eyes, bracing herself for another argument. “About what?”

“About Loki.” you said, your voice carefully measured. "We need to talk about what he said." Natasha’s muscles tensed, her back straightening as she tried to suppress the rising wave of fear in her chest. “I’m fine, Y/n. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“That’s the point, Natasha.” you continued, taking a few steps closer. “I am worried. I know I’ve pushed you before, teased you about your past, but I didn’t..I didn’t realize it was something so serious.” Natasha’s jaw tightened, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She didn’t want to have this conversation, not now, not ever. “I’ve already told you, my past is none of your concern.”

“But it is, Natasha!” Your voice was firmer now, the frustration evident. “We’re supposed to be partners, and I feel like I don’t know you at all.” Natasha finally turned to face you, her eyes narrowing as she stood. “You don’t know me, Y/n. And that’s how it’s supposed to be. I didn’t ask for your sympathy, and I don’t need your pity.”

Your expression hardened, but there was a flicker of pain in your eyes. “This isn’t about pity, and you know it. I’m just trying to understand.”

“Understand what?” Natasha snapped, her voice rising. “That I’ve done things I’m not proud of? That my past is full of blood and darkness you can’t even imagine?” You flinched at the sharpness in her voice, but you didn’t back down. “You’re right. I don’t know everything, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care. I’m trying to apologize, Natasha. For pushing you, for not realizing.”

Natasha stared at you, her anger battling with something deeper, something she didn’t want to name. “Why? So you can feel better? So you can feel like you’ve done the right thing?” Your eyes flashed with frustration. “No, damn it! I’m doing this because I care about you. Because, despite everything, I don’t want to keep fighting against you! Its draining..”

For a moment, you stood facing each other, the air between you charged with tension. Natasha felt her defenses beginning to crumble, the walls she had built around herself starting to give way under the weight of your words. Finally, she let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging as the fight drained out of her. “You want to know the truth?"

Natasha sat down on the edge of the bed, her hands resting on her knees as if she needed to hold herself together. “The Red Room..it destroyed me. It took everything I was and made something else out of it. Something that had no choice, no control.” You sat down beside her, but you kept your distance, respecting the space she needed. “You didn’t have a choice, Natasha. You were a child.”

“That doesn’t change what I did ” Natasha said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. “I killed people. Innocent people. And I..I enjoyed it, Y/n. Back then, I enjoyed it because that’s what they made me.” You reached out, placing your hand gently over hers, but you said nothing. You knew this was a moment where words couldn’t do much.

Her voice was soft and laced with pain. “The things I’ve done..the people I’ve hurt..you can’t just brush that aside. The Red Room wasn’t just training, it was torture, it was conditioning, it was turning little girls into weapons. I did terrible things because I was programmed to. Because I didn’t know any better.” She paused, as the memories came flooding back with painful clarity. “And even after I got out, even after I tried to make up for it, the past still haunts me. Loki knew exactly where to strike, exactly how to remind me of the monster I once was.”

You listened in silence, your heart aching at the pain in Natasha’s voice. “You’re not a monster, Natasha.” She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “That’s easy for you to say. But you didn’t see what I did. You didn’t live it.”

“No, I didn’t. But I’ve seen who you are now. I’ve seen how hard you fight to do the right thing, how much you sacrifice. That’s not the work of a monster. That’s someone trying to make things right.” Natasha turned to you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But what if it’s not enough? What if it doesn’t matter what I do, and I can never atone for what I’ve done?”

You took her hands in yours. “You don’t have to do it alone, Natasha. You don’t have to carry this burden by yourself. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” Natasha looked down at your hands, the warmth of your touch grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected. For so long, she had believed that her past was something she had to face alone, that no one could understand the shadow that had shaped her. But in this moment, with you by her side, she realized that maybe, just maybe she didn’t have to be alone anymore.

“I’m sorry.” Natasha whispered, her voice breaking. “For pushing you away.” You squeezed her hands gently. “I’m sorry too. For not seeing how much you were hurting.” You sat there for a long moment in silence, the weight of the past finally beginning to lift, replaced by something new..something fragile, but real. It wasn’t love, not yet, but it was trust, and for now, that was enough.

The days after your late-night conversation were different, marked by an unspoken understanding that hadn’t been there before. Natasha and you continued with your missions, and the world was still recovering from the chaos of Loki’s attack, but something between you had shifted. Where there had once been tension and unspoken resentment, there was now a cautious, growing trust.

You moved around each other more easily, your conversations were less strained, your silences less heavy. The sharp edges of your interactions had softened, replaced by a tentative camaraderie that surprised you both. You weren’t friends yet, and certainly not lovers, but you were no longer just colleagues forced into a marriage of convenience. You were partners..genuine partners.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting mission, you returned to the Helicarrier and noticed the weariness weighing on Natasha. Her shoulders were slumped, and her usually sharp eyes were dulled with fatigue. But there was also something else, a lightness that hadn’t been there before, as if the burden she carried was now a little less heavy. “You look like you could use a break.” you said, your voice light but laced with concern. Natasha glanced at you, a small, tired smile playing on her lips. “You’re not wrong. This week has been hell.”

“More than usual.” you agreed. “How about we grab a drink? No talk about missions, just..a chance to unwind.” Natasha hesitated for a moment, her instinct to decline warring with the realization that maybe, just this once, she didn’t have to handle everything on her own. “Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

You headed to one of the quieter lounges on the Helicarrier, a small, dimly lit room where off-duty agents could relax. It wasn’t exactly cozy, but it was private enough to talk without the weight of your roles hanging over you. You ordered a couple of drinks, and the two of you sat down at a small table near the window, through which the vast, dark night could be seen. For a while, you drank in silence, the easy silence between you a far cry from the tense moments of the past.

“You know..” you began after a while, swirling your drink in your glass, “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About carrying this burden alone.” Natasha looked at you, her gaze steady but curious. “Yeah?”

“I’ve just..been thinking about how we’re supposed to be partners in this, but we’ve been so focused on keeping our walls up that we forgot what that really means." you said thoughtfully. “It’s not just about watching each other’s backs in a fight. It’s about being there for each other when things get tough, when the past tries to drag you down.”

Natasha nodded slowly, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “I’m not used to that, you know. Letting someone in.”

“I figured..” you said with a small smile. “But you let me in, at least a little. And I want you to know that it meant something. It made me realize that maybe I haven’t been as fair to you as I could have been.” Natasha’s expression softened, a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability in her eyes. “You don’t need to apologize, Y/n. We were both just doing our jobs.”

“I know.” you replied. “But still, I’m sorry. For pushing you, for not seeing how much you’ve been through. I was so caught up in the mission and the cover that I didn’t take the time to really see you.” Natasha took a sip of her drink, letting the warmth of the alcohol ease the tension in her shoulders. “You see me now.” she said quietly. “And that’s more than I’ve let anyone do in a long time.”

You sat in companionable silence for a few more minutes, the atmosphere between you relaxed and open. Natasha realized that it was a relief not to have to be constantly on guard, not to have to keep everyone at a distance. “You know.." you said after a while, your tone lighter, “I’ve been thinking that when all this mess is over, we should take a break. Do something normal. I hear married couples go on vacations.” Natasha chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “I’m not sure we pass as a normal married couple.”

“Who said anything about normal?” you grinned. “We could do something out of the ordinary. Like..I don’t know, skydiving or rock climbing. Something that gets the adrenaline pumping without the life-and-death stakes.” Natasha raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. “So you want us to jump out of a plane..for fun?”

You shrugged, a mischievous smile on your lips. “Why not? After everything we’ve been through, it might be nice to do something that gets the heart racing without our lives depending on it.” Natasha considered it for a moment, then smiled, a real smile, not the practiced one she used in public. “You know what? That actually doesn’t sound so bad.”

You clinked your glasses together, and as the evening wore on, you talked about everything and nothing. Trivial things like favorite foods and music, and deeper topics like your dreams and fears. The walls between you continued to crumble, and by the time you finally returned to your apartment, there was a new understanding between you. “Thank you, Y/n. For tonight.” You smiled back, your voice warm. “Anytime, Natasha. We’re in this together.”

“Yeah.” Natasha replied, the words feeling truer than ever before. “We are.” As you parted ways for the night, Natasha felt a lightness in her chest that she hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn’t just the drink or the fact that she had survived another day, it was the knowledge that she wasn’t alone anymore. That for the first time in years, she had someone she could trust.

The following weeks were different. Natasha and you continued to work together, your partnership now stronger as the initial tension had eased. You were still far from being a typical married couple, but the foundation of trust you had begun to build made all the difference. One day, after a particularly successful mission, Fury called you both into his office. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was a hint of something, perhaps approval in his gaze.

“You two have done good work.” Fury said, his voice even. “The mission was a success, and your cover held under pressure. I have to admit, I wasn’t sure how this partnership would work, but you’ve exceeded expectations.”

Natasha glanced at you briefly, and you shared a small, knowing smile. “Thank you, sir.” Natasha replied. Fury nodded, then leaned back in his chair, his gaze sharpening. “That said, I’m not sure how much longer we can maintain the appearance of this marriage.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” Fury sighed, a rare sign of weariness passing over his face. “The situation has stabilized for now, but I have a feeling more trouble is on the horizon. You two have done your job well, but I’m giving you the option to dissolve the marriage if you think it’s the right move.”

Natasha felt a pang of something she couldn’t quite identify, regret? Uncertainty? She looked at you, searching your face for a clue as to what you were thinking. You met her gaze, your expression thoughtful. “I think..we should talk about it. See where we both stand.”

Natasha nodded slowly, a strange mix of emotions swirling in her chest. “Yeah. We’ll figure it out.” Fury watched you both for a moment, then gave a curt nod. “Take your time." With that, he dismissed you, and you left the office in silence, the weight of the decision heavy on your minds.

As you walked through the corridors, Natasha felt a sense of unease rising in her stomach. She hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected to feel anything at the thought of ending the marriage. But now, the idea left a strange emptiness inside her. “So..” you said quietly as you reached your quarters, “what do you want to do?”

Natasha took a deep breath, turning to face you. “I don’t know." she admitted. “This started as a mission, as a cover. But now..I don’t know.” You nodded, your expression understanding. “I get it. It’s complicated.”

Natasha hesitated, then reached out and took your hand in hers. “But I know one thing. Whatever happens, I don’t want to lose what we’ve built. I don’t want to lose this..partnership.”

You stood there for a long moment, holding each other’s gaze, the air between you charged with unspoken possibilities. Finally, you smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made Natasha’s heart skip a beat. "I have a good Idea where we can talk further.."

The lounge was quiet, with only the occasional murmur of conversations on the other side of the room. Natasha and you had had a few drinks again, the alcohol warming your bodies and loosening your tongues. You had been talking for hours, the conversation flowing easily between you in a way it hadn’t before. The heaviness of your earlier tensions had lifted, replaced by a comfortable, almost intimate atmosphere.

Natasha took another sip of her drink, enjoying the burn as it slid down her throat. She looked at you, watching as you swirled the last bit of your whiskey in your glass, your eyes slightly glazed from the alcohol. Your words slightly slurred, “I never thought we’d end up here. Not like this.”

Natasha laughed, her own voice tinged with the effects of the alcohol. “Yeah, me neither. This whole thing… was unexpected.” You leaned back in your chair, your gaze fixed on Natasha. “But..I’m glad we’re here. I’m glad we’re talking like this.” Natasha felt a warmth spread through her, one that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “Me too.” she admitted, her voice softening. “It’s nice…not feeling alone.”

You smiled, a crooked, slightly drunken smile that made Natasha’s heart skip a beat as she felt a surge of emotions she wasn’t entirely ready to name. “You’re not alone, Natasha. Not anymore.” There was a charged moment between you, the air thick with unspoken words and the weight of your shared experiences. The alcohol had lowered your defenses, leaving you both more vulnerable and open than you had been in a long time.

Natasha set her glass down, her fingers lightly brushing against yours on the table. The touch was electric, sending a shiver of awareness through her. She looked up and met your gaze, and in your eyes, she saw the same spark of attraction that she felt. For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension between you growing more intense with each passing second. Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, you leaned across the table, and your lips met Natasha’s in a gentle, hesitant kiss.

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding as she responded to the kiss, her lips moving against yours in a way that felt both familiar and completely new. The kiss was tentative at first, an exploration of boundaries, but it quickly deepened as the need for each other became overwhelming.

Without breaking the kiss, you stood and pulled Natasha up with you. Your hands found each other’s bodies, exploring, touching, as you made your way out of the lounge and down the corridor to a quarter. Your kisses grew hotter, more desperate, as you neared the room. You fumbled with the keycard, finally managing to open the door, and the two of you tumbled inside, your bodies pressed tightly together. As you finally made it to the bed, the rest of the world seemed to disappear. There was only the two of you, entwined with one another, your kisses hungry, your touches urgent. The alcohol had stripped away your inhibitions, leaving only the raw desire for each other.

The night passed in a blur of passionate moments and whispered names, your bodies intertwined as you lost yourselves completely in each other. The connection between you deepened with every touch, every kiss, until there was no distance left between you, no more walls to keep you apart. When you finally fell asleep, your bodies were still entwined, your breaths mingling as you drifted into a deep, contented sleep. The alcohol had done its job, lowering your defenses and bringing you together in a way neither of you had expected.

The first thing Natasha felt as she slowly woke up was the dull pounding in her head. She groaned softly, turning over and pulling the blanket tighter around herself, trying to block out the morning light seeping through the curtains. But as she moved, she realized something was off, something warm and solid was lying beside her. She froze, her senses suddenly sharp despite the hangover. Slowly, she opened one eye and was immediately met with the sight of you lying next to her, your face turned toward her, still fast asleep.

Natasha’s breath hitched as the events of the previous night came rushing back to her. The drinks, the laughter, the conversation that had unexpectedly turned personal..and then how you had ended up here, wrapped in each other’s arms. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to piece everything together. You had both been drunk, very drunk but that didn’t explain everything. How had you gone from reluctant partners in a forced marriage to this point? What had driven you to cross a line she hadn’t even realized you were approaching?

“shit." Natasha muttered quietly, careful not to disturb you as she tried to extricate herself from the sheets. But as she moved, you stirred beside her, your eyes slowly fluttering open. For a moment, you both simply stared at each other, your expressions mirroring the shock and confusion that Natasha was feeling. “Morning.” you finally said, your voice rough and uncertain.

“Morning.” Natasha echoed, her voice just as hesitant. There was a long, awkward silence as you both tried to process the situation. Natasha could see the same questions in your eyes that were running through her own mind: How had this happened? What did it mean? And where do you go from here?

“I..uh..did we…?” you began, clearly struggling to find the right words. Natasha’s cheeks flushed slightly as she nodded. “Yeah. I think we did.”

You rubbed your hand over your face, slowly sitting up as you tried to shake off the remnants of sleep and alcohol. “Okay, so…how did we end up here?” Natasha bit her lip, trying to recall the details. “We were talking..had a lot to drink. And then..I don’t know. One thing led to another, I guess.” She managed a small, ironic smile. “But at least we don’t have to invent any lies if someone asks us about our sex life now.”

You chuckled at her comment, and the tension in the room eased slightly. “True. It’s almost like we’ve fully embraced our roles now. Now that she's finished.” Natasha rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “I guess we’re just overachievers.”

The laughter died down, and once again, the reality of your situation set in. Things had gotten personal in a way neither of you had anticipated. “So…what do we do now?” you asked, your tone more serious this time.

Natasha sighed, sitting up and wrapping the sheet around herself. “I don’t know. We could just pretend nothing happened, but… that feels like we’d be lying to ourselves.”

“Yeah, and we’ve done enough pretending to last a lifetime.” you agreed, your expression thoughtful. “But we also can’t ignore the fact that this all started as a mission. A mission where we were supposed to pretend to be in love, even though we didn’t really like each other.” Natasha nodded, the weight of that truth pressing down on her. “Right. And now we’ve crossed a line, and I don’t think we can just go back.”

You frowned, deep in thought. “But do we need to go back? I mean, we’ve been through a lot together, and… I don’t know. Maybe this was just..inevitable?” Natasha looked at you, searching your face for any hint of what you were really feeling. “Maybe. But now it’s complicated. We can’t just act like everything is the same as before.”

Your smile, “Hey, at least we’re dedicated to the mission, right?” Natasha laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “Right. We’ve more than fulfilled our duties.”

You both laughed, the tension between you beginning to dissipate. The humor was a relief, a way to ease the confusion and discomfort that came with waking up in each other’s bed after what was supposed to be just another night of playing your roles. But as the laughter faded, the reality of your situation remained. You couldn’t just laugh your way out of this, you had to figure out what it meant for you.

“So…what do we do now?” you asked again, your tone more serious this time. Natasha sighed, running a hand through her hair as she tried to organize her thoughts. “We figure it out. No more lies, no more excuses. We take it one step at a time.” You nodded, your expression softening. “I can do that. One step at a time.”

Natasha felt a strange sense of relief at your words. This was new territory for both of you, but at least you didn’t have to navigate it alone. You had each other, and while it was still a complicated mess, it was something you could rely on. As you both got out of bed and began to dress, the weight of your new reality settled over you. This wasn’t going to be easy, but you were in it together, and for now, that was enough.

“Hey, Natasha?” you said as you pulled your shirt over your head. “Yeah?”

You paused for a moment, your expression thoughtful. “I know this isn’t what either of us expected, but..I’m glad we’re here." Natasha smiled, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. “Me too, Y/n. Me too.”

As you left the room and stepped back into the world, you did so with a new understanding of each other. You had started as reluctant partners, forced together by a mission, but now…now there was something more. Something worth exploring, even if it was still messy and confusing. The mission had brought you together, but it was your shared experiences and growing bond that would keep you together. And as you walked side by side, ready to face whatever came next, you both knew that this was only the beginning of something new.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha smut #natasha romanoff #dom!natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha #natasha romanov smut

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princesseilish · 1 month ago

Text

UNFADED SCARS

Billie Eilish x Fem!Reader

Warnings: use of y/n, arguments, self doubt, the reader is a sensitive ?? break up ?

Synopsis: you and billie’s first real argument, which leads to a lot of self doubt on her part

The day Billie broke Y/N’s heart was the worst day of her life, and she knew it even as it happened.

They were fifteen, both too young to understand the weight of their emotions, let alone navigate the strain Billie’s rising career placed on their relationship. Every week, there was another show, another interview, another opportunity Billie couldn’t pass up, and with each one, the pressure grew heavier. It made her restless, made her angry, and most of all, made her feel like she was losing control.

But Y/N had always been there. Quiet, sweet, and unwavering in her love, she was Billie’s anchor in the storm. Until Billie let the storm consume her.

It started with something stupid, like it always does. Y/N had mentioned how she missed spending time with Billie, how they hadn’t had a real date in weeks. She didn’t mean it as a jab—she never did. But to Billie, it felt like another reminder that she wasn’t enough.

“What do you want me to do, Y/N?” Billie snapped, pacing the room. “Quit everything? Just stop making music and sit at home with you all day?”

Y/N flinched, her hands gripping the hem of her sweater. “I didn’t say that, Billie. I just… I miss you. That’s all.”

“Well, I’m sorry I can’t be perfect!” Billie yelled, her voice cracking. “I’m sorry I’m not enough for you!”

“You’re twisting my words,” Y/N said softly, tears already welling up in her eyes.

“Maybe because your words don’t make sense!” Billie shot back, her voice sharp and unkind. “You say you’re proud of me, but then you complain I’m not around. What do you want from me, Y/N?”

Y/N’s voice broke as she tried to respond. “I just… I just want you. I want to feel like I matter to you.”

The room went quiet for a moment, Billie staring at her like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Then she laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. It was bitter, full of frustration.

“You don’t matter to me?” Billie repeated, her voice low and dangerous. “Is that what you think? God, Y/N, do you even realize how much I do for us? How hard I’m working to make a future for us?”

Y/N shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “That’s not what I meant, Billie! I know you’re working hard, I just… I feel so alone.”

“Well, maybe that’s your problem!” Billie shouted. “You’re always crying about something, always needing me to fix everything! I can’t do it all, Y/N! I can’t be everything for you!”

Y/N froze, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She wanted to yell back, to tell Billie how unfair she was being. But yelling didn’t come naturally to her, especially not at Billie. So instead, she stood there, silent except for the soft sound of her sobs.

When she finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. “I think I should go.”

Billie’s stomach dropped, the weight of her words crashing down on her. “Wait, no—Y/N, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean any of it.”

But Y/N was already moving toward the door, her hands shaking as she grabbed her bag. “I love you, Billie,” she said through her tears. “But I can’t… I can’t do this right now.”

“Y/N, please,” Billie begged, her own tears starting to fall. “Don’t go. I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry.”

Y/N looked at her, her eyes filled with pain. “You always say sorry, Billie. But it doesn’t change anything.”

And with that, she was gone.

Seven years later, Billie still remembered that night like it was yesterday. She remembered the way Y/N’s voice had cracked, the way her tears had fallen silently, the way she had walked out the door and taken Billie’s heart with her.

They had found their way back to each other eventually, after a lot of time and a lot of healing. But even now, as Billie sat on the couch with Y/N—her wife—curled up beside her, she couldn’t shake the guilt of that night.

“You’re quiet,” Y/N said softly, looking up at her.

Billie smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair out of Y/N’s face. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About how much I don’t deserve you,” Billie admitted, her voice thick with emotion.

Y/N frowned, sitting up to face her. “Billie—”

“No, let me say this,” Billie interrupted, taking Y/N’s hands in hers. “I was such an idiot back then. I hurt you, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. But I promise you, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. You mean everything to me, Y/N. Always have, always will.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, but this time, they were happy ones. She leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Billie’s lips. “You’ve already made it up to me, Billie. You love me, and that’s all I’ve ever needed.”

Billie pulled her into a tight hug, burying her face in Y/N’s shoulder. “I’ll never stop loving you,” she whispered.

“And I’ll never stop loving you,” Y/N replied, her voice steady and sure.

In that moment, Billie knew that no matter how many mistakes she had made, Y/N was her forever. And she would never take that for granted again.

#princess diary ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚#billie eilish #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x reader #hmhas billie eilish #wlw #wlw fiction #lesbian #wlw post #fluff

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muqingslover · 7 days ago

Note

Hello!! I absolutely love your take on the lads men as fathers, they make so much sense of their character!! That being said, I wanted to ask what pets you think they would own, if any?

I love your writing style!! I hope you have a good day!!!

[ this is such a cute request!! Thank you and I really hope you like it! ]

Xavier

He's snow-white fr fr

Xavier has such a tranquil energy around him that whenever he falls asleep outside you just find him covered in little birds, a random stray cat on his lap and a butterfly on his nose.

But he'd have no pets of his own because he just doesn't have the energy to give the care they deserve and the lifespan of most living creatures is too short compared to his own.

Oh not to mention if he had a pet you would probably be aaaall over it and he wants NONE of that.

He's the type that can't keep even a cactus alive because he's asleep the whole time he's not with you or working. (the official schedule post showed he sleeps way more than I thought it's crazy)

Zayne

Oh this sweet, sweet man.

He loves animals but animals do not share the feeling LMAO

He had a tortoise when he was little and we all know his passion for cats so he does like the idea of having a pet.

Because of his schedule as a surgeon I can see him having something that agrees with his busy lifestyle like those pretty fish tanks.

Not to mention the fish can't reject this poor guy and are as quiet as he is.

The plants he keeps in his house/office are like his children too and watering them is part of daily routine.

Sylus

He has Mephisto of course (and the twins jk) but I firmly believe he's one of the people who are blessed by the cat's universal system.

Here and there he'd randomly save or feed a stray and the cat would stick to him like glue.

They begin "multiplying" and eventually he has six different cats coming in and out of his house.

They're not really his but he lets them be as long as you're not allergic to them.

Mephisto is fighting for his life and staying in very high places so he's not torn to pieces.

The twins have multiple photos of Sylus asleep with the kitties and they send one to you every week.

He's like the dad that says "I don't like cats" and then he shows up with three different types of deluxe food.

Rafayel

Man's a whole fish he IS the pet.

All jokes aside, he seems the type to have a pretty bird like cockatiel or a white dove that has as much of an attitude as he does.

He definitely paints the bird and is extra enough to use the loose feathers for details to add authenticity to the piece.

100% will argue with it like the bird understands him.

"She likes you more than me! The one who raised her!" *cuts to the bird turning it's head away from him and nuzzling on the top of your head*

Strolling buddies. Every time Rafayel goes out for inspiration or just to clear his head the bird will follow him and he likes the company more than he'd ever admit.

Caleb

If he could this guy would own BIG dogs no argument.

And yes plural because he'd have at least two.

The dogs are all very well trained and absolutely adore you. Much like the owner.

He will often send you videos of them in goofy costumes he bought and he's just laughing his head off in the background.

I also feel like he used to collect bugs when he was just a brat.

He'd terrorize you and Zayne by running after you two with those big ass beetles like

"It's just a little guy! Look! :D" "*screams of horror"

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disneyprincemuke · 1 month ago

Text

the grudge * fem!driver

it takes the whole village to make them realise that racing should not be coming between the friendship they spent years building

pairings: alex albon x fem!driver, george russell x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, lewis hamilton x fem!driver, nico rosberg x fem!driver

warnings: -

notes: hi there.

(series masterlist) | (📂 the sophomore year)

(prev)

the past couple of days have been empty. eerily lonely at times when she wakes up just to drag her feet downstairs of her parent’s home to get a meal by herself and make her way back up after. prior to their predicament, she had planned so many activities to do with logan over their week off.

she turns over when she wakes up, just like every other morning and picks up her phone. hoping, wishing, desperately waiting for a specific text message to dawn her. there are several other notifications but they just don’t seem to matter.

when will logan text, when will he apologise— more importantly, when can they be best friends again?

she misses him.

she’s wondered over the past few days since they fell out mid-race, how other people get through something like this. it’s never been a problem, not for them, because they made a promise.

sure, they were young, but it was easy to think that they would never let their careers get the better of them.

she remembers speaking in hushed whispers, as if it was a crime, promising one another that they would always be best friends no matter what. they would never let what happened to others happen to them.

she hasn’t spoken to oscar much either. she tries to lie to herself and say that he’s probably busy spending time with lily and his family, but a smaller part of her assumes that he’s pulling away because of logan. oscar tries to convince her and say that isn’t the case, but she’s slowly starting to believe her lie.

she lays awake for some time wondering if logan missed her the same, or if reaching out had ever crossed his mind. she can’t be the only one feeling this way, right?

her finger hovers over his caller id, going back and forth the decision of dropping him a call. but she is still insistent that she is not wrong. he clearly clipped her car, so why should she? everyone could see that but him.

it hurts, but it hurts more than when she would get into days-long arguments with oscar.

she hasn’t had her own share of a heartbreak, but somehow hurts in the way that some of her friends would describe it to her. it’s more than the pain you feel when you’re falling out with a best friend.

instead, she locks her phone and gets out of bed to start whatever is left of her day.

is this really how it’s going to be? losing his best friend over one crash out of the many others they’ve had since they met?

he stares at the ceiling with stubby resting his paws on his stomach, pondering if he truly is doing the right thing by holding out.

but every time he thinks of finally apologising, he remembers every other time that he had to put aside his pride just to keep her around. not that it truly ever mattered — their friendship always comes above all else — he just finds it incredibly unfair.

how about this once, she is the one who puts her pride aside to keep their friendship? does it really have to always be him?

then he starts to wonder if he is the only one who thinks of their friendship this way. maybe he’s the only one holding onto something that’s dwindled over the years; she has new friends anyway.

logan misses her. the apartment simply isn’t the same without him waking up to his door opened slightly after she borrowed one of his hoodies to wear for a walk, or the shrill baby voice she likes to use when talking to their pets, or the whining and pouting she gives him when she doesn’t want to go out by herself but refuses to ask him if he wants to come with her.

sometimes he misses her more than a best friend should. though, that’s not really the point.

it makes sense now to him how friends fall apart when they’re in the same sport. but even with just one example, there’s also another pair of best friends who seem closer than they were before.

now he is conflicted. none of it makes sense at all.

but only time can tell if he is doing the right thing. or, if she would even realise that their friendship should be greater than whatever the hell the situation is right now.

“you’re telling me that you and rocky have not spoken for an entire week?”

logan shrugs, “yeah, i guess.”

alex’s gaze follows logan as he walks across the room to take a seat, an eyebrow raising in confusion at his nonchalance. “and you don’t plan to?”

“not unless she reaches out first.”

logan lifts his gaze from his hands and meets alex’s eyes. alex doesn’t even know how to go about the situation anymore – it seems like he’s said everything he could say to logan to try and amend their friendship. yet, there’s still nothing he says that could convince him otherwise.

it would be a shame to see a friendship fall apart over a crash during a race.

not everyone can have what they have and maintain it for as long as they have. of course, he knows, he’s best friends with george.

a week into their 2-week break and she is holding out longer than he’s expected. he’s very apologetic for the fact that her car had spun and hit the wall, but it’s just unfair that he was expected to be the one apologising for the crash itself.

the crash was caused by 2 people, not just him. he’s sure there’s something there that she could have done better to avoid the accident.

“i’m heading out to grab lunch with george after this,” alex grins, “would you like to come with us?”

“sure.”

she swings her hand up to stop the man from opening his mouth to speak to her, the door in her other hand. “don’t tell me you’re here for what i think you’re here for.”

“i’m not?” george grins with hesitation, dropping the pint of ice cream he’d gotten to soften her up for the conversation he wants to have. “come on, you need to speak to logan.”

she sighs and rests her hands on her hips. “i know sebastian sent you.”

he presses his lips together. “no, he didn’t.”

“it’s because i’m ignoring his text messages,” she scowls. yet she still takes a step back and opens the door wider and gestures for him to come inside. “i’m not stupid.”

george walks in, handing her the pint of chocolate ice cream he’d picked up. “it’s not your favourite brand, but it’s still chocolate ice cream,” he mutters. he turns as she closes the front door and huffs. “you need to speak to logan before all of this gets out of hand too fast and you regret it.”

“does he regret sending me into the wall?” she raises an eyebrow. when george continues to stare at her, blinking blankly, she nods and turns on her heel to walk into the kitchen. “you know this wasn’t my fault — you saw the footage, george! that’s so unfair!”

he sighs. he’s never been in this situation with alex, but he can only imagine how his world would around if they were. sure, it’s hard to get past something like this, especially at the stage of their career, but he just isn’t sure how to help either.

yes, logan had been the one to close in on her on the track, but why couldn’t they just recognise they were both wrong one way or another?

“okay, fine. whatever,” george says exasperatedly. “actually, i’m here to ask if you wanted to get lunch with alex and i later.”

she raises an eyebrow with a small smile. “sure!”

“sorry,” george laughs airily, putting his phone face down on the table. he moves into the booth alongside the younger girl. “alex is running a little late.”

“that’s alright,” she mutters, reaching out for the menu. she opens the menu before it dawns on her.

she lowers her menu and turns stiffly to george who is reaching for his menu and takes his seat. “what?”

“why are you sitting next to me?” she raises an eyebrow and throws her head back slightly.

george puts a hand to his chest. “do you hate me?”

she shakes her head. “no! it’s not like that,” she scowls, “you always sit next to alex when we get lunch.”

he tilts his head and narrows his eyes as he pretends to think. “do i?” he scrunches his nose. “i don’t always sit next to him.”

but he knows that she poses an incredible point. he, however, hadn’t expected her to be so observant, as opposed to her typical carefree and non-analytical nature. perhaps this entire fallout has changed her slightly, especially without logan always next to her.

she hums without another word, confusion still written on her face, before she looks at her menu again.

she’s been to this restaurant numerous times since moving to london. it’s actually her favourite. a classic between her and logan, always making it out of their way to get food here when they’re back in town.

she doesn’t actually need the menu — she orders the same damn thing every time, swearing to herself that she will try something new her next visit. which she is something she abides by most times, always ordering a new side dish or by forcing logan to get something she wants but is too scared to try.

“i thought you would have memorised that menu front and back considering how much you come here,” george jokes, his eyes darting from his menu to the entrance of the restaurant.

he shakes his leg in anticipation, aimlessly flipping through the pages yet he still has not retained one dish in his head. it’s never going to work.

in the back of his head, he hears alex’s voice telling him again and again that it would.

“funny. that’s the same thing logan says whenever we eat here.”

truthfully, george hadn’t even brought logan up in the time they’ve been together. he’s pleasantly surprised that she was the first to address him again after their initial conversation at her parents’ front door.

“does he?” george grins slightly.

“yeah,” she lifts her head, lips pursed together as she stares into the distance, “i always make him order something new that i could try because i’m too scared it won’t be to my liking.”

he’s surprised. he didn’t think logan could come up in such a peaceful topic at this time of day. he thought that she would keep it hostile even when speaking of him.

“that’s very thoughtful."

she grins. “yes, i guess he is a very thoughtful guy.”

george sits up and adjusts the sleeves of his sweatshirt. he clears his throat. “speaking of logan-”

“no.”

“what?” he cried incredulously with a hand in the air. “you brought him up first!”

“no.”

“fine.”

oh, they’re not going to eat at her favourite restaurant, are they? logan furrows his eyebrows as he’s led forward by alex and he increasingly gets more nervous as they get closer.

spending this much time away from her has made her miss her so much. he’s almost afraid that it might really be the end of their friendship at all.

he’s never eaten here without her. he acts annoyed all the time when she forces him to try a new dish every visit while she has the luxury of sticking to her comfort food, but truthfully, he finds himself searching for her voice in the silence.

can he really have a meal without her at her favourite restaurant? surely not. yet he follows alex inside without another word. he nervously looks around, finding remnants of all the meals he’s had with her here.

he sees george in the far corner of the restaurant, lifting his arm to wave at logan with a small grin. alex abruptly stops walking that makes logan halt before he can run into his back.

the expression on alex’s face is something logan has only seen a couple of times on the older guy. the thai sucks in a deep breath and holds his hands up in the air, “don’t be mad.”

logan raises an eyebrow. “why would i be mad?” he tilts his head as he tries to come up with a reason that assumption would come up. “it’s just a restaurant, i can eat here without rocky.”

“yeah,” alex nods with his lips pressed together. “that’s the thing.”

just then, a shrill and disgusted ‘what’ throws the relaxing aura of the restaurant off.

he knows that voice anywhere. he swears he is haunted by that scream in his sleep when he’s done something he shouldn’t have and is trying to keep a secret.

a head pops out of the plants in the divider. she turns her head and finds logan, standing in the middle of the restaurant just as shell-shocked.

so to hell with their argument, right? he should just apologise and get it done and over with then he can get his best friend back. and all will be right in the world.

logan swears that her gaze softened when she saw him standing there. he has to reason out with himself not to run over and pull her into the tightest hug he’s ever trapped her in. a lot has happened in the past week, and every time he thinks of reaching out, he hesitates.

in hindsight, why does he hesitate? this is literally his best friend in the whole world.

and she swears she will jump over this damned divider to get to logan. should she punch him or jump into his arms for a hug? this might be the longest she hasn’t seen the boy and the feeling of familiarity washes over her in relief.

“logan,” she says his name in a soft and airy sigh. the corners of her lips curl into a small smile as her shoulders drop from their tense position. “hi.”

“hi.”

his heart starts beating faster when she pushes past george to get out of the booth. alex jogs to where george stands, cozying up next to his best friend as they watch the scene unfold. they’ve never tried to parent-trap anyone into reconciliation before. this is a first and if they succeed, they would never shut up about it.

she walks over to him, smile still intact with her back straight. she stops right in front of him and her hands clasped in front of her.

her smile grows and she takes another breath. she can’t seem to find the right words to say to him now that he’s finally in front of her. “hi.”

logan grins, “it’s nice to finally see you again. i missed you.”

“i missed you too.” she presses her lips together and glances down at her feet momentarily. she raises her gaze again.

when george had finally told her logan was joining them for lunch, a million things ran through her mind. half of her thoughts wanted to start fighting all over again but the latter just wanted to sit down in silence and make up for all of the time they’d lost.

“did we really get ambushed by alex and george?” she snorts softly, looking over her shoulder where they stand with one another, staring intensely at them.

logan grins with a small nod. “i’m surprised they pulled it off, really.”

silence looms over them once again — the implications of the crash threatens another fight. logan’s heart starts beating faster as he remembers again why exactly he’s very persistent on getting an apology. just an apology, that’s all he’s asking for.

there is simply so much more to it than just the younger girl putting her pride aside over the crash. sure, whatever, he can come out and admit that it was ultimately because of a mistake from him on the track. what he can’t accept is the girl's unwillingness to initiate reconciliation.

does she truly care so little for him to be a part of his life?

“let’s go and get lunch,” she says, beckoning him forward to where alex and george are. she takes a couple of steps away. “i was really sad at the thought of eating here without you.”

“is that all you have to say?” logan raises an eyebrow. he stays planted where he stands. she whirls around in confusion. “we haven’t talked the longest in our lives and you’re just going to invite me to the table and act like we didn’t just have a fight?”

she presses his lips together and clenches her jaw. “if anything, you’re the one ignoring it — you caused the crash, remember?”

logan scoffs. how shallow. “oh, get over the crash already! you seriously don’t even see why this entire thing is an issue? are you seriously so stupid?”

“we were so close,” george mutters in a soft sigh. “why are they stupid?”

“i wish i knew.” alex purses his lips together before he steps away from the table. he clasps his hands together and steps in between the two, just as she took a step forward to answer logan. he holds his arms out to her to keep her distance from logan. “okay, i see it’s still too soon.”

“it wouldn’t be too soon if she could just realise how insensitive she’s being!” logan scoffs softly, pointing an accusatory finger at the girl. he’s fully aware of the eyes watching them in the restaurant. “i know racing is everything to you, but i swear if you keep acting like this, you’re going to lose every single person you love.”

she scoffs, taking a step back. her eyes start to glisten, making logan start to feel bad. “of course, it’s everything to me, i dedicated my entire life to get where i am.”

“yeah, so much so that you’re willing to burn bridges to stay where you are.” logan turns on his heel. “i will have lunch at home instead, alex. thanks for inviting me out.”

“if you missed her and she missed you, what’s the problem?” oscar turns the seat around to face logan. “good on alex and george for trying to get you guys back together while i was gone. i really thought all this would blow over by now.”

logan shrugs. he turns his phone over and over on his stomach, swaying back and forth. “you don’t understand. she’s changed.”

“you keep saying that, mate,” oscar sighs tiredly. he throws himself back into his seat. “i still don’t know what you mean.”

logan feels a little silly. saying it out loud suddenly feels so superficial and overtly sensitive. “it’s stupid.”

“well, if you’re letting this fight drag out this long, there has to be a reason behind it.” oscar smiles slightly and nods at him, truly curious as to why all of this has blown so out of proportion. “what is it?”

“when we crashed, we both got out of the car,” logan starts slowly, nitpicking his choice of words for the fear of sounding a little too unreasonable, “she never asked me if i was okay. it was a pretty nasty crash for both of us.”

that’s it, really. that’s his only problem with it — she had never asked, not once, if he was okay. she’d just started getting angry, which was understandable, but it never really hit him why he was feeling so sad until he started getting examined for his injuries a while later. he’s personally curious if she was feeling better, but she still hadn’t asked him yet.

which kind of sucks because he’s starting to feel like he cares more for her than she does for him.

“oh, i see.” oscar sits up. “okay, i totally get it. i’ll speak with her.”

logan shakes his head, “you don’t have to. if she doesn’t realise it on her own, what does it really say about her, you know?”

“i know, but i’ll try talking to her first.”

so oscar doesn’t exactly talk to her himself. truth is he can’t bring himself to be the one to speak with her about logan; he just knows he can’t pick a side. whatever she says, he’ll be trying to defend both sides and they’ll never get anywhere with it.

so, he asked if sebastian would speak with her. even then, sebastian hadn’t dared to speak with her about this. he would be able to have conversations with her about anything except this.

he just knows what she would throw back in his face so he already knew immediately that he shouldn’t be the one to.

so he went to the next best pairing who could potentially fix it.

the young girl gapes up at the duo towering over her as she sinks into the couch. she’s suddenly felt so small, a contrast to her initial bratty attitude from being interrupted from her lunch.

“what are you guys doing here?” she blinks. “why are you even together here?”

“what do you mean?” nico tilts his head. “don’t you like me? i thought you liked me? you said you like my presence.”

she furrows her eyebrows. none of this makes sense unless there’s something she’s failed to connect. “i do, but like… why are you here in front of me?”

“we just wanna talk,” lewis grins, folding his arms over his chest. “we need to talk to you.”

her confusion slowly contorts into something of suspicion. a scowl carves her lips as her eyes narrow into a glare. “seb sent you, didn’t he? this is about logan?”

“i told you she’s smarter than to fall for the excuse that we’re here just to spend time with her,” nico points out, turning to lewis. “she’s a degree holder, of course, she will see right through us.”

“and i said it doesn’t matter if she does. we just need to get the message across,” lewis rambles at nico before he turns to the girl. “i’ll keep it simple.”

she looks up, uninterested, sinking back into the couch with her arms folded over her chest. “okay. try and change my mind.”

“is logan your best friend or not?”

she presses her lips together. “yes, he is. or at least he used to be.”

“do you love him or not?”

she doesn’t answer. what does he mean by that? is there an agenda to this that she hadn’t anticipated for? is she really that obvious?

“what does that mean?” nico whispers. “you hate him or what?”

lewis rolls his eyes. “as a best friend. i don’t care if you’re in love with him, rocky. that’s not what we’re here for.”

she looks away momentarily. “yes, i love him as a best friend. what the hell does that have to do with anything? i’m sure he loves me too yet he doesn’t want to apologise.”

“is this racing thing seriously so much more important than keeping your best friend in your life, though?” nico smiles. hopefully, that gets through to her.

she scowls, “i don’t know — you tell me.”

“rocky.”

“it’s a genuine question, lewis.”

“this isn’t about us.”

“it can be if you want.”

“stop diverting!” nico yelps. “listen, okay, if you don’t fix this, you’ll need to live with yourself losing your best friend over one crash! not just for the time being, rocky, forever! for the rest of your life! can you really live with that?”

“maybe.”

“take me seriously!” nico stomps a foot on the ground. “he’s not going to leave the grid. can you really live coming into the paddocks on weekends all by yourself? no logan to carry your bags, no logan to giggle with when you want to, no logan to have meals with, no logan to come home to in your shared apartment with your pets. really?”

she sucks in a deep and shaky breath. she can’t. she really can’t see living the rest of her life out without logan around to annoy and cry to.

the past couple of days holding out from speaking to logan has been so difficult but can’t really get herself to admit to it. she can’t see herself winning any more races in the season and not leaving to celebrate with him, or flying back after race weekends to relax in their apartment with a bottle of wine.

lewis huffs. “you maybe need to be the one to swallow your pride if you don’t want to lose this friendship.”

“and i heard from the grapevine that you still haven’t ask logan if he’s okay.” nico looks away and innocently tries looking around the room to avoid her gaze. “his crash was pretty bad, you know. he had a concussion too.”

“did he?” she asks, her tone a little more gentle and her voice softer. “is he okay now?”

lewis shrugs. “go and ask him yourself.”

she stands up and brushes her pants. “you’re right. get out of my way, i’m going to apologise to my best friend.”

she pushes past both of the older men and grabs her car keys from the table by the door. she halts right before she makes it out of the room and turns. “thank you. i really appreciate this. i can’t imagine what it took you guys to get together just to put some sense into my head.”

she steps out. “maybe when logan and i make up, i could take some sense into you!”

logan expected it to come in the form of a short phone call, maybe a long text message. not for her to show back up at their apartment with takeout in her hands and a small grin.

“what?”

“can i come in?” she grins hopefully, peeking into the apartment. “i brought us takeout from our favourite place.”

logan steps aside and opens the door wider. “why are you asking me for permission? this is your apartment.”

“i know,” she sighs as she steps in to take off her shoes.

logan closes the door behind her and he puts his hands into his pockets. it’s still very nice to see her and he’s genuinely missed her more than ever.

distance makes the heart grow fonder or something like that.

he waits for her to start up a conversation. when they stand in silence, him staring at her back as she slowly takes off her jacket, he attempts to walk past her. he was watching a movie with stubby after all.

“how are you feeling?” she suddenly asks, stopping logan right behind her in the very cramp entryway into their apartment. she stands up straighter and turns around, attempting to make a step back when she realises their proximity. “i heard you got a concussion too.”

he can’t help but smile slightly. so that’s what she’s here for.

finally.

“i’m feeling alright. just whiplash and muscle pain, nothing new,” he admits softly. “what about you?”

she grins. “i’m feeling okay,” she mutters. “i’m sorry i didn’t ask if you were okay. you must have felt like i didn’t care about you at all.”

“you didn’t get your podium because of me. i’m sorry too,” logan puts a hand on her shoulder and shakes her slightly, “it was in the heat of the moment. sucks that it took you this long to realise though.”

“are we best friends again? i got us food.” she raises the bag of takeout with a giggle and a feeling of warmth in her chest. “we didn’t get to eat the other day, after all.”

“of course, you’re my best friend, you idiot.” logan throws an arm over her shoulders as they walk into the apartment. he ruffles her hair from the top of her head and smacks it gently. “let’s not fight about something like that ever again.”

“well, don’t crash into me again when i’m fighting for a podium.”

“seriously?”

“okay, i’m sorry. i’ll make that joke again in 3 weeks maybe.”

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coryndoll · 8 days ago

Text

waking up to you ₍₁₂₎

plot ── you wake up in a strange alternate reality that just so happens to be the outer banks universe, and to your disbelief, you’re suddenly in a relationship with the shows most unlikely character, rafe cameron.

content ── this a long one i fear, another journal entry (u can literally see it right there help), rafe being as bf as he can, more ward awkward avoiding tension, some talks !! reader taking a few more steps to coming home

authors note ── ermm hi guys, I FINALLY FOUND THE TIME TO WRITE. lmk if u still wanna be part of this tag list, i was unable to keep up with any of my last requests for this series on the last part because its been 2 months so please lmk now or turn my notifications on !! <3

‘ it all came crashing down again. family dinner at the camerons. i swear i tried, i really did. i didn’t want to be that girl anymore. the one they all whisper about behind my back, the one they think is just a spoiled, bitchy princess. i really thought i was getting better. but i guess i was wrong.

i’m so angry at myself, i can’t even see straight. i was rude. i didn’t mean to be, but i was to everyone. & i know they saw it. i saw the looks, heard the tension. i could feel it, like they were all waiting for me to screw up. waiting for me to be the person they’ve always known. i tried to prove them wrong, but i ended up just making it worse.

and sarah?? she just doesn’t get it. i don’t even know why i said half of the things i did. she said something that just triggered me & i couldn’t stop myself.

i just started spitting out words, things i probably didn’t even mean, all because i wanted to hurt her the way i was hurt. because i couldn’t stand the thought that maybe they were right about me. & rafe had to intervene too. it was so fucking embarrassing.

it was like the moment she opened her mouth, i became that girl again. the girl who can’t hold her tongue, the girl who lashes out when she feels cornered. & maybe that’s exactly what i am. maybe i haven’t changed. maybe they were right all along.

it’s like, every time i try to take a step forward, i end up falling so far back & i can’t even pick myself up anymore.

like what’s the point of changing if nothing changes? what’s the point of trying to be better when people are always going to see you as the same bitch you’ve always been?

maybe i really haven’t changed. ’

the journal is gripped tightly in your hand as you read the words that spill from the page, feeling the weight of the other y/n’s heartache.

everything she says, all the bitterness and the regret, it feels so raw, so real, and it stings like something you’ve felt before. you don’t know if you’re even supposed to feel sorry for her, but something tugs at your chest still.

the y/n who wrote this, she really believed it, didn’t she? she believed she hadn’t changed, that no matter how much she tried, she was always going to be stuck in this version of herself. the girl who could never win.

a soft sigh slips from your lips as you shut the journal with a soft thud. you toss it onto the desk like it might catch fire if you hold it any longer and lean back in the chair with a sigh.

for a moment, you just sit there, staring at the closed journal, your thoughts spinning. it’s clear now how much that argument with sarah weighed on her.

even if sarah and rafe don’t care about it anymore, because they don’t, right? otherwise, sarah wouldn’t have been so friendly when you first landed here, and rafe wouldn’t have looked so damn happy to wake up next to you. her.

but jesus, it must’ve taken a toll if she felt the need to spill her guts onto these pages.

you run your hands back through your hair, bringing your knees up to your chest as you try to make sense of it all. so, what’s the point of this? why are you here? why her? you don’t get it. any of it. but for some reason, it feels like time is slipping through your fingers, like there’s some invisible clock ticking down, and if you don’t figure out what the hell you’re supposed to do soon, you’ll never make it back home.

your chest tightens at the thought, and you look back at the journal on the desk. it doesn’t hold the answers you need, but for a second, you feel like maybe it’s the only thing tying you to the pieces of her life.

you will get back home.

you have to.

the first floor of the home feels colder than you expected, but you can hear something downstairs in the basement. it’s just muffled voices, sarah’s laugh, rafe saying something you can’t quite make out.

you take a slow breath, pulling your jacket tighter around your body as you walk down the steps. the closer you get, the more your chest tightens, like you’re walking into something you’re not supposed to see.

from the last few steps, you spot them. sarah’s leaning against the glass wall of the wine cellar, arms crossed loosely over her chest, her head tilted back in laughter. rafe is crouched inside the glass room, fiddling with something in his hands, while ward kneels near an empty wine rack, muttering something under his breath.

you haven’t been down here yet. the room feels so untouched, so pristine, like it belongs in one of those glossy magazines about rich people’s homes. there’s a bar in the far left corner of the room, the walls are lined with racks of expensive wine bottles, each label perfectly aligned. the air is cooler here, crisp and sharp, carrying the faint scent of oak and something else you can’t quite place.

rafe is the first to notice you. he glances over his shoulder as he stands, his foot pressing against the ground for balance. his hands fidget for a second before he straightens, brushing them over the front of his shirt. sarah notices his distraction and follows his gaze, her laugh fading into a quiet smile as she turns to look at you.

and then there’s ward. crouched near the wine rack, he drags a hand down his face and jaw, his movements slow and deliberate, like he’s trying to collect himself. when his eyes meet yours, the air shifts.

the tension is immediate. it always is.

you feel it in the way sarah and rafe go quiet, not because they have anything against you, but because it’s almost instinctual when ward’s in the room. you can’t blame them.

rafe’s the first to move. he runs a hand over his buzzed hair, his lips parting like he’s about to say something to ward, but instead, he steps out of the glass room and toward you. his hand reaches out to gently grasp your shoulders, his touch grounding.

“hey, babe,” he says softly, his voice low enough that it doesn’t carry far. “what are you— what are you doing up here? i thought you said you were reading.”

right, the lie you told him so you can read his real girlfriends journal.

you open your mouth to respond, but ward cuts in from behind the glass. “it’s fine, rafe,” he says, his tone even but clipped, like he’s dismissing the entire situation before it can escalate.

rafe’s grip on your shoulders tightens for a moment before he glances back at his dad. you follow his gaze, your eyes locking on ward as he stands, clearing his throat. his hand drags down his beard again, and he turns his attention back to the wine bottles.

he adjusts one of them, then another, like he’s mentally calculating if they’re placed correctly. finally, he straightens, his shoulders rolling back as he steps out of the cellar.

rafe’s hand slides down to yours, his fingers wrapping around yours as he gently pulls you off the stairs and onto the tile floor. ward doesn’t say anything as he walks past. he nods at you, a brief acknowledgment, before continuing up the stairs.

you gnaw on your bottom lip, trying to ignore the knot forming in your stomach. what could this version of you have possibly done to make him act like this all the time?

rafe looks back at sarah, who’s still standing near the wine racks, her expression unreadable. then he turns back to you, his voice softer now. “i’ll be back, alright?” he says, squeezing your hand gently. “we can watch our movie tonight.”

“but dad wanted to watch that new movie with us in the living room tonight,” sarah pipes up, her voice cutting through the quiet. she shifts her weight, her arms crossing over her chest. “are you seriously bailing on him again? you already did last month. he’s not gonna be so happy.”

rafe’s jaw tightens, and he snaps at her, “yeah, but dad is never happy.”

you know that isn’t true. ward was literally just laughing before you came downstairs. rafe’s just trying to make you feel better, to shift the blame onto someone else.

he looks at you again, his gaze softening. “i’ll be there soon, okay?” he promises, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips before disappearing up the stairs.

you stand there in silence, your arms wrapping around yourself instinctively, as if to shield against the invisible judgment that seems to follow you everywhere in this house.

you’re not even sure why you feel this way. it’s not your fault ward doesn’t like you. it’s not even you he doesn’t like. but being in the place of someone who carries so much baggage with him makes it impossible not to take it personally.

you glance toward sarah, who hasn’t moved from her spot near the bar. she doesn’t say anything at first, just looks at you with an unreadable expression. then, with a light shrug, she pulls out a stool and sits down, leaning her elbows on the bar behind her.

“hey,” she says casually, her voice cutting through the quiet, “at least he only left the room this time. you know, instead of muttering something under his breath like he used to.”

your brows furrow, and for a moment, you just stare at her, trying to figure out if she’s serious. she’s smiling, clearly trying to lighten the mood, but her words settle awkwardly in your chest.

you huff, crossing the room and sliding onto the stool next to her. “is that supposed to make me feel better?” you ask, your voice low and a little sharp, though not intentionally.

sarah’s smile falters. her shoulders straighten, and she tilts her head slightly, studying you. “i mean . . .” she starts, but then stops, her frown deepening. “you’re really upset about this, huh?”

you don’t answer right away. you just look down at the polished wood of the bar, tracing an invisible line with your finger.

sarah doesn’t press you for a response. instead, she leans back a little, resting her hands on the edge of the bar. “look,” she says after a moment, her tone softer now, “i know my dad. he’s . . . stubborn. i mean like, painfully stubborn. me and rafe and even wheezie get it from him. but he’ll get over it. he always does. and honestly, he’s kind of stupid if he doesn’t see you for who you really are.”

you glance at her, surprised by the conviction in her voice. “and who am i, exactly?”

sarah smiles, but it’s not the teasing kind you’re used to. it’s thoughtful, almost sad. “you’re someone who loves my brother. and i mean, really loves him. i never thought i’d see that, you know? someone like you, loving someone like rafe.”

your brows knit together, and you shift in your seat, tilting your head. “someone like me?”

she hesitates, her gaze dropping for a second before meeting yours again. “yeah,” she says quietly. “you’re . . . you. independent, smart, ambitious. you don’t take anyone’s crap, not even his. and trust me, he needs that. but more than that, you’ve always been real, like authentic. even when you were kind of a bitch, and sorry, but you were sometimes, you were just . . . lost. we all were.”

her words hit you harder than you expect, and you’re not sure why. maybe it’s because she’s seeing y/n, like really seeing her, in a way that no one else in this house seems to.

“you’ve been one of my best friends for years,” sarah continues, her voice steady but warm. “even when we weren’t as close, i always knew you were still you. and now? now, you’re finding yourself again. and it’s really good to see. even if it took my idiot brother to bring you back.”

you laugh softly, shaking your head. “i don’t know if i’m really ‘back.’”

sarah shrugs, leaning forward on her elbows. “maybe not. but you’re getting there. and honestly, if my dad doesn’t see that? if he doesn’t see how much you love rafe, how much you’re trying? then he’s an even bigger idiot than i thought.”

you can’t help but grin at that, a small, genuine smile tugging at your lips. “that’s your dad you’re talking about.”

“yeah, well,” sarah says, grinning back, “he deserves it sometimes.”

there’s a moment of quiet between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. it’s the kind of silence that feels like an understanding, like a bridge being built.

“and . . . i’m actually, like, so sorry for last week,” you say with a wave of your hand. “for the way i blew up on you. i could’ve handled it so much better, but i didn’t. and that’s on me. i’m trying to do better, to be better, so stuff like that doesn’t happen again.”

sarah’s eyes soften, and she reaches over to place a hand on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “oh my god, y/n, it’s fine,” she says, her tone light and reassuring. “seriously. one argument isn’t going to ruin us. i know you’re trying, and i see it. besides, if we’ve survived rafe’s terrible cooking, i think we can survive anything.”

you can’t help but laugh at that even though the memories aren’t yours, but the tension in your chest is easing just a little. “you’re not wrong,” you play it off, shaking your head.

sarah snorts, leaning back on her stool. “see? we’ve been through worse. and we’re still here.”

then, she straightens up, her expression turning more serious.

“you really are changing, y/n,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “and i like this new version of you. and someday, the whole world’s gonna see it too. especially when we’re traveling to every country, helping everyone, saving who we can.”

you blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift, “traveling.”

sarah nods, her smile returning, though it’s tinged with something bittersweet. “yeah. remember? that stupid plan we made in the eighth grade. i can’t believe i remember that. you and me, seeing the world, doing something that matters. i mean, we’re obviously still doing that, right?”

her words stir something in you, something deep and unspoken. you don’t remember reading about it in the journal, but it feels so warm.

as far as you can tell, in the show it was like sarah’s life was pretty much just figured out for her, as if she’d be stuck in outerbanks all her life but . . . even y/n managed to build plans with her to explore the world. sarah didn’t need some treasure hunting plot, she had y/n.

“yeah,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “we’re still doing that.”

sarah’s smile widens, and before you can say anything else, she leans in, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug. you hesitate for only a second before hugging her back, resting your chin on her shoulder.

but the hug ends too quickly, and not in the way you expect. one second, sarah’s leaning forward, and the next, she’s losing her balance.

you feel yourself teetering backward, your hand instinctively shooting out to steady yourself on the edge of the bar, but it’s no use, sarah’s grip slips, and in her panic, she reaches for the counter.

the sound of glass shattering on the floor is instant. sharp. final.

your heart jumps into your throat as both of you freeze, wide-eyed.

“oh my god,” you whisper, staring at the bar even though you can’t see the damage from where you’re sitting. your mouth falls open, and you glance at sarah, whose face is twisted into a mixture of guilt and disbelief.

“oh my god,” sarah echoes, her voice quieter but no less panicked. she’s leaning over the counter, trying to peek at the mess below, though it’s clear she can’t see anything either.

you don’t know whether to laugh or panic, and for a few seconds, you do neither. you just stare at her, waiting for her reaction.

finally, sarah pulls back and looks at you, her lips pressed into a tight line as if she’s trying to hold it together. but then her expression cracks, and she lets out a breathy, almost defeated laugh.

“okay. okay, this is fine,” she says, more to herself than to you. “i’ll clean it up. just . . . go upstairs, and i’ll meet you up there.”

“are you sure?” you ask, watching as she makes her way across the room toward a neatly hung broom and dustpan set on the wall.

“yes, i’m sure,” she says, already pulling the broom off its hook. “this isn’t my first time breaking something down here. trust me, i’ve got this.”

you chuckle, shaking your head as you stand. “if you say so,” you say, still feeling a little guilty.

you linger for a moment, watching as she starts sweeping up the shards of glass with practiced ease. then, with a final glance over your shoulder, you head for the stairs.

you take the last step cautiously, your hand grazing the banister as your eyes scan the room. that’s when you see him.

rafe is just leaving the kitchen, his broad shoulders disappearing through the sliding glass door that leads to the backyard.

“a’right, i’ll be back,” he calls out, his voice carrying easily through the space. you watch him go, your gaze lingering on the door for a moment before it hits you. you’re not alone.

ward is still in the kitchen. he’s standing at the head of the island, facing you, his hands resting on the countertop. his posture is stiff, almost tense, like he’s deep in thought.

your first instinct is to turn around, to slip quietly into the living room and make your way to the staircase that leads up to rafe’s room. oh, wonder how this’ll play out. if ward’s here, he probably doesn’t want you here.

he doesn’t move at first. his hands rest on the edge of the counter, his gaze cast downward like he’s deep in thought or maybe just tired. for a second, it looks like he’s about to scratch the back of his head and walk away, but he stays rooted in place.

and then, before you can stop yourself, you take a step forward.

“why don’t you like me?”

your voice comes out stronger than you expect, cutting through the silence like a knife.

ward freezes. his head lifts slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with a sharpness that makes your breath hitch. at first, he looks almost offended, his brows pulling together in a way that feels like a warning. but then, slowly, his expression shifts.

he doesn’t say anything.

“no, seriously,” you press, your voice a little shakier now but still firm. “why don’t you like me? for god knows how long, you’ve been nothing but . . . or no, you’ve been literally nothing.”

ward’s gaze doesn’t waver, but there’s something in the way he tilts his head slightly, like he’s listening even if he doesn’t want to.

“i can’t wrap my head around it,” you continue, the words coming faster now. “are we ever going to fix this? or are we just going to live the rest of our lives avoiding each other? because, honestly, it feels like we owe it to the family to at least try to communicate. every time i walk into a room with you, it’s like everything and everyone goes still. and i just— what did i ever do to you?”

your voice cracks on the last word, and you hate it, hate how vulnerable you sound. but you don’t look away. you can’t.

ward’s head lowers slightly, his eyes narrowing as he stares at you. it’s the kind of look a parent gives when they hear something they don’t like. it’s stern, almost disapproving. but you’re just as upset as he is, and you feel like you have every right to be.

he cocks his head toward the island, the motion subtle but deliberate. it takes you a moment to realize he’s gesturing to one of the stools.

“sit down,” he says.

you hesitate, your brows furrowing as you try to gauge his intentions. but then he turns away, walking over to the sink.

you watch as he picks up a towel and starts wiping down a plate. he doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say anything else, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve made a mistake.

still, you move toward the stool, your steps cautious. you settle into it carefully, your shoulders tense but beginning to ease as you watch him work.

finally, ward glances at you out of the corner of his eye. he sets the plate down on the counter, his hand still holding the towel as he speaks.

“i don’t hate you, you know,” he says, his voice calm but firm. his movements are slow, deliberate, like he’s trying to buy himself time before speaking again.

he presses his palms against the edge of the sink, his fingers flexing once before he turns his head slightly in your direction. “and i was wrong,” he says, nodding once like he’s confirming it to himself as much as to you. “i know that.”

your breath catches. of all the things you expected him to say, that wasn’t one of them.

ward turns to face you fully, his expression unreadable but not as closed off as before. you don’t say anything, just watching, waiting, because this conversation, this moment, shouldn’t be happening with you. it should be happening with her.

but it’s not. it’s you. and you don’t know what to do with that.

he sighs, rubbing his fingers together for a moment before crossing his arms over his chest. “i’ve been watching you these past few months,” he admits, his voice quieter now, more measured. “i see you. i see how much you’ve changed.”

you swallow hard, your fingers curling into your palms.

“you’re getting better.” he nods again, almost like he’s convincing himself. “i don’t think i ever said that to you. but i should have. you always had a good heart when you were a kid,” he continues, his voice distant, like he’s remembering. “but somewhere along the way, you lost it.”

“but then you came around,” he says, shaking his head slightly. “and i see that now. and look, i know i’m not the easiest person. i know i have my expectations, and i know that sometimes . . . i hold onto things longer than i should.”

he shakes his head slightly. “but you’ve proven me wrong, y/n.”

your breath catches.

ward looks at you like he’s really seeing you, his expression unreadable but different, not as guarded, not as cold. “i don’t think i’ve ever told you that. and i should have, and i’m sorry.”

your lips part slightly, but you don’t speak. you just wait.

“for a long time, i thought . . .” he pauses, considering his next words carefully. “i thought you were a bad influence on rafe, on the girls. and maybe, back then, you were. but now?” he exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “now, i see that you’re good for him. good for this family.”

“he loves you,” ward continues, his voice steady. “and i know you love him. that means something. that matters.”

your fingers twitch slightly in your lap. you don’t know what to say. you don’t even know if you should say anything.

there’s a beat of silence before he shifts his weight slightly and exhales. “look, i know this week has been . . . a lot,” he says, almost like he’s testing the words before fully committing to them. “but if you’d like, maybe, you could come with us somewhere for a few weeks like we used to when you guys were kids.”

your brows knit together slightly, lips parting in quiet surprise.

“it wouldn’t be for a while, ‘til maybe this summer,” he adds quickly, almost like he’s giving you an out. “but if you wanted to.”

you don’t know what to say. for the first time, ward cameron isn’t just tolerating your presence. he’s inviting you in. holy shit, did you just seal the deal for y/n’s relationship with ward? did you seal the deal for yourself?

ward watches you, waiting, and when you don’t say anything right away, he tilts his head slightly, his brows raising in that way dads do when they’re expecting a response. then he exhales through his nose, almost amused, shaking his head slightly.

“well?” he prompts, voice still firm but with an edge of something lighter, something that almost sounds like patience.

you blink. you don’t know what to say, but ward is still looking at you, expectant but not forceful. so you swallow the hesitation in your throat and nod slightly. “yeah,” you say softly. “forgiven . . . thank you. for everything.”

his lips press together, and he gives a single nod, like he’s acknowledging the weight of those words. then, after a beat, he pats his palm against the counter once, as if sealing the conversation.

sarah steps onto the main floor, glancing behind her as if making sure the basement isn’t suddenly going to collapse after the mess she just cleaned up, only to immediately pause.

her eyes flicker between you and her dad, seated at the island, not avoiding each other, not silently pretending the other doesn’t exist.

she hesitates, like she’s unsure if she walked in at the wrong time or if she’s even in the right house. her brows furrow, her nose scrunches slightly.

“what’s going on?” her voice is like she’s caught onto something she wasn’t meant to see.

before you or ward can even think of an answer, the sound of the sliding door from the backyard shifts open, and rafe’s voice cuts in, casual and unaware. “hey, dad, i couldn’t find the—” he starts, stepping inside, but he slows his pace almost immediately when his eyes land on the scene in front of him.

his gaze flickers between you and ward, then to sarah, like maybe she’ll have some kind of explanation, but she’s just as clueless as he is. still, there’s something almost amused in her expression, like she’s already piecing things together faster than her brother.

rafe, on the other hand, looks at the two of you like this is some kind of elaborate prank. his lips part slightly, his head tilts, brows drawing together in that signature confused-cameron look.

ward, ever the composed one, is the first to break the silence. he leans back slightly, hands resting on the island as he shifts his attention to his kids. “we were just talking,” he says simply, though there’s an unmistakable ease to his voice that wasn’t there before.

sarah’s eyes narrow slightly, suspicious, but there’s a flicker of something impressed there too. rafe, still playing catch-up, shakes his head slightly, trying to process whatever the hell he just walked into.

before either of them can dig into it further, ward smoothly changes the subject. “what movie are you guys thinking for tonight?” he asks, his tone light, almost casual.

you barely have a moment to process the shift before he turns to you. “y/n, why don’t you help me with the snacks?”

it’s not a question, it’s an invitation. a surprising, unexpected invitation.

rafe reacts immediately, jerking his head back like he just got whiplash. “what?” he blurts out, pure disbelief coloring his tone.

your eyebrows shoot up, equally taken aback, but you catch the tiniest hint of a smirk tugging at sarah’s lips, like she’s already reading into this moment and what it means.

still, you nod, pushing yourself up from the stool, hesitating only for a second before making your way around the counter to where ward stands. as you pass rafe, you send him a look, a silent, wide-eyed ‘oh my god’ look, and he just blinks at you, still visibly struggling to compute whatever the hell is happening.

ward, unfazed, reaches up into a cabinet, searching for something. “hey, sar, rafe,” he calls, his voice even. “can you two set up the movie and let rose and wheezie know to be downstairs in . . .” he pauses mid-sentence, then glances toward you as if waiting for confirmation on a time.

you shrug slightly, guestimating. “fifteen minutes?”

ward nods, turning back to his kids. “fifteen minutes,” he repeats, and with that, he resumes rummaging through the cabinet for the right bowls.

sarah takes a step back first, but not before glancing at rafe, her expression absolutely gloating. she doesn’t say anything, but the way she tilts her head, the way her brows lift slightly, it’s enough to tell him, this is happening.

rafe exhales sharply, shakes his head in disbelief, and finally turns toward the living room, muttering something under his breath about how this is going to take some getting used to.

and just like that, the dynamic shifts. for the first time since you’ve been here, something feels different. maybe even . . . right.

tags ── @v2los @cosmixstar @meeuhsworld @lilithblackkk @rovckwells @cherrylooney @iissza @namelesslosers @cocolovey @rafeyswrd @odairtrqsh @gretag13 @vivian-555 @lunaleah @smol-coffee-addict @twinge-vix @drewsephrry @avngrssckr @cali-888 @simpingcorner @nymphetkoo @pinkpantheris @ilyrafe @romaescapes @thereallifebambi @rafesweetie @faephoria @solo-pitstop-vibes @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @sgecorrow @rafesgiirl @ravisinghs-wife @booksntings @tinyfairies @maybankslover @honeyluvsatj @darleneslane @alysaaaa444 @w4nnabeurs @thewrittenpodcast @watersquirtpewpewboomm @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @benbarneslut @illicit-affcirs @helo1281917 ++

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