#because that IS in the books and felt like one of the more truthful parts of armand's recollection to me

[pynkhues]

I've loved that scene with the twins, i'm glad i'm not the only one who felt some sexual tension between the brothers and Lestat lol. I don't know if it was because Lestat was really hungry and just wanted to eat them or was actually attracted to them but there was a vibe- and they totally were into him too lol. (Someone needs to write a fic when Louis changes his mind and instead they have foursome with good Matthew and Mark hahaha).

But yeah, i agree we can't rely on the books wrt the types of relationship they will have. Book Lestat definitely was not "a monogamist at heart" as Sam called him. One of his more endearning traits was his ability to love so intensely and falling in love with everyone and everything. The fact that he loved David and Armand didn't take anything from his love for Louis. I think he genuinely loved them just as much-even if in a different way. Imo, all the book vampires are capable of the true polyamory in a way that very few humans are capable of practicing. Adding a sexual element change a lot about these characters and their dynamics.

I think the show vampires are way more human than the book ones: they can eat, smoke and have sex so it makes sense that they'd be less forgiving and more prone to jealousy. I admit that i'm a little disappointed that the show seems to downplay every other relationship to prop up loustat (they did it with loumand and i'm sure it'll be the same with lesmand and nickstat) but Rolin wanted to base the whole show on the gothic romance between two vampires and it is what it is. So yeah, I don't expect Lestat to have any other love interests besides Louis. I also don't think Louis will stay single for as long as everyone think haha.

(x)

Oh, I think he was definitely attracted to them, and I think the show was also kind of using it as a bit of a tease / set-up to the future incest of the show too - same with Armand's threesome with the father-and-son within the coven. It's just a neat little detail to wink to where we're going. I also think the Mardi Gras Ball was always planned as a night of all out depravity to farewell New Orleans, so leaning into the sexuality / carnality of feeding ahead of - - y'know - - all the murders, haha, makes sense to me.

And yeah, I agree about the books having more of a genuine sense of polyamory to them, and other relationships being downplayed (although I think Nicki might not be, if for no other reason than the fact that he's dead and marks no threat to Lestat and Louis' love story). It's an interesting thing in a lot of ways, because so much of the Rue Royale era in the books is Louis still being so close to his human life and Lestat trying to live one on Marius' instruction after never really having gotten to live one in his mortality. It lends itself to a more quote-unquote 'traditional' romance and family unit with Claudia, even if that family wasn't actually traditional at all between Louis and Lestat both being men, and then the incest between Louis and Claudia. It kind of goes back to the perversion of the family unit as a vital part of both gothic horror and the Milton's Satan character archetype that I've talked about before.

In that sense though, the books move further and further away from 'traditional' romance and relationships as the characters are moved further and further away from their humanity. They transcend a human existence, and a need for human ideologies, and honestly, I just don't think that's a thread that Rolin and the writers are super interested in, at least not in the way the books were? In fact, so far, I think what the writers seem to be most interested in is how you do find the human within the monster, and a lot of that seems to be about grounding them in relationships, not just to one another but to places and things. It's why Louis' return to New Orleans resonates so much, as well as his hanging of Paul's portrait and Claudia's dress - it's that reconnection to his own humanity and self that Louis denies himself in his isolation in Dubai.

It's a departure from the book in a lot of ways, and it's a tricky one because I think we gain as much as we lose as viewers? Like we are going to miss out on things like the polyamory and exploration of different romantic relationships, but I think we're also going to get an enriched exploration of who these characters are in this version of the story and as a result a really passionate, heightened gothic love story. Like God, look at the difference already between book Louis and the show's Louis, but yeah, I totally get being disappointed too - there's definitely parts of me that are, even though I'm overall pretty content with the changes if not outright happy. It's the nature, I think, of a good adaptation.

[svnnykokoro]

I'm sorry the tags are so long and so many lmao

cats is a great example of a show that doesn't work as a movie because all of the magic of it is in the live performance (the costumes, the dance numbers, the absurdity of it all) and dear evan hansen is a great example of a show that doesn't work as a movie because the show sucks

[crookedfandomquill]

This is very situational, and sadly may not be realistic for everyone, but I need y’all to understand that a very important part of political activism is fucking talking to your conservative or moderate friends and family.

My dad voted for Trump in 2016. He’s a middle class white evangelical from Arkansas. He raised me with conservative Christian values, just like his parents raised him. When he voted Trump, he was holding his nose, but he didn’t feel too bad about it, and went on to vote red down the ticket in the 2018 midterms, as well.

But I started college in 2017. Higher education and independence changed everything for me, and I went home over holidays and summers with fire in my belly and a thousand arguments ready at the drop of a hat, to my father’s dismay.

I remember crying in my room after emotional, intense arguments with him. I told him over and over that I felt betrayed by his choice to vote for a man who admitted to sexually assaulting women, who built his platform on dehumanizing immigrants and the disabled, who spread overtly-racist rhetoric, who flouted the values of kindness and self-discipline that I’d been raised on. And my dad always had some justification about the “greater good”: fighting against abortion, bolstering the economy, getting other Christian politicians into office.

But over time, as we grew further apart and I lost my will to discuss anything with him at all, he softened. He started asking me why I thought the way I did about the things we disagreed about. He would listen to my answers without interruption, and mull them over afterward instead of expressing his own opinion. And all the while, he watched the Trump presidency become cruel and absurd and devastating.

The first time he openly expressed regret to me, I had come home for a weekend after Kavanaugh was confirmed to SCOTUS. My dad realized he had helped elect a man who preyed on women… and that man had opened the door to more predators. I can’t tell you what it felt like for him to admit that he’d made a mistake, not just in voting for Trump but in defending him for so long. We kept arguing, but it was more debating than fighting. I knew he was capable of seeing my side of things, even if it took a while, and he knew I wasn’t just a sensitive college student with shallow new ideas about the world.

And then 2020 hit. Specifically, George Floyd was murdered, and the events that followed played out on the national stage. My dad was incredibly shaken by it. He asked me if I had any books from college about racial issues. I loaned him The New Jim Crow, one of the required readings for my Race and the Law class. Then I gave him Just Mercy. Then he watched the documentary 13th. Then he joined a racial harmony group he learned about through one of the few Black families at our church and insisted our whole family come. He held up signs at a protest against Confederate monuments in our conservative southern town. In three years, he went from defending Trump’s comments about “Black-on-Black crime” to publicly advocating for racial justice and opposing the death penalty.

We went together to vote in the 2020 primaries. I couldn’t help asking who he’d voted for; I didn’t even know if he’d asked for the Republican or Democratic ticket. He admitted he’d voted for Bernie. fucking. Sanders, then made me promise not to tell my grandma he’d voted liberal. When the election rolled around in November, he voted Biden. I’m sure he held his nose to do it, just like he held his nose voting in 2016. But I know he doesn’t regret it.

I am, of course, unbelievably lucky to have a parent who loved me enough, and was empathetic enough, to choose his relationship with me over his strongly-held opinions. He kept searching for truth because, as much as he’ll deny it, he’s a very smart and curious person. No degree of intelligence or curiosity makes you immune to propaganda, especially if you were raised not to question the party line. It’s easy to dismiss our conservative, conspiracy-pilled loved ones as stupid, hypocritical, and cruel. Sometimes they are. But sometimes they aren’t. Sometimes they will bend to keep their relationships from breaking. Sometimes, if they can be made to understand that their beliefs and actions are harming someone they love, they will make concessions. And sometimes they just need one person in their life to put a foot down, to be vulnerable and assertive and argumentative, to bring the impact of their politics close to home.

As the most important election of our lifetimes approaches, do not put peace over progress. If you have someone like my dad, someone who is good-willed and smart and loves you more than their own opinions, tell them how you feel. Tell them what their choices will mean for you, for your friends, for your community. Tell them what they could lose: your trust, your affection, your respect. Don’t avoid conflict if it could be productive. Because my conflict with my dad didn’t just win him over–it won over my moderate mom and one of my conservative brothers. And it put us in community with other like-minded people and led my parents to a healthier and kinder faith.

All of this to say, there is hope in conflict. There is hope in our relationships with people who think differently from us. There is hope in exposing your fear and anger and pain to people you love. And hope is a form of activism.

[voidhope]

The Other Woman

(Part 2 FINALE)

—

Synopsis: Miguel had left Y/N for another version of his old wife in hopes of getting his old life back. To only realize the mistakes he’s made.

Link to Part 1

Pair: Miguel O’Hara x Spider!reader

Warnings: very heavy mental health, ANGST LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, ALL OF THIS IS ANGST, mentions of death/almost dying, long term establish relationship, cheating, swearing, therapy, physical fight, blood, feral protective miguel?

—

A/N: hello again! this one is more heartbreaking and longer than the first part oof… Very low dialog up until closer towards the end! wanted to just get through telling the story itself and the emotions. It’s just a very heavy storyline!! I want to say thank you so so much for showing so much support for part 1 i had no idea it would receive that much attention :O !! i wrote this out kinda fast as i didn’t want to loose the momentum of the idea. so apologies for any mistakes! all feedback is greatly appreciated ~

—————————————————

You used to make Miguel coffee everyday, with one cream two sugars, and he would nag about how he hated the taste. It was to your liking, not his. As you would sneakily take sips out of his mug while working next to him. Why didn’t you just get your own coffee? You claimed you could never finish it and just wanted a taste out of his. Miguel would roll his eyes at you every time he caught you but he adored it. He had secretly grown to love the way you made it and had become his only way of making coffee after meeting you.

Now as this version of his older wife made it the way he is suppose to like coffee, bland and straight, he found himself bothered by it. Going as far to correct her even though this was what he had been claiming to have missed so much. He was now seeing himself teaching someone else how to love him like you did…

He was only a shell of the man he was when he had Gabriella. Even though the copy of his old wife has her same personality, the relationship couldn’t be exactly how it was before because he had changed so much. You had helped him become whole again. His tastes and likings had all switched to everything about you. The charm he found in his old wife doesn’t hold a light to you now and he was getting frustrated. He had wanted this so badly. He felt like those babies who whine and cry wanting to eat a lemon and once they get their way they realize the sour truth.

Miguel never truly realized what it was like to loose you until three weeks after he told you the truth. Over the years the idea of losing you terrified him but he only ever thought of it being in death. He never considered separation when everything was perfect for both of you then. There were times he believed that you were made just for him and he treated you like his queen. Which you truly were to him in his spider society. Why would he ever throw that away? Look at what he did.

He gave himself every excuse in the book before you knew he was cheating on you. ‘This is only for research.’ he would think every time he found himself back in that universe. As everyone knew he was so serious about his work, obviously this is just him getting to know more about certain universes and canons. Lyla was the only one seeing straight through him knowing where he was actually going. Things kept tumbling and the more he found out about the place and spent time with her the more his grief and yearning returned. It was all just there, so reachable.

There was a time his mind tried to snap him back out of it while cheating on you and made him realize the guilt. The first time he kissed this woman you were there in his mind. He came home right after and held you without saying a word. You never questioned him, just showed him comfort as much as you could. Lightly stroking his back, you never over stepped or pushed him when he was vulnerable with you. He only closed his eyes and held onto you tighter processing how you were always too good for him. He was converting to living two different lives; his old self during the day and then coming home to you. He didn’t want to let go of either at the time.

Once he found out he could safely have Gabriella again was when he became distant with you. The shame of using you for research made him become stoic. He didn’t want to admit how wrong he was treating you. All while you were always being so loyal and trusting towards him. Things were slowly slipping through the cracks and he knew he couldn’t up keep it. He wished he could have had that conversation with you so much differently but it was over. Now he had his old life back, a dream he had his mind set on.

He ignored the shakiness in his hands when he returned to her after letting you go. ‘It’s all for the best.’ is what he would repeat in his mind as a mantra. His new girlfriend truly had no idea who he really was or what his background was. Miguel continued to feed her lies to the point where he even started believing them himself getting too lost in avoiding what he’s done. He believed he was happy as he spent time with her.

When she got too close to finding the truth after finding his wedding ring in one of his pockets, he set her off course from it by revealing his spider identity and taking her to HQ. This was the day that everything felt like it was crashing around him. Being reminded of his marriage, having to face his friends with his new lover, sharing his personal spider life, his work with someone who wasn’t you. He excused himself rushing to an unused office room while his chest was tightening. Pupils dilating as he realized it was his first time having a panic attack.

Nevertheless he continued to push it all aside and act completely normal with his girlfriend. He was feeling your absence the most while working. You had became an extension of him. He had trained you from scratch and you helped him build this society he has now. You knew the ins and outs of everything and fought perfectly alongside him. Now that he was on his own he let his girlfriend be there for him when he got stressed, but there always was a knot in his stomach he never could get rid of.

The more his mental health ate at him late at night the more he considered searching out for you. There was no closure between both of you and he never got to listen to how you feel. What was your opinion on all that happened? Do you hate him?

He wanted to speak with someone so badly but he dug himself in a hole too deep. You were gone, he was lying through his teeth to this poor woman he’s kept for some fantasy, he felt too ashamed to say anything to his friends, he would rather die if all his workers found out how big of a piece of shit he is. Anytime Lyla tried peeping a word that wasn’t work related he would snap. He had pushed everyone away and now he just felt alone.

Regardless he would wake up in the morning and swallow all his dark feelings. He would remember his grief of when he lost his family and it would put him back in the moment. He has another chance. He was happy with the direction he was going in now.

Right?

—

The day he found out you were at HQ he felt his heart stop. He was mid mission trying to call for Lyla but she wouldn’t answer. Frustrated he tried looking into what was happening only to see her busy having a conversation with you. It felt like something took over him when he opened a portal in less than a second. Without thinking nor wasting a heartbeat he rushed back. Just a glimpse of you, maybe just to hear a word out of your mouth. The feeling of having you back in HQ was making him ignore all his insecurities. How he would coward at the thought of trying to reach out to you before. You were in his home, your home, and the thought drove him wild.

You were already long gone though. Lyla stared at him not saying a word. The quietness in the room making his ears ring but his thoughts were screaming in his head. He stood there frozen still trying to recollect himself. He was the one that left you, what is wrong with him?

Again he went back and forth in his own head trying to convince himself ‘You wanted this.’ but if he did why is he feeling like someone just killed a puppy in front of him? Why is he here fighting with his self if this is really his dream? Why did he try chasing after you? The wounds of his past grief were too deep. He never took the time to properly heal and now look at what he’s become.

“Miguel, what’s this?” He was startled turning around seeing his girlfriend holidng your watch and skimming through the divorce paperwork addressed to him.

There was no more hiding, no more lying. He swallowed hard even though his throat was dry. He let everything he had kept away rise to surface. It hurt him to see the beautiful face his old wife shared contort into such anger and pain while finding the truth.

She didn’t stay, but for some reason he wasn’t upset. Though he longed for his daughter, he knew it would have never been the same now. He finally closed the door on his past. His heart had made the choice this time but it’s too late. Now grasping onto the divorce papers left by you, emptiness spread through his soul.

—

You on the other hand did not find yourself crying by yourself on a rooftop for long. The shift in the air from your arrival alerted the local spider-man immediately.

“It didn’t work out, did it?” He crouched down next to you as he noticed your watch gone and your missing wedding band.

Peter Parker knew both you and Miguel. Your husband had come to do many rounds of research in this universe when he took you. Eventually offering this Peter a spot in the society, which he politely declined due to just being busy enough here. You both never spoke much but always had an appreciation for each other.

“Do you need a place to crash at?” He continued while trying to get you to look at him. Reaching his hand towards you.

You had absolutely no one and you had been gone so long you couldn’t even go back to the little you had. When you met Miguel you didn’t hesitate to never look back and now it filled you with regret. How naive were you to put all your trust and reliance on him.

You took Peter’s hand. You were ready to start your own life and be your own person now.

—

Peter Parker was nice enough to let you stay with him as long as you needed it. You both had became ‘besties!’ as he would love to poke at you. The first month with him you were a disaster really but he showed you how he liked to cope using his spider abilities.

The first thing he helped you with was getting a new suit. Your old one resembled too much to Miguel’s and you felt suffocated every time you put it on. Peter had taught you to use your current emotional pain on whichever sad little villain was making trouble out in Brooklyn that night.

“Come on, we got multiverse spider-woman helping me keep these streets clean now!” He would taunt at the men while watching you easily take them out a little bit too aggressively. His feet kicking up and down while he sat on the side of a building watching you. The crime rate did go down a bit once word got around how strong your punch was. Peter’s just happy he can now spend some nights to himself.

You got yourself a job at the mart on the corner to help cover bills for Peter and save up. You were grateful enough the owners never batted an eye when you would disappear during a shift to either suddenly go cry uncontrollably or beat the shit out of someone at a nearby robbery. Next thing you were enrolling yourself back in university, wanting to finish that degree you never did.

It wasn’t too long that some of your older spider friends would stop by to check in on you. Seeing them was difficult sometimes, you were internally itching to ask about Miguel. Things were going okay for you on a very slow path of breathing step by step. You never wanted to feel that hurt again and so you very well pretend like Miguel didn’t exist if you could.

You couldn’t ignore the hurt resurfacing when you passed couples on the street. Or when you found yourself going to fidget with your wedding ring just to remember it’s gone. You can’t just move on from a relationship that was so deeply apart of you and lasted so long. You gave everything to him and it will take you much time to get yourself to build trust again.

After two semesters, you finally had your graduation. All the things you learned while in Earth-928 paid off as you barley had to study. Passing top of the class, you immediately got an offer for an internship opportunity with Alchemax and was able to get an introduction tour of the building beforehand.

What you hadn’t realized was that Alchemax had been looking for that girl who snuck into their offices a couple years ago. Who made another dimension’s spider appear and then went missing herself soon after. They had kept as close tabs on you as they could and how foolish you were to think your little break in wouldn’t come back to bite you. The moment you stepped foot back in their building, it was over for you.

—

Miguel had spent a whole year in much deserving therapy. Nothing could stop the embarrassment he felt when Peter B signed him up with HQ’s best spider-therapist after 3 months of constant out bursts. No one could come near the man when he felt like he had lost everything. Those first initial months were difficult for everyone around him.

Therapy did help, he hates to admit it, but it was a very rough ride. He finally was able to understand his deep inner term oil and heal his issues but moving on from you? No, he could never.

You were the only one who had sincerely stood by his side, always rooting for him. He never fell out of love with you despite of everything that he did. He just pushed everything down too deep and was blinded by obsession. Till now he could never deny that he still loves you. Maybe if he just would have went to therapy years ago instead of acting out on unsolved grief none of this would have happened. The guilt always making him toss and turn at night.

He would have big temper tantrums when he would find his coworkers going to visit you time to time and not sharing any details. He needed to know if you’re okay. Did you already move on? He longed to find you and speak with you but he knew he wasn’t ready yet. He was so self destructive and this was what he deserved.

Everyone avoided him completely when he overheard someone saying you were living with Peter Parker. Fighting crime with him and having a cute little home life. Peter followed you around now like a puppy. Miguel did not take the news well at all. Let’s just say, the large bill replacement for his monitor screens was what snapped him out of that rage.

He also wanted to strangle Hobie Brown every time he saw a glint in his eye when your name was mentioned around. Yet Miguel couldn’t hate the kid either, as Hobie was one of the people to try help repair the damage he did to you. How badly he just wanted to hold you and shield you in his arms from any other people taking you from him as if he wasn’t the idiot to let you go in the first place.

Everyone’s big, powerful, scary boss was really just a grumpy, wallowing-in-self-pity, sensitive, lonely man now. Mention your name too much to him and watch him start crying or take it out on whatever he could find nearest to him. He would some nights scroll through your wedding photos while listening to your last tracked log with Lyla. Your words cutting through him deep like long sharp knives. How he urged to go tell you it was all wrong and how guilty he was for making you feel like this.

Despite it all, he still believed in being the best of the best. He used his work to distract himself from his sorrows, to become numb. Even though his divorce paperwork were set next to him on his desk to remind him the pain. He never signed it.

—

“We can’t tell him!” Jessica gritted through her teeth. Small group of spider-people were hovered around Lyla taking in the new found information.

“Her canon events have always been uncertain, we can’t just stop and fix this one?” Gwen Stacy suggested in hopes.

“We have never prevented a canon event of hers or the people involved in it. It could be even more dangerous than a regular canon.” Peter B spoke grimly.

“When ‘as danger ever stopped us?” Hobie spoke up.

“Everyone get your gear.” Lyla added to the stress of the situation.

—

You couldn’t open your eyes properly with a strong blinding light being held above you. Arms and legs secured on top of a metal surgical table. You could feel the warmth of blood scattered on certain parts of your body, slowly starting to dry. It was a mix of yours and the people you had tried fighting through to get out of here when you realize the trap you were reeled into. Different people in lab coats poked and pried all around you while you were tied. Your mask was thrown on another table and your suit had large gashes across it.

Soon you also could feel the presence of Peter Parker being brought to the room, thrown slumped in the corner breathing heavily. They had gotten you too good. They knew everything and had planned this so detailed.

“Now you’re going to help me open the multiverse.” Kingpin loomed around you. All you could feel was searing pain as a laser aimed right at your chest.

—

Miguel was already staring out the window to the glowing night lights of Nueva York when he saw a big hole appear in sight of the skyline. His eyebrows furrowed while he was trying to process what he was looking at. It wasn’t a second later when all alarms started going off in his office.

“Qué carajos?” He exclaimed seeing the alerts of a possible universe collapse. “Lyla! Why wasn’t this being taken care of already?”

“I already sent people.”

“Then what are they doing?” He yelled. His confusion and anger only furthered when he saw a red alarm for a canon event.

“Canon event?” He whispered to himself. He always knew when these were happening, there were none scheduled for today. There was no way he would let one passed him, it’s not like this could magically appear? His jaw dropped in realization… a new canon event.

“Lyla, tell me the truth. Why wasn’t this reported to me?” He made the atmosphere turn cold. She knew he already figured it out.

“A new canon event was received this morning being given to Peter Parker. Of Y/N L/N’s death.” The words from Lyla made Miguel’s body go still. His eyes raced side to side while he processed it.

“No!” He roared, a fist slamming into the nearby desk. His massive strength breaking it in half.

“Boss, you can’t go on this mission only using your emotions.” Lyla warned. However Miguel was already half way stepping through a portal to find you.

He appeared, watching his team struggle to shut down the machine causing the collapse. Outnumbered by the amount of Alchemax puppets. A different kind of rage filled him as he saw you, for the first time in a year, suffering. Miguel was never one to act reckless while on missions but he had no plan here and just ran off the pure adrenaline the fight or flight had hit him with.

His claws tore into the backs of his enemies as he jumped beast-like across the room. Not hesitating spilling blood across the wall while he took everyone down as fast as he could. His team could only watch wide eye with an unsettling fear as they saw Miguel lose himself to his spider sense. While he fought they took the opportunity to take apart the machine.

Miguel was panting heavily, pupils blown wide glowing red, and fangs dripping with venom as the room slowly silenced. Kingpin laid on the floor slowly trying to drag himself after being beaten to a pulp. It was over. Peter B stopped him from doing anything further. Knowing Miguel would kill the man, Peter B let the team finish up to give Kingpin to authorities. Miguel turned frantically to look at you seeing the other spiders step away. Peter Parker was hunched over you in tears. Miguel fought the urge to snap at Peter and grab his hands off of you.

Your vision was too blurry and everything felt like it was burning. A shape that seemed too familiar came into your peripheral vision and you tried to push yourself up.

“Miguel?” Was the last thing you croaked before slumping back passing out. Miguel catching you in his arms before you could hurt yourself further.

“It’s her time.” Jessica spoke behind him. Yet he was refusing to let go. He had never defied the way the timeline worked since he created his society. He would never break the rules and you both had promised each other before not to. If there was a situation like this you both agreed to save the universe first. How stupid was he to think he would listen to that now facing it in-front of him.

He never got to tell you what happened. He never got to apologize. He never got to tell you one more time that he loved you. Even if you in result just spat in his face, at least he was able to talk to you one more time. You were never a placeholder or someone to fill a hole in his heart. His whole heart belonged to you and he couldn’t let you go thinking you didn’t mean anything to him. No matter the consequences, he needed to tell you.

“Call all the teams to control the damage of a possible universe collapse.” He turned to Jess with Y/N tightly in his arms. The spider-people watched speechless as he opened a portal and disappeared.

—

—

—

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—

—

—

—

—

Two weeks you laid motionless in the HQ’s medbay.

The clean up after breaking the canon was a little intense. They were able to get it under control as the event started to fade from your timeline once you were returned and starting to heal in Earth-928.

The spider society would remain silent near the medbay. The lights always being dimmed and hushed whispers between staff to not bother the distressed O’Hara. He refused to leave.

Your Peter Parker had now joined the team, much to Miguel’s dismay. Everyday your friends would come in and check to see how you were. Some telling stories about their day or any gossip updates you missed, in hopes that it would get you to wake up. They would ignore the gloomy Miguel who was basically glued to the seat next to you not saying a word to anyone.

At night Miguel would play with your fingers and softly stroke your hair all while pleading “Please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me. Por favor mi alma.” He knew it wasn’t his place to beg this after what he did, but he didn’t mind the words falling on deaf ears.

Miguel hadn’t eaten in days, he felt too nauseous from anxiety to even try anything. Pavitr had done the favor to bring you and Miguel’s favorite empanadas from a small street vendor downtown. Hoping to get Miguel to at least try the food before he ended up in a hospital bed next to you due to starvation.

You started to blink open your eyes, spots surrounding your vision. You could hear a soft breathing to your right side and you slowly felt your sense come back one by one. It felt like you just had a really rough nap.

“Oh my god that smells so good.” You moaned, sitting yourself up to try to look at where the smell of food was coming from.

You were met with a wide eyed Miguel holding a box of empanadas. His jaw slacked open acting as if he’s seen a ghost looking at you. Confusion hit you first for a second and then you start to panic.

Why was he here? Why was your ex-husband sitting right here? You started to push away from him and Miguel caught on to your panic.

“No, no, no mi amor stop.” He tried calming you. “You’re hurt, you’re going to open your stitches.”

You suddenly remembered everything that happened right before you blacked out. At that moment you forgot the hurt you had towards your ex-lover. Gathering yourself you just stared at him. “I’m suppose to be dead.”

Tears rimmed your eyes. Why did it feel like life just hated you so much?

Miguel engulfed you in his arms as you started to cry. You didn’t care right now. You had ached for this feeling again, so alone, with the comfort Miguel used to bring you. Just for a moment you could pretend like how it was before.

“We can’t do this Miguel.”

He knew what you were thinking. He didn’t want to let you leave his arms yet, as he let his self hold harder and push your head closer into his the crook of his shoulder. The tickle of your breath on his neck, he just wanted this forever.

“She left. Almost a year ago.” He let out to you. A big weight coming off of his chest. You pulled back from him and looked up into his eyes while you watched him avoid your gaze. You felt bad to say you could feel a bit of satisfaction bubbling in you.

“Good, she deserved better.”

“So did you.” Miguel sighed playing with his hands. Your eyes widened when you saw the ring still on his finger. He let you stare. “I-I could never. I couldn’t.” The emotions struggle to come out of his mouth. You understood him though. You always did. Placing your hand on top of his you just nodded.

“Please stay here.” He whispered.

Miguel had broken you in so many ways. Yet he almost ruined another universe just to keep you alive. You both needed time to talk and coming out a coma right now isn’t good timing.

“I finally became my own person when I went back in my universe. I enjoyed my independence.” The words pelleted at him. He could only hold his breath as he waited for you to continue. “I’ll stay… but not for you.”

It wounded him deeply; but he deserved it. This place will always be a home for you even if he wasn’t apart of it. Before he can tear his gaze and turn away, you reached out to hold his face close to yours. Your fingers gently rubbing on his cheeks as you slowly look at him properly after so long. You let your thumb smooth over his frown lines and he leaned into your touch closing his eyes.

“Let’s give us time.” Was the words you blessed that opened every door of hope he could find. He would take it, he would absolutely take it. He has to fight for you, he has to prove to you. He would do anything but for now he’ll be on his best patiently waiting for you.

Both of you sat comfortably without speaking, only the faint background beeps of the hospital monitor making up for the silence, while passing small glances. For once both of you felt a missing warmth you didn’t realize you needed. Sharing empanadas with each other, just maybe it will be alright…

—————————————————

The end!!! Thank you so so much for your time in reading my story. i really really was so happy with all the comments and feedback on pt 1 it really meant a lot!!!

i hope this was ok ~ i apologize for how long it was i was thinking of doing another part but just wanted to finish this up. I was in such a conflict how to end this. i hope it wasn’t too cliche or anything i’m just a sucker for very wanty needy dramatic stories. It’s a hopeful ending tho~ i couldn’t pick with just happy or sad.

So many of you had tons of amazing suggestions which I appreciated so much. I was such a mess trying to figure it all out. Many of you wanted to see Y/N move on with another person but I ended up going this route. I used Peter Parker as an obv character in y/n’s universe but it’s not tied to any specific one and you guy can think of him more to your liking if you want to!

If any of you would like a small drabble or imagine of another route of this story or just anything angsty/possessive and rarwrarwbarkbark miguel. I’d be glad to help lol!! My request box is wide open~ i had so much fun writing this!

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[ohbueckers]

THROUGH THE WALLS. paige bueckers

description. teammates who’ve never gotten along. but when you’re stuck sharing a dorm with paige bueckers—and she brings someone new home every night—it’s hard not to feel like the walls are closing in. tired of playing nice, you decide to get under her skin… in more ways than one.

includes. SMUT & about five scenes of plot building up to it (sorry, they’re not too long). player paige! scissoring, fingering, edging, etc… i’m not even sure anymore lol.

a/n. first one shot since finishing hoaw and i got carried away… (there’s a drought)? also new theme that took me forever to love, and a new writing style because all the lowercase was beginning to pmo.

It starts as it always does.

A different night, a different girl. You couldn’t count on one hand the amount of times you let someone filter through and wanted to tell them they weren’t the only one. You’d think during the season Paige’s amount of one-night stands would decrease… and well, you’d be wrong.

It’s been this way since your transfer. You’ve gotten along just fine with the rest of the team, even clicking quickly with some of them, including one of her best friends, Azzi. But Paige? Paige has been a different story entirely. It was like something about you set her off, though she never outright said it. She didn’t need to. You could feel it.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. That her opinion of you was inconsequential, that you could live perfectly fine without her approval. But the truth was, it gnawed at you. Paige Bueckers wasn’t exactly a hard person to get along with—at least, not from what you’d seen with the others. She was charismatic, charming even. A natural leader.

She gave you nothing at all. You weren’t sure what you’d done to warrant it. Maybe it was something you said during your first practice, or maybe it was just who you were. Whatever the reason, Paige made it clear you weren’t worth her time.

You sat up in your bed, cross-legged under the covers as you flipped through the pages of a book you barely had the time to read anymore. From practices, games, away games, classes you had to take in order to finish your masters degree, the only time you had reserved for yourself—and well, the noises of Paige and her newest toy, were these late nights, alone in your bedroom.

You shuffled, turning to your side as you propped yourself up on your elbow. Your TV wasn’t doing much to hide the fact that Paige seemed to flaunt it, like she knew you were there, in the room just next door, forced to listen to it all.

Then, the door to Paige’s room creaked open. You didn’t have to look up to know it was her, that familiar sound of the latch turning, the soft shuffle of feet as she slipped out with Ms. Girl-Of-The-Week in tow. You kept your eyes trained on the page, trying to lose yourself in the book, but the sounds grew louder.

Muffled laughter that was too loud to not be intentional, and the subtle scruff of sneakers, or maybe slippers that indicated she was probably about to leave. Your fingers froze mid-turn when they stopped right outside your door.

Paige’s voice was unmistakable. Her gruff Minnesota accent that was too close for comfort. You narrowed your eyes toward your locked door. You could almost hear the smirk in her tone as she murmured something, followed by a soft, breathy kiss—almost like they hadn’t been doing just that the entirety of the night. “Are you serious?” you mumbled to yourself.

The sound of lips meeting lingered, and you felt an inexplicable heat rise in your chest—part frustration, part something else you couldn’t quite place.

It didn’t last long. Their footsteps retreated to the front door, and you were left behind in silence. Finally, right?

You forced yourself to go back to the book, but the words didn’t make sense anymore.

“Yo, Nik! Bet you can’t make this shot with your eyes closed!”

“She can barely make it with her eyes open.”

The taunt came from Aaliyah, who was lounging on the bleachers with her sneakers propped up on the rail. Nika immediately took it as a challenge, and you immediately took it as a sign to get out of there before she made everyone stick around until she made it. Post practice was always your favorite. Some of the team had already dispersed to the locker room showers, claiming that the gym was too hot and humid to linger around any longer, and well, you couldn’t blame them. Your shirt was sticking to your back, sweat making every movement feel like a little more effort than it should.

“Don’t miss,” Azzi called out from next to you.

“We’re gonna be here all day,” you muttered, dodging a hit from a jaw-gaped Azzi who fully believes Nika is capable. You giggle, moving to the far end of the bleachers where you’d placed your stuff at the start of practice, grabbing a sweat towel and wiping your forehead.

From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Paige. She was off the court now, towel draped around her neck, eyes scanning the gym. It didn’t take long for her to lock onto something—or rather, someone.

Her latest fling, you’re sure. She waltzed into the gym, holding a neatly folded item of clothing you’re sure is a pathetic excuse to be here right now. She’s pretty, you’ll admit. Her braids are pulled into a style that frames her face perfectly, and her jeans hug her figure like they were tailored just for her. There wasn’t anything bad you could say about her, but every fiber of your being wanted to find something. A flaw, maybe. Her blush blended too high up on her cheeks, her jacket too fluffy to be flattering.

You figured you were just as pathetic.

You tore your eyes away as Paige greeted her, pulling her in close, thanking her for returning something she definitely didn’t need—at least not now. You looked back just in time to miss all the casual flirtation, but to catch the way Paige’s body shifted ever so slightly as the girl leaned in to kiss her on the mouth, lips landing on her cheek.

You froze.

Paige’s eyes darted away from her lips, pulling back just enough to avoid the kiss. It was subtle for anyone but you, calculated, and as clear as day. It wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t a misstep. She had actively dodged it.

Your pulse quickened, your breath catching in your throat. You wanted to look away, to pretend it didn’t bother you, but you couldn’t. Your eyes stayed locked on them as Paige smiled awkwardly, forcing her attention to the rest of the gym while the girl turned to walk out.

And just like that, it hit you: Paige was playing a game.

The kiss she’d given so easily last night was suddenly too much for her to do in front of you.

It had become a habit now, even though you hated yourself for it.

The faint giggles filtering through the door stopped you in your tracks as you walked past Paige’s room that night. Another one. That was obvious. You couldn’t place her laugh, though—higher-pitched than the last girl’s, breathier, maybe. Your feet hesitated, the rational part of your brain screaming at you to keep walking, but you didn’t listen. Instead, you found yourself leaning closer, pressing your ear to the wood.

You told yourself it was because you wanted to confirm just how much of a nuisance Paige was being this time. Not because you were curious, not because your stomach churned at the thought of what was happening behind that door.

Muffled voices floated through. Then came Paige’s husk of a laugh, accompanied by a whispered, “You really gon’ make me work for it, huh?”

You clenched your jaw, heat prickling up your neck. It wasn’t like you didn’t know this was Paige’s routine—find someone, bring them back, make it loud enough that you couldn’t not hear it—but something about hearing her voice in such a vulnerable state, made something twist uncomfortably in your chest.

You didn’t stay long. As soon as the low giggles morphed into something else, you yanked yourself away, retreating back to your own room and shutting the door harder than necessary.

Still, when Paige emerged the next morning, looking annoyingly satisfied and not even bothering to throw a shirt over her sports bra, your simmering irritation boiled over.

Her blonde hair was tied back messily into a bun, strands sticking out in a way that only added to her maddening confidence. Her toned arms gleamed faintly from her post-shower routine, and her smirk was the cherry on top, like she knew exactly how much she was testing your patience.

“You ever think about being considerate for once?” you snapped as she walked past your leaning figure against the kitchen counter, staring daggers at her.

Paige faced away from you, opening the fridge lazily as she searched it. “Jealous?��”

You scoffed, tilting your head. “Hardly.”

Paige turned around, a half-empty bottle of orange juice in her hand, smirk spreading as she kicked back against the fridge. “Hardly,” she repeated, giving you a once-over.

“What?” You clenched your jaw, watching as she tipped the liquid back slowly. “You could at least pretend to feel bad about being the most obnoxious roommate ever.”

“Obnoxious?” she repeated again, and you were getting real sick of it. Paige raised an eyebrow, lowering the bottle and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “You really that mad about it? Or is there somethin’ else goin’ on?”

Got me there, you thought. You squinted instead. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Too late,” she quipped, her grin widening as she kicked off the fridge and took a slow step toward you, the bottle dangling from her hand. “You’re funny when you’re mad, y’know that?” she said, voice low and teasing. “Almost cute.”

You pretended to not be moved by her comment. Paige had never been remotely flirty with you. You were even sure she waited for you to leave the kitchen before making her move in the mornings just so you didn’t have to cross paths sometimes. You crossed your arms. “Almost cute is what you call those girls you sneak in here, right?”

Her smirk didn’t falter. “Well, it’s not really sneakin’ if you know about it.”

You narrowed your eyes, her own blue hues almost pinning you in place. She wasn’t just looking at you—she was studying you, daring you to react. The air suddenly felt thicker. It had definitely shifted, enough for you both to realize but not enough for either of you to move, and for a moment, you couldn’t look away.

But then you did, tearing your eyes from hers and taking a step forward, shoving lightly at her chest. “The bottle’s yours now, by the way,” you mumbled, rounding the island.

Paige barely budged—and neither did her smirk as she spun her body around just to see you leave. “Good thing I was finna finish it!” she called out for the last word.

By the third night, you’d had enough. The muffled sounds of Paige’s latest conquest had become a recurring soundtrack to your evenings, grating on your nerves until you could barely stand to be in your own space. It wasn’t just the noise—it was the principle of it, the blatant disregard for you, the unspoken challenge in the way she paraded each new girl in and out of your shared apartment.

You weren’t sure what her problem was, but if she thought she could push you out, she was wrong.

So tonight, you decided to flip the script.

You heard the front door open, the familiar sound of keys jingling as Paige stepped inside. She hadn’t even known you’d invited anyone over until she’d stepped into the apartment, tossing her bag down by the door and catching the low chatter of conversation. She froze for half a second. You didn’t bother greeting her. Riley, glancing between the two of you excepting some form of conversation, gave Paige a quick nod of acknowledgment before returning her eyes to you.

The fuck was that? Who the fuck is that? Paige thought.

Riley was good. Riley was great. Riley was undoubtedly a pawn. You’d met her at a mutual friend’s party a few weeks back when you’d drunkenly rambled about how you didn’t do relationships during the season because of your schedule, and while you hadn’t exactly planned on inviting her over, tonight seemed like the perfect night to make a point.

You weren’t doing anything wrong, but the thrill of it still made your stomach flip. Maybe it was the way Riley’s knee brushed yours when she shifted closer, but that couldn’t be right. Or maybe it was the fact that, for once, you were the one in control, and Paige would have to sit with that.

Paige peered over the couch until she could see you. Your legs tucked under you, so casually perfect it made her stomach twist.

You didn’t matter. Not like that.

That’s what she repeated in her head now as she moved further into the apartment, forcing herself into the kitchen instead of retreating straight to her room. She could still hear bits of your conversation. The girl’s voice was deep, smooth, like she knew exactly how to charm you. Paige hated her on principle.

You said something then, your voice dropping into a softer tone that the blonde hadn’t heard in a while—not since that first week you moved in, back when you still tried to be her friend.

She clenched her jaw, biting back the urge to interrupt. Instead, she opened the fridge, pulling out a random bottle of water just to have something to do with her hands. It’s none of your business, Paige told herself, cracking the bottle open. But her mind refused to let it go.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen you around other girls before. You were attractive—it wasn’t surprising. But this felt different. This was intentional, intimate.

And Paige hated it.

She walked out of the kitchen without thinking, legs moving until her body was pressed against the back of the couch. “Didn’t know we were hosting tonight,” she announced, her voice deceptively light as she stood tall, taking a sip of her water like this was normal, like she wasn’t purposefully intruding.

You glanced up, catching sight of her, and something flickered across your face—annoyance, maybe. She ignored it.

Your guest glanced at her too, clearly thrown off by her sudden presence. “Uh, hey,” she said, offering a polite smile.

“It’s not your dorm,” you reminded, completely ignoring Riley’s attempt at a well mannered exchange, your tone just as breezy.

Paige smiled. She fucking smiled and you wanted to wipe it off her stupidly perfect face. “Yeah, but you know how I feel ‘bout strangers. Y’all good in here?”

“Fine,” you responded.

“Nice,” she said, dragging the word out in a way that made your skin crawl. “Hope I’m not interrupting nothing.”

“You’re not,” you said quickly.

“Cool,” Paige said, pushing off the couch with another version of that smile that was so evidently fake. “Don’t mind me.”

She walked past the two of you, heading toward her room, but not before throwing one last glance over her shoulder.

Riley had left with nothing more than a kiss on the cheek. You told her you didn’t know Paige would be home tonight, offering a quick apology. She seemed to buy it, flashing you a smile before slipping out of the door and into the hall. As the door clicked shut behind her, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Paige’s eyes burning into your back, though you’d pretended to ignore her presence the entire time.

But as soon as Riley was out of sight, it was like a switch flipped. You were done pretending. Done letting Paige walk all over you in your own apartment. Done losing sleep over it.

Without knocking, you walked straight into her room. Her back was facing you, and she hadn’t even moved when you waltzed in, lounging on her bed, scrolling through her phone, as if you hadn’t just spent the last hour biting your tongue and pretending to not be frustrated.

“Can we talk?” you asked, standing close to the doorframe with your arms crossed. The fury in your voice wasn’t hard to catch, and it wasn’t exactly a question. You were going to talk.

Paige glanced over shoulder—amused—clicking her phone off. You tried not to stare at the tone of her back, the buff of her arms… you had other things to worry about. “You’re mad,” she stated matter-of-factly, huffing as she fixed herself at the edge of her bed.

“You think?” you snapped, pushing away from the doorframe and advancing into the room, beginning to pace. “Do you even think about anyone else for five seconds? Or is this whole apartment just your playground?”

Her head tilted, blonde hair falling across her face as she looked thoroughly unimpressed to say the least. “What’re you talkin’ about now?” she drawled, and you rolled your eyes back to the gates of hell.

“You’re really gonna sit there and act clueless? You drove her away, Paige.”

“So?”

“So?” you repeated, incredulous. “You don’t see the problem with that?”

Paige shrugged, her hands clasped together in her lap. “If she left that easy, maybe she wasn’t worth your time.”

You stopped pacing, turning to face her fully. “What’s your problem with me having someone over? You’ve had your share of… company.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, her smirk faltering for the first time. “That’s different.”

“How?” you pressed, taking a step closer.

Her jaw tightened, and she suddenly couldn’t look at you. “Just is.”

“For once, I wasn’t here listening to your—” You broke off, gesturing vaguely but pointedly toward her bed. “But you still had to make it about you.”

Paige stretched, and you forced your eyes away from the taut lines of her flexed abdomen. She smirked like she knew you’d looked anyway. “Aight, can we not … argue?”

You squinted. “We’re not arguing.”

Paige snorted, clearly unconvinced, as she pushed herself off the bed and stood. “Just go, bro,” she muttered, dismissing you with a wave of her hand as she moved past you toward the door.

You didn’t move, way too stubborn for your own good. “I’m not leaving until you answer my question.”

Paige paused, and there was a shift in her stance that you could read better than the expression on her face. She didn’t say anything at first, her fingers brushing lightly over her jaw, the movement so preconceived, almost like she was trying to distract herself from whatever had been building between the two of you. “You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?”

You didn’t steer away from her, in fact, you leaned into it. It was ridiculous how easy she could shut you up.

“Oh.”

You let the word sit in the air, almost a whisper, barely a sound, but it hit both of you in the gut.

The realization was slow, but clear. You didn’t need her to spell it out. She couldn’t just fuck and forget with you, not like she did with the others. This was something different, something that scared her—something that scared you, too.

Oh.

You stared into her blue irises, and suddenly the few inches she had on you was more evident than it had ever been before. Your cheeks were slightly smushed between the largeness of her hand, and you could almost hear her heart beating in her chest.

You’re close. Too close.

“Yeah,” she finally muttered. “That’s what I thought.” With that, she shoved you away, rough enough to make you feel it.

You didn’t know what to say, so you’d stupidly responded with a two letter word that Paige thought she understood, thought she knew the meaning behind. You didn’t know what to say, so you put your lips to better use.

You moved before she could stop you, your mouth crashing against hers, urgent, desperate, full of everything you’d been fighting. There was nothing careful about it, nothing controlled. It was just instinct—a pull between you that neither of you could avoid anymore.

For a moment, Paige buffered. Her hands hovered over your hips as your lips moved in perfect sync. You could feel her hesitation, debating whether to push you away or pull you closer.

You leaned more into her, pressing your body against hers, and with a subtle shift, you guided one of her hands into your side, urging her to touch you, and it was all the confirmation she needed that this was real.

It was sloppy in all the right ways, hands roaming everywhere between fabric that got in the way of warm skin. Paige groaned softly against your mouth, holding you up by the small of your back as she pushed the door shut, the soft thud of it almost drowned out by the sound of your breathing.

She backs you onto her bed until you’ve fallen, giving your lips a break for the first time within your haze. You’re hastily removing your shirt as she climbs over you.

“Shit. Are we gonna regret this?” you question fully breathless, letting your tee slide off your arms. Your legs parted instinctively, and she fit herself between them, leaning down to get a taste of you.

“You think ima’ regret fuckin’ you?” she asks straightforwardly, so muffled against your neck that she’s nipping and sucking at you almost don’t hear it. You screw your eyes shut, trailing a manicured hand down her abs, fingers brushing the ridges of her muscles. “No, I—didn’t mean it like that—“

“Aight, then,” she cuts, fully disbanding the conversation while licking over a fresh hickey. She pushes you onto your side, tugging your shorts down in nearly the same movement. You have no time to protest, and you don’t exactly want to either. Paige drags two of her fingers over your clothed cunt, parting her lips to let out a breath in admiration. “I got you this wet?” she whispers.

“All you.”

She pushes your panties to the side, sliding a finger between your wet folds. You whimper, shifting to spread wide open for her, but she holds you firmly folded in place by your waist. “Like you just like this. Say it again for me?”

Her finger drags through increasingly slow—up and down—like a petty reminder she’s in control. “All you, Paige. Only you. Only ever you,” you admit in a hurried ramble, yelping as she slips two digits into you.

“Only ever me, huh? Y’sure you not just sayin’ that?” she teases, tugging her lip between her teeth as she watches her fingers disappear. Your head lolls to the side, your breath coming short, hardly able to muster up a response for her.

Her opposite hand makes its way to your face, bringing you right back, and she uses her thumb to trail down and over your bottom lip, your saliva dragging across your chin so filthily you have to remind yourself she’s a pro at this. You can’t stand to think about the other girls. “Paige—mfmm—fuck,” you let out, the squelching enough to make you feel her deeper.

You swallow as she gazes down at you, her mouth finding yours in another heated kiss as she works you up. She sloppily trails over to your neck again, distracting you with a bite that she quickly soothes with her tongue. “You’re s’good,” you praise, fingers knitting through her hair that falls in waves over her shoulders.

Your hands find her abdomen again, a place you’ve grown obsessed with after seeing in her in about a hundred variations of a sports bra. It’s like she knew it drove you mad. Paige smirked, dragging your hand a little lower. “I’ll let you ride ‘em if you’re good.”

You smile weakly, rolling your eyes. “You’re so full of yourself.”

Paige curls her fingers up, eyes piercing into you intently like she was waiting for that reaction—the one that has your nails digging into her skin. “And you’re so full.” She pulls out and thrusts back in so easily, like her fingers were made to fit.

You’re on the brink of ecstasy, ready to fall completely undone under the girl who knows exactly how to drive you out of your mind. You’re holding onto Paige like she’s the only thing keeping you grounded. “That’s it,” she mumbles, licking her lips as she picks up the pace, her voice smug of pure satisfaction.

You gasp, barely able to form words, but she doesn’t let up, doesn’t give you a second to think. “Say it,” she demands. “Tell me who’s got you like this.”

“Paige,” you breathe, the sound of her name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

She grins, her teeth grazing your neck. “Louder. Let me hear it, baby.”

“Paige!” you moan in half frustration that she wouldn’t just let you have it—your body arching into her—and just like that, she pulls her fingers out, robbing you from your climax.

Your head snaps up. There were a million things you could’ve said, cursed, yelled. But yet your head was still buzzing, and the only two and half words that managed to spill out were a weak, “What the fu—“

She’s climbing off the bed, unperturbed as you move closer to the headboard. Before you can respond, she steps back, slipping out of her joggers and boxers in one quick motion, the fabrics hitting the floor in a careless heap. It’s so smooth—and she’s done it a hundred times before, just never with you.

She’s back on you in an instant, lips dragging over every part of your body. You’re sat up against the wall, peaking over to see yourselves in the mirror facing her bed, her body pressed tightly against yours, her hands everywhere at once. The sight knocks the air out of your lungs.

Oh.

Oh.

In the reflection, you can see just about everything.

Paige’s hands slide lower, gripping your thighs with a force that leaves no room for escape—not that you’d dream of leaving. “Keep looking,” she mutters, practically reading your mind, her breath hot against your collarbone. “Y’wanna see everything, don’t you?”

“Mm, ‘course.” You shiver, her words leaving you no choice but to obey. You’re suddenly no longer upset about not getting to come, every brush of her lips and graze of her fingertips stoking the ache pooling in your stomach.

She shifts, pulling your panties down before positioning herself between your legs. For a second, she locks eyes with you, letting a line of her spit drop and mingle with the wetness of your clits so close together.

What a freak.

Paige wastes no more time, pulling you even closer. The lower halves of your bodies align, and you let out a shuttered breath as your clit nudges hers. It’s overwhelming in all the right ways. “Aw, fuck,” she groans, your wetness meeting in the middle. You drag a hand down her stomach, playing with her pussy just a little, thumb circling over the top.

“So good, P.” You’re flush against the wall, elbows shaking as you let out ragged moans, bucking your hips up to match Paige’s pace. It seems to be working for the two of you, and you don’t think you’ve felt anything so fucking good.

“Ride me so good, fuck,” Paige tips her head back, feeling lost as your nails move higher on her torso. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout this for a minute. Just like I imagined, baby, you know that?” she admits, and it’s enough to make you let out a sound that’s nothing short of pornographic, her name somewhere in the mix.

“Shit,” you dragged out. You drag your hips against her pussy even slower, letting your eyes flutter closed as the pleasure builds in your gut. Her hands tighten on your waist, a sharp inhale giving away the effect you have on her.

“So close, ma, d-on’t slow down,” she mutters—her words a complete run-on, but it only spurs you on.

You savor the pleasure in the midst trying to keep yourself together as every movement pulls a soft gasp from your lips. “Keep goin’ just like that,” Paige breathes, her voice barely above a whisper now, her lips brushing your temple. “Doing so fuckin’ perfect.”

Her words hit you all at once as you press even closer. “I’m s’close.” You know you’re driving her to the edge too, the way her grip on you alternates between grounding and desperate betraying her restraint.

“Right with you,” Paige breathes. You bite your lip, every nerve in your body sparking to life as the pleasure builds to an almost unbearable peak. Your hips stutter against hers, and Paige’s head tilts back, a guttural groan spilling from her lips as she grips you tighter, like you’re the only thing tethering her to the moment.

Everything snaps. The rush of pleasure floods over you, hitting you so hard you can’t help but cry out her name, moans spilling over in a rush. Paige’s grip tightens as she comes undone, her breath hitching as her legs tense beneath you.

You think it’s the hardest you’ve ever came.

As you both ride out the aftermath, there’s not much silence between heaving chests and ragged breaths. Paige is the first to move, tangling herself up next to you.

Her fingers tracing small circles on your back, and you lean into it. You can’t help but chuckle, your breath still unsteady. “So… should I still have to worry about hearing you through the walls?”

Paige looks down at you in adoration, running a hand through your hair, before her hand slips to your chin, pulling you in for a brief kiss.

“Nah, no more of that.”

[blacktabbygames]

Slay the Princess Concept Art

We shared a bunch of concept art on Twitter today. Sharing it here, too, where you can find it all in one post. Post contains spoilers, so proceed with caution (or just play the game already if you haven't 😉)

Going to start with the first piece of concept art Abby drew for the game.

In the earliest stages of development, we toyed around with the concept of there being multiple "end game" forms of the Princess.

The initial outline, rather than being tied together by an overarching metanarrative, structured a full playthrough as a 5-6 chapter long, self-contained journey down a single route, determined by your decisions in chapter 1. Here's an alternative late-game form:

The idea of deviating end-game forms didn't lost for very long, though. As we explored the game's themes more deeply, it made the most sense for there to be a singular "true" form.

If your reality is shaped by subjectivity and perception, then the "truth" has to be what's left when that subjectivity is swept away. the Shifting Mound's final design feels like that initial truth for the Princess, though there's also another truth if you push back against her and press on into the final cabin.

We really liked this "void" design, and I played around with the idea of it being an intermediary to the final form. The "void" Princess would be what you saw upon encountering the final Princess without understanding your own truth, but once you had that understanding, you would see her as the Shifting Mound, as depicted in the game.

That gave way to the intermediary design of the SM being a sea of disembodied limbs, and we also took parts of both designs and incorporated them into the protagonist (particularly the wings.) You can see the eyes and feathers for this void form in the ending card of the original trailer below:

You can see extremely early concept art for the spectre (top), nightmare (top-right), stranger (left), beast (bottom) and ??? (right) as well!

The eyes became a motif in the Nightmare route (Paranoid's manifestation of the fear of being watched), but I also like to think of them as a part of The Long Quiet's truth. You are space and emptiness, but you're also that which observes those things, and it's your perceptions that give the Shifting Mound shape.

Anyways, on the note of the original original concepts for the game, the Princess was initially going to remain human for several loops before taking on more monstrous forms. Some concepts of that are below. Had to get Abby to tone down some of the more horrifically cartoonish designs because they creeped me out and I didn't want to romance them in a video game.

We had to hold our cards close to our chest in the non-metanarrative early drafts, which is part of why, even in the first demo, the cabin doesn't really change much in chapter 2. More room to subtly play with the concept of transformation over time.

There were a lot of reasons we moved in a different direction for the full release. The branching was unmanageably large to write, and the game felt like a slog to write.

Using an overarching narrative as a framing mechanism in the final version gave us a lot more freedom to explore wildly divergent ideas within routes while still driving the player towards the originally planned finale.

Anyways, now we've got some concept art for individual princesses. There's a lot more than this lying around somewhere, but it's all in sketchbooks, and we'll probably wait until we make an art book to show it off.

First is the tower, who really didn't change much at all. (She got a little thicker, I guess. All of the Princesses did)

Not a lot to say about her, other than the fact that we knew we wanted a set piece where she gets so big that the trees and cabin orbit around her.

The stranger went through many many redesigns over the course of development. Here, she was a "princess skin" filled with a hive of sentient bugs. The script wasn't working for me, though, so instead she became a peak behind the curtains without the necessary context to know her.

A lot of people ask how these earlier drafts of the Stranger route would have played out, and the answer is I can't tell you, because I couldn't figure out something worth writing.

The writing process for individual routes didn't really start with outlines or plot beats. Rather, the routes started from a theme and a relationship dynamic, and I organically found their outcomes by exploring actions within those themes, and then seeing if those passed Abby's editor brain.

Neither of us found actions we wanted to explore with those versions of the Stranger, at least actions that weren't a beat-by-beat retelling of chapter 1, which contained way too much variation to put on a single chapter 2 route.

If each princess examines a relationship formed by perception and first impressions, the Stranger examines one that's fundamentally unknowable. One where you've seen too much, too quickly.

An insect hive-mind pretending to be a person seemed like a good starting point, but it was too difficult to write any interactions that didn't immediately feel knowable, if still strange. So the final version of the Stranger was designed in such a way where her unknowability makes interacting with her on a human level fundamentally impossible, and you don't get to have a real conversation with her unless you satisfy extremely specific criteria.

Anyways next up is the razor's final form. We decided she needed more swords.

Hearts became an accidental motif very quickly in the development process, too. (The fact that it is only strikes to the heart that fell her in the demo was accidental, but it felt poetic so we extended it to the rest of the game.)

So on top of adding more swords, we made her heart visible. This is something we did with the fury as well, as a way of showing their emotional (and physical) vulnerability.

Here's an early version of the Adversary and what would eventually become the Eye of the Needle, back when she was still called the Fury. Originally her hair was going to be fire (as seen on the right), but it didn't feel right in its execution.

She's hit the gym since this concept art. Good for her :)

And we're going to end with the Beast, who at this point was called the Adversary. I think this was before the Witch was added? The Beast was originally designed to be a Questing Beast who lurked in the shadows, where you'd only see glimpses of her, and where each glimpse would make her appear to be a different animal. This was too difficult to execute, though we gave her a more chimera-like appearance in the final game.

This design was from when we still has the Voice of the Obsessed, and the route was going to be a more feral mirror of what eventually became the Adversary, but it felt too thematically similar while being less interesting, so we moved in the direction of making the Beast about consumption as a form of love.

Anyways, that's all we've got for you right now. Hope this was fun!

[yaymiyas]

THE HUSBAND

warning: female reader, saer being….saer, yan!isekai!crown prince

a/n: i was so burnt out so lets see what i come up with ….its short ik and yes im cooking up something w cynthia LET ME COOK 🫡🙄🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯💯

the idea of divorce was swimming in the mist of your mind hours before you regained most of the movement in your body. you knew you had to get out of this situation in a peaceful but quick manner. in your mind, leaving saer should have been easy since he hated edina more than the devil himself. he saw her as a shit stain satan left on earth to torture him for all of his days. so why are tears running down his face…thats odd? from all of the tweets, forums, and blogs saer had close to no emotions for edina. he hated her through and through. in the original story, he would’ve cheered of joy if she simply asked to part ways. so why was he sitting in front of you crying? was the bacon too salty? was he remembering the good ol’ times with his late father? ever since you’ve transmigrated into this story, everything has been so weird. aside from you being close to perfectly fine after being fed poison, saer has became more careful.

in the book, saer was close to a bubbling idiot. every single assassination attempt was stopped by a maid because he was stupid. he always played it as cynthia and amanda favoring edina but that wasnt the full truth. he was just too obvious with everything he was doing. you actually kind of felt back for the dummy, no wonder gracie wants nothing to do with him. regardless of any of that, you actually started to feel a bit bad for him. it was obvious saer didnt know why he was crying or how to stop it by the way his face was balled up in red confusion. maybe it was out of guilt or for the plot, either way you wanted to help him. maybe he wanted to kill you but seeing a grown man cry really did break your heart.

“now, saer..”

gently pushing your hand out to cover his larger ones, you put on a voice of concern. you want to help the poor idiot but you also want to get out of this house alive. maybe playing the sweet docile wife could do you some good, maybe—

“ugh, stupid bitch get off of me.”

slapping your hand off of his, saer attempted to keep a face of pure disgust plastered for you to see. why on earth was he crying, and why on earth are you being so off-putting? at first, your new actions didnt really bother him. were they different? yes, but they weren’t unpleasant. but now...it was as if the poison made you utterly indifferent to his presence, which he told himself he loved, but the lord knows thats a lie. you quietly sitting there, dry-face, with a slight frown and uninterested body language, angered him. saer was crying purely for reactions. he thought that crying would help him close this conversation and make you jump up and beg for his forgiveness, but no. all you did was lift your grimly, beastly fingers to ‘comfort’ him. what a joke of a woman.

“im finished with my breakfast”

the scream of the chair was louder than your own thoughts, kicking you out of your own subconscious. what even was that about? you were TRYING to be the version of edina you thought he would like, second from you killing yourself right there and then. so why was he acting like you were trying to jump his bones? he is such a wicked man….such a sad excuse of a person. its such a shame his attitude is so sour, you were going to try to soften his walls to see if he would lighten up on the poisoning situation. how did he get it? who did he get it from?

“madam,”

lightly placing her hand on your shoulder, cynthia appeared. scaring you out of your thoughts, you straightened your back and put on the best fake smile you could. you knew cynthia didnt really care for you, as demonstrated by the bath she gave you earlier, but you thought that maybe you could melt this ice queen. her soft ginger coils shaped her face in all the right places, giving her olive skin the type of glow women in the real world would kill for. she had green eyes to match alone with it, making it easy to find yourself lost in them. cynthia was a beautiful woman; just how did she become a maid for this jackass?

“his royal highness has ordered for you to be sent to your room.”

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Insufficient | Azriel x Reader

Summary: After a few months of dating, your relationship begins to crack, and the truth behind Azriel’s odd behavior comes out.

Word Count: ~ 1.8k

Warnings: ANGST, so much angst, sort of unrequited feelings, breakup, mentions of sex + torture and murder, Nesta being an absolute queen

A/N: enjoy some delicious azzy angst😋 lmk what you think I should do for the next part, like should they get back together, or reader finds a new mans while az grovels??

Requests are open!

Masterlist | Next

It had been a warm, sunny day when you’d first met him.

The bakery had been going steadily as ever in Velaris, your family-owned shop hard at work to make the citizen's pastries and your famous sourdough bread. Generations of the family had owned it beforehand, and you were still helping out, you had been working the front that day.

Azriel had walked in, asking for some sort of treat that his High Lady was craving. His description of it hadn’t been the best, leading to almost thirty minutes of you showing him different sweet treats and pastries until he finally found what he wanted, and ordered a dozen of them.

That had been the beginning of your situationship, where he’d come to the shop asking for various things once every now and then, only to subtly get closer to you and even slightly flirt.

Eventually, he asked you out to dinner, and after a few more, you two began dating, and he admitted that he felt a little spark when he first saw you. Looking back, you wondered if that was the only reason he even pursued you in the first place, not for your personality, or even your looks, but just because of that spark.

The first few weeks had been lovely, him being thoughtful and caring to you in the little acts. Such as the way he made coffee for you just how you liked it in the mornings, how he began to put things lower on shelves so you could reach them, how he would talk quietly when you had migraines, or be patient when you were in a mood. The best example probably being the first time you had your period in front of him.

He hadn’t acted disgusted by it, instead, he’d gently cared for you, helping you through it, buying you chocolate and all the foods and snacks you were craving, getting heating pads, making sure you were alright for the entire insufferable week.

However, after that, the honeymoon period must’ve worn off, because he seemed constantly tense or stressed after that. His face remained like stone, not budging or cracking, even for you. The softening of his eyes that had happened before it was replaced by something strained as if he was waiting impatiently for something.

Even in bed, he wouldn’t look at you, remained quiet as a mouse, the only sign that he was enjoying himself being a large exhale as he buried his face in your neck or turned away. That was another problem, he knew how to fuck, he knew how to do that very well, but he didn’t know how to make love. Any time you tried to teach him, he just didn’t accept it, simply giving an unsatisfactory hum in response and continuing what he was doing.

He’d come home from missions, drenched in sweat and sometimes even blood, and not say anything even when you cleaned him off and led him to bed, giving you a cold shoulder. You fully understood that he had a bloody past and history, but you at least expected him to open up a little bit to you. Without any emotional transparency, it wasn’t really a relationship, was it?

His family was nice, though. You liked them, especially Nesta, since she seemed not to put up with everyone else’s bullshit. She was the only one you opened up to about your issues with Azriel, and how you were thinking of breaking things off or taking a break.

“He’s a hard one, but it sounds like he’s being an ass. If it were me, I wouldn’t put up with that.”

She said while you both sat in the library, neither of you noticing the small shadows lurking near the books. You sighed, nodding slowly.

“I know, it’s just…I feel like he’s waiting for something else, like just me isn’t enough.”

You said with a frown, and Nesta gave a little hum of acknowledgment.

“Just give it a week or two, and if you’re still unhappy, I’d leave.”

She said with a shrug, and not long after the both of you went your separate ways. You followed Nesta’s advice, giving the relationship a week or two, and it remained stressed and tense. However, when you finally managed to get into Azriel’s office during the day, about to break things off, he spoke first.

“Let me guess, your testing weeks weren’t satisfactory?”

He asked in a sharp tone, eyes narrowed on you with a piercing gaze. You took a sharp breath in, glaring at him despite the embarrassment that tried to take over.

“You were spying on me.”

You said, trying to keep your tone even despite how it wavered slightly. He stood then, towering over you from his superior height.

“I don’t like when people talk about me behind my back, let alone my partner.”

He said, the words clipped and full of anger simmering under the surface. He took a step closer, and you took a step back. You’d never been afraid of him, not really, but at this moment you didn’t exactly want to be close to him. His keen eyes noticed, and something like hurt and anger flashed in them.

“Don’t act like I’m some terrible person for having a girl talk because you’ve been acting weird. I can’t believe you spied on me.”

He huffed, taking another step closer, the shadows swirling and writhing, looking more agitated than ever. You took another step back, only to run straight into a wall that was now behind you. He continued stalking closer until your heart was beating faster and faster until he leaned down so you were eye-to-eye.

“I’m sorry I’m not what you signed up for. I’m not gentle or loving, I am a spymaster, I torture and kill people for my work, and have for centuries. I won’t be forced to change just to fit what you think I should be, or what you want in a relationship.”

He hissed, his words now full of anger and frustration. You leaned back, trying to keep away.

“That’s your problem. You don’t know how to separate your work life from your personal life, and you’re taking it out on me. You can be gentle and loving, I’ve seen it before, but I’m not what you want. You’ve been acting like I need to be something more for you when I’m not. I don’t know what you want, but your inability to communicate and be transparent isn’t my problem.”

You said back, tears now welling up as you tried to push him away. He didn’t back up, only moving closer and pushing you into the wall. His temper was building, and you could tell. It was only a matter of time until he would….

“A mate! I wanted a mate!”

Snap.

The silence stretched on and on for what seemed like hours after he said that, yelling it in your face. You’d never heard him raise his voice before. You gaped at the sight of him unwinding and shattering right in front of you as he rambled on.

“It’s not fair, Rhys gets Feyre, Cassian gets Nesta, Lucien gets Elain even if she doesn’t want him, and who do I get? No one.”

He said in an almost panicked tone, rambling on and on. He pushed off the wall, pacing around in his office, hands fidgeting.

“I thought—when I felt that spark when I went in your shop, that it might be you, but you weren’t enough. You aren’t my mate, because it would’ve snapped by now, I would’ve felt it, but I didn’t. You aren’t enough for me, and you never will be.”

He said, finally sighing at the end. He wouldn’t even look at you, eyes unfocused and only looking randomly around the room, anywhere but towards you. You swallowed, trying to hold back the tears that welled up because of his words. You weren’t enough. You never would be.

He looked like he felt a bit bad for half a second before his expression hardened again into that unflinching steel you’d grown to hate. He finally looked at you again, no hint of empathy or guilt now in his gaze for leading you on, or practically torturing you these past months.

Taking a shaky breath, you finally choked words out.

“Oh,” You murmured, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Okay.”

You whispered, managing to push off the wall to walk to the door, opening it and walking down the hall, to the room you two had shared, and you began packing your belongings. Picture frames of your family, your clothes, little trinkets, toiletries, you left no trace of you behind as you packed it in a large duffel bag in the closet.

You walked to the front door of the House, open the door, and walk out, the 10,000 steps down looming in front of you. Azriel didn’t offer to fly you down, and it was only when you turned to look back at him, his face stone cold, that you felt it.

The snap.

A shifting warmth and coldness all at once.

And a mating bond.

His face fell in what looked like pure devastation and realization, hazel eyes wide and lips parted. It might’ve been the most emotion you’d seen him show in weeks. He began to walk out, trying to go after you as you began taking the steps, but a large flap and wave of wind stopped him.

Cassian’s large, hulking form stopped him, shaking his head grimly as he walked towards you, where you were still going down the steps, and he laid a hand on your shoulder.

“I’ll fly you.”

He said simply, and you nodded with a sniffle as he picked you up, his wings carried him into the air as he soared up, only to land moments later and drop you off back at the bakery where your family was working. He set you on the ground, pulling you into a warm hug.

“I’m sorry,”

He said, letting you pull away, and for some reason, you believed him. You, Cassian, and Nesta made quite the dynamic trio, and you would probably miss them the most. They were some of your closest friends, and also wonderful drinking buddies. You and Nesta loved cheating in card games and beating Cassian when he was too drunk to notice until he owed either of you a fortune.

“You can always come visit me and Nes, just send a letter or somethin’.”

He murmured to you, wiping the tears from your cheek, and giving you an apologetic grin, before sending you off inside your family’s bakery and flying off.

This time, when you saw the shadow still curled around your wrist like it always had been when you and Azriel were dating, you smacked it off, sticking your hand right into a clear ray of sunshine to chase it off.

You were done being dragged down by shadows and darkness, and for once in your miserable life, you were going to look for the light instead.

[suguae]

Haunted

part one

I tried my best to tag as many people!

The long awaited part two! I'm so sorry if this doesn't live up to your guys expectations! I really felt like so much people were waiting for a part two and I've been so busy, but hopefully you all enjoy!

You were like a shot of espresso, a ray of sunlight and one would be so lucky just to even be in your presence.

That's how he saw it at least. The gummy smile that was glued on your face as you listened to Megumi's silly stories he'd make up just to entertain you.

Wherever you stepped foot, the mood would lighten drastically.

He knew that because if you were here with him right now, Megumi wouldn't be crying his heart out begging his dad to call you. Toji wouldn't be struggling to fall asleep as he looked at your side of the bed imagining you there. He wouldn't be crossing his fingers hoping that every notification on his phone would be you.

"The princess and prince got married and lived happily ever after." You smiled as Megumi watched you close the book in awe. His cheeks were painted with a light pink, "You and Daddy?" You couldn't help but giggle at cute sleepy Megumi.

"No..." You whispered, noticing his eyes getting heavy.

Toji's eyes shifted towards you and his baby boy on the shared bed, Megumi of course having one of his fits and you never being able to say no to him. His heart felt heavy, hearing the cold truth slip from your mouth.

"You've been out of it Fushiguro..."

There he was back to reality in his cold—big office. Standing in front of him was Shiu, his best and his closest employee. "Zenin." Toji corrected which caught Shiu by surprise. Toji was proud to have his wife's last name, yet here he is using his last name.

No wedding ring? Shiu thought to himself, looking at Toji’s empty fingers. But in fact his fingers were not empty, because there sat the dark purple promise ring you had gotten him for your third year anniversary. Shiu smiled to himself, he was moving on—for the better. 

“You and Y/n are doing better, I guess?” He sighs, taking a couple steps towards his boss’s desk and plopping himself on the chair in front of him. His smile fading hearing the vague no, coming from his boss. 

“She left actually, but it’s better this way.” 

“Is it?” 

“No, it’s not.” You smiled as the soft yellow light from the candle illuminated onto your face. How Toji’s heart melted when he saw that little sparkle in your eyes. “I actually love kids.” Your eyes shifted to the little stroller after Toji mentioned how stupid it was to try to go on dates as he had a whole baby. 

“It’s been rough ever since my wife passed.” 

He remembers that look on your face when he told you how recently his wife had passed. It was the first date, he brought his son and mentioned his dead wife. There was no way he would ever see you again after that. But he was wrong because you always found your way back.

“Daddy—gumi hungry!” The little boy pouted as Toji noticed the burning smell of the food. It had been way too much now, spacing out every chance he had just to think about you.

Where are you?

Are you okay?

He wonders if you’re doing better now that you left him.

Probably, right?

Wrong.

“You need to clean this place up, it’s a mess y/n.” Your mom says entering your small apartment. The tiny cans of energy drinks scattered around the place, tissues and a pile of blankets on the couch.

She sighed watching your frail body sit up from the couch, her arm wrapped around your body and she placed small kisses on your forehead.

“It’s gonna take a while to get back on his feet. When your father passed away, it took years for me to officially realize that he was gone y/n.”

That’s what hurt the most, how long was Toji willing to take to realize? What if he forgets about you?

“Go back to your daily life, my baby he will call you when he’s ready. I see the love in his eyes.” She smiled once more before bringing you closer in her embrace.

This is what you needed.

The embrace of someone else’s while your life was slowly changing.

His thumb hovered over your contact. His hands shaking as the tears swell in his eyes. It’s been well over six months since the break up.

Toji was more than ready.

He was just afraid now, afraid of the fact that the women he had a past with moved on and would reject his return.

His thumb firmly pressing the dial button as he brings his phone up towards his ear. He could feel his throat closing and his stomach churning.

“Hello?”

<- previous next part ->

taglist: @ssc7514@utarts@my1guilty1pleasures@bangchansthings@nxxun-blog@sidelnes@khaleesihavilliard@wr4inn@r0ckst4rjk@iwishigotswallowed@ryumurin@traacy-lin@aikori6@slowlyswimmingmoon@mikyapixie@dreamlessnight@maliakealoha

[megamindsecretlair]

Make Me Weak, Part 2

Pairing: Sex Therapist!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, mentions of depression, anxiety, and description of sex acts and sexual issues. Hair pulling, PIV, condom use. Power imbalance, Shy!reader. Dark!Terry. Dom!Terry, AU Terry, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some. I'm not a therapist and while I do not make light of therapy, this is purely for my own fun. Please seek real medical attention when necessary.

Summary: You followed Dr. Richmond’s instructions to the best of your ability. You spent so much time in your mind that willingly descending into your body was an experience that opened your eyes to how much you had neglected. Your second session forces you to confront more truths than what you were ready for. 

Terry reaches some conclusions of his own as he tries to shake whatever is ailing him by disappearing between Tasia’s thighs. Yet his mind is on you, on your thoughts and words. During the second session, he can’t help but push you beyond your limit.

Word Count: 5,018k

Part 1 | Part 3 | AO3 Link

A/N: I'n back babbyyyy. I got so inspired reading so many lovely fics. Plus the encouraging asks really helped. I had TOO much fun writing this and you will not hurt my feelings if you don't want to read this one. However, I must tag to keep my taglist updated. Forgive me, my loves. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You

Hot steam rolled out from the shower as you set it to your desired temperature. You faced yourself in the mirror, thinking over Dr. Richmond’s words. You supposed that there was some truth to what he had told you.

Most people did start by exploring their own bodies first. It must be so easy for guys. Close the door, grab some lotion, and rub one out. Girls on the other hand…your life was constantly spent in a state of panic.

Panic that anything on your person would make your mother snap. Harsh criticisms hidden behind “just talkin’ shit” that Black people liked to hide behind. You were too sensitive to jokey-joke with when you weren’t able to reciprocate. It’s not like you could talk about your mom. It’s not like you could throw insults back in her face and tell her to take it in stride.

Panic that you could be caught or exposed at any point. You were a grown woman, yes. You were also taught to believe that you needed to act as if someone was watching. You believed there was some kind of life after all this and so wouldn’t it stand to reason that someone or something would be looking at you? Or worse, someone would come flying through your door because your family lacked boundaries? 

Panic that you didn’t know what lay on the other side of an orgasm. How would you feel? How would you look? Surely something like that changed a person. Feeling that rush of relief for the first time had to be special. Had to be amazing. Otherwise, why would anyone ever be obsessed with sex? 

Panic that you’d never reach that peak and fall over. Never feel that rush of euphoria that everyone talked about. Porn, books, friend groups. You always felt left out and you didn’t want to anymore, dammit. 

You watched yourself in the mirror as steam overtook it, inch by inch. Until you were only staring at your eyes and the disbelief written all over your face. Would this even work? Were you wasting your time? 

“I need total, focused commitment from you.”

Dr. Richmond’s sultry voice skittered along your naked skin. Goosebumps raised on your flesh from the cold air moving through the house. You would be focused. You would be committed. This was something you wanted so badly, you were fucking desperate. 

So you took deep, measured breaths using the Box method a previous therapist told you about. You inhaled for a count of four, held for four, exhaled for a count of four, and then held it for four. You repeated the process, doing a full body scan. 

You focused on your head, starting with your scalp. You focused on your forehead, feeling the tension melt away and your eyebrows start to relax. You hadn’t even realized that you had it scrunched.

You brought your attention to your eyes, unfocusing them, and allowed them to close. You repeated the process, breathing the entire time, settling down into your body when your mind wanted so badly to escape. To flee. To leave the Horrors. 

When you felt your mind drift, you didn’t chastise yourself. You continued to breathe, focusing on your breaths until you continued with your scan. Your body relaxed fraction by fraction. Your shoulders lowered from up around your neck. Aches and pains became more prominent. 

Your belly expanded and you sighed. You hadn’t even noticed how often you clenched your stomach, never allowing yourself a full breath. You always had to be on edge. Never knew where the next danger was coming from. What new fresh hell you would encounter just around the corner. 

By the time you reached your feet, you felt more relaxed than you had in a long time. Your body prickled with your newfound awareness. Steam caressed your bareskin and you quickly hopped in the shower, letting the warm water cascade across your body.

The water felt different on your body. Each droplet may as well have been a tiny earthquake, popping all over your skin and making you tingle. This…wasn’t too bad. 

You lathered up your facial scrub and gently moisturized your face, soothing the stiff areas. Your jaw popped as it loosened and you moaned from the relief. 

How long? How long have you spent outside of your body? A stranger to it? A foreigner to this vessel you carried around? Had you truly loved your body when you were so alien to it? Or had you just learned to layer on the armor and pretend? 

God, you felt like crying. With one session, Dr. Richmond already had you re-thinking your entire life. Like the answer was there in your face the entire time and you just needed him to shine a light on it. 

You rinsed your face while you grabbed a washcloth and lathered up with your favorite soap. You added body wash and then took your time trailing the washcloth around your body. Starting with your neck, you worked your way down to your chest. 

You took your time feeling the rough cloth against your smooth, watery skin. You rounded the washcloth across your nipples and they beaded under the slow torture. Oh, this was new. This was very nice. 

You were focused, letting the water act as a sound machine, lulling you into a further relaxed state. You followed the washcloth with your hand, moving over and under your areolas and nipples. You pinched your nipples and gave it a tug. You gasped from the responding tug in your pussy.

You moved on, remembering Dr. Richmond’s words about not making it sexual. But fuck, how could you not? 

Heat flushed beneath your skin that had nothing to do with the hot water on your body. You washed your back and then moved lower, skirting your throbbing pussy and washed your legs and dug the cloth between your toes. 

On the way up, your fingers glided around your mound, your hips pushing forward. Your breathing turned rapid, feeling yourself getting more and more excited. Your brain turned to mush, retreating from your actions. Like it wanted to picture something else. You shook your head, and started up with your Box breathing again.

You stopped mid-shower to reorient yourself and get yourself back into that zone of ultimate calm. If Dr. Richmond were there…

You focused on what he might say. There was no rush. There was no rulebook for this sort of thing. There was no reason to chastise yourself. There was no test to pass or box you had to check in order to achieve an orgasm. You just needed to relax, dammit. 

Slowly, achingly slow, you went back to that calm. You continued lathering up your body and then rinsed the soap off. You repeated the process, adding more soap to thoroughly wash your body. To enjoy the feel of the cloth and water and soap on your skin. On your body. 

“This is the only body you’ll ever have so it’s time to think beyond simple body maintenance. Admire your body.”

This was the only body you would ever have. It was time you stopped treating it like the enemy. 

You turned off the water and then got out. The chill air hit the water on your back and you shrieked and shivered, quickly drying off. You went through your nightly routine, taking care of your teeth, face, and deodorant. You sat down on a decorated stool in your bathroom to apply your lotion.

As instructed, you looked at your body. Every mole, every scar, every bump, and every wayward hair. Being in your body was weird to say the least. You had to disassociate to survive your childhood and you never learned to drop those defenses. Your body never realized that it wasn't at war anymore. Or perhaps it was and this was battle fatigue. You were so damn tired.

You massaged the lotion into your skin and then slipped in your panties. You pulled on an ankle bracelet you got while visiting New York once and it made you feel extra pretty, so why not. You turned on your bedside light and pulled out a notebook.

You started a new entry and wrote about the sensations and revelations you experienced. Some of it you would discuss with Dr. Richmond and some of it was never leaving your grave. It felt good to get it all out, uninterrupted.

Sometimes, venting to someone else just gave them room to talk over you. To steer the direction back to them. Brooklyn was like that. In an effort to relate, she ended up taking over the convo and made it about her situation. Then you ended up comforting her about her issue and never feeling truly heard about yours.

In a journal however, you pretended that you were just relaying it to a friend. The type of friend who allowed you to speak. To get your jumbled thoughts out without getting mad or trying overshadow you. 

Done, you collapsed against your bed as if every ounce of strength left your body. You breathed through it, allowed your body to rest for a moment. The hell kind of voo-doo shit did your therapist put you through?

Immediately, warning bells went off in your mind. Surely, you would be whisked away to some super important task around the house. Surely, your phone would ring with some awful accident you had to attend to. Surely…nothing. You were drained. You had nothing. 

You had just enough energy to put the journal up, turn off the light, and drift off to the deepest sleep of your life.

Terry

Tasia bounced like a porn star on Terry’s dick and it wasn’t doing a damn thing for him. He felt himself getting soft the more Tasia shuddered with her pleasure. At least one of them was having fun. 

Maybe he rushed this. Too intent on getting you out of his mind that he hopped immediately into Tasia’s warm heat and didn’t consider that there was no substitution. He knew it was irrational to be drawn to you so fast. After only one session. He was conflicted on that front, but it went beyond just looks. 

Your case, your assessments, your willingness to try, and your obvious smarts was a cocktail shooting through his veins and turning his body liquid. The perfect sub was dropped into his lap and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

And as a man used to getting his way in the bedroom, it stuck in his craw that he couldn’t have you. That it wasn’t your pussy that his dick disappeared inside of. Would you moan loudly? Were you shy in the bedroom? Were you enthusiastic? 

What would your mouth look like taking the full length of him? How far down could you suck him? Did that same determination translate to the bedroom?

Tasia grunted beneath him as his dick rose back to life, thoughts of you turning him harder than a brick. He could build a house with how hard he was at the moment, picturing the curves on your body. The natural handles in your waist for his big hands to wrap around. To hold.

He moaned, picturing it all so clearly. His thumbs would dig into your back. The sounds you would make. His hips jerked just thinking of pounding into you. No mercy. You weren’t some fragile flower. Your insightful thoughts were like a mirror to his own. He wanted to explore with you. And the fact that he couldn’t had him pulling Tasia’s hair back.

“Call me Dr. Richmond,” he commanded.

“Yes, D-Dr. Richmond,” Tasia moaned. It was starting to piss him off. 

“Softer,” he said.

“Yes, Dr. Richmond,” she said, bringing her voice lower, softer. It was nowhere near your voice, but it’d do for the fantasy he concocted in his head. He didn’t have time for any extra tricks tonight. He just needed to get to the other side of his nut. 

He closed his eyes and thought about your case. He wondered if you were doing as you were told. He wondered how well you would take commands in the bedroom. If he even had to give commands at all. If you’d instinctively know what he needed when he needed it. Tasia used to know that. Tasia used to have him out of breath. 

Now…she was a beautiful girl with deep mocha skin, a cute face, and wide expressive eyes. She was like a little doe in a meadow somewhere. He was attracted to the overall softness of her and of her body. The natural way she seemed to know what he needed. 

Perhaps it was him that had changed. His tastes. He was no longer interested in a casual sub-relationship. Perhaps he wanted a more permanent sub. One he could explore every single nasty fantasy with and never get bored. He was getting older, getting into his early-thirties without a significant partner.

And that was what he wanted. A partner. An equal. Someone he raced home to see or spent his days thinking about how he would break her and put her back together like a puzzle box. 

Terry groaned and came into the condom, gripping Tasia’s asscheeks for dear life. It was one of the hardest climaxes he ever experienced. His release triggered hers, causing her to fall forward as her pussy gripped his dick. 

He pulled out and immediately disposed of the condom, coming back to help clean up Tasia. 

“That was…different,” she said, using the word in place of something else. He didn’t want his reputation to slacken in that regard, but hell, this whole thing had been a mistake. He still made sure she came twice before he did, but he usually put more oomph into his sexual exploits. 

He usually had Tasia popping her pussy on his face, or contorting her like a pretzel. Now…he was just over it. Over trying to impress someone that wasn’t permanent in his life. That he couldn’t play with whenever he wanted. He was no longer excited at the prospect of making many women cum. He just wanted to make one cum over and over again. He wanted to collect each one like trophies. 

Terry grabbed Tasia’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Forgive me. Tonight should’ve probably been a gym night,” he said. He smiled for good measure, but it was a close-lipped smile.

“Oh, I’m not complaining. That dick still know how to rock my world,” she said. She stood up, pulling on her sweats and sweatshirt, and slipping on her sneakers. He sat down on the bed and watched her, not feeling an ounce of desire. 

She leaned over and grabbed his chin, making him look up at her. “You take care of yourself and whatever or whoever got you in this funk. And if you need more relief, you know my number,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with another close-lipped smile. Tasia had been one of his longest play partners, he’d be sorry to see her go. She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek, showing herself out. 

Terry sat in his fancy bedroom in his fancy house, staring at the empty archway Tasia disappeared through. His mind and body told him that he was ready for something more. Something tangible. Something he could hold and never let go. He only hoped he found it soon.

You

You clutched your journal to your chest as you sat in Dr. Richmond’s office. Nothing about it had changed except the man himself. He chose to wear a cream colored outfit. A soft, oatmeal colored sweater and khaki pants with white sneakers. His gold rimmed glasses flashed every so often from the light overhead and you couldn’t help catching every single thing about him. If only to distract you from your racing thoughts.

It was one thing to live in your body when you were in the comfort of your own bathroom. Your mind escaped once more, retreated to the safest place you knew. Your knee bounced with nervousness. 

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. This is a safe space. It’s your space. You get to decide what we do here,” he said. 

You closed your eyes to the sound of his voice. If he wasn’t so damn helpful, you’d ask for someone else. Literally, anyone else. But he was the first therapist to give you a glimpse of the other side. You wanted that more than you were embarrassed.

“No, I want to share. I need to share,” you said. You licked your lips and then cracked open your journal. You skimmed over things you didn’t want to reveal just yet. Too embarrassing for a second meeting, of course.

“I think…I think my mind is safer. I am constantly on alert that I’m “doing the right thing”, as opposed to what actually makes me happy,” you said. 

When you didn’t say anything, Terry leaned back in his seat. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing the golden brown of his forearms. Your mind emptied of any other thought until he cleared his throat. “Can you expand on that?” 

You looked up into his eyes before heat rushed to your ears. You looked back at your journal, focusing on that rather than his lush, pink lips. 

You told him more about how you reached this conclusion. That there was a standard for being Black that you never quite achieved. That at any moment, multiple mobs of people were coming for your Black card. Or, you were constantly trying to over-achieve at school. You had to work twice as hard, had to be the smartest in the class, because if you came home with a B, your mom went on a long rant about being stupid and never achieving anything real in life. Or how everyone praised you at work for going above and beyond and then got mad when you couldn’t sustain it. You were constantly on the lookout for someone else’s standard.

“I have so many fucking voices in my ear, telling me to do this or do that. And I fucking hate it. Which is wild considering that that’s what I seek in a sexual partner,” you said.

Dr. Richmond smiled and nodded. “Your mind is trying to re-contextualize your upbringing. Being submissive is actually about putting yourself in the position of power. A dom is only as good as how well he treats his sub. It’s about the ultimate act of trust on the submissive’s part,” he explained.

“Yes! And how can I trust that someone isn’t going to…take what I say or want and abuse that or make fun of me for it?” You asked. You played with the corner of your journal, not willing to look at Dr. Richmond. You didn’t need to see the pathetic pity in his steel blue eyes. 

“You have to stand resolute in what you want. You have to recognize that pleasure and sex is about give and take. Trust and acceptance. The right partner isn’t going to make fun of you, abuse you, or rush you,” he said. 

You sighed and leaned back on the brown sofa. You felt like you were chasing a unicorn. What kind of guy was willing to be dominant and care about your needs? Reassure you when you needed and took control when your body sent massive panicked waves at him? Took care of the trust you were placing in him to help you relax and cum? While also being physically attractive to you and have you be attracted to him; not a chubby chaser, not a creep, and not an abuser? 

It was impossible. Hopeless.  

“If you’re comfortable, tell me more about what you found,” he said.

You took your mind off of your dream mystery man. When the fuck was it going to be your turn? 

You scanned your journal once more, noting the sensations about actually living inside your body. “I think when I feel an orgasm approaching, I get scared. And that could be part of why I’m blocking it, but even when I’m alone, I don’t know what it feels like. Or…”

“Or…?” Dr. Richmond prompted. 

You grimaced. Fuck, this was so hard to put into words. Too hard to expose yourself like this. But did you want to reach your sixties, seventies, never having a true orgasm? Never finding your way to actual release? 

“Or, there’s no way to control the orgasm,” you said.

Dr. Richmond nodded. “The goal isn’t to control it, you know,” he said. 

“I know!” You groaned and stood up. You thought better on your feet. Or maybe when you had something to do, you were better able to regulate the jumble of emotions inside of you. No wonder your emotions were all over the place. You spent too long disassociating, too long in your mind and not enough in your body. 

“What benefit do you get from being in control all the time?” The scratch of his pen on the notebook drew your attention to him. To his pretty face, dark eyelashes, and push lips. You watched as he wrote in his notebook. Watched the lines and planes of his gorgeous face. His short curled afro. 

“If I’m in control, if I never look weak or stupid or incompetent, then I win. I win at life. And all my bullies, from school to home are all wrong. There’s nothing wrong with me because I know what to do. I know what to say. I’m not an alien,” you said, taking a deep breath at the revelation.

Whatever your insurance company was paying him, they needed to double it. You admitted things you never had in the past. Your previous therapists attacked your problem sex first, focusing on different methods you could try. Some wanted you to describe, in detail, whatever you did to get yourself off. Safe to say they weren’t practicing ever again. 

“Do you believe there’s something wrong with you?” He asked. He leaned back in his seat, giving you an unflinching stare. His face gave away nothing, revealed nothing, as you thought through his question. 

“All the fucking time. Why else do friends keep leaving me? Or guys don’t want me? Or my mom is…my mom,” you said. 

“Have you considered that you aren’t the problem?” He asked.

“How could I not be? I’m the only common denominator,” you said. You flopped back onto the couch but it wasn’t that soft. It thudded under your weight and you took a deep breath. Fuck, you wanted to cry. Tears pricked your eyes, turning them hot and itchy. You refused to cry in front of this man. 

This strange, quiet man who seemed to read you like one of the many books on his bookshelf. No wonder he had so many degrees. He could drag a full confession from a mute. 

“That may be true. But, bear with me, consider that you aren’t the problem. If you take yourself out of the equation, what are you left with?” He asked. He leaned forward on his desk and the sudden intensity of the question made your mind blank.

You had…nothing. No explanation, no back up. You were used to making yourself the problem. The issue had to be you. If it wasn’t you…

You shrugged your shoulders and looked away from him. The silence stretched on, so quiet you could hear the quiet tick of the clock on the wall. 

“Don’t shy away now, dig into it. If it’s not you, then…?” Dr. Richmond prompted. 

The question only seemed to make you clamp up. Your tongue swelled. Your throat constricted. If it wasn’t you, then what? Everyone was incapable of giving you what you wanted? Everyone just had an agenda against you? Please, that was narcissistic as hell. 

Dr. Richmond stood up from his desk and took off his glasses. He pulled out a drawer and retrieved a glass cleaner cloth. He cleaned his glasses and walked around the front of his desk.

“Consider, for a moment, that other people have deficiencies as well. That people congregate in groups because biologically, it’s safer. We seek groups to be in and when we can’t find one, we tend to think that we’re the problem. That we are outcasts, getting left out to defend ourselves. But all that means is that we haven’t found our group yet. You’re trying to fit a round peg into a square hole. You don’t belong with the squares, so no, you won’t fit in with them. 

“The same goes for sex. Everybody has their preferences. People have their kinks, their needs. When those needs aren’t meant, society teaches us to look at our own deficiencies rather than someone else’s. Perhaps the man you need sexually is far different from the men you take to bed,” he said. He waved around his glasses as he spoke, drawing attention to his massive hands. 

Seriously, they were huge. Like two lion paws that could strike down someone with one hit. He held his glasses by the frame, waving it around delicately as he spoke. You were still paying attention to his words, but fuck…he was unreal. 

“But how do I find the man that I need sexually?” You asked.

Terry

Terry inwardly groaned as you asked him that. Plenty of suggestions came to mind, each too crass to suggest. How could he tell you to go into another man’s arms? How could he send you to another man to unleash that hidden hellcat within you and he wouldn’t get to experience it? 

He needed to end this. End this before it even began. He placed his glasses back on his face and crossed a line that he never thought he would. “I think we have more work to do to adjust the way you think about sex before we get into how you attract what you’re seeking. In fact, I’d suggest you abstain from sex until we get deeper into this,” he said.

“Abstain?” You snorted and he fought a smile. Your face showed absolute disgust, like the mere thought was abhorrent. 

“Abstain. From what you’ve told me and what’s in your file, you jumped from overcoming your initial thoughts and reluctance about sex right to jumping into bed. Without really, truly exploring yourself first. Kids explore their bodies all the time right? They grow conscious of themselves and start thinking about hey, my equipment is different from someone else’s equipment,” he said.

You couldn’t help but giggle and it caused him to smirk in return. Yes, it was silly. Talking about sex was silly. But it was true. “And as you start to notice people that you’re attracted to, you start to grow conscious of hormones in your system. Brain chemistry. All the fun stuff that goes into attraction. You start to touch yourself more, explore your preferences through porn or books or experimentation.”

You cringed when he brought up experimentation. He tilted his head. “Did you go through an experimentation phase?” He asked.

You closed your eyes and sighed as if it were the last question you wanted to answer. You completely fascinated him. He had no idea what would come out of your mouth next. How you would respond to certain questions or ideas. 

He snuck a glance at the clock, he was nearing the end of the session. He flexed his jaw. This was so damn irritating. By the time you were willing to open up, it was time to end it. He wished he could carve out a month of sessions to get you to lower your defenses and let him inside. 

“No? I grew up in the wrong generation. All everyone thought about was sex and while I did too, no one was checking for the fat Black nerds unless it was a prank. And I saw everything as a prank. I was always getting pointed at, made fun of, stared at. Jesus, being exposed fucking sucks! So, no, I didn’t experiment. There was no one to fucking experiment with. 

“And it wasn’t like I could go ten feet from my mom without her up my ass about where I was going. Claiming she just didn’t want me to get snatched when all she really wanted was just to control me. To not let me end up like her. Young and pregnant,” you practically yelled, spewing way more vitriol than he expected.

He figured it was a sore spot for you by the way you grimaced, but he hadn’t been expecting…that. Again, he balled his fists thinking of every person that ever let you down. Every person that was supposed to uplift you, guide you, help you, all dropped the ball in teaching you about self love.

Every experience every kid was supposed to have was denied to you. Instead of being asked out with interest, with sincerity, boys treated it like a prank. He was wild in his youth, he wasn’t always nice to people, or he went through life like a little gremlin. But he liked to think he mellowed somewhat in high school. Treating everyone with respect. From the nerds to the jocks. He didn’t know what not trusting people’s words felt like. Like everything that someone said came laced with poisoned barbs ready to sting. 

“This is so fucking stupid,” you whispered. Your lip trembled but no tears fell down your face. 

Fuck, even now you were trying to hold everything in. Control a natural response to something painful. “When was the last time you cried?” Terry asked.

You stood up and snatched your purse and journal from the couch. “Session’s up, right?” You asked. You avoided looking at him as you rushed to the exit. The faux glass door clanged against the wall as you threw open the door and left, steps echoing on the linoleum flooring. 

He stared at the door as it lazily swung back and he wondered. And he pondered. 

Wheww, need more? The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1 | Part 3

Taglist: You guys, ya'll gon make me cry with this taglist! Thank you!

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[ladysharmaa]

Kate mini version

Anthony Bridgerton x Kate Sharma x Sharma!sis

Summary: Y/n adapted to the Bridgerton family dynamic. However, she remains a little fearful and shy. Could the arrival of a prince change that?

part 1 part 2 part 3

Ever since Kate and Anthony assured Y/n that they wanted her to live with them, things had gotten better. The girl felt more comfortable with them, and appreciated the effort the couple made to show that she was always welcome. Riding horses for the three of them was an almost regular activity now, and these afternoons were Y/n's favorite.

Anthony had given her a beautiful black mare, which she insisted on learning to wash and comb, even though there were servants for that purpose. The man then spent the rest of the month teaching her how to ride, and this was something that brought her very close to Anthony, who she now considered like a brother.

The truth was, living with her older sister and her husband was wonderful. There was never a dull moment and she always had someone to talk to. Furthermore, the relationship between her and Kate was the strongest, and they were more inseparable than ever. Y/n's mother had agreed that her daughter would stay at Viscount's house for a while and thus extended her stay in India.

However, even though she was comfortable in that smaller core, she still felt shy around Anthony's siblings. She loved them all, and they always treated her equally, but in the back of her head there was always that thought that she was intruding.

Now, the Bridgerton family plus Y/n were on their way to the park to have a picnic. The season was starting again and suitors from all over the world were arriving to try to find someone. On the way there, Y/n entertained herself by listening to Eloise's grumbling that she would be entering the season again, even if the last thing she wanted was to find a husband.

Bridgerton had made a point of giving Y/n her feminist speech, and despite the eye rolls she received from some of her siblings, Y/n agreed with everything she said. However, she always wanted to be married to a man who truly loved her, and that wasn't going to change.

It was a sunny day, perfect for staying right by the lake and enjoying the delicious food that the maids had prepared. Anthony and Kate were in their own world, whispering to each other with gigantic smiles, Benedict and Collin were appreciating the ladies passing by, and Eloise was reading her book while Violet had met Lady Danbury and the two were chatting animatedly. Daphne and Simon hadn't arrived with their son yet, but Y/n couldn't wait to play with the baby again.

Meanwhile, she, Hyacinth, Gregory and Francesca were walking around the lake, picking up rocks and seeing who could throw them the furthest. Probably not the most etiquette thing they could do, but Violet and Anthony hadn't stopped them yet so they continued.

"I'm starting to get tired." Y/n grumbled, rolling the shoulder of her arm that was starting to feel sore from throwing so many rocks. "I think I'll sit down and get some sun."

"We'll be right there and keep you company then. I just need to beat Gregory first!" Hyacinth promised.

Y/n smiled towards the three, then heading towards the lawn where the others were. She momentarily looked down, seeing that she had gotten a little dirty on her dress when she went up against someone. The force of the impact had been so great that she lost her balance and began to fall backwards. However, this never happened because someone managed to grab her arms and pull her up again.

When she opened her eyes, having closed them in preparation for the fall, she saw a young man, around her age, looking worriedly at her. "Are you alright? My apologies, Miss, I was distracted and didn't see you."

"I'm okay." she said a little breathlessly. Their proximity didn't help either. "I'm the one who apologizes. I should be looking ahead instead of at my dress."

"It is a beautiful dress." he said, taking the opportunity to look her up and down, letting a small smile form on his lips. Y/n's cheeks immediately started to turn pinker. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss…"

"Sharma." Y/n smiled. "I'm sorry, I don't recall who you are."

"Prince Charles, the youngest son of Queen Charlotte and King George." he chuckled when he saw Y/n's wide eyes, who quickly made a small bow. "Please, that's not necessary. On top of that, I was the one who almost made you fall to the ground."

"My apologies, Prince Charles. I returned from India only a few months ago and it seems that I still don't know everything I should know. This mistake will not be repeated."

"It wasn't anything serious. To be honest, I'm actually glad you didn't immediately know who I was. I went against you because I was running away from an Earl's daughters who were begging me to marry them." A silence fell over them. "Who are you here with?"

"My sister and her husband's family. Viscount Anthony Bridgerton and Viscountess Kate Bridgerton." Y/n looked over his shoulder, seeing Anthony staring in her direction, more specifically at the Prince. He was about to get up when Kate pulled him down again, sending Y/n a smile and a wink. "They're looking at us right now."

"Of course, I know who they are. My mother loved the love story between them. Since then, she has only told my older siblings that she wants them to have something like that too. But they are not very interested in getting married, much to the Queen's disappointment."

Y/n just let out a small chuckle in response, not really knowing what to say. The proximity to the prince was becoming increasingly intimidating, and it didn't help that the entire Bridgerton family had noticed that interaction and were now observing discreetly.

"I apologize, Prince Charles, but I must return to my sister's family. We came to take advantage of this beautiful day to have a picnic."

"Of course, Miss Sharma. I hope to see you again soon." he nodded with his hands clasped behind his back. With a smile, he went back on his way while Y/n walked over to where Kate and Anthony were, her cheeks painted a light pink.

"What were you talking about?" Anthony questioned without being able to control himself any longer, his half-closed eyes still focused on the back of the boy walking in the distance.

Kate rolled her eyes at Anthony's exaggerated protectiveness, but the truth is that her heart started to beat faster when she saw how Anthony had so much care and affection for Y/n. It made her imagine how protective he would be of their daughters.

"Don't pay attention to Anthony, Y/n. The prince seemed very interested in talking to you. You should have gone for a walk together."

"Sister!" the younger girl exclaimed with wide eyes, becoming even more embarrassed. "He was just apologizing for going against me."

"That boy, prince or not, should look where he is going! Irresponsible, that's what he is!" Anthony continued to mumble, ignoring the look his wife sent him.

"Well, I am delighted that you made a new friend, Y/n. Now come sit with us for a while and drink some water, it's very hot."

"You're getting worse than mother." Y/n rolled her eyes in amusement. She added with a wink, "I guess it's a good training for the future."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"I do not want to go." Y/n stated, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Sister, we've already had this conversation." Kate repeated for the thousandth time, but still with the same patience as the first time. The older woman sighed, looking understandingly at her sister who was looking at the floor with a pout. "What are you really afraid of? It's your first ball, it's normal for you to be nervous."

Y/n was going to be subject to the season for the first time, where she could meet her future husband. Despite all the nerves she felt, she was happy to have Kate, Anthony, and the rest of the Bridgerton family with her. Furthermore, she would be in the same situation as Francesca, except that the latter had been named diamond of the season.

"How's mother and Edwina?" Y/n tried to change the subject, instead asking about the two other Sharmas who were in Prussia. Edwina was pregnant with her first child with Prince Friedrich and Mary had gone there, after a brief stop in England, to support Edwina.

"Y/n, don't change the subject. You can talk to me."

"What if no one asks me to dance, Kate?" Y/n finally revealed her fears shyly. She spoke so quietly that Kate had to strain to understand her words, but when she did her eyebrows furrowed in sadness. "You and Anthony took me in, what if now no one asks me to dance and I make you look bad?"

"First of all, you could never make us look bad and we would never be disappointed in you. I even think Anthony's biggest dream would be if you and Francesca didn't dance with anyone." Kate chuckled knowing how protective her husband was. "And I don't want you to be forced to dance with anyone. You can say no if someone invites you to dance and you don't want to. And if anything happens, call Anthony or his brothers."

"I will." the girl nodded, seeing her sister's serious look. "I hope everything goes well."

"Of course it will! And you won't be alone, we'll all be there in case you need anything. And who knows, maybe you'll see a certain prince. I heard the queen is going to make him participate in this season."

Y/n didn't respond to the teasing, she just continued to get ready with the help of the maids. When Anthony called them from downstairs, the two sisters hurried to meet him, seeing that the rest of the family was already there with the exception of Francesca.

When they saw her, a big smile appeared on everyone's faces, Violet going to give her a hug as soon as she reached the end of the stairs and Daphne holding her hand. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you." she smiled at the women, and was later praised by Eloise, and the Bridgerton brothers.

Then, it was Francesca's turn to go down the stairs, catching their attention. After the compliments she received, the girl stood next to Y/n, the two holding hands as they walked to the carriages waiting for them.

"You look very beautiful, diamond of the season." Y/n said with a teasing smile, squeezing her hand in Francesca's in comfort.

"You do as well, Princess Sharma." Francesca giggled. To relieve the tension, the girl looked straight ahead at Anthony who was helping Kate into the carriage, his forehead dripping with sweat as he looked discreetly at the two teenagers. "I think my brother is going to pass out from how nervous he looks."

"Tonight promises to be quite interesting. At least he has my sister to control him a little, or I think he would be glaring at every suitor in the room, even if they didn't even want anything to do with us."

When they arrived at the Queen's castle, they were both amazed by the place. An orchestra played in the middle while some couples were already dancing, the space decorated with various details and chandeliers lighting up the room. When the Bridgerton family entered, everyone stopped to observe the diamond of the season, who was still clinging to Y/n.

To give her the focus of attention, Y/n tried to move away but Francesca just grabbed her hand tighter, sending her a look of fear. The Sharma girl nodded in understanding, then stood on Francesca's side, also being subjected to the curious looks of other people.

"Come on, girls." Anthony said, guiding the family to a corner while everyone analyzed the environment. He then turned to his two friends, who in his eyes were too young to be thinking about suitors, but he knew that this was the right age. "If you need anything, and I mean anything, go to one of us. We'll always be here to make sure you're okay. Now, all of you split up and socialize."

"They already look so nervous and you're going to scare them even more with your nerves." Benedict placed a hand on his older brother's shoulder. "Relax, brother. Go dance with your wife, we are also here to take care of them."

"I know." Anthony sighed, running a hand over his face. His tense muscles only relaxed when he felt Kate's hand caress his arm as she smiled understandingly. "Shall we dance, Viscountess Bridgerton?"

"We shall." she giggled, letting her husband guide her to the center of the room.

Meanwhile, Y/n watched the people at the ball nervously and curiously. They were all dressed to the nines, with the best fabrics and jewelry that showed the families' wealth and status. The Sharma smiled slightly when she noticed a girl being asked by a suitor. It was obvious that they were both nervous, but when he finally managed to ask the question, the girl blushed and accepted with a big smile.

Y/n sighed, turning her attention elsewhere. Her heart was beating heavily against her chest, wondering if she was going to experience the same situation as that girl.

A light touch on her shoulder made her snap out of her thoughts. Y/n turned to the side, her eyes widening when she saw Prince Charles standing there, both hands behind his back and a perfect smirk on his lips.

"Miss Sharma, what a pleasure to see you again."

"Prince Charles." she greeted, making a small bow. "This time I haven't forgotten my manners."

"I must say you look beautiful tonight." he praised, gently taking one of her delicate hands and bringing it to his lips, lightly kissing her skin. Y/n's cheeks immediately flushed, getting worse when she realized that they were attracting the attention of others. "Are you enjoying the ball?"

"Very much, thank you. The orchestra plays beautifully. It's lovely to see so many people dancing, especially my sister and Viscount Bridgerton. I have never seen them happier."

"Indeed. We could dance too… If you would like to, of course." Y/n didn't think she had ever seen the boy being shy, but she had to admit that it was really cute to see him like that.

"Are you sure? Many people are already looking at us… Including the Queen." she whispered the last part with a look of fear. "Are you supposed to find a lady to marry this year?"

"My mother hopes so, but she doesn't pressure me into anything. Right now, I just want to dance with you. Please? Don't pay attention to anyone else, just focus on me."

Y/n swallowed hard, but nodded, resting her hand on the arm Charles offered. The two walked to the dance floor as soon as the song ended, preparing for a new melody. The Sharma girl held her breath when she felt the boy's hand position itself on her waist, pulling her closer, while the other intertwined with hers.

The music started slowly and Y/n let the prince lead her, too nervous to even remember the choreography she had already practiced several times before. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kate and Anthony looking at them as they danced, giving nods of encouragement but still keeping their attention on them.

The rest of the people looked in shock, seeing the youngest son of the Queen and the King dancing with the sister of Viscountess Bridgerton who had caused a lot of talk last season. The Queen was also watching them, a small smile appearing on her lips.

"You're not just focusing on me." Charles hummed, squeezing her waist to show she was just joking. "And on top of that I'm a great dancer."

"My apologies. But I can't agree with the last part. I think —" but she couldn't finish her sentence as Charles picked her up and twirled her around several times until her laughter could be heard above the music.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" he laughed teasingly, loving the blush on her cheeks. He wanted to make her blush all the time, he loved the effect he had on the girl who was constantly on his mind since that day in the park.

"Prince Charles, this will certainly not be seen very well by other people. They are all whispering about us now! More than they already were."

"Call me Charles." He said, ignoring the rest of what Y/n said. His eyes were intense, studying the girl's face and stopping on her lips before moving up to her eyes.

"No."

"No?" he raised his eyebrows, as if he wasn't expecting that answer. Y/n stepped away from him, making a small bow. And only then did he realize that the song had already ended.

"I really enjoyed this dance, thank you. I hope to meet you again. We keep crossing paths so who knows?" she smiled, turning her back and walking towards Francesca who was alone in the corner, a drink in her hand.

Prince Charles definitely wanted to see Y/n Sharma again, his gaze following the girl's movements as if in a trance. Surely him standing in the middle of the dance floor looking at Y/n would be the main topic in the paper of Lady Whistledown.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Do Me a Favor?

Find part two here!

Eddie x fem!shy!bestie!reader

Summary: you buy some weed from your best friend Eddie and after shotgunning from him, you both find yourselves wanting more

word count: 6k

cw: MDNI 18+, smut, oral (f receiving)

The cold air nipped at your skin as you knocked on the trailer door. You tightened your cardigan around you as waited for someone to answer, wondering what the hell you had been doing there. You didn’t smoke weed. You didn’t buy it either, but maybe you just wanted to see the cute metalhead who was supposedly the best dealer in town, even though he was one of your closest friends and let you come over whenever you wanted.

You had been friends with Eddie Munson since that one time he helped you pick the books that you had dropped when someone had bumped into you in the hallway in the tenth grade. He had grabbed your copy of Lord of the Rings and the two of you yapped about it all the way to the cafeteria where he let you sit with his group.

After letting you sit with him every day, he eventually asked you to join Hellfire Club and you happily agreed. Not long after, the two of you found yourselves hanging out outside of the club, occasionally getting dinner or watching a movie at your house.

Over time, you started to develop romantic feelings because how could you not have? Eddie was just so sweet and caring and he looked out for you like no one else did. And maybe it was silly to crush on your best friend, but you couldn’t help it. Aside from his charming personality, he also happened to be very easy on the eyes.

The door opened, pulling you out of your thoughts and there Eddie was on the other side, looking like something out of your dreams in his cropped band t-shirt and sweatpants that he had rolled down a few times, giving you a great view of the patch of hair that was right under his belly button.

“Y/n?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He hadn’t been expecting you, but couldn’t help but feel intrigued to know why you were there.

“Hi, Eddie,” you nodded at him, not quite able to look him in the eye. You had hyped yourself up on the way there, but now that he was actually standing in front of you, you were feeling shy.

“What are you doing here?” He scratched the back of his head, causing his shirt to ride up even more and your mind suddenly went blank. “Thought you had to work.”

“I just got off and I um-I was wondering if I could buy some weed from you.” Eddie laughed at that. He always saw you as an innocent little thing who did everything she was supposed to. A goody-two-shoes that never broke the rules.

“Well,” he let out a chuckle. “I never thought I’d see the day.” Though, he kind of liked the idea of selling weed to you. Not only was it a funny thought, imagining you actually smoking the stuff, but it seemed like you were on edge every time he saw you and he thought you could use something to calm you down.

“We’re not in high school anymore. I’ve changed.” There was a little truth to your statement, but not much. The only thing that had changed about you since high school was that maybe you had a little more confidence and that you had finally gotten your braces off. Other than that, you were pretty much the same.

“So you have,” he nodded. “Well, why don’t you come inside and I’ll show you what I’ve got?” He held the door open for you as you stepped inside, letting it slam behind you. You looked around the place, loving how cozy it felt, especially since you were no longer in the cold weather. You rubbed your hands up and down your arms as you stepped further inside, trying to bring some more warmth to your body. You should have known that it was going to be a bad idea riding your bike across town without a jacket, but the damage was already done.

“The stuff’s in my room if you want to follow me.” Eddie couldn’t help but notice how quiet you were, but he had to admit that he thought it was cute. He knew that that was just who you were, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was making you feel nervous. He didn’t want you to feel pressured into taking the weed if you really didn’t want it. He didn’t know why he cared so much, it was just a normal sale.

Except it wasn’t. You were his best friend and had no experience with drugs whatsoever. He wanted to know why you had a sudden interest, but didn’t feel like it was his business to ask, no matter how close the two of you were.

Eddie had always thought you were pretty, but also thought that you were out of his league. He was the town freak and you were the shy girl who always had her nose in a book. He didn’t think that the two of you were exactly a great match. He didn’t want anyone starting rumors about you too, so he let you slip through his fingers. He decided that he was already risking enough by being friends with you.

But now there you were, standing in the doorway of his room, somehow having gotten prettier since he had seen you a few days ago. You were avoiding his eye contact, staring at the desk that was behind him. You were eyeing the stack of books that were sitting on top of it, wondering what they were, noticing that they were different than the ones that had been there before.

You slowly stepped further into the room, making a beeline for the stack, noticing that they were all new books. You slowly looked at all the covers, most of them being ones you had never heard of, but you were interested in every single one as soon as you read the back. Your face lit up at the book that was on the very bottom. It was your current favorite fantasy novel that you had read more times than you had cared to admit, but you had lost your copy and hadn’t been able to get a new one. You opened the book and let out a gasp at the little signature on the first page, wondering if he had bought it like that or if there was a signing that you didn’t know about.

Eddie watched you, still finding the way that you mumbled to words that were printed on the books to yourself adorable. For a second, he had completely forgotten why you were there. For a second, he had been convinced that you were there to hang out with him like usual.

“I can’t believe you have a signed copy of this.” You turned to face him, showing him the signature. He just let out a chuckle at that, finding you even more adorable. He didn’t think he had ever seen you so animated in the years that he had known you. “How did I not know this?”

“Oh, yeah, I got it a couple weeks ago,” he shrugged. “I honestly forgot that I had it.” The thing had been sitting on his desk since after the signing and he really had forgotten about it, his obsession with it being completely abandoned for another. “You can…keep it if you want.” Your eyes lit up at his suggestion but you quickly slumped your shoulders.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t take it from you.” You set the book back on the desk, knowing that you would have felt bad taking something like that from him. Even though it looked like it hadn’t been touched in a while, you could tell that it meant something to him.

“No,” he shook his head, moving towards you. He took the book and shoved it into your hands, his touching yours as he did so. “Take it, l/n. Please. It’s just been collecting dust here and a thing like that deserves to go to a good home.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes bored into yours to show you how serious he was and you couldn’t help but stare into them. They were hypnotizing, so brown and pretty. You had always been a sucker for brown eyes, especially Eddie’s. You knew that you’d do anything he asked just by looking into them, and you were sure that if he knew that fact, he would have gotten you into trouble.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” His hands were still on yours and you were so aware of his touch, loving how soft but rough his skin was. You could feel the cold metal that was his rings against your fingers that was mixed with the warmness of his hands. You just wanted to take them into your own, interlacing your fingers with his.

Eddie took the book from your hands and removed one of the straps of your tote bag from your shoulder and let the book fall inside before putting the strap right back. A smirk kicked up at the corner of his lips and you stared at them, thinking about how kissable they looked. They were so pink and plump and you just wanted to know what they felt like slotted between yours.

“Just so you don’t think about leaving it here,” he winked then turned on his heel to head to his bedside table. He pulled out a tin lunchbox from the bottom shelf and set it on the bed before opening it. He rifled through it, pulling out multiple plastic bags, trying to remember if he even had anything for a beginner. Most of the stuff he had was for people with a much higher tolerance and he didn’t want to start you on something you couldn’t handle.

Eddie found just what he was looking for at the bottom of the lunchbox and held it up to the light just to make sure, then nodded. He then closed the lunchbox and put it back where he found it and sat down on the edge of his bed, patting the spot next to him. You hesitantly sat down next to him, so close to the other end that if you sat any farther away from him, you’d fall to the floor.

Your heart was racing in your chest. You weren’t even going to smoke the stuff, you just wanted to be able to say that you bought some. Once you got home, you had every intention of throwing it into a drawer, never to be touched again. You just were afraid of what it would do to you so you definitely weren’t going to smoke it alone. That was just too scary. Maybe if you had more confidence, you could have asked him to smoke it with you.

“How much?” You asked, reaching for the money you had in your pocket and Eddie just shook his head.

“No need, l/n,” he rested his hand on top of yours to stop you. “First one’s always free,” he winked and your cheeks flushed.

“Could you do me a favor?” You asked, not even thinking about the words that were coming out of your mouth. Eddie titled his head to the side, wondering what you could have possibly wanted him to do for you.

“Anything,” he nodded quickly, ready to do whatever you asked, no matter how weird or ridiculous. “You know that.”

“Would you…want to smoke with me?” That was the last thing he was expecting to ask. He didn’t think that you ever want to get high with him.

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant about the whole thing. He hoped you couldn’t hear how hard his heart was beating his chest as he suddenly felt nervous about the whole thing. “You really want to?” He just wanted to be sure before he started anything.

“Please.” The words came out more desperate than you had intended, but you didn’t even care. You were just happy that he said the words you had been afraid to. Now you didn’t have to worry. He'd be right there to help you if something went wrong and you were sure that he wouldn’t judge if you did something that wasn’t right.

“Alright, well, I’m just gonna roll this up, okay?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at his desk as he held up the baggie with his other hand. You felt a weight lift off your shoulders as Eddie gave you a reassuring smile, standing from his bed.

You just nodded in response and he pulled his chair out, sitting at his desk, getting to work. You stayed on the bed, not wanting to get into his space, just letting him do whatever he needed to. You sat patiently, trying not to think too much about what you were doing or you were going to back out. You only got one chance to smoke with your crush and you were going to take it.

Once Eddie had the joint all rolled up, he turned in his chair to face you then made his way back to the bed, sitting down on it hesitantly. Your comfort was his top priority and he was fully prepared to stop everything if you didn’t want to continue.He turned to face you, giving you his full attention. He had never smoked with a first-timer, but he still knew exactly what to do. He wanted to give you options, letting you have full control of the situation.

“So, we can either take turns or we can shotgun, which is where I inhale the smoke and blow it into your mouth. Whatever you want to do is fine with me.” He was being so sweet and gentle and it was getting really difficult for you to not fall for him even harder. You weighed your options and decided that shotgunning was probably the best idea. That way, there was less of a chance that you’d choke and maybe you just wanted to be close to Eddie.

“Can we…shotgun?” You words came out unsure and Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed, wanting to make sure that was actually what you wanted. You nodded enthusiastically, scooting closer to him again. “That’s what I want to do.”

“Then let’s do it.” Eddie turned to grab his lighter from his bedside table and smiled to himself since he had secretly wanted you to pick shotgun. He wanted to be able to touch you, to feel your lips on his, the whole idea making him a little hard. Once he had the lighter, he put the joint between his fingers before holding the lighter out to you. “Wanna do the honors, cutie?”

“Sure,” you nodded and took the lighter from him. You sparked the lighter up and cupped your hand around the joint like you had seen in movies and let it catch the flame before pulling away. You kept hold of the lighter as Eddie beckoned you forward with his free hand.

“C’mere,” he said and you obeyed, moving so you were sitting crisscrossed in front of him. He mimicked your actions and you both got so close that your legs were touching. “Make sure the smoke is in your mouth before inhaling, okay? Don’t want you choking.” You just nodded and Eddie took a drag and held the smoke in his mouth as you leaned forward even more. Your lips parted and Eddie reached up to your face slowly, giving you a look as if asking for permission.

“Do what you need to do,” you told him and his fingers took hold of your chin. His thumb reached up to your bottom lip and he pulled it down as if asking you to open your mouth wider. After it was wide enough, his hand moved to your cheek, pulling your face to his. He gingerly opened up, pressing his lips to your before pushing the smoke into your mouth. You did as he instructed and waited until all of the smoke was in your mouth before you took a deep breath.

Eddie leaned away so you could exhale, gauging your reaction to make sure that you were okay. Just from your first hit, you had been doing a lot better than other first-timers he had seen. Sure, you had only done well because he had told you what to do, but he still thought that you were a natural.

“I don’t feel anything.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you still felt very sober and Eddie just laughed in response.

“You’re not going to feel anything right away, hon.” His hand moved to your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Do you want another hit?”

“Yes,” you nodded and Eddie took another puff and held the joint away from the both of you as he grabbed hold of your waist, pressing his open mouth to yours once again. He blew the smoke into your mouth and you inhaled before you were supposed to, pulling away to cough into your arm. You had been so focused on the way Eddie’s lips felt against yours that you had completely forgotten what you were supposed to do.

“You okay?” He asked, his hand moving to your back, giving it a sympathetic rub. You just held your thumb up as an indication as you continued to cough. “C’mon, let’s go get some water.”

He stubbed the joint out onto his desk then took you by the hand, pulling you from the bed. You continued to cough all the way to the kitchen and couldn’t believe that you had ruined the good time you were having because you had gotten distracted.

Eddie quickly grabbed a glass from one of the cabinets and filled it up with water from the tap before handing it to you. You quickly gulped down as much of the beverage as you could and let out a sigh of relief as you set the empty glass down on the counter.

“You okay? You good?” He asked, the words rushing out of his mouth. He stood in front of you, his hands resting on your back, rubbing up and down in a comforting manner. You leaned into him, your forehead pressing against his chin.

Eddie didn’t know why he felt the need to comfort you and why it had become second nature to him when he was never good at or liked it, he didn’t know. Anytime he was around first-timers who inhaled improperly, someone else always stepped in to help while he watched from the sidelines. But now, there he was, fully prepared to give you whatever you needed.

“I’m good,” you assured him, your arms wrapping around his waist. “Can you just…hold me for a second?”

“I can hold you for all the seconds, honey.” You weren’t sure where the little nickname came from, but you were eating it up, wanting him to say it anytime he referred to you.

You pulled back to look at him and your eyes immediately shifted to his lips. You watched him wet them with his tongue, the wet sheen making them look even more inviting. It was like he was doing it on purpose, trying to torture you by dangling it in your face, knowing that you wouldn’t do anything about it.

Before you could stop yourself, you pressed your lips to his in a lingering peck before quickly pulling away. An embarrassed flush made its way upon your face and you covered your lips with the pads of your fingertips.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

You turned to leave and Eddie didn’t let you get far. He grabbed hold of your wrist and turned you around to face him. He took no time to cradle your face in your hands and capture your top lip between his two. Your hands found his waist and you pulled him to you so he was flush with your body. The kiss was slow and sweet, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. It was everything you had ever hoped, everything you could have ever imagined.

“Don’t ever apologize for that,” he insisted against your lips. “You have absolutely no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” That made you stop in your tracks. You quickly pulled away to look at him, your eyes widening.

“How long?” You were desperate to know exactly how long he had felt that way about you so you could see how much your crushes had overlapped each other.

“Since high school. Almost kissed you that night when I drove you home from Hellfire and I’ve been kicking myself ever since because I didn’t.”

You had remembered that night so vividly. You had ridden your bike, but Eddie had insisted on giving you a ride home. The two of you had talked the entire time about everything and nothing, occasionally giggling at little jokes that you had shared with each other. Even after Eddie had pulled into your driveway, you still sat there, neither of you wanting you to leave. You had noticed him leaning towards you, but you didn’t want to make any assumptions, so you just said your goodbyes and you just felt embarrassed for thinking that he was going to kiss you when it had been clear that he hadn’t.

All that time, you could have sworn that he was going to kiss you and you had been right. You actually hadn’t been delusional for once. For once, the guy that you had feelings for actually reciprocated them and you couldn’t have been more elated.

“Well, now you can make up for lost time.” Your hands rested against his back.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Eddie pulled you back in for another kiss, this one more rough and messy, the two of you so desperate for the other, taking exactly what you wanted from each other.

Eddie’s hands moved to your cardigan and he undid the first button so slowly, giving you a chance to back out if you wanted to. Once he got the okay to continue, he undid the rest and pushed it off of your shoulders. You removed it from your arms and let it fall to the floor.

You let your hands trail up his back and you pulled onto the bottom of his shirt before pulling it over his head. Once it was removed, he threw it to the side, grabbing hold of your waist again. His hands slipped to the strip of skin between the top of your jeans and the bottom of your tank top that had ridden up as he backed you up to the counter, your back hitting it.

He helped you get up on top of it and you spread your legs, Eddie stepping between them. His mouth was quickly on yours again as he licked into it, his tongue roaming around it as if he was trying to taste every single bit of it.

You let out a moan as his tongue swirled around yours and your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him as close to you as possible. His hands traveled up your shirt and moved to your bra, his fingers resting on the clasp as if asking to take it off.

“Take it off,” you commanded. “Please.” The word came out like a whine and Eddie was happy to oblige, quickly unhooking the clasping before removing the straps from your arms and sliding the whole thing down and pulling it from your tank top. He tossed it behind him then looked at you, searching your face for any sign of hesitance.

“Are you sure you want to keep going?” He licked his lips, his chest rising and falling from being out of breath from your lips being attached. He would have never forgiven himself if he had done something you weren’t comfortable with. He just wanted to be one hundred percent sure.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Eds.” Your hand moved up to his cheek, stroking it with your thumb. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot and I want you to be my first.”

“Your first?” His eyes widened. He honestly had no idea that you were a virgin. “Y/n, are you sure you want it to be me?” Eddie wanted to be sure that it was actually what you wanted. That you were doing it with someone you cared about and he wasn’t sure he deserved to be your first.

“Very sure,” you nodded. “You’re the only one I trust to do it.” He felt his cheeks blush at your words, knowing that they meant that you had thought about having sex with him and his dick was getting harder by the second.

“Y/n, you have no idea how honored I am that you want it to be me, but I just want to be sure that you really want this.” Eddie thought it was the greatest honor of all that he was the one that you wanted to lose your virginity to and considered himself the luckiest man alive because of it.

“I’m sure,” you nodded. “I’ve thought about this a lot.”

“Oh, have you?” He teased and pressed another kiss to your lips. “Wanna move this to the bedroom?”

“I’d want nothing more.” Eddie’s lips slotted between yours once again and his hands moved out from under your shirt and wrapped around your waist, pulling you from the counter. Your ankles locked at his back and he carried you to his room, your lips still in the middle of a messy kiss.

He entered his room and slammed the door behind him with his foot, hurrying the two of you to his bed. He collapsed onto it and you fell on top of him. He then sat up and looked at you with a serious look in his eyes.

“I just want to let you know a few things before we get started,” he said, his hands resting on your thighs.

“Okay,” you nodded, ready to listen to whatever he needed to say.

“First, if I go too far or you don’t like something or even if you don’t want to continue, don’t be afraid to let me know. This is all about you, okay?” You just nodded in response and Eddie licked his lips before he continued.

“And on the opposite end, don’t be afraid to let me know what you do like. If you like something, feel free to make noise, and you don’t have to be embarrassed about being too loud. There’s no such thing.”

“Got it,” you nodded, looking him in the eyes so he knew that you completely understood what he was saying. You were desperate to get on with it already, but felt like you owed it to him to listen to what he was saying since it seemed pretty important.

“Do you want to start or should I?”

“You do it.” You wanted him to take the lead since he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Okay,” he replied, leaning towards you, his face only inches from yours. “Just gonna kiss you for now, okay?”

“Mhm,” you nodded and his lips attached to yours again. You felt a little more confident and you were the one to stick your tongue into his mouth, mimicking what he had done earlier, slowly laying him down onto the bed, removing your shirt as you did so. You then leaned down and pulled him into a kiss, your bare chest against his. Eddie brought his hands up and grabbed hold of your tits, the pads of his thumbs massaging your nipples, just enough to make them hard and you made a noise that he knew that he was going to grow very fond of.

Eddie pulled away from you, his mouth immediately moving to your tit. He moved his tongue back and forth, licking across your nipple and you moaned. The whole thing was so foreign to you but you liked the feeling.

Just as you were getting used to it, he took your nipple between his teeth and gave it a pull, causing your hands to move to his hair, giving it a yank. Eddie took that as an invitation to continue and moved to the other nipple, giving it the same attention. You gave it his hair another yank and let out one more moan, trying your best to not be self conscious about how loud you were.

“That’s it, honey,” he said, licking another stripe along your nipple. “Let it out.” Eddie pressed his lips to the spot between your breasts then flipped you over so that your back was against the mattress. He pressed open mouthed kisses all the way down to your stomach and stopped when he got to the top of your jeans.

“These look great on you,” he complimented. “But I’d think they’d look better on the floor. Can I remove them?”

“Yes, please.” He took no time to unbutton them and pulled down the zipper before pulling them down your legs and tossing them to the side. He pressed a kiss to the spot above your underwear then looked up at you for permission to remove them.

“Take them off, Eds. Please. I need you.” Your words came out so whiny and Eddie felt himself getting even more hard.

“Yes ma’am,” he responded before taking your underwear off. He was about to throw them on the floor, but you stopped him, putting your hands over his.

“You should keep them,” you told him. “To remember this night.”

“Isn't that objectification?” He liked the idea of keeping your underwear, but also kind of felt like he was treating you like an object by doing that.

“Not if I say it isn’t. Put them in your pocket.” Without a second thought, Eddie put the underwear into his back pocket before resting his hand on your knees, pulling you in for a bruising kiss. He then spread your legs open to get a peek at your pussy which was sopping wet.

“Wow,” he said, noticing that there was already a stain from where everything had leaked out onto his bedding. “This might be the wettest pussy I’ve ever seen. Mind if I get a taste?”

“I wouldn’t mind at all.” Eddie climbed off of the bed as he pulled you to the end of it. He then got onto his knees before throwing your legs over his shoulders. He looked up at you one more time for any signs of hesitance and when he saw how eager you looked, he slowly pushed his head between your thighs, burying his face into your cunt.

You let out a gasp as his nose brushed it and gripped the blanket as he licked a stripe from your slit to your clit. He swirled his tongue around the area and you couldn’t keep your sounds to yourself anymore.

“Oh, Eddie,” you moaned, your fingers gripping more of the blanket as he worked his magic with his tongue. He grazed the sensitive spot with his teeth and you whimpered which let him know that he could continue. He applied a little more pressure with his teeth, loving the sounds that the action elicited from you.

“So good, Eds. Need more.” You were desperate for whatever he was going to give you, not caring at all what it was, just as long it felt as good as him giving you head.

“Oh, this is just the appetizer, hon.” He dove into your cunt once more, shoving his tongue inside of it, causing you to moan the loudest you ever had.

“Fuck, Eddie, more.” He swirled his tongue around and around and you made the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard in his life, knowing that they’d still ring in his head after the night was over.

After a couple more moans, he removed his face from your pussy and practically threw himself on top of you, pressing his lips to yours in a filthy kiss, his tongue swirling around your mouth.

“See how good you taste, honey?” He asked. “Wanna taste you all the time.”

“And I’ll let you,” you responded. “Whenever you want.”

“I love the sound of that.” He slotted his lips between yours in a dizzying kiss before pulling away. He then reached for his bedside table and pulled the drawer open before taking out a condom, not even bothering to close the drawer back.

“I don’t think I’m ready,” you told him, your voice barely above a whisper. You knew he wouldn’t ever judge you, but still couldn’t help but feel like he was going to be mad at you. He let the condom fall to the floor then moved himself back on top of you, his hands taking yours, intertwining your fingers.

“Are you mad?” You looked up at him, and his face softened instantly. He would have never been mad at you for that. Maybe he was a little disappointed, but he thought he would have been wrong to blame your for something like that.

“Baby, no, of course I’m not mad at you.” He shook his head, giving your hands a squeeze. He couldn’t have been mad at you if he tried.

“Promise?” You needed constant reassurance or your brain would convince you that he was lying.

“I promise, honey,” he nodded. “How about we put on some pajamas and watch a movie? Anything you want.”

“I’d like that,” you nodded. You really had thought you were ready, but the whole thing still scared you. You really enjoyed everything leading up to it, but still found the penetration part to be too much for you at the moment.

Eddie rolled off of you and pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants out of his dresser before tossing them to you. You threw them on while he headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed and still felt anxious about him being mad at you. What you had was so good and you were convinced that you had ruined it.

“I’m not mad at you,” he called from the bathroom. He knew you too well sometimes, always somehow knowing exactly what you were thinking. He knew how prone you were to overthinking and was always there to reassure you that your thoughts were in fact not true.

Eddie emerged from the bathroom and threw on a shirt before throwing himself onto the mattress and rolling back on top of you. He pressed another bruising kiss to your lips, his hands reaching for yours again. He then pulled away, a grin breaking out on his face as he looked down at you.

“I’m not mad at you,” he repeated, burying his face into your neck, snuggling into it.

“I know,” you replied, just like always, but he was never convinced, even though you really did know that he wasn’t mad at you.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said one more time, pressing a kiss to your neck before rolling off you.

He reached for the remote to his tv and turned it on before pulling you to his chest. You both watched the screen mindlessly while your arms wrapped around him. One of his arms draped across your waist while the other hand stroked your hair, something he always did to bring you comfort.

You looked up at him as he watched the tv and couldn’t help but feel lucky to have a best friend like him. Someone who was always there for you no matter what. Someone who would never judge you for anything, no matter what he really thought about it. Someone who you were completely and one hundred percent head over heels for. And maybe, just maybe, one of these days you’d get the guts to tell him how you really felt.

[theonottsbxtch]

HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEARTS | OP81

an: oscar would so be the nerd at university that NOBODY hated but i got this listening to high school sweethearts by melanie

wc: 3.4k

Oscar wasn’t known for standing out. If anything, he was the type you’d forget was in the room until someone said, “Hey, can you pass me the stapler?” Quiet, unassuming, always with a book in hand or headphones half-falling out of his ears, he drifted through university like a ghost no one was particularly scared of. That is, until he met her.

She—loud, chaotic, unapologetically strange—was the kind of person who made an entrance just by breathing. People called her insane, whispered about her after lectures, and swapped stories about her latest absurd escapades. But to Oscar, she wasn’t insane. She was magnetic.

The first time he saw her, she was sitting cross-legged on a table in the middle of the library, explaining in detail why the library’s “No Food” policy was a direct attack on her personal freedoms. The staff were too stunned to stop her. Oscar was too stunned to look away.

By the time she noticed him staring—wide-eyed, clutching his battered notebook—she smiled, sharp and knowing. “You’ve got a crush, don’t you?” she said, not a question but a declaration.

Oscar didn’t deny it. How could he? Her gaze pinned him to the spot, like she’d peeled back his layers and found the embarrassing, undeniable truth: he was completely infatuated.

“Thought so,” she said, hopping off the table with an exaggerated stretch. “Well, listen up, quiet boy. If you’re gonna have a crush on me, there are rules.”

“Rules?” he echoed, voice cracking slightly.

“For dating me,” she said casually, as though she delivered ultimatums like this every day. “And trust me, it’s not for the faint of heart. So, listen close, because I’m only saying this once.”

She held up a finger. “Rule one: You must accept that I’m a little out of my mind.”

Oscar blinked. “A little?”

“Don’t interrupt,” she snapped, but the glint in her eye softened it into something almost teasing. “Rule two: This whole thing is a waste if you can’t walk me down the finish line. I don’t do quitters.”

She was pacing now, her hands moving as she spoke, like she was building the rules out of thin air. “Rule three: Give me passion. Don’t make fun of my fashion, even if it’s ‘unconventional.’ Rule four: Give me more. And I mean more, more, more. Compliments, time, effort—whatever you’ve got, I’ll take it.”

She stopped in front of him, looking him dead in the eye. “Rule five: You can’t be scared to show me off. Hold my hand in public. Smile when people stare. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

Oscar nodded, as if it were a contract he was ready to sign.

“Rule six,” she continued, her voice dropping slightly, “if you can’t put in the work...well, I don’t know what you think this is supposed to be. And rule seven...” She paused dramatically, a slow, sharp grin spreading across her face. “If you cheat, you will die. No exaggeration.”

He laughed nervously, unsure if she was joking. Her expression didn’t budge.

“Wait, you’re serious?” he asked.

“Dead serious.” Her gaze was steady, almost unnervingly so. He felt a strange thrill run through him, a combination of terror and awe.

“Oh,” he said, his voice faint.

“And another thing,” she added, leaning closer. Her voice was a soft purr now, almost conspiratorial. “If you can’t handle the choking, the biting, the loving, the smothering—well, let’s just say you’d better leave now.”

Oscar’s heart raced. For a moment, he thought she might be messing with him. But as he studied her face, the fierce intensity in her eyes, he realised she meant every word. And instead of scaring him off, it only pulled him in deeper.

He swallowed hard, his lips parting as if to respond, but she didn’t wait for him to speak. “You up for it, quiet boy?” she asked, raising a brow. “Or are you gonna run like the rest of them?”

Oscar took a deep breath, his chest tight but his resolve steady. “I’m in,” he said, the words stronger than he expected. “All in.”

Her grin widened. “Good. Don’t disappoint me.”

And just like that, she spun on her heel and sauntered away, leaving Oscar standing there, breathless, overwhelmed, and more in love than he’d ever thought possible.

The whispers started the moment she left the room. Oscar could feel the weight of every stare, the quiet hum of disbelief settling over the students still lingering in the library. He shifted uncomfortably, gripping the strap of his bag, and glanced around. A few people smirked. Others shook their heads, muttering things he couldn’t quite make out—but he knew what they were saying.

"She’s messing with him.""He doesn’t stand a chance.""Poor guy. He’ll regret it."

Oscar didn’t care. He didn’t care that the rest of the university seemed to think she was unapproachable, untouchable. If anything, their doubt only made his resolve stronger.

Later that evening, he found himself sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone. He’d spent hours trying to figure out what to text her. Every draft felt wrong—too eager, too stiff, too... boring. And if there was one thing she didn’t tolerate, it was boring.

Eventually, he settled on something simple:

“So... when do I start following the rules?”

The response came almost instantly:

“Tomorrow. Be ready by 9. Wear something cute. And bring coffee.”

Oscar stared at the message, his heart racing. He wanted to ask where they were going, but something told him she wouldn’t answer. She thrived on keeping people off balance, and he had a feeling she’d enjoy watching him squirm.

The next morning, he was at her door at 8:55, holding two cups of coffee and wearing his nicest shirt. It wasn’t much—just a navy button-up he usually saved for presentations—but he hoped it would pass the “cute” test.

She opened the door with a dramatic flair, her eyes immediately scanning him from head to toe. For a moment, Oscar thought he’d failed. But then she smiled, a slow, wicked grin that made his stomach flip.

“Not bad,” she said, grabbing one of the coffees from his hand. “You’re trainable.”

“Uh, thanks?” he said, not entirely sure if it was a compliment.

She laughed and tugged him inside, closing the door behind him. Her apartment was just as chaotic as he’d imagined—paintings leaned against the walls, half-finished projects scattered across the floor, and a neon sign above the kitchen counter that read Normal Is Overrated.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked, trying not to trip over a stack of books on his way to the sofa.

She raised an eyebrow. “Rule two, remember? I don’t do quitters, and I don’t do guys who need their hands held. Just keep up, and maybe you’ll survive the day.”

It turned out “keeping up” was a lot harder than he’d expected.

She led him all over the city, dragging him into thrift shops and art galleries, stopping at random street performers to critique their technique, and challenging him to a karaoke battle in the middle of a bustling café. By the time they got to their final stop—a rooftop overlooking the city—Oscar was out of breath, his feet sore, and his head spinning.

“You’re not dead yet,” she said, leaning against the railing and sipping the last of her coffee.

“Barely,” he replied, collapsing onto a nearby bench.

She laughed, a real, genuine laugh that softened her sharp edges for just a moment. “Not bad for day one, quiet boy. But you’ve got a long way to go.”

Oscar looked up at her, the wind catching her hair and the glow of the city lights reflecting in her eyes. She was intense, unpredictable, and completely overwhelming—but as she turned to look at him, a hint of curiosity in her expression, he felt something settle in his chest.

“I’m ready,” he said, surprising himself with how much he meant it. “Whatever it takes, I’m in.”

She tilted her head, studying him like she couldn’t quite figure him out. “You’re weird,” she said finally. “I think I like that.”

And just like that, she turned and started walking away.

“Wait, where are you going?” he called after her.

“Home,” she said over her shoulder. “You’ll text me tomorrow. Same time. Different rules.”

Oscar stayed on the rooftop for a while after she left, the cool breeze clearing his head. He had no idea what he’d just signed up for. But as he watched her disappear into the crowd below, he realised one thing for certain: there was no turning back now.

It had been almost a week of him following her around town doing insane things with her, everytime he did it, he fell for her more than before.

The café buzzed with its usual morning chaos—coffee machines hissing, chairs scraping against the floor, and students chattering as they rushed to squeeze in breakfast before class. Oscar had been there for five minutes, awkwardly lingering at a corner table, when he spotted her weaving through the crowd.

She didn’t walk so much as command the space around her. Her oversized sweater draped lazily over her shoulders, and her combat boots stomped just loud enough to draw attention. In one hand, she clutched her ever-present carton of orange juice.

Oscar’s heart gave its now-familiar leap at the sight of her.

She didn’t smile when she saw him—she rarely did in public—but the slight tilt of her head was enough for him. She slid into the seat next to him, her elbow bumping his in a way that felt oddly reassuring.

And then he showed up.

“Morning, Oscar.”

Oscar tensed instinctively at the voice. Charles. The kind of guy who wore his popularity like a crown and acted like it gave him the right to sit wherever he wanted. Unfortunately, today, that “wherever” was the empty chair on the other side of Oscar.

“Charles,” Oscar said stiffly.

Charles ignored the tone and dropped into the chair, leaning back like he owned the place. His attention flicked briefly to her, sitting silent and unmoving on the other side of Oscar. She didn’t look at him. Not even a glance.

“I see you’re still hanging out with, uh... what’s the word? Unconventional company,” Charles said, his smirk practically oozing condescension.

Oscar opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. He hated confrontation, and Charles had a way of twisting any defense into something laughable.

She didn’t react. Not a word, not a movement. She simply reached across Oscar, setting her orange juice on the table with deliberate slowness, her hand brushing his arm as she did.

Charles raised an eyebrow. “Not gonna say anything, huh? No witty comeback? That’s new. You know, Oscar, if you ever need—”

He didn’t get to finish.

In one fluid motion, she turned, grabbed Oscar by the collar, and pulled him into a kiss. It wasn’t gentle—it was bold, fierce, and entirely unapologetic. The world around them seemed to fall away.

Oscar’s first thought was that he should probably panic. His second thought, as her lips pressed against his and the faint taste of orange juice lingered on his tongue, was that he didn’t want to.

Then came the chaos.

Mid-kiss, her elbow nudged the carton of orange juice. It tipped over, spilling in a perfect arc onto Charles’s lap.

“What the hell?” Charles shot to his feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as the juice soaked into his trousers. “Are you serious?”

She finally broke the kiss, her expression perfectly calm as she turned to face Charles. She didn’t say a word. Not a single word.

Charles’s face turned redder by the second. “You’re insane,” he hissed, pointing at her like she was some kind of villain. “I knew it. Completely insane.”

Oscar, still dazed from the kiss, felt a laugh bubbling up in his chest. He couldn’t stop it. It escaped as a quiet chuckle at first, then a full grin spreading across his face.

Charles turned his glare on Oscar. “And you! Are you really just going to sit there and let her—”

“Yes,” Oscar said simply, his voice stronger than he’d expected. He couldn’t stop smiling.

Charles sputtered, utterly dumbfounded, before storming off toward the bathroom, muttering under his breath about how “insane people shouldn’t be allowed in public.”

The café was silent for a beat, and then, like clockwork, the whispers started.

She didn’t seem to notice—or if she did, she didn’t care. She turned back to Oscar, calmly picking up the now-empty orange juice carton and tossing it into a nearby bin.

“That was... a lot,” Oscar said finally, still catching his breath.

She shrugged, her eyes sparkling with something playful. “Rule five,” she said, as if it explained everything.

“Show you off and hold your hand?”

She tilted her head, smiling ever so slightly. “Close enough.”

And just like that, she stood up, as if nothing had happened. “Come on, quiet boy. You’re walking me to class.”

Oscar followed her out of the café, the eyes of half the room trailing after them. For the first time, though, he didn’t care. If this was what insanity felt like, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to go back to normal.

Over the next few months, she and Oscar became the university’s most inexplicable pairing. People whispered about them constantly, but neither of them seemed to care.

She still refused to conform to anyone’s expectations, roaming campus in outfits that veered between thrift-shop chaos and unapologetic glam. Oscar, meanwhile, remained quiet and steady, like a grounding force to her whirlwind energy.

They settled into their dynamic surprisingly well. She had her rules, and Oscar followed them—sometimes clumsily, but always with devotion. She dragged him to art galleries, night markets, and rooftop parties he’d never have attended on his own. He listened to her rants, held her hand when she insisted, and even endured her merciless teasing when he fumbled a karaoke mic.

In turn, she surprised him, too. Sometimes, when the world got too loud, she’d let herself be vulnerable around him. She’d show up at his apartment late at night, curl up on his couch without a word, and let him hold her until she fell asleep. He learned to read her silences, to understand that sometimes her “insanity” was a mask for something deeper.

They were an odd match, but they worked.

One Friday morning, a few months into their relationship, Oscar found himself in the sports science building for a required class study. His professor was leading the group through a practical demonstration of exercise physiology, and today’s session involved a series of physical tests—strength, endurance, flexibility.

“Right,” the professor called out. “We’ll start with the treadmill test. Everyone take turns, and when it’s your turn, you’ll need to remove your shirt so we can monitor your breathing and heart rate more closely.”

Oscar didn’t think much of it. He was used to this sort of thing. Sports science wasn’t exactly shy about physicality. So, when his turn came, he stepped onto the treadmill and casually peeled off his shirt.

The reaction was immediate.

A low whistle echoed across the room, followed by murmured laughter and a chorus of exaggerated “oohs.”

Oscar froze, his cheeks burning as he turned to look at the group. The guys in his class were all grinning, their eyes fixed not on his face, but his back.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Uh, dude,” one of them said, barely able to keep a straight face. “You wanna tell us where you got those?”

Oscar frowned, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. That’s when he remembered: the scratches.

His back was a mess of faint red marks—long, jagged streaks that stood out against his otherwise pale skin. They were clearly recent, unmistakable evidence of what could only be described as... passionate nights.

“Oh,” he said weakly, the realisation hitting him like a freight train.

“Oh?” one of the guys repeated, laughing. “That’s all you’ve got to say? Come on, man. Who’s the lucky girl?”

Oscar’s face went crimson. He tugged his shirt back on, muttering something about “none of your business,” but the damage was done.

“Bet it’s that girl,” someone said, the grin in their voice unmistakable. “You know, the one everyone says is kinda crazy.”

Oscar ignored them, focusing on the treadmill’s blinking screen as he started his run. But he couldn’t stop the small, involuntary smile that crept onto his face.

Later that day, he met up with her at their usual spot—a small café tucked away from the campus chaos. She was already there, lounging in her chair with a book in one hand and a coffee in the other.

“You’re late,” she said without looking up.

“Got held up,” he replied, sliding into the seat across from her.

She finally looked up, narrowing her eyes. “Why are you grinning like that?”

“Am I?”

“You are. Spill.”

Oscar hesitated, then leaned in slightly. “Let’s just say the guys in my class found out you’re... hands-on.”

It took her a second to process, but when she did, her face split into a wicked grin. “Oh, really?”

He nodded. “They were... impressed. Lots of whistling. Some questions I refused to answer.”

She laughed, a low, delighted sound that made his stomach flip. “Good. Let them wonder.”

“And you don’t think it’s, I don’t know, embarrassing?”

She reached across the table, her fingers brushing his as she tilted her head in that way that always made him feel like she was reading his mind. “Oscar, sweetie,” she said, her voice teasing but fond, “I’m never embarrassed about liking you. Why should you be embarrassed about liking me?”

He didn’t have an answer for that. All he knew was that in that moment, surrounded by her chaos and certainty, he was exactly where he wanted to be.

After a bit of catching up, they did what they usually did. She pulled out a book and he pulled out his laptop, the both of them doing something in silence. There was a low hum of student chatter filling the air. It was peaceful in a way Oscar had grown to love.

But the peace didn’t last.

A group of guys from his sports science class strolled past, their laughter cutting through the quiet. Oscar didn’t notice them at first—not until one of them whistled, loud and sharp.

“Yo, Oscar!” one of them called, smirking as he walked by.

“Those scratches healed up yet, man?” another teased, nudging his friend.

There was a ripple of laughter, followed by another whistle, and Oscar immediately felt his face heat up.

He looked down at his lap, his cheeks burning as he pretended to adjust the edge of his notebook. The attention made him feel like he wanted to sink into his chair and disappear.

She noticed instantly.

Her gaze snapped up, tracking the guys as they walked away. Then she turned to Oscar, watching as he ducked his head, his shoulders tense with embarrassment.

“No, no, no,” she said firmly, tossing her book aside and sitting up.

“What?” he mumbled, still looking anywhere but at her.

She reached out and gently cupped his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. There was a teasing glint in her gaze, but her voice was soft when she said, “No, Oscar darling. None of this shy, looking-down nonsense.”

He blinked at her, unsure what to say.

“Listen to me,” she said, leaning closer, her voice dropping into a low, almost conspiratorial tone. “You’re my boyfriend. You’re sweet, gorgeous, and apparently very memorable.” Her lips twitched into a grin. “So soak it in, baby.”

Before he could protest, she grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him toward her.

Her lips pressed against his with deliberate force, and the world around them seemed to fade. The kiss wasn’t subtle or polite—it was just shy of scandalous.

Oscar’s brain short-circuited. He could vaguely hear the distant laughter of the guys who’d whistled, probably in shock, but he didn’t care. His initial surprise melted into something warmer, and he kissed her back, his hands instinctively resting on her waist.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes sparkled with satisfaction. She smirked at him, her fingers still fisted in his shirt.

“Better?” she asked.

He nodded, dazed, his cheeks still flushed but for an entirely different reason now. “Yeah,” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” she said, leaning back casually as if nothing had happened. She picked up her book and flipped it open again, completely unbothered by the attention they’d drawn.

Oscar, on the other hand, felt the stares of half the cantine burning into his skin. But this time, instead of looking down, he found himself smiling.

If this was what she meant by “soaking it in,” he figured he could get used to it.

the end.

[vivalarevolution]

𝓖𝓸𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭𝓪𝓷

Paul Atreides x Reader

Request: „Paul Atreides falling in love with his father's younger wife, whom he recently married for political reasons, yet he remains loyal and in love with Jessica.‟

A/N: Request from anon. A very interesting concept that I thoroughly enjoyed writing. As always, I hope you will like reading my work, especially since this is my first attempt at writing for Paul Atreides.

Please remember that english is not my native language and mistakes might happen.

She reminded him of a goddess , a being from ancient books that survived the destruction of Old Terra. She was beautiful like Aphordite , full of warmth as Hestia and innocent and sensitive as Persephone. Yet her eyes were full of sadness , like those belonging to Oizys.

And the young duke hated it.

He hated her sadness. The sadness which was caused by his own father. Leto Atreides married her , but there was no love between them , there was only darkness and misery that was draining the young woman from the inside. In Paul's eyes, his father's actions were cruel. He did not deserve such a delicate soul , and much less he deserve it to destroy it.

He tried , almost desperately , to understand the man when his eyes followed him with his own mother , but in vain. Because he loved the woman he could not have too much to forgive him for what he did to her.

So he stopped. He stopped looking for forgiveness , which never existed.

Instead, he surrendered to the arms of forbidden desire , surrendered to the feelings he had been hiding so deeply inside himself, surrendered to her will without her even knowing.

His shadow began to follow hers, her steps became his steps , her breath became his breath.

And suddenly Paul Atreides became everything to her that his father never was. He became her protector , her rock , her guardian , her savior.

But that wasn't enough for him. He wanted more. He had to have more.

He found her in her chambers , she was sitting on one of the many cushions, reading. But when she felt a presence behind her she stopped , turning her head to the side , looking out of the corner of her eye at the young duke.

-Paul - she said softly , turning fully in his direction - What brings you to me? - she asked him , closing the book , which suddenly no longer seemed interesting to her.

He didn't answer , not immediately.

But as the silence lengthened between them , the tension begin to grow as well.

-I want you - he replied suddenly , and despite the seriousness of the sentence his voice was composed , remarkably calm.

-What? - the woman whispered, shocked.

His words seemed to cut through the air like the sharpest knife, leaving behind a mark that was impossible to erase.

-I want you - he repeated , slowly approaching her figure.

She watched his movements , stopping only when the brunet kneeled before her.

-But you already have me - she said , placing her hand on his pale cheek.

Paul grabbed her wrist and closed his eyes allowing her addictive scent to dull his senses.

-Not in the way I would have wanted - he confessed , tasting her soft skin with his lips.

At his words, the woman pulled her hand from his hold , moving away from her husband's son.

-We can't. You know it's forbidden - she announced, furrowing her eyebrows.

-I know - he responded , getting up from his knees to approach her yet again - But no matter how cruel the truth is , my father does not love you , he never will. And I hate him for it, I hate him for marrying a woman he is not able to love.

-The world has always been cruel Paul. You cannot change it , you are in no position to. You are not a god - she said with a shadow of sorrow in her voice , feeling tears involuntarily flow into her eyes.

-But I can change the part of the world you belong to.There will be no more misery , no more pain - he declared, approaching her , trapping her between the wall and himself.

-Don't say that. I am begging you , don't say that - she whispered , closing her eyes, trying to push the brunet away from her, but to no avail.

The man kissed her cheekbones , nuzzling his face into her thick locks.

-Tell me the truth - he asked , but was met with silence - Tell me the truth - he repeated , but his voice no longer sounded familiar.

-I love you more than life itself Paul. I'm willing to die if it means I can taste your lips, even for a slight moment - she admitted, but although her words were sincere, it seemed to her as if someone pulled them out of her, without her permission.

-And I love you - he said - And believe me when I say this. I will never stop loving you. My love for you will only cease to exist when the sun will rise in the west and set in the east , when the seas go dry and mountains will blow in the wind like leaves.

-One day , you will regret those words Paul Atreides - she professed , feeling her breathing become more shallow and her eyes more clouded.

-Never - he growled , before attacking her full, pink lips.

His kisses were the opposite of him. They were burning , chaotic , dangerous.

But despite this , she desperately grabbed his shoulders , trying to pull him closer and closer. Their hands traveled over each other's bodies , as their lips tasted one another, never having enough. They seemed to have forgotten about everything except themselves.

Suddenly the mortal world no longer existed. There was no fear , sadness , or despair. In their place came lust , desire and love. Feelings that were forbidden to them.

But they didn't stopped.

They didn't stop when their bodies merged into one. They didn't stop when the first rays of sun appeared on the walls of her chambers.

They didn't stop because there was nothing strong enough to separate Paul Atreides from his goddess.

[primofate]

Genshin Angst Headcanons - Why the two of you broke up

Note: Had an unexpected free day! I haven't written in a while, please excuse the mistakes, if any.

Disclaimer at the end of the post

Warning: Some are pretty predictable. Each of them have their own issues, lore wise, so some are lore heavy. You might not agree with some of them, but its how I see it, so to each their own. Let me know what you think! Some are quite angsty. Some scenes it's you breaking up with him and some are vice versa. Didn't feel like writing Razor, Venti and Xingqiu.

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Bennett, Chongyun, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Thoma, Tighnari, Xiao, Zhongli, gn!reader

Personal Favourites in this work: Lyney, Itto, Kazuha

Aether

Sister issues. Enough said.

He realized he didn't have enough time to spare romancing with someone.

Somewhere along the way he felt guilt that he was enjoying his time with you while his sister went through some sort of villain origin story that seemingly turned her bad.

Top off all the adventuring, searching, solving problems for other people that he did...Where did that leave you, exactly?

"...I'm sorry, Y/N... I just... I don't think this is the right time for me to be together with you,"

Albedo

Contrary to popular belief it wouldn't be his lack of time or extreme focus on his alchemical experiments that would break the two of you up. He knows how to manage his time.

It was the RESULTS of experiments and his research that would put him away from you.

The possibility that HE or his world, was way too dangerous for you.

How many "Albedos" did Rhinedottir really create? Was there more than three? Perhaps four, five? And what happens when you come face to face with another Albedo?

"I'm afraid...There are far too many dangers surrounding myself... There are answers that I can't find...and perhaps that's the reason why my answer is to part ways with you,"

Alhaitham

Too much of a nonchalant attitude.

He expressed some kind of interest in you...but it's like... once in a blue moon. 95% of the time you're not sure if he's really into you. It almost seems like he's more into that book he reads all the time.

Simply just not good at expressing himself. Like, at all. Hides behind a "whatever works" and "I don't care about what other people think of me" attitude, unfortunately that seems to include you.

Is so straightforward that sometimes it hurts, but he's really just telling the truth through logical analysis.

will act like the breakup didn't hurt nor affect him at all. In turn it hurts you instead.

"I see. So you've had enough of me... And you only spoke up now? Pointing it out earlier could've diverted us from this path...If that's how you feel already I suggest that we stop seeing each other,"

"That's it? You're not even going to try and work it out with me?"

"What's there to work out? You've made yourself clear. You're not satisfied with the way I treat you, and I'm afraid I'm not going to change the way I act just for your pleasure... It'd be more meaningful for you to find someone who fits your criterias,"

Ayato

entering a relationship with a noble was not as easy as one thought.

It's not just about being together forever and feeling lucky because Ayato is rich and your whole life is set, it's also the not fitting in, the etiquette, the whispers from townfolk that you were too ordinary for him, the work that you needed to do if you were to become his wife.

All that was not really a big problem for you, but Ayato seemed not to know of your struggles, he was extremely busy, and when he wasn't, he seemed to think that everything was well and fine, since you were getting all your basic needs met and even more.

"...So I'm sorry, Ayato. This is just... All too much for me. I'm sorry,"

"...I understand. Forgive me, it seems that I've overlooked a lot of things...Perhaps it is as you say, that it'd be better for us to grow apart rather than grow together,"

Baizhu

because he is a ticking time bomb, no matter which way he looked it's not going to end well for both of you.

He either dies early or lives forever. In both scenarios he anticipates that the two of you are just going to be in a world of hurt.

Besides, he didn't mean to get so attached to someone in the first place, he knew his quest for immortality was long and arduous. You didn't deserve to walk that difficult road too.

While breaking up, will conceal the fact that he's only thinking of you and will possibly hurt you in the process.

"I'm sorry, but it's for the best. I ask that you continue going forward without me, there's no space for you in my... ideal future,"

Bennett

We all know it...it's his bad luck. However, it wasn't YOU who had a problem with it, it was HIM.

You understood that his bad luck was just some extended part of him, plus it's not like it was always bad, there were a lot of good times too. Plenty!

But the guilt ate him up whenever the two of you were stuck in a seemingly impossible scenario and predicament, brought on by his luck. He just had enough of it one day.

"I...I can't keep doing this to you every day! It's not fair..."

will be on the brink of tears before he even starts.

"Maybe it's better if you find someone else to adventure with, Y/N, sorry...!"

runs away before you can even get a word in.

Chongyun

Thinks he's not good enough in every aspect. It's really, seriously not about you. He thinks he's lacking in everything. Strength, maturity, experience, confidence.

So badly wants to stay with you but feels like he's not good enough and thinks that you're better off with someone else.

"D-Don't misunderstand... It's not because I don't like you anymore... I just...Please find someone else!"

Cyno

his bad jokes and TCG addiction. just kidding, you're not that shallow.

A lot of people are intimidated by him being the General Mahamatra because he gives importance to justice. While you, who had seen a bit more of him than other people had, it seemed more of an obsession to uphold the Akademiya's law and integrity.

This was not a big problem to you, you liked how he was serious at work.

Until one day when you were accused of plagiarising one of your papers and Cyno was the one sent to give you a first offense warning. The Akademiya knew of your relationship, that's probably why they sent him, to make it harder on the two of you.

Cyno didn't listen to your explanations on how it was an honest mistake, he still gave you the warning that you "deserved"

From then on it had just been different between the two of you, so it was really a mutual breakup. Or so you thought.

"...After that, I just realized that maybe this isn't the right time for us... We're both working for the Akademiya, we both take our jobs seriously...Unfortunately that seems to just be getting in the way of us...I think it's best if we stop seeing each other,"

"...I see." he pauses for a minute, as if tossing your words in his mind. "I...agree. Parting ways would certainly make work easier for both of us...it's the professional thing to do,"

Dainsleif

Has not moved on from his past.

Sure, everyone has their own baggage to carry, their own history to live through...but Dainsleif has heavier things than that. He seemed to wake up every day thinking of Khaenri'ah and the days long past. Was it regret? Nostalgia? Loneliness? You didn't know. You just knew that he wasn't really completely THERE with you in the present. Part of him still lived in the past.

When you explained that you felt like the two of you were not moving forward together and that it seemed like he wanted to go back to the past instead, he got offended.

"...My past is something that I carry forever, you'd claimed that you understood that," he starts.

"I do! But carrying it with you and letting it drag you backwards are two different things!"

He falters for a moment, only to leave you with his last words before turning away from you forever: "You will never understand, the weight that I carry,"

Diluc

is too guarded. You'd been friends for a long, long, long, long time before he decided he could let you in enough and be more intimate with you.

Even then everything was going at a snail's pace, though you were extremely patient with him.

The biggest problem with Diluc was that the two of you would progress one day, take a step forward, and then the next day it was like the two of you took two steps back.

Example: The two of you went out for a simple stargazing excursion late one night, it was nice and he had been incredibly affectionate. The next day he had trouble even meeting your gaze, and disappeared to do his work. It was also a little awkward during dinnertime. This scenario had happened more than once.

Hint: the closer he got to you the more afraid he became, thinking that he would one day lose you too.

"I...I can't. I love you but I...I've waited far too long. I'm sorry. I'm tired of this endless chase for you!"

He couldn't even say a thing. He'd wanted to ask you to stay, to wait for him a little longer, but he already knew how incredibly selfish that would have been. Instead, he grimaced, and looked away from your gaze, trying to find something worthwhile to say. There was only silence for a few moments.

"Goodbye Diluc," that's when you turned away.

Gorou

worships Kokomi too much and your insecurities just kept circling around in your head.

You know its his job. You know he isn't like that but the problem was YOU and not him.

Simply said you let your insecurity eat up the relationship between the two of you.

You couldn't bring yourself to say that you were jealous of the way he admired Kokomi so you broke up with him with another reason in tow.

Unfortunately, you're not a very good liar face to face so you did a butthole move and actually broke up with him through a letter. You just couldn't face him and tell him why.

All you mentioned in the letter was that you needed time to think and be away from him, and told him not to worry because it was your problem, not his.

Poor Gorou reread that letter over and over, trying to understand what went wrong.

Heizou

is just a natural flirt. You're not sure if he's doing it on purpose or not and you're not sure if he's even aware he's like that.

Anyway you'd seen him getting overly friendly (just another word for flirting) with a few other people a couple of times. You didn't let it get to you the first, fourth or even eighth time but you realized that he KNOWS that you're watching him do that.

So you confront him about it, but he claims that it's just his way of gathering information from others. People like to hear good things and some people are more susceptible to flirtatious comments so he resorts to that for his investigation sometimes.

You didn't really completely buy it and even if you did, it's not like this was healthy for your relationship. You just couldn't make yourself comfortable with it.

*You just chalked it up to the two of you being incompatible.

"I'm just not comfortable with that...I don't think I have to say sorry for how I feel but...I'm sorry anyway because I know you're just doing your job... It's probably best if we part ways here..."

"Is there any way to change your mind?" he genuinely asks.

You only give a lopsided smile. "You're a detective, I think you already know the answer to that,"

Yet he didn't stop you from walking away.

Itto

Kept breaking promises because he was too airheaded or too occupied doing something "stupid" with the kids or with his gang.

Pretty soon it just felt like you were an afterthought while everyone else in his life took precedent.

Got a ramen date? Oops, sorry! Got caught up looking for a strong onikabuto in the forest!

Needed his help to move some things? Gah, he was vandalising the bulletin boards, so he's running a bit late!

What's more you didn't actually mind that carefree, airheaded side of him...but it really got to you when he couldn't even seem to make you a priority. Not once.

He only realized that when he came running, late again, and stood face to face with a crying you.

"Hey sorry Y/N, I was just--...Why are you crying?!" is completely dumbfounded and clueless, mostly because when he came late, you had always shrugged it off with a smile on your face, or so he thought. This time you had a completely different reaction.

"I hate you...*hic* I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

Shocked beyond belief. It wasn't like you to just blow up like that, but he couldn't do anything except watch you turn and run away from him after that exclamation.

Kaeya

Sometimes you're not sure if he takes you seriously.

Recently, he's not where he says he is, you don't know why he doesn't just tell you where he is.

He said he'd be working late, but then you find out he's at Angel's Share.

He said he'll be at Angel's Share, but then you catch word from Jean that he's out on a late mission.

He said he's escorting a caravan to Mondstadt but he's actually on assignment in Liyue.

It came to the point where you altogether just stopped looking for him cause half of the time you couldn't find him. It's like he's avoiding you or something, which, actually, seems just about right since he's been so busy with "work"

It reached a breaking point when, for a week, you were unable to bring him the lunch you prepared...because he was not where he said he was going to be. It was starting to get annoying.

"I don't understand why you're lying to me! Why do you have to tell me you'll be at Angel's Share this afternoon when you're not? Do you realize you make me walk all the way there only to come all the way back with nothing achieved?"

"I'm sorry snowflake, that wasn't my intention," though he still chuckles despite knowing full well that you were about to turn away.

"You know what, let me know when you're ready to stop making jokes. Until then, don't bother contacting me,"

He just didn't expect you to actually walk away from him.

Kaveh

Entertains everyone and anyone. Naturally kind at heart, will stop for anyone in trouble...even that flirtatious man/woman who is clearly just pining for his attention.

No he doesn't quite realize this.

The same person had asked for his help at least 4 times now and all 4 times he had been happy to offer a helping hand.

The last straw was when he was invited into the stranger's house, they had apparently needed someone to help them move and re-arrange furniture and he did, working till almost dinner time.

You'd caught him right by the person's door, because Kaveh was actually honest and told you he'd be helping them today, but the person was clearly eyeing Kaveh rather flirtatiously.

"Come again next time," you heard the person say rather happily. Kaveh only replies with "If I have nothing else to do, I suppose,"

"Kaveh, they're coming onto you and you keep letting it happen!"

"I'm not certain what you're talking about...They just needed some help around their house, nothing suspicious happened at all. Even if there was, I won't let anything happen between me and a stranger!"

"Then STOP helping them!"

"There isn't anything wrong with lending a hand...It was a quick move of things, that's all,"

"How would YOU feel if I just went into someone's house and kept helping them "move" things?"

"...I would think that's nice of you,"

You actually threw your hands up. "Oh, forget it! You know what, for someone who LOVES helping others, you're not doing such a great job of helping ME," then walked away and never came back. "Good riddance,"

Kazuha

He's a wandering samurai. You knew what you were getting into but you didn't expect dating him to be so hard.

He was gone for weeks on end, and you were not getting on that boat with him. In essence the two of you were just not ready to follow each other to the end's of the Earth, and that was fair. The two of you were young.

Kazuha kind of saw it coming, whenever he visited you, you seemed less spirited and he had an inkling as to why. The time apart was just too much for you.

It was a rather clean break actually. A real mutual breakup that the two of you agreed on.

"...You could say it's just not the right time for us," you even managed to laugh under your breath and he did the same, though it was barely audible.

"...Mm. There are matters that you need to attend to here...and there are things that I need to do out there," he slowly stood up from his sitting position next to you and still gazed at you rather lovingly. "...Perhaps, in another world, you and I are bound together,"

You gazed back forlornly, "...Just not in this one, it looks like,"

Lyney

because he will always choose his siblings over you. Always.

Though that's not a bad thing because you also think that family is important...somewhere along the way you realized that family is the ONLY thing he had and saw.

Example: Lynette and you had gotten ill at the same time one winter morning. Perhaps it was the cold that was passing around Fontaine. Lyney had been so worried about Lynette, that he seemed to have forgotten about you for the next few days. In fact, Lyney didn't even realize that you caught the cold too. You had only heard from Freminet, who you happened to cross paths with, that Lynette was also ill.

You thought that incident was the end of it, but really it seemed that whenever Lyney wanted to hang out with you, Lynette had to be there too. You tried to understand...after all there's still that mystery of disappearing women in Fontaine.

The breakup was induced when Lyney completely forgot about your birthday, because Freminet's was around the same time as yours. You helped Lyney prepare everything for Freminet, and said nothing about your own.

You realized that there was nothing wrong with choosing family over everything else...but the problem here was that Lyney didn't even have space for you in the first place.

So you left without saying anything. You figured he'd get over it quick. You had even gone so far as to move away from the main city of Fontaine and out into another island, because what would you say if he found you? That you were jealous of his siblings? You weren't going to ruin a family like that and it wasn't right to make him choose...so you just left without a word.

Neuvillette

Had a whole brainrot for this man:

Part 1

Part 2

Scaramouche

surprisingly it's not his anger issues.

It's the way he wouldn't acknowledge your relationship. You wonder how you even got into one with him.

There's no public show of affection, but even behind closed doors it rarely happened.

You knew that he was going to be like that, and so you didn't mind it all that much.

It was getting a bit much though when, out in public, he would walk further in front of you and refused to walk next to you. When he pretended like he didn't even know you. When he didn't stop to help you even when another man had shown interest in you, bordering on uncomfortable.

The more time passed the more you simply felt unloved...but for some reason you still blamed yourself.

"...I...don't know. Maybe you find me undesirable, or just...unappealing. Maybe you're embarrassed of me or...or..." maybe you just didn't care in the first place, you thought to yourself.

There was a long silence. Of you turning your gaze away, of him still piercing into yours. And then...

"Tsk...don't waste my time...Leave if you want to leave, door's open,"

Tartaglia

This one is simple. It's his obsession for fighting plus his complete disregard for himself. It's a constant heart attack for you. At some point the anxiety is just too much for you to handle.

Imagine living every day just wondering if he's safe at the same time knowing that he just loves to look for trouble.

The foul legacy that you know of, he uses it with disregard as well, despite knowing that it wasn't good for him.

And there are even days where you know he was heavily wounded but didn't go to you, in an attempt to shield you from worry.

It's a constant battle trying to stay sane and unworried, until one day it all just becomes too much.

"...Nothing I say will change anything, Tartaglia. This is who you are...This is who you need to be..." you whisper while bandaging his knuckles. He lets out a short hum.

It was silent all up until you finished with his hand, you squeeze it gently. "...I love you but...I can't keep doing this to myself, I'm tired...more so than I have ever been before,"

He lets your hand slip away from his knuckles, and that was the last he saw of you.

Thoma

This one is also simple. He was always taking care of others and running errands for others that he sometimes just couldn't catch a break.

Just a classic case of not enough time for you since he had a job to do for the Kamisato Clan.

He knows it, and feels awful about it. So he's the one who makes the move.

"It hurts that I can't give you what you deserve, Y/N. This isn't it... You deserve more than this but I can't give you that and I'm sorry. Please look for the love that you deserve,"

Tighnari

Remembers everything. Can be critical of things you've done, specially if he thinks there's a better way to do it.

Simply said you just feel stupid in front of him sometimes.

He doesn't mean to, but he sometimes forgets to appreciate or give praise to the things that you do well and even if he does, it tends to be short lived compared to his constructive criticisms.

Pretty soon you felt like he only looks at the bad things you do, and never the good. Though he was really only trying to teach and guide you as an equal.

He in fact feels that you are one of the few people who can keep up educational conversations with him.

The problem is he kind of forgets that you're his lover, and that you would enjoy his praise and affection from time to time.

"Do you... Do you ever have anything nice to say other than 'good work' or 'great observation'?" the words were out of your mouth before you could hold yourself back. Sometimes it was tiring to feel like you weren't good enough.

There's a flash of surprise that crosses Tighnari's expression for a split second, before he recovers. "...Had I not been praising your work enough lately? My apologies... It has a lot of merits, I just thought that you wanted my opinion on how to make it better,"

You opened your mouth to say something, but closed it again right after to ponder on his words. Somehow even that had managed to make you feel embarrassed. It was here you knew that the problem also lied within yourself.

"...Sorry, Tighnari...I think I'll need some time alone,"

He obliges quickly and asks. "That's reasonable. When would you like me to come back?"

"...Let me rephrase that... I need some time away. From us."

Xiao

Unfortunately there's a lot of things wrong here... his lack of affection. His aloof personality. His dedication to his yaksha duties. Despite that he does actually try to be gentlemanly or respectful of you.

The worst of it is that he didn't know how to be in a relationship, in other words he just wasn't ready for one, or perhaps he would never be ready for one.

He didn't understand that humans craved companionship and sometimes touch. He didn't understand that meant having to favour you over others, sometimes even putting you first over his yaksha duties.

Worst of it all was when he shut himself off from you, sometimes for days on end, when his karmic debt was too high. He only really did it to protect you, but never realized how isolated that made you feel.

When you confronted him about it, he felt attacked. Hiding away was the only way he knew how to cope...why couldn't you understand that?

"Let me help you, Xiao,"

"I don't need your help!" his tone would make you wince and just like that he disappears into a billow of smoke.

You never returned to Wangshu Inn after that. If he couldn't let you in, there was no use trying to knock on his heart. Xiao being Xiao, never sought you ought again either.

Zhongli

He had experienced so many things and you had listened to many a tales from him.

This is what caused you to realize that you hadn't even experienced life at all, and yet here you were willing to tie yourself down to him.

It just didn't feel like it added up. Here he was with all this knowledge of the world and here you were who had never even stepped outside of Liyue. By no means were you stupid, but you felt that you could be better not only for him, but for yourself if you learned more.

There was just such a huge gap in life experiences, and though you never expected to get to his level (he was a God who had lived for a long time, you would never catch up to him) you at least wanted to see what was out there with your own eyes instead of through his stories.

He understood that wholeheartedly, and had no qualms in letting you go.

"You will always have a place with me, Y/N. No amount of lifetimes will change that,"

I’ve published The Ruthless Prince (Reader x Scaramouche) on paperback. Click here.

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Disclaimer: Relationships will always have some sort of problem along the way, maybe big, maybe small but I just want to reiterate that breaking up is not always the solution. Communicating is very important. So to those of you who like taking fanfiction too seriously, let it be known that this is just a work of fiction. I don't actually suggest breaking up with someone as soon as there is the slight indication of a problem (Just saw someone commenting on a similar themed post for Haikyuu that this wouldn't happen in the real world if both parties were mature... I mean, sure, but, idk, you must be fun in parties... it's called fiction for a reason...)

[sugoi-and-spice]

perfect, just perfect...

Serial Killer!Dabi x Reader x Serial Killer!Shigaraki

Summary: In which Dabi and Tomura Shigaraki are women-targeting serial killers and do what serial killers do. That’s it. That’s the fic.

CW: Quirkless!AU, Serial Killers/Slashers!AU, Explicit Smut, Non-Con/Rape, Kidnapping, Physical Abuse, Rough Sex, Asphyxiation, Mysoginy, Dead Dove: Do Not FUCKING Eat

A/N: Hey,, remember when I was gonna do a Halloween AU series? Neither do I!! Anyway, here's my first entry in my own event - out of order!! Enjoyyyy. (or not, this one's pretty gnarly ngl lol)

Cross-Posted on AO3

“P-Please… Stop, please…”

A smack. A loud one. Sounded like it was right across the face, and Dabi wouldn’t doubt if it was. Shigaraki really liked to mess up the face.

“Oh come on, you can beg better than that.”

“N-No, I— I…”

“No no — I know you can. You just were begging— begging fucking amazing too. Come on. Do it, you worthless slut.”

Dabi rolled his eyes, taking a drag from his cigarette as he stood watch outside the reconstructed Toyota Hiace they made their base of operations. One they’d gutted the seats out of to make room for a full-size mattress and some metal grating dividing the front seats from the back. 

A killing machine.

They parked it outside the city, in an endless valley of nature only ever occupied by a few off the grid campers. Ones that wouldn’t be suspicious of a lone van and two men in the middle of nowhere. They were also ones who typically had very few connections back home.

Who nobody would miss if they saw too much.

“Oi— I’m talking to you, slut! Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Jesus, this must’ve been the thirtieth time that Shigaraki called her a slut this session. How uncreative could one demented incel be? He’d kind of expected more from the bastard…

Truth be told, he didn’t particularly like his partner in crime. They weren’t friends, they were barely even acquaintances. But they were kindred spirits. Two particularly violent young men who’d met on a particularly violent darknet forum about women.

And the inhumane positions they’d love to put them in.

Of course, just because they both lived for the end result, didn’t mean that they agreed on the journey there. 

Shigaraki was a raging misogynist and by-the-book incel. He despised women, wanted to take revenge on them for everything he felt they did wrong to him. He wanted to make them bleed because he wanted to make them hurt. Because he was full of anger and disgust and hate. 

Dabi was the opposite. He loved women. The unique beauty of every single one, the range of emotions they showed in their darkest, most desperate moments. Emotions he himself was never allowed to show. Ugh, the euphoria of it all. He loved women so much he wanted to see every part of them.

Including their insides.

“Come on you ugly fuck!” Shigaraki snapped from inside the van, “Scream! It’s all you’re fucking good for!”

…Truth be told, Dabi wasn’t sure why exactly he’d partnered up with Shigaraki of all people. He’d been looking for a co-pilot for this sick and twisted little endeavor of his for a while, and there had been many others in the forums who probably would’ve been better fits personality-wise, who seemed more agreeable. Guys who weren’t so picky about the girls they picked, who didn’t grumble and gripe when it came time to finally cleaning up their mess, who didn’t use the “standing watch” excuse when it came to carrying the bodies to the disposal spots. 

Who didn’t put their disgusting fucking feet on his dashboard…

That being said, while they both lived almost exclusively on the other’s last nerve, they also had a strange, almost psychic symbiosis. They balanced each other out. Dabi was emotional and passionate, often getting over-excited by the next prospective victim, moved so intensely by his passion upon seeing a new girl walking down the street or sitting at the bar that he wanted to grab them right there and then. Shigaraki on the other hand was meticulous and paranoid, holding him back until he was absolutely sure that they wouldn’t get caught. 

He kept them careful at the beginning of the kill. 

Whereas Dabi, who truly believed that he held a lot of deep respect for the women they abducted, wanted to be careful with their bodies after the fact. Shigaraki grew bored easily and completely. He often wanted to just dump the bodies down a valley or in a back alley and move onto the next one. A broken toy wasn’t worth another second in his mind. But Dabi wanted better for the girls. He wanted them to have a proper burial. Deep, deep in the ground where nobody else could ever find them. 

He kept them careful at the end of the kill.

Dabi exhaled a long stream of smoke as he considered where their latest little sylph would be buried. They had passed a grove of what looked like magnificent spider lilies on the way out of town.

Maybe he was thinking too much into all this, he kind of had to whenever it was Shigaraki’s turn. The brutish way in which he handled and defiled these girls, it always made Dabi contemplate just what redeeming factor he had ever seen in the guy. 

And then he’d hear them, the screams Shigaraki managed to rip out of their victims. Screams that only came from a level of brutality Dabi would never be able to inflict himself. They were so unique, so beautiful, so perfect . And they were sounds that he’d never be able to hear if it weren’t for Shigaraki.

Truthfully, that alone was worth the endless collection of crushed Monster cans that littered the floor of his van.

It had gotten pretty quiet in there now. The screams, the pleading, even the choked little sobs of self-pity, all muted to nothing. There was only the creaking of tired mattress springs, Shigaraki’s heavy breathing and grunting, and the occasional sound of a slap followed by irritated mumbling. Yeah, she was losing all will to fight. Which meant it was just about time for—

“Oi,” Shigaraki snapped as if on cue, throwing the van door open, “She’s no fun anymore. You take her.”

Dabi took a long last drag of his cigarette, watching as Shigaraki climbed out and readjusted himself in his pants. His partner-in-crime gave him a weirded, disgusted look at the way he took his time.

“What’re you fucking staring at me for? You want me to off her or something?”

 Dabi waved him off, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stepping it out, “Nah, nah. I’m on it.”

“Hop to it then,” Shigaraki barked, crossing his arms and leaning against the passenger door of the van, “We’ve been here long enough already.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Dabi retorted as he stepped into the van.

Shigaraki whipped around, “Get bent!”

“I’m trying to,” Dabi threw right back, slamming the van door closed behind him.

He quickly pulled back his cool once he was inside. It really was amazing how quickly and effectively Shigaraki pissed him off. But he knew he needed to simmer it. He didn’t want to let his own anger and hate slip out too much in front of his newest precious angel. He’d hate to scare her off.

Dabi turned back to her with a small, but reassuring smile, “Hello.” 

Of course, she didn’t respond, didn’t even bother to look at him. 

She laid in more or less the same position he’d left her to Shigaraki in. Arms and legs pulled wide, cuffed to the rods mounted on each side of the van. Her once smooth and spotless skin was now swollen and purple, black and yellow in some places even, where Shigaraki had managed to break a rib and an ankle. Dry blood caked her nose and the corner of her mouth while fresh blood seeped onto the mattress out of recent scratches and cuts Shigaraki had inflicted in a last ditch effort to make her wail again.

None of that bothered him though, quite the opposite actually. He loved a roughed up woman, one at her most natural and vulnerable. It was the beauty that got him into this in the first place. No, what Dabi turned his nose up at was Shigaraki’s loads spilling out of her abused pussy, all onto her raw, reddened thighs and the crumpled tear-stained sheets. 

Ugh, see this is why he’d said no when Shigaraki asked if they should get an apartment together. The motherfucker never cleaned up after himself.

“P-Please…”

Dabi turned his attention back to her face, to her eyes, dull and lifeless, staring right through the back wall of the van.

“Just kill me already…”

Oh, this sweet thing, he thought, tilting his head at her sympathetically.

He climbed onto the mattress next to her then, resting a hand gently on her hip, careful not to put any pressure on the bruises littered there. She didn’t even flinch when he did it. She was that far gone.

“Kill you?” he asked, curiosity far from feigned.

“Aren’t you those serial killers that have been on the news lately? The ones that—” she couldn’t even finish. The fate that she knew of being too much to leave her throat.

“Huh. Are we now?” he said, mostly to himself as he had a real epiphany from those words. So they were serial killers, were they? 

Yeah, he could work with that…

She buried her head into the mattress, trying to muffle the dry sobs from ducts that had long gone barren.

“Please, if you’re gonna do it then just do it already! I can’t go on anymore! I can’t take it…”

He ran the back of his hand slowly, whisperingly down her cheek, “Talk to me beautiful. Tell me how I can make this better.”

This finally got something out of her. A snort of sick, stupid amusement, weak and wheezy.

“God, what fucking game are you two playing? Some sick good killer, bad killer shtick?”

Dabi smiled. She sure was spunky. Even now. What a lovely quality.

“No,” he breathed, dusting feather light kisses down her neck, her chest, that sweet, soft tummy… “No games.”

He buried his nose into the crux her thigh, reveling in the heat and tremble of her raw, abused thighs.

“W-What are you doing?!” she gasped, a whole new flavor of fear coating her voice.

“Just relax,” he purred, kissing a path all the way to her center, “I’m not gonna hurt you…”

She cried out as he licked up the length of her cunt, flicking the stud in his tongue against her clit playfully when he got there. She tried to move her hips away from him, still completely baffled and terrified by not knowing what he was going to do to her, but thanks to her restraints, the struggle only ended up pushing her hips closer to Dabi’s lips in a grind motion. A wanting motion. 

It spurred him on to pleasure her further as the delusion of her reciprocation had him falling utterly in love.

Shigarai’s spunk was still slipping out of her, heavy and salty on his tongue as he buried it deeper inside her, but that didn’t matter. Her own sweetness overpowered it, those resistant sobs overpowering all of his senses, sending him into a delirium of pleasure.

Fuck, how much he wanted to throw her legs up over his shoulders, coil his arms tight around her and devour her, but he resisted. He knew how raw and wounded she was, and all he wanted from her now was a fraction of the bliss that she was giving him.

“P-Please! I don’t— nngh! ”

Her sounds were brand new now — constant choked sobs of despair and self-hatred over the way her body reacted against her will. She was so raw and oversensitive from Shigaraki’s brutal treatment, Dabi’s own gentle, devoted ministrations had her ankles straining up painfully against her restraints as she came in mere minutes.

Dabi pulled away, a crooked, love-drunk smile on his face as he watched her trembling chest rise and fall, listened to the sweet serenade of her wheezing breaths.

He hummed happily as he pulled himself back up to her level. He cupped his hand gently along her cheek.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

She snapped back to him, anger tearing violently through her “afterglow”.

“ Fuck you .” she quite literally spat, a newfound fire within her that set his own body ablaze.

Dabi brought a thumb to his cheek, stroking the spit she’d hurled at him to the corner of his own mouth. His tongue reached to meet it, and he shuddered as both of her tastes mingled on his palate.

Fuck, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He quickly back onto his haunches, trying to not let his desperation to be inside her rush or roughen his movements. He still wanted her to enjoy this, but it was taking every bit of self-control he could muster not to blow his load over the sound of her voice alone.

“W-Wait!” she yelped out, as she felt him line himself up at her entrance, “You said you wouldn’t hurt me!”

“I won’t sweetheart,” he breathed, easing his cockhead in slowly, “I promise this won’t hurt.”

“But it does! You doing this now— you’re hurting me!”

He groaned as her heat completely engulfed him. Between the mix of her own arousal and Shigaraki’s, and the desperate pulsing of her insides, post-orgasm, he barely even had to push his hips. 

“There’s no need to lie now, your body’s completely giving you away,” he grinned, dropping his forehead to rest against hers, “Your pussy is sucking me right in.”

She choked out a sob as he rocked out of her just barely, then buried himself again, somehow deeper than before.

“ Fuck —” he groaned, “I couldn’t pull out if I tried. Your body just wants me that bad. Doesn’t it baby?”

She tried to stifle a moan as his soft yet sturdy thrusts hit that perfect angle inside of her. She managed to keep the pleasure of the sound locked in the base of her throat, allowing out only a stilted and very unladylike grunt in its place.

The horrid little sound didn’t put Dabi off in the slightest though. If anything, it endeared him. He smiled, almost giddily, as he watched that strain and struggle coarse through her. She really was perfect no matter what she did, wasn’t she?

They all were, after all.

“How does it feel, sweetheart?” he urged her again between thrusts, “Do you like it like this? Does it feel good?”

“N-No, it doesn’t…” she whimpered out hoarsely, that momentary fire from before quickly extinguishing as she felt her dignity once again slipping away “Just stop…”

Dabi’s brows pinched disappointedly, hips slowing to a near-stop. 

“You don’t like it like this? Soft and sweet?”

She looked back up at him, confusion creasing her own cute little face.

His hand on her hip started to tighten, nails digging deliberately into the meat of her hip, “Maybe then you liked Shigaraki’s way better…”

Her eyes widened.

“Well I can certainly do that too,” he breathed, hip suddenly snapping painfully into her.

“N-No!” she yelped, “No, please I—!” she squeezed her eyes closed tight, trying to hold back her tears, as a particularly rough thrust jostled her broken rib painfully, “I want it soft! It felt so good what you were doing before! Please! ”

“Are you sure?” Dabi tilted his head, pounding hips having yet to slow, “Don’t just say that because you think it’s what I want. This is supposed to be good for the both of us.”

“I-I’m not! Really, I mean it! I want it soft, please!” she cried out, “Please! Fuck me soft, g-gentle! Just—!”

His hips finally eased to a soft roll.

“...yeah?”

She opened her eyes then, and instantly her blood ran cold. His voice was soft and romantic, he’d gotten that part of his act down to a science, but clearly he hadn’t quite figured out how to keep that sadistic fervor from his face. 

His eyes were wide, pupils blown. He was clearly trying to keep his smile even and comforting, but he couldn’t fight the way those corners twitched higher and higher, teeth grinding and showing through harder and clearer. 

Just a horrible face. 

This man was clearly no more a voice of reason than his more blatantly violent partner outside. He too was clearly deranged, a powder keg. Completely unpredictable.

And that made him a thousand times scarier.

Dabi leaned in closer to her, fighting to keep the manic tremble from his voice, “You want me to make love to you?” 

She gulped hard, desperate to keep the absolute terror from her voice, “Y-Yes. Please… M-Make love to me…”

He stared down at her for a long moment, utterly reveling in those words long enough for her to start panicking that maybe she’d said the wrong thing. 

But thankfully — god, she couldn’t believe she was thinking that — they were exactly the words he wanted to hear. He dropped his head down into her chest, groaning unabashedly as he began to hump into her again, slower for sure, but also deeper. With his entire body and being.

“Fuck, yeah… Yeah baby. Anything you want. I’ll do anything you fucking want…”

She choked out a joyless laugh at that. Anything she wanted, huh? What a fucking joke.

“You’re so good, fuck— perfect . And you too— it’s good for you? Come on tell me baby. I wanna hear how good I make you feel—”

“Uh-huh, it’s good…” she said flatly as she slipped into dissociation.

She stared up at the same tear in the headliner she’d tried to focus on by the end of Shigaraki’s torture, thinking about how oddly shaped it was. Those kinds of tears were usually outright holes, maybe with a flap of fabric hanging off of it. Or maybe it’d be just a little tear, a small line practically unnoticeable in the dim light of this van. But this one was different. Long and unnatural, it almost looked like a big Frankenstein surgical stitch. Or like the dermal piercings running up her captor’s cheeks—

Fuck. Her eyes fell back on her captors flushed, blissed out face. The electric blue of his eyes, the babbling growls spilling from his lips. She was having a much harder time tuning the pleasure out with this man than she’d had tuning out the pain with the previous one, and she didn’t know why.

Maybe it was because he was kind of her type. That’s exactly what she’d thought when he leaned out of the car window to ask her for directions after all. Watching him move over her like this, leaning down to catch her lips passionately with his own more frequently as time went on she couldn’t help but picture an alternate universe. 

One where he really had been asking for directions to the beach. Where he’d been alone in his car rather than having a freak friend in the back, lying in wait. And where she’d been standing on the well-trafficked main street just a couple blocks down instead of in front of the empty alleyway she’d been smoking a blunt in when he’d stopped. 

A universe where they’d flirted and hit it off and exchanged phone numbers and eventually he’d taken her on a date rather than just taken her. Where these sweet nothings and pleasurable rolls of his hips were accompanied with champagne and room service rather than rope and broken bones.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pictured it all, what a wonderful life this could’ve been.

“Shhh, shh, shhh,” he cooed, “It’s okay. You’re so perfect, it’s okay…”

But that only caused her to sob harder, face reddening voice straining as she wailed uncontrollably. She didn’t even notice Dabi’s hand slipping up along her body and up to the base of her neck.

His thumb settled snug into that soft, sensitive dip of her throat.

God, she was crying so hard now, she couldn’t breathe.

And then he started to squeeze.

Wait, no, really. She couldn’t fucking breathe —!

She gasped out suddenly, arms instinctually shooting forward to try and force his hand off, but she was once again denied by her restraints. She quickly shifted gears, thrashing her body up and down wildly. And for a moment, she did loosen his grip.

But then he brought his second hand to her throat, pushing her deeper into the mattress.

“Perfect,” he growled through the steady snapping of his hips, “So fucking perfect…”

Her throat bobbed and begged as he constricted his hands tighter, getting lost in the song of her voice getting steadily higher, weaker, until she couldn’t form a word at all, could only gurgle and croak desperately. 

“Oh yeah, just like that. Be good for me baby,” he groaned, “Be good…”

He couldn’t say that this was the best part of these excursions, he savored every moment of it after all. 

…But there was something particularly special about these last few moments. 

It was so rare that anybody actually got to witness them, let alone experience them with their own hands — this perfect feeling of her body both tightening and going pliant around him, stiff and spasming, not to mention the view of it all that sent him barrelling frantically towards his release.

Fuck, she was so pretty! The way her drool spilled out her mouth, all gurgled and frothy. That lovely shade of blue she was starting to turn. The rabid fear that filled those eyes before they started to roll back — fuck even the pink undersides of her eyes were cute. He wondered what the backs of them, the optic nerves, looked like. He was sure they’d be adorable. 

He couldn’t wait to see.