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councilofcastamere · 7 months ago

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WINTER NIGHTS | CREGAN STARK X TARG!READER ꧂

a b r i d g e m e n t : With tensions rising, your elder half-sister Rhaenyra arranges for you to seek asylum in the freezing land of the North. And fortunately for you, Cregan is there to show you how Northmen operate.

TW: penetration, loss of virginity, breeding kink, mentions gender roles but in a sexy way, sexual tension, sibling jealousy, childhood neglect, mentions of death by birth, shitty character development

A/N: I know the girly portrayed is Visenya but her body is tea in this so maybe I do know best…

The second daughter. The oh-so passed over maiden. Not belonging to anything, nor belonging to nothing. Not the first, and not the last. An ever enduring memory to a passed over era. Nothing significant. Never anything significant.

That’s what you were. Insignificance. A beautiful insignificance, if you could see beauty in tragedy. Beauty in all the ways of life. All the little horrible things that make up a big, beautiful, picture. People shan’t look close, you’d assure yourself.

But you were you. Born to the everlasting way of royal life. To the peaceful Viserys, and his second wife, a woman whose name is not all that important. Another maiden from a noble house that perished to childbirth. Lost her life, giving life.

And as it did not to many maidens, the Gods did not grant you the chance to grow up with your mother. The blood that dripped down her thighs had covered you from head to toe as you came into existence, and she had naught of you in her arms before a deep and long slumber overcame her. The stranger had come for her, and he did not slow down on its way. He’d taken her as quick as she’d given you to the world. A quick exchange, you’d suppose.

Now and then you think about her. What she might have looked like, what she might have liked, what she might have been had she survived the wretched burden of your existence. You’d often wonder if infants who survived childbirth ever felt as deep a burden as she did. To have your very first breath of life tainted with the death of an innocent. Tainted with tragedy.

Growing up in King’s Landing hadn’t been all that as it sounded. You’d never really been that happy, as ungracious as it sounded.

You had an older sister - Rhaenyra - who’d occasionally humoured you. You’d never seen much of her, really. Perhaps it was your own fault as well. For not actively seeking her out. For not being the younger sister one was supposed to be. Some people - as close to you as they may be - are just unattainable in your mind. Your kin aren’t your kin until you allow it.

You have better companions than her, you figured. You had your lady-in-waitings. Lady Vievenne of house Swann. Lady Laycie of house Oldflowers. Lady Claere of house Ambrose. Lady Evelyne of house Hightower, who was, by all accounts, a gift from your newest stepmother, Alicent of the house Hightower.

What you also had was younger siblings. Such as Aegon. Though he is naught but a skirt enthusiast, swimming along the sea of young maidens at his whim. But he cares not whether they are, does he?

And oh, do not get yourself started on the one-eyed prince and that smug little smile on his sharp-featured face. Nonetheless, he was gentle. Oh so gentle with his touch. And oh so sinister in the way that made you feel important enough to be in his good graces.

However, you chose to distance yourself from all parties involved as fate made it clear what it had in store. A great slap to the great Targaryen dynasty. A dark cloud looming over the already curse-clad clan.

For even you knew that the only thing that could tear down the House of the Dragon, was itself.

��Sister.” you greeted one late evening, having taken flight to Dragonstone on your she-dragon, Starfyre. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“…y/n.” the elder sister called out, a small smile on her lips. “I… am glad for your visit.”

“…I’m certain you are,” you say, trying with all your might to contain a frown.

You eyed her awkwardly as she wiped her sweaty hands off her dress, letting out a sigh as the elder royal wasn’t quite certain how to approach the topic.

“I… understand… things quite haven’t been… that active, in our kinship,” Rhaenyra speaks up, taking a step closer. “And for that, I apologise.”

You could only nod, a small smile gracing your lips at the heartwarming confession of absent love.

“I apologise, also.” you smiled, your hands finding each other behind your back. “I suppose I should have been the one to seek your company and counsel as well.”

“Good.” Rhaenyra smiled awkwardly, a silence engulfing the echo-ridden chambers. “The reason, as to why I called you, might be surprising.”

You froze slightly, heart pounding as the possibilities of implications travelled through your mind. The goosebumps on your arms grew more prominent as a cold breeze passed through.

“Oh?” you answered, cocking a brow. “And what might that be, sister?”

“I ask of you to travel to the North,” Rhaenyra admits, a tone of seriousness overshadowing the warm moment. “I have already sent a raven to Lord Cregan Stark, and he has agreed to host you. If it pleases you, of course.”

No answer came out of your lips, save for your a mere breath. You felt a pang in your heart, consuming your every emotion, making certain you cannot detect how you feel about the news.

A dragon in the north? What a jest. You’d do better in Dorne, surrounded by sun-kissed squires and stable boys than laddish lordlings and Northern butchers.

“And… why should I?” you asked, respect in your tone. “Pardon me, my sister, but why have you made this decision for me?”

“Tensions are rising, y/n. You know that as well as I do.” Rhaenyra sighs, her body language giving up on its tense posture. “And I am aware of your… complex feelings on it. But to the North you must. I’m sending Rhaena to the Va-”

“Yes, because Rhaena gets to be hosted by a relative of yours, in safety. Meanwhile you sent me off to some Northern stranger!”

“Y/n.” Rhaenyra warned, raising a brow. She took a step closer as you composed your words. “You are my sister, and I will have you safe in the North. The Northmen are honourable men, and in time you’ll know.”

✫彡

And so you were, clad in thick fur, lady Vivenne and lady Evelyne at both sides of yourself. Across from you sat three servants, and somewhere else sat your sworn shield.

“It will be splendid.” Evelyne beamed, properly adjusting her hair, tied up in a bun, similar to the ones the older maidens wear. “We shall meet every dusk, and speak about our day. In front of the fire.”

“Not if I can help it.” you sighed softly. “Apologies, my ladies, but I’ll let you two get at it. I’d love to explore the North in solitude.”

“Right…” Vivenne nodded, looking through the small peep holes as the carriage slowed down, just outside the gates of Winterfell. “We’ve arrived, I suppose. You’ll have to greet Lord Stark. If he’s anything we’ve heard of and more, I wish you luck.”

You only nodded, watching as your ladies exited the carriage, standing at the side of the door. Their faces are cast down, as if in mourning. Perhaps they’re mourning the life of luxury provided at King’s Landing.

You could not blame them for it, really. From growing up in their own house, to growing up in the Royal house, to trade it again to live to see the snowy winters of Winterfell.

You shook slightly, the cold air hitting your face in an instant as you slightly lifted your dress, taking a step out of the three provided for the carriage.

You looked ahead of you, eyes locking on the noblemen and women, standing straight and proud. The women bore clothes of low quality, so obviously sewn to fit any class. The men wore dark furs, contrasting to the blue clothing of the opposite sex.

And in the midst of it, stood Cregan Stark, accompanied by a mere little boy of just two years of age. Your eyes locked upon his stormy-grey ones, his face etched into a stern expression, eyes focused on yours.

You maintained the eye contact, taking each step closer to him.

“Princess Y/N.” Cregan greeted formally, taking your soft hand in his. “Welcome to Winterfell. I am Lord Cregan Stark.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark.” you smile, curtsying in a fashionable manner. Your eyes stood glued on his as his lips brushed against the palm of your hand. “I’m truly honoured to be here.”

“…I’m certain you are.” Cregan answered, eyeing you skeptically.

Hearing false compliments wasn’t out of the ordinary for the wolf of Winterfell. He knew well enough that you weren’t suited for the North. You were a Southern lady, used to the life of feasts, luxury, and sparkly dresses.

“Let us go inside, shall we?” you smiled charmingly, looking up at the tall castle with dread in your eyes.

“Aye, so we shall.” Cregan nodded, his broad shoulders most notable as he sauntered into the opened gates.

✫彡

The first night went unfamiliar to you, the harsh blows of the cold weather creating a prominent presence looming over the already melancholic times.

You sat in your chambers, sitting at the stony window sill as you watched Cregan from above.

The lord was overlooking young squires on the courtyard, engaged in conversation with the knight in charge of guiding the young to-be-knights.

All dressed in fur, shoulders looking as if they were padded. Cregan’s hair was tied up, with two front strands escaping and hanging loose. His grey-blue eyes stood glued at watching the young squire’s techniques, and you could only sigh as you got lost in his appearance.

Ever since stepping foot into the North of Westeros, you’d developed a strange sense of interest in the beauty of Northern men. How they all dressed so grimly, but intimidating. How they’re oh-so honourable and hard working. How they always seemed so clean shaven but rugged all at once.

And you could not help but wonder what it would be like had you wedded one of them.

Being completely honest, you’d never really been the sort of maiden to stay inside of her chambers, waiting for her husband to return from his duty, deprived of affection.

With any Southern lord, being a doting unappreciated wife would never cross your mind.

But with Northern men, however, you had the feeling your efforts wouldn’t go unnoticed.

Before you could continue your vulgarly confusing thoughts, you saw Cregan’s eyes shift to yours, finding your gaze.

You could only lean against the window, a hand on the stony side as you gazed back at him. Your hair was loose, and you were dressed in your creamy beige nightdress.

You held his gaze for a moment, until ultimately turning away, leaving the implications of that gaze to his imagination.

✫彡

By the third day, you’d been reading in the old library belonging to House Stark. You’d sat on a plush seat, the dusty book on your lap as your gentle fingers flipped through the pages.

But you weren’t alone.

Cregan Stark sat near you, his knees in almost touching proximity to yours.

“Aye, the North is cold, but it’s honest.” he tells you, gently shutting his own book. “The snow doesn’t lie about its intention. No courtly games like they play in the South.”

“Oh, please.” you smiled, shutting your book as well. your body shifted so it was facing his, resting your head on one hand. “The courtly games are what makes it so fun.”

“Now, riddle me this.” You smiled, noting his full attention on you. His body language exuded calmness, and you felt secure in the knowledge that his comfort lies with you. “How do you not like courtly games? Personally, it makes my life all the more amusing.”

“I suppose it’s all jesting for you, princess.” Cregan said, his eyes resting on yours. “Amusement or not, I’d rather know where I stand…”

“With you, however…” His eyes trailed down to your bare shoulder, the white nightdress you’re wearing very much a sight of sore eyes. “I think I know.”

“Oh, do you?” you teased, cocking a brow. “And how so, pray tell?”

“Well…” he grunted, shifting in his seat to tighten the proximity around you two. “You’d do well not to cross any Northern man. They don’t take well to… courtly games.”

You only smiled at that, your upper body instinctively leaning in, albeit torturously slow.

“And, uh, suppose I… marry a Northern lord.” you teased quite coquettishly, a hand moving to rest on the thick fur coating his body. “What am I in for.”

You watched as his smirk only widened, gently taking the hand that rested on his fur, and taking it in his.

“Marry a Northern lord like me, and have your nights warmed under the thick fur of blankets.” he says, his thumb rubbing against your knuckles. “Northern loyalty runs deep, princess. That’s what you’d be in for.”

You nodded slowly, and you could not help but notice those coloured eyes of his descending onto your perky breasts.

Great, this was all going well so far. “I’d imagine… do you think he’d gift me a pup? I’ve always wanted a tiny pet, to keep.”

“Yeah?” The lord licked his lips, a hand resting on your waist. “You think you’d handle a wolf properly?”

“Well, I would.” you smiled, nodding in agreement. “I’m a dragon… and dragons do not surrender that easily.”

You smiled, shifting in your seat again as Cregan amusedly indulged you in your silly thoughts. “Just imagine it, my lord. I’d be holding that pup every night trying to get it to warm to me.”

Your hand slowly, but surely, trickled down to his clothed thigh, trying to maintain a sense of quiet intimacy.

“You’ll have your work cut out for you, then.” his voice lowered, bordering on husky. “Wolves aren’t so easily tamed, not even by someone with…”

He paused for a moment, a hand gently taking the one you placed on his thigh.

“…your charms.”

You’d have a cheeky comeback on the tip of your tongue, had it not been for Cregan’s lips descending upon yours, clashing together like Blackwoods and Brackens.

You let out a soft breath as you eased into the kiss, feeling his large hands grip your waists as if his life depended on it.

Your hands moved from his shoulders, to his neck, and then to his armoured chest. The armour he carried felt cold to your hands, yet it made it all the more sinful.

“Did you have this in mind?” you murmured against his lips, tongue circling his as you so sloppily attempted to kiss him. “Seducing me?”

The silence engulfed you two for a moment, only being overshadowed by the sound of soft breaths.

“You have it wrong, princess.” he breathed, firmly planting you upon his lap, your back pressing against his chest. “Do you take me for a halfwit?”

You smiled, looking over your shoulder as you attempted to chase his lips with yours again.

“No, but I certainly did not take you for a man so easily seduced.” you teased, guiding his hands to your clothed breasts. “You don’t seem the type to give in that easily.”

“Because it’s untrue.” he spoke up, lips brushing to against your neck. “But do you honestly think nothing would be done about the way you saunter around, looking as you do?”

His hands slowly tugged against your nightdress, pressing a hard kiss to your achy jaw before pulling away.

“Lay yourself down on the carpet.” he commanded, hands shifting to peel off his fur coat, along with his armour and tunic.

All you could do was nod and watch on as his armour went discarded on the floor, the metal material cranking against the stone ground.

His bare chest was now visible, the defining abs illuminated by the glowing fire. His hair messed up when he threw his tunic over his head.

“Cregan, I-"

And in one moment, you felt his large body overshadow yours, clashing lips again. Cregan lifted his body as to not crush you, hands on either side of your head.

You only permitted yourself to breathe unevenly, stead of moan. Your hands found his shoulders, desiring to pull him closer than possible.

“Ever since you’ve arrived you’d been nothing but trouble.” Cregan murmured, lips finding your throat. “Sauntering around with your ladies, endlessly teasing me.”

Your legs only shifted to wrap around his waist, back slowly arching at the kisses.

He took notice, and let one of his hands pin you down, lips descending towards your perky breasts.

“Gods, you’re wrong for this.” he grunted, swirling his tongue around the nipple. “For provoking me, as you did yesterday, and the day before that.”

“For thinking you have the authority to do this to a lord.” he breathed, your small breast fitting into his large palm.

“For…” he continued, kissing down your stomach, before ultimately glancing back at you “…thinking you’d get away with this.”

“I did not think I’d get away with this.” you tease, watching as he moves face-to-face again. “Which is why I did it.”

Your hands find his muscled arms, squeezing it gently. “I want to know how Northern men do it.”

You’d think you were jesting, but were you truly?

You’d have opened your mouth to say anything else, looking up at him, if it weren’t for the Northern lord himself roughly flipping you to your stomach.

“You wish to know, my princess?” he murmurs, unlatching his breeches. “You’d have your first time be with a Northman?”

You nodded, cheek resting on the carpet fabric without surrender. “Yes. Gods yes.”

He hiked your skirt around your waist, your plump ass visible to his peering eyes.

“You’ll be ruined for other men, aye.” He grunted, his hand wrapping around his rock hard cock.

“That’s good, because I desire no one save you.” you smiled, allowing him to lift your hips up and arch your back.

“Yeah?” he smirked, the tip of his cock rubbing against your damp hole. “You’ll have me make you my wife?”

You nodded, impatiently moving your hips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

“You’d be a good wife, wouldn’t you?” he grunted once again, head finally pushing into your unloosened clit. “No Southern games, no poignant looks of yours.”

“You like that about me.” you painfully breathed, feeling the uncomfortable ache of his cock in your newly penetrated cunt.

His head descended, placing gentle kisses upon your shoulders. “A maiden. Perhaps you aren’t as well-equipped to handle a wolf as you said you were.”

“I am.” you protested, pushing your hips back. “Move your hips. I wish to prove myself.”

He only speeded up his thrusts, and as you allowed the moans to fill your lips, his hands found a way to push your head down.

“You’d carry my pups?” he asked, thrusting into you aggressively, pumping his cock in and out. “Wait on my cock every night?”

You only moaned incredulously, asscheeks clapping along with every snap of his hips.

“Yes.” you breathed, gasp and claps filling the room. “Fuck, put a babe inside of me. I want your children.”

“We’ll have to wed sooner, before the babe gets born in wedlock.” he grunted, hands gripping your hips, pushing you back onto his thick length. “But that’s what you wanted all along, was it?”

You gripped the fabric of the carpet, cheeks burning as it rubbed against the irritating carpet.

“For a thick cock such as this.” he teased, tugging at your hair.

“Yes.” you moaned pathetically, cheeks flushed as you felt a knot forming into your stomach.

Your lips parted, your eyes rolling above-ways.

“Yes, yes!” you moaned loudly, feeling his hands grope your breasts. “Fuck, you’re moving fast.”

“Never fast enough.” he murmurs, member sliding against your wet slit.

He could feel your tight walls clenching around him, milking his cock for all it is worth. His grip on you tightened as he thrust down to meet your upward motion.

And with one sharp thrusts, you felt the knot loosen and the cream dripping out your twitching clit.

Yet, he didn’t stop, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he rode you through your orgasm.

The feeling of your walls clenching around his cock was enough to send him reeling as well, burying himself deep inside of you.

Hot spurts of cum dripping out of your hole, you completely got yourself spent, closing your eyes and deciding you could just fall asleep on this carpet.

“No sleeping in the library.” he scolded lightly, putting on his fur coat, covering his naked physique. “Come here.”

You exhaustedly crawled over to him again, and snuck yourself into his coat, the clothing covering both of your naked bodies.

“I’m taking you to your chambers.” he sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “And for the next time, do not attempt to get so exhausted. I went easy on you this time.”

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satzumosupremacy · 1 year ago

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Ignite The Spark

Male reader x Kazuha

Tags: Friends to lovers, Smut 8.1k words

Friends—that’s what you and Kazuha would call each other. People around often get confused if you two were dating secretly, but in reality, she was just a friend who got along with you to the point of looking like a couple.

And if being friends with the opposite gender isn’t enough to raise an eyebrow by others, you knew the consequences, Kazuha did too. As a man, you couldn’t help but imagine a scenario of her being more than a friend. On the other hand, Kazuha had the same exact thought after years of knowing each you. Although nothing happens romantically, the presence of pride hindered both of you in stubborn ways.

You and Kazuha were prime examples of “right place, wrong time.”

After you transferred to another college for an opportunity that you couldn’t deny, the friendship between both of you slowly disappeared. As curious young adults, it would be a shame just to say the boring and basic goodbyes to each other. Just like how friendships form: thoughts and hobbies alike, her eyes craved more than a mere farewell. You didn’t want this friendship to burden the memories you and Kazuha made.

Both of you yearned for something. That something was in bed. A man and a woman together with the lights off, doors locked, curtains shut. Within a night in the same bed, clothes scattered and the bed creaking, the two of you yearned for this feeling, like you'd never see each other again. It’s a farewell, but a mere excuse. This won’t be the last time you see her.

Morning brought an uncomfortable shift from friends to more than what both of you actually were. As she slept, her beautiful back was turned towards you while you were up and remembered every moment shared on her bed. She was naked under the blanket once your eyes caught her black bra hanging from the dresser and the hair tie. As you took a quick glimpse of her, Kazuha’s silky hair was a mess, all from the night.

Even as a man, you fantasized about what Kazuha would look like, until you did see her naked body and the goosebumps you felt all over her when your hands gently caressed her. Her back became irresistible to your kisses, while her curves and ass demanded more than a simple touch. Her body was deadly hot when all you ever saw was Kazuha with clothes on. This was the woman who you called a close friend, yet it’s far from the fact that you slept with her.

Both of you crossed the line. Both of you can’t look back and change what happened. This was bound to happen between opposite genders that calls each other ‘friends.’

You found a treasure within the so-called friendship. The treasure? It was her body. Kazuha rarely wears revealing clothes at school. Neither did she care about showing herself off like the rest of the woman on campus. You're strucking gold—and it's like the end of the rainbow that anyone would search for. Actually, it's not her body that you love more than Kazuha herself. You respect Kazuha—her essence, her character. There's a bond between the two of you. A long-term friendship that isn't breakable at all, even if it bends or twist.

She didn’t regret being the one who asked first for some intimacy. You didn’t regret that night either. This was probably the last time you would physically be there for her, and only sense of regret was the bittersweet feeling of sleeping with a friend that was close to you, but at the end, it turned awkward. As young, curious adults, no one was to blame.

Kazuha shared an apartment with her roommate, Sakura. The pair rented an apartment conveniently close to the college. Sakura wasn’t at home at the time when you and Kazuha’s hands were all over each other. Maybe Sakura did hear the bed creaking through the wall halfway through after coming back home. It’s something you didn’t want to asked out of embarrassment.

The feelings you gave Kazuha were were unparalleled, when you respect her for being herself around you. She was, and was quiet at first, but when you talked to her more, Kazuha revealed herself to be ambitious and incredibly kind. You love that about her.

At times, she would share her troubles, and so would you. Yet, it became increasingly apparent that the dynamic of your friendship had changed. It's not like how it was. Both of you were maturing and going each other’s separate ways. Life past by quick considering how the two of you knew each other for years, and thinking back about the days you would often meet her. But neither of you forgot about each other.

Kazuha wasn’t so happy when Sakura had her own opportunities to venture out and left Kazuha alone in the apartment. Kazuha could barely manage the bills. Their relationship ended on good terms, but Kazuha was left all alone in the apartment.

Kazuha was all over the place, from modeling to working as a barista and tutoring, the jobs couldn't meet her financial needs. Kazuha eventually found her opportunity after numerous jobs and became a ballet instructor. However, it's still not enough. The income she accumulated merely covered necessities and bills, leaving little room for her own interests and activities.

She frequently found herself seated in her living room, contemplating about your well-being. Like the relationship the two of you have right now, she hesitated to reach out, or ask for something. Kazuha revisited past text conversations with a bittersweet smile, reminiscing about the joy you both shared when your paths were closely intertwined.

Asking for money from her friends was like selling her pride. Despite her concerns, Kazuha maintained a smile and masked herself. She smiled if things didn’t go so smoothly, all hidden from everyone. The smile would fade away once she stepped into her apartment, enveloped by silence and solitude, the smile would turn to a frown. No one was there to comfort her. No one was there to eat across the table. Living alone already carried a sense of loneliness, but when Kazuha was going through this herself, it was rather a feeling of being hit rock-bottom.

——

In the final year of college, you and your friends strolled around town, enjoying the sunshine as you window-shopped and explored. Amidst bustling alleyways lined with food stalls, engaging in multiple conversations and browsing vintage clothing shops, you felt content with your place in life.

The college you switched to was just a ten-minute drive away. Some might consider it trivial when the two colleges are so close, but for you, the opportunity was invaluable. Despite intending to make time to meet Kazuha, you doubted she would be available, likely preoccupied with her own activities. Similarly, Kazuha likely held the same assumption about you. Regardless, both of you led independent lives, and the only thread connecting you was the fading bond of friendship.

Navigating the bustling marketplace alleys and indulging in the aroma of freshly cooked food from vendors, you spot another group of women approaching. Among them, it's Kazuha who catches your eye. Instantly, you feel the urge to reconnect with her as she savors a worry-free day.

"Where are you headed?" Your friend says after settling the bill to the vendor, while the rest of your friends glanced at you with curious expressions.

“Go without me. We can meet later,” you uttered hastily as you approached Kazuha, whose eyes widened at the sight of you after a prolonged absence. "Zuha!"

Kazuha found it unbelievable. Despite living only ten minutes apart, where the likelihood of encountering each other was high, this was the first time in a year. Either of you could have crossed paths while using transportation or walking in opposite directions on the sidewalk, yet remained unaware of each other's presence.

In silence, Kazuha stood, aware that some of her friends recognized you. "What a coincidence," one of them said. Throughout the interaction, Kazuha remained quiet, her mind racing with thoughts of what she wanted to talk with you.

“May I steal Kazuha away for some time?”

Then there's a moment of silence. It was supposed to be a girls' day out, and you suddenly became the antagonist, trying to take Kazuha away from her friends. "Fine... but bring her back home later. We'll give you two some alone time."

The sunlight reflected off Kazuha’s ocean eyes, illuminating a radiant smile that blossomed unexpectedly when your gazes locked. In that moment, Kazuha was oblivious to the world around her, indifferent to the passersby, solely focused on your presence before her.

"Zuha, how... um—." There was a moment of hesitation, a sense of unworthiness lingering, making it feel almost impossible to ask about her well-being. "How have you been?"

"Everything's fine. I'm glad to see you," Kazuha replied, making an effort to conceal her stress.

“Still living with Sakura? May we spend time together today? It’s been long since.”

"Actually, she got a job offer. So now I'm living alone," Kazuha murmurs, her lips pressing together shyly, her gaze drifting downward. "We should catch up with each other."

A faint, pleasant smile graces your lips as Kazuha steals a quick glance at you. "Have you eat yet, Zuha?"

“No,” she murmurs, strolling alongside you with both your hands brushing against each other, as if she yearned to grasp yours and never release them again. Since your departure, she realized that you’re the person she longed for at day’s end. Kazuha learned through the hard times that you were the one she desired, mistaken for a mere friendship and nothing more.

“I’ll take you to a place that we use to enjoy together, Zuha.”

Kazuha lets out a brief chuckle as she presumes it's the restaurant where you and she used to frequent after classes. Even though it's been a while since you last saw her, you can sense she's even shyer now. Yet, your emotions start lingering around her, like a faint spark awaiting ignition by Kazuha—a love destined to blossom.

Entering the restaurant, you settled directly across from Kazuha, the sunlight bathing her in its glow as you awaited the arrival of your orders from the waitress. Amidst the constant flow of people passing by, Kazuha appeared especially radiant in the sunlight, captivating your attention to the point where you couldn't look away. You found yourself dangerously drawn to the woman you call a friend.

"Zuha," you said, causing her to glance up from the menu. In truth, both of you had already memorized the menu, and she found herself unsure of how to act this time around. “You’re kinda beautiful today,” you lamely said, unable to accept her as a friend at this point. You’re trying to deny what your heart wanted.

From a friendship marked by naivety, to a new chapter in the present, the two of you weren't childish young adults anymore after a year. Despite spending considerable time together, pride runs in both of your veins, neither of you could muster the courage to acknowledge the unmistakable feelings that lingered. A crystal clear new beginning.

"Thanks," Kazuha murmurs, cheeks glowing as she gaze to the menu. A stray strand of hair falls in front of Kazuha's face, and you gently brush it aside, tucking it behind her ear. Your gesture only adds to the awkwardness as she finds herself speechless and takes a glance around the restaurant. The look of the restaurant didn’t even change, but Kazuha didn’t know what to do when you’re the one sitting across. Before up to this point in time after a year, she was more talkative and would brag about her day to you right in this restaurant, but now, she couldn’t.

Her cheeks flush under the sun's rays, lips pressing against each other as she fights herself to repay a compliment. The atmosphere becomes silent, apart by the clinking of plates and nearby chatter, she's conscious of her growing feelings towards you.

“By the way, I’ll pay today. Don’t worry,” Kazuha says to break the silence. At the same time, all the stress she had been carrying seemed to slip from her mind. The genuine thoughts of her wanting to live with you becomes her topic of interest that she wanted to ask for months.

“The man should pay, Zuha.”

"You paid last time," she says with a charming smile. The fact that Kazuha remembered such a minor detail from a year ago left you pleasantly surprised.

You sigh, your gaze drifting to her perfectly manicured nails. “I’m still paying. Let me make it up to you for not being there."

“I rather let you make it up with something else.”

“What is it, Zuha?”

The waitress unintentionally breaks the conversation. "Here's your food, enjoy! Don't hesitate to let me know if anything isn't right."

“Thank you,” Kazuha said, followed by you.

The plates shifted, placing your order in front of you, Kazuha's in front of her, and the appetizers to the side. "So, as I was saying... do you mind if I stay with you for the next few days?"

“What do you mean, Zuha?”

"Do you recall that moment we… well, you know, on the bed? It seems like we drifted apart a bit afterward, don't you think? But let's make it up. We were just young adults. We're not quite as young anymore."

“It’s only been a year, Zuha,” you laugh. “You’re welcome to stay with me. Even if our campus is ten minutes away, I’ll drive you there.”

“How long can I crash at your place?”

“Is something going on?” You said, exchanging conversations while eating.

“I’ll let you know when we get to your place.” Judging by her expression, it was evident that she was holding back from saying something.

"Zuha, I want you to know I'm here for you," you reassured her. Even being just ten minutes away, or the online conversations not being as frequent as they once were, you were determined not to lose her again, regretting the past mistake of not being there for Kazuha. "Let's finish our meal, and then I'll take you home with me."

“Weren’t you suppose to send me home at the end of the day?” Kazuha playfully smirks, mischievously laughing with her hands covering her mouth. It was evident that you missed the sight of her smile, yet this time, it undeniably stirred your heart.

“Let your friends blame me, they won’t know it’s you who wanted to stay with me.”

"Your friends are waiting for you too, aren't they?" Kazuha questions. Her presence made you divert your attention entirely away from your friends and focusing it solely on her.

“I guess our group of friends will lose one person for today. What do you say?”

“You’re thinking dirty, aren’t you? A woman coming over, I think it’s clear to say that our friends think we’re up to no good.”

“Sounds like you’re the one thinking dirty, Zuha. I never said we’re sleeping together,” you said playfully, though you did miss the skin-to-skin contact with Kazuha. You couldn’t get her body out of your mind after that night with Kazuha.

She laughs, “see, I never said we’re sleeping together.”

“Finish up the food, Zuha,” you said out of disappointment as she caught you. It wasn’t like Kazuha didn’t wanted to fuck, when it’s clear that bringing a woman over would lead to the obvious.

———

As you walked home together along the sidewalks, admiring the clear blue skies overhead, your hand brushed gently against hers. Kazuha felt her heart race with excitement as your hands unexpectedly intertwined. Throughout the way home, neither of you exchanged words until you arrived inside your apartment. Yet, the unmistakable feeling between you two hinted at the blossoming love being shared.

Kazuha's eyes widened in appreciation the moment you opened the door to your apartment. Her gaze was sweeping across the inviting interior of the apartment. "This is a lovely place," she says, her soft voice filled with genuine admiration as she takes in the cozy ambiance.

“It’s not bad. But I think you should let your friends know you’re going to be with me. Don’t keep them waiting, Zuha.”

“You should do the same.”

“I will. But to bring up that topic from earlier that you wanted to tell me about. What did you want to say?”

From a quick glance at Kazuha, she took a deep breath, standing still with her phone clasped tightly in both hands. Kazuha hesitated, thinking you would brush her off in some way. Despite not trying, she took her chances. “I can barely live by myself. Can I live here with you? I think we both feel lonely sometimes.”

You observe her in silence as she gazes downward at the wooden floor, prepared for the possibility of rejection from the only person she feels comfortable asking without sacrificing her pride. You have no intention of denying her request, especially when it benefits both of you mutually. There was never a fight between you two. Althought there were times of disagreement, its solved quietly with understandment.

“Why didn’t you tell me this stuff that you’re going through?” You said, feeling frustrated for not being there to support her through her struggles. “How long have you been keeping this from me? Don’t you know that I’m only a phone call away?”

“I-I couldn’t tell you out of the blue. I didn’t want to bother you.” Kazuha murmurs and brushes her hair while looking away. “You’re the only person who I can talk to about this.”

You're devastated, as the anger you directed inward for neglecting to check up on her over the past year has transformed into feelings of guilt. Even if Kazuha wasn’t your girlfriend, both of you were just a simple text or phone call away from each other, and yet, an entire year passed without a single conversation. You would blame the college assignments that made you forget about Kazuha, but deep down, you know it would sound like an excuse.

"I'll let you stay, but what can you do to earn it? We can split the rent seventy-thirty. I'll pay the seventy, Zuha." You take her hand, and she looks back shyly. "Was it tough? It's my fault, Zuha."

“I’m not letting you pay more than half. I want to split it even. And like…we did it the first time, shouldn’t it be easier to do it the second?”

“Zuha…,” you said, bewildered in her sudden words, “this didn’t have to go that far.”

Kazuha sits right beside you, close enough to where you’re face to face. She gazes up and down at you with a seductive smile. "Isn't this what friends are for? Am I still your friend?"

“Tell your friends that you’re stay with me,” you said, eagerly wanting to change the topic before both your clothes become off this instant.

“I just want us to catch up. No one knew what we did.”

“Sakura probably heard us, Zuha."

Kazuha slowly puts her hand on your shoulders and down closer to your lap. You were just inches away from Kazuha's face. If there was one mistake you might make, it would be the temptation to kiss her as she gets closer and closer, tempting you to your very limits. "She did. Okay. It was embarrassing when we had this talk."

“Are you still talking to her?”

“I still do. But I never told her about the situation I’m in.” Then the naughtiest of her hands grip and caress your inner thighs.

“Zuha…” Your heart skips a beat.

“I know,” Kazuha looks to the side to avoid eye contact. You gently place your hands on Kazuha’s cheek to turn her back to you and stare at her quietly. Intentionally, she gets closer, tilting her head, and eyes closing to give you a quick kiss. “I missed you. I really do.”

Your adrenaline starts to rush at how she’s seducing you for what’s obvious. Neither had you thought this encounter would be end up this way as you kiss Kazuha from her lips to her neck. The little, cute moans she made were nostalgic for the first time you slept with her. Kazuha’s warm breaths coat your skin, and the gentle touches you felt on your back from her hands were warm. Both of you were fighting for each other's lips.

Despite the small romance, her hands got naughty and gently squeezes to your cock that’s under your clothes. Kazuha teases you, squeezing, stroking it in the most passionate ways that got you groaning by what she’s doing.

“Someone’s hard. Really hard,” Kazuha said, smirking and looking down at what’s waiting for her as she takes heavy breaths. Kazuha gulps and takes a quick glance outside the window, “it’s getting late, we have classes tomorrow. But let’s finish what we started.”

“Is this how we should make it up, Zuha?” You groaned, missing her soft hands on your cock.

Kazuha chuckles, the cute little distinct laughs she made only got you immersed in this feeling for her. "You need this. I need this. For old times sake."

You lifted her shirt off as it’s thrown out of the way for you to kiss her tits hidden beneath her bra. Kazuha lifts your shirt off, and the aggressive passion begins to bloom. “Zuha, let’s put our pride to the side.”

“I want you so bad. Don't you know how much I miss you?" Kazuha says, heavily breathing like she waited for this moment, season after season. She gets off and on her knees to quickly pull your pants down, “how about I get a taste? We can do something on the bed tomorrow.” As you two look each other in the eye, she was full of romance, which you can see the sincerity in those beautiful eyes of hers as Kazuha played it off mischievously.

“The sun is going down, Zuha. Don’t just wait for an answer.”

“How messy do you want to see me?"

You lean closer to her and pull off her hair tie, “It’s hotter when your hair sticks to your mouth, Zuha.”

“So naughty of you,” she smirks and licks the tip of your cock with a smile after. “In my mouth or on my face?”

“In, Zuha. Let’s not make a mess.” It was an excuse when you wanted her to be sucking you off for the whole time. Talking was just the troubling part and you weren’t for the talks. “You’re teasing me, Zuha. Let's not waste any more time."

“What’s the fun without-” and she stopped questioning. It would be best if she started sucking you off instead of wasting more time.

“Zuha,” you groaned, heavily breathing in and out as she bobbed her head slowly. Once you look down at her, Kazuha was glaring back at you with a smile turning into a smirk. “Kazuha.” The wet gags she made while sucking you off were not so innocent at all. You’re enjoying this moment, the way her tongue swirls around and under the tip of your cock, the sensational waves of pleasure that you couldn’t help but grip onto her hair made you moan her name as she starts to deep throat you. "Zuha, just like that."

Even as the sun starts to set slowly, shadows cast into the living room with the windows clearly opened for anyone lucky enough to see Kazuha sucking you off. The beauty she holds on you, slick and silky hair, manicured nails, her angel-like voice, and a well intelligent woman—Kazuha sure did get your feelings involved this time around. She wasn’t someone you’ll call a friend anymore.

The way she sucked you off felt like your breath was being taken, downright dangerously when you’re trying to not cum. But at the same time, the thought of cumming inside Kazuha’s mouth is always a never-ending good feeling, and there’s no way she wouldn’t love your cock throbbing in her mouth for a warm treat she's getting.

Kazuha’s mouth was always sinister, way to seductive whenever the timing was right. If that wasn’t enough, Kazuha’s innocence is another thing that you love about her, but when her warm mouth wraps around your cock, your mind becomes endlessly wanting more.

“Kazuha,” you kept groaning. “Kazuha,” you grunted, teeth clenching. There was something this time that she found more attractive—you calling her name in the most seductive way.

She pulls off and brushes her lip across with her thumb. Yet, Kazuha squeezes your cock, jerking it slowly while looking right in your eyes, “don’t cum yet," Kazuha smiles.

“You’re doing it so god damn good.”

“It’s that a compliment?” Kazuha laughs, and you still find Kazuha’s smile so attractive as she teases your tip with her thumb.

“Enough—” your airway cuts you off, unable to finish what you wanted to say as her lips press against your tip, “talking.”

Her tongue licks the bottom side of your cock up to the tip, and you stared at her smiling right back at you when she knew you’re enjoying it to the fullest. Then, Kazuha spits on your cock, with the messy strands of saliva dripping down to your balls. It wasn’t new where she would go next—down to suck on your balls. Her hands become covered in her own saliva and your pre-cum as she sucks on your balls with your cock in her soft-warm hands.

“I know you’re cumming any minute now,” Kazuha murmurs.

“In your mouth, Zuha,” you said quickly.

She didn’t care if the blowjob wasn’t thirty minutes, but seeing you happy was all she ever wanted in the first place. Neither could Kazuha wait any longer and pushes herself deeper onto your cock. That sinister mouth of hers made you love her even more when you felt the back of her throat.

You held onto her nape, groaning all the pleasures as Kazuha bobbed her head up and down while your cock starts to pulsate, and at last, cum in her mouth. Kazuha stops bobbing and glares at you cumming and panting. “Kazuha,” you groan her name.

You felt her swallowing every load, as much as she can get out of you for tonight. Your hands were still pinning Kazuha in, and you didn’t plan on freeing her, not just yet, until you’re more than satisfied. Kazuha slowly traces your thighs, and the glare she gave you was such an act of seduction.

Kazuha pulls off your cock once you let her, strays of her hair and the evidence of your cum were all over her mouth to her lips. She licks her lips after cleaning her own mess. “So, guess we should just fuck after coming home tomorrow?”

You didn’t mind skipping class tomorrow, but then you would have to worry about Kazuha if she wasn’t willing to be in the same boat. “I’ll pick you up after classes tomorrow?”

“Fair enough,” she laughs, “how should we sleep? Together?”

“Why are you asking that? This isnt our first. My bed is for two."

She kisses your cock, “well, it sounds like some kind of confession.”

And it was when you couldn’t muster up the courage with the weight of pride on your back. “Zuha, tell your friends that you’re with me.” You grab your phone to text your friends after putting your pants on. “Let’s go to bed. Get a good night sleep.”

Kazuha follows right behind you like nothing happened minutes ago, when you saw the different side of her. Not the nerdy, beautiful, and quiet girl, but the horny Kazuha.

“Hey,” she clears her throat, “got a toothbrush for me? Let's make a trip to my place early tommorrow and get some of my belongings."

“I have an extra one in the cabinet,” you pointed at the bathroom that was opened. “Need to shower too? I have extra towels, although you like morning showers, Zuha.”

She wouldn't anticipate you knowing her preferences, and when she knows that you know the smallest details about her, Kazuha blushes and shyly looks down with a smirk. "Just admit you missed me or something," she murmurs.

“I missed you, Kazuha,” you said. Kazuha wasn’t expecting that, but she thought that you would tease her instead. There wasn’t a need to say her name that way, when you call her by her nickname more often.

“I-I’ll be back and we can take turns using the bathroom.”

“Brush our teeth together. Think we obviously know the showers won’t be alone anymore. The bed is less lonely when you’re here now, Zuha.” Again, there wasn’t no need to tease Kazuha, but it was a sly confession.

“The dining table wouldn’t feel so lonely, either one of us will come home greeted. Maybe together also. We’ll have to think about each other when we’re out grocery shopping,” Kazuha added to your teasing.

“Gosh, let’s just go wash up for bed, Zuha. You're lame," you playfully said.

——

The following morning, Kazuha woke you up to start the day. With small, little conversations, you took her to a nearby store for an early breakfast and looked out of the glass window into the sunny morning. Afterwards, you dropped her off at class following a brief stop at her apartment. Neither of you were officially in a relationship, at least not yet, but before she exited the car, she requested a kiss.

Throughout your classes, thoughts of Kazuha consumed your mind and made it difficult to concentrate. Your thoughts wandered to the things you wanted to do with her after so long. Time seemed to drag on, and you anxiously waited when you could finally leave and pick her up from the library, where she waited with her headphones on as she works on her project.

After finishing your class for the day, you eargerly walked out to pick her up and called her the moment you arrived. “Zuha, I’m outside.”

"Okay. Be there in a second," Kazuha says before swiftly gathering her belongings and exiting the library. In her hands, she holds a book, and her backpack is filled to the brim with assignments. Dressed in denim jeans and a black shirt she changed into, she wore glasses that adds to her beauty, giving her a nerdy yet attractive look. It's remarkable how her glasses can make her stand out in a crowd. It's these subtle details that make you see her in a new light. Regardless of whether she intended to look beautiful, you couldn't help but be mesmerized by the woman who slept with you twice.

"Damn," you silently compliment her as she approaches your car. In that moment, you find yourself dismissing the idea of her as just a friend. There's something more, a feeling that goes beyond mere friendship. You want to keep her.

"It's sunny outside, isn't it?" Kazuha remarks, opening the door and taking a seat with her backpack on her lap.

"It is.” Your gaze fixed on Kazuha, captivated despite seeing her in the exact same outfit this morning. Yet, it was the addition of her glasses that caused your heart to skip a beat. It's unexpected, catching you off guard.

“Aren’t you going to drive?” Kazuha says, tilting her head to playfully tease you.

“Take off those glasses. I can’t concentrate,” you said, laughing it off.

“Your cheeks are glowing. Am I pretty? It’s not like you’ve never seen me wearing glasses.” The difference between her current innocent demeanor and whenever Kazuha wanted to fuck was polar opposite. You wouldn’t deny, you love seeing the two sides of Kazuha. “Better hurry, we have things to do at home.”

With a gulp, you shifted the car into drive. In that moment, Kazuha realized that this friendship is blossoming into something more. Despite both of you silently acknowledging the subtle sparks of romance, neither was willing to openly admit it.

As you both step inside your apartment, she shuts the door and locks it quickly. Kazuha waited for this just like you did for the whole day. She urgently drops her backpack and book onto the floor as you wasted no time in pinned her right against the door and lock eyes with each other.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Zuha.” Your hands were rather naughty as you groped her ass and made Kazuha chuckle.

“I could say the same,” she says quietly, and puts her hand on your shoulders. The look she gave you was silent, with the clock ticking loudly within the apartment. Neither did you want to look away from her beauty.

“Bed. Now, Zuha.” You lift her off the ground effortlessly and around her thighs to carry Kazuha. She chuckles softly and leans in for a romantic kiss as you make your way to the bed.

“I don’t think it’s right if we do this everyday,” Kazuha murmurs. “But it’s so right that no one knows about us.”

“Your tone is saying different, Zuha. Doesn’t matter if it’s ten minutes a day." You gently nudge the door with your foot before guiding her to the bed, where you both gently fall onto. "At least this way, we can both find some relief from the stress."

She starts striping off her shirt and pants, and you followed after, dropping it onto the floor with the door opened wide. Kazuha beckons you to come with her fingers and spreads her legs. “Come take off my bra and panties.”

You didn’t hesitate to get on top of her and kisses Kazuha on her abs and up to her armpits for a taste. You unhook her bra while kissing and licking her armpits, then tossed her bra onto the floor. Knowing that she’s also ticklish, Kazuha laughs and moan by your tongue getting a taste of her armpits. “You smell and taste so fucking good,” you mumbled.

“All for you,” Kazuha breathes heavily. Despite her panties still on, you didn’t plan to go down and pull them off, not just yet, when you wanted to get romantic with Kazuha. Your hands slowly reach up her arms, and pin them against the headrest of the bed. She laughs and smiles, “this brings back memories.”

“And you’re not gonna be laughing once I’m deep in you, Zuha.”

“You’re getting me so wet. Do I have to beg for it now?” She looks at you with a smirk.

You look at her body, down to her crotch, and see a small damp area that you made Kazuha have. “Can’t wait any longer?”

“Please,” Kazuha pleads as she looks at your hard cock. You could hear the small little whines she made as you press your lips all over her neck and chest.

Putting your cock inside her wasn’t what you wanted to do just yet, not until you get a quick taste of her pussy. You slowly get down towards her crotch and went in for a taste to be reminded of the succulent taste of Kazuha as her thighs are on your shoulders. She moans and whimpers to the rhythm of your tongue all over her pussy.

“Fuck,” she groans and arches her back. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

And you knew she was getting impatient. Kazuha waited the whole day, and potentially wanting this more than you did. “So needy, Zuha,” you said and put your cock in slowly.

She moans with her mouth opened in a oval shape. The glare she give you were romantic, and the deeper you slowly went in, her eyes close with her teeth clenching. Kazuha’s pussy stretches the deeper you went, although you weren’t all the way in, she was taking every inch that you give her.

“You’re so tight, Zuha,” you moaned, heavily breathing as you feel how warm it was inside. The feeling of her pussy was like a genuine hug—a warm one that you only want from her. And by how warm it was inside, nothing would ever give you this feeling from another woman.

You love her body. Kazuha doesn’t have a killer body that men fantasize for, but you became fond of her tits. They’re on the smaller side, and you loved them. Her ass was something that you love the most—it’s soft and perfectly round, so slap-able enough to where you’ll kiss her ass for hours after. The beauty of her is when you’re fucking her from behind. The ripples and bounce it makes can only grow more hunger out of you.

“Go deeper,” Kazuha begs as she squeezes your shoulders. So you pushed in deeper until you heard an erotic grunt from her as she places her hand on your stomach to make you stop going further.

Love is pain, but you would argue that the pain was when you’re balls deep inside this woman, questionably, maybe your girlfriend that you didn’t want to admit. You’re deep inside her at the start where she needed to get used to your cock. This wasn’t her first time having you in bed, but it’s been way too long for Kazuha to remember this feeling of your hard cock stretching her pussy.

There’s not a thought about looking away from her eyes, she wanted this, she needed this, she knew that you’re the only man she’ll ever settle down for. This wasn’t a dice roll to see how long a new relationship would last with you, when you were for her everytime she needed someone to talk. Not much talking is happening as of right now though.

“Zuha,” you groaned, thrusting in and out of her walls hugging your cock so tightly. There’s a clear indication of romance by how her hands were all over your shoulders and to your back, and she’s not letting you go.

Was this feeling the same as the first time you slept with her? Definitely.

But this feeling was different when she held onto you so tightly, yet the softness of her not wanting you to pull away from her body as your thighs are locked in by her. Kazuha’s begging you desperately, and the mistake of holding back a simple text message made her blame herself. This was her way of making it up and wanting you to cum inside her.

“You’re so fucking big,” she groans in your ear and kisses your neck while your already balls deep inside Kazuha without the thoughts of being so-called ‘friends.’

You love it—the tightness of her pussy, and it’s not a fluke when she’s just a beauty, but someone you genuinely know with feelings this time around. Even if your cock throbs every few seconds, you would stop deep in her just to fuck her longer.

Kazuha’s arms are around you, they weren’t full of masculinity, but the feminine kind that you can dominate her in the most aggressive ways. It’s not like she would lead anyways when she loves getting a good pounding from you to clear her mind. As your breath gets heavier, she didn’t want you to do all the work, so Kazuha pushes your shoulders gently and you already knew she wanted to ride you. No words, only her eyes made it clear.

She gets on top as you caress her abs, and Kazuha slowly puts your cock in her again, moaning enough for you to only hear and no one else. You grab her arms and pull Kazuha down closer to make her chest to glue on to yours. She starts riding you with passion, and your hands slowly move closer to her ass.

With a quick and sudden spank, she laughs at you seductively with her lips all over yours, and she knew her ass was one of your favorite things to get a hold on.

“So naughty of you, gosh,” Kazuha says, kissing your lips right after.

“So round and juicy, Zuha. Don’t you miss how I touch you?”

“I don’t have to miss it anymore,” she moans.

Either of you still fail to hold a conversation while fucking, and this overly too passionate and romantic when she wasn’t your girlfriend. At least not yet. Your pride makes you hesitate.

Kazuha gets up with her hands leaning on your chest and grinds on your cock faster. Her breaths become heavy, and dangerously, the glares she gives you were lustful to the point of making your heart skipped a beat. She’s a beauty in every position.

You grunted, and she smiles seeing you struggle to not cum. “Zuha, slow down,” you said with a heavy breath and gently take this opportunity to choke her. Just even choking her, she smiles in the most seductive ways. Kazuha never told you that she loves being choked, but it’s not new when you bring a smile to her face when being choked.

She holds onto your arm with both hands that’s choking her neck. “Fuck, it feels so good inside me, Babe.”

Her moans gotten louder, your cock was deep inside Kazuha as she closes her eyes. And by the time you even realize, Kazuha cums. Her legs shake and she tumbles back down with her hair brushing against your shoulders all while you’re still choking her.

And you didn’t catch her slipping the word, ‘babe’ at all. Kazuha couldn’t help it. Her feelings are drawn towards you, and neither did she catch the word she said.

She’s in your embrace before she even knew it after you put your arm around her back. Her moans got more erotic, and you couldn’t help it but pound her even harder. The sounds of her ass bouncing on your thighs were pure ecstasy. You wanted more, you wanted the neighbors to hear this beautiful woman sing the songs of erotica.

“Harder,” she struggles to even speak with your cock penetrating her walls. “Harder, Baby.”

“Bend over. Give me what I love seeing.”

She gets off your cock after your arms were off her, and Kazuha quickly got on all fours as you get behind her. You love how this woman can turn from a nerdy one, to the most horniest yet. She never doubts you doing the naughtiest things to her, and she’s all in for it. All in for you.

You didn’t waste time to put your cock back in. Her walls were well lubricated, ass so round that you wanted to see it bounce in circular motions as you got her on all fours. The best part was that you also get to pull her hair, but the arch she’s doing—the back that you love so much, you could cum in her in this position forever.

Kazuha keeps moaning and moaning, “fuck me, harder!” She screams with her hair being pulled.

With her head bobbing, and ass bouncing to how hard you were pounding her, Kazuha closes her eyes with all the moans filling the room. Only she can make you feel this way, only you can make it right by fucking her in the most passionate yet hard ways that she loves. Her walls were hugging your cock at this point, the feelings of her tight pussy only made you grew hungry as you stare down at her body.

You give her ass a gentle spank, then a harder one, and the obvious and final, a harder one that made her scream erotically with a smile on her face that you couldn’t see.

“Zuha,” you moaned with a heavier breath. You’re tired, but there’s no way when you’re fueled by this woman to keep going. Her body’s addictive, beautifully in all different positions that neither of you can call each other friends after fucking.

You’re in a trance because of this woman. Thoughts run endlessly as you heard her moans muffle, and before you knew it, Kazuha’s moaning her heart out. Kazuha didn’t stop you, she wanted more, she wanted to be pounded by the man she kept yearning for.

So you lift her back up on her knees, back against your chest, the soft gentle chokes you give her neck, and your other hands groping her tits. Kazuha starts riding you, endlessly without wanting this to end all while feeling the warm embrace you give her.

“Make me cum, Zuha. Make me cum. I’ll give it to you.”

From seeing the wicked smile on her face as you’re choking her, she wanted this simple reminder, the reminiscence of the warm cum you gave her a year ago.

“Cum, Baby,” she says, riding and grinding. It was only then, you heard the way she called you for the first time.

“Make me, Baby,” you say back, spicing things up with her.

“Give it to me,” she says, squealing loudly by how hard you’re choking the sides of her neck with your fingers.

Your cock’s throbbing the harder she rides and pounds herself on your cock. The sounds of sex, Kazuha in your arms, the pleasure she’s giving you, and the tightness her pussy has on your cock gets the best of you.

You cum.

Like the time has stopped as she pauses to feel your cock throbbing and giving her your cum that left a memory inside her. “Zuha,” your breath becomes heavy. Grunting as you’re still cumming deep in her.

And the greed she has of you—your balls deep, cumming and giving Kazuha what she wanted. It’s not you who’s deep in her, every ounce of cum dumping deep inside her, but Kazuha. Her ass was glued to your hips, standing on her own two knees as you hugged Kazuha in your arms tightly.

“Mhmm,” she moans.

You’re grunting—hard, hard enough to strain your throat by how much your cock was still throbbing until the last bit of cum you have left for her. “Kazuha,” you whispered and nibbled her ear with a smile. “Kazuha”

She stood still to embrace this memory that she never expected. By being in your arms, your own house, and the love that blossomed quickly within a day or two, it’s a fairytale that turned into reality.

Neither did both of you spoke for seconds, or maybe minutes by how much passion still lingered in the small bedroom with clothes all over the floor. You kept her head titled back so you can get your lips all over her neck, and all she did was embrace your cock still inside.

Her moans became softer, seductively keeping you turned on more to make a mess on her neck. “Do you miss me this much?” She chuckles and hold your arm that’s on her neck.

“Maybe more than you ever thought, Zuha,” you murmur, still kissing her neck and up to her face.

“I don’t think this can be your monthly rent. I want to help you. Getting me naked is just a plus.”

“What exactly are you saying, Zuha,” your lips trace up to her lips for a romantic kiss.

“I’m saying-mhm—” Playfully, you cut her off to speak by shutting her lips closed with yours.

You decided to let her speak, “can’t hear you, Zuha.” You’re curious after all the time spent fucking.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Neither could she confess straightforwardly. The way she saw the love in your eyes were no lies.

“I want to take you out to a restaurant tomorrow. A new one,” you said and pulled your cock out of her. “Don’t go to class tomorrow. Spend the day with me at least.”

“It’s like you’re asking me out,” she laughs. “What’s the point of us acting like we’re getting to know each other? Let’s just skip all that.” She reaches for her clothes to put on.

Neither of you can confess, but it didn’t matter when it’s clear enough. There’s no clouds, no fog, and only the road that both of you see into the future together. She’s not just your friend, you’re not just her friend, but a couple—girlfriend and boyfriend.

“Lay in bed. Let’s rest up for a bit, Zuha,” you say while putting on your clothes with a smirk.

She looks at you mischievously, “missing a day of class won’t hurt. Spending time in bed right now won’t either, right? I could be working on projects.”

"Give your attention to me, Zuha."

"Anyways, let’s split the rent half-half. It's what's right," she places her hand on your chest as you both lay down.

You didn’t give her answer but press your lips against hers. It remains quiet. If she wanted to split the rent half and half, you wouldn’t mind. Her body’s yours to cum inside of.

“So what’s your answer,” Kazuha whispers after you let go of her lips.

“We can talk about it after we move your stuff over here, Zuha.”

#kazuha smut #le sserafim #le sserafim smut #kazuha nakamura #kpop smut

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milkb0nny · 3 months ago

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I would like to request sth 🥰

Could you write one with reader being daughter of a great king and shes married with Ivar and she hears Margrethe talking bad about him and he hears, gets really sad and reader sees just red and gets really mad and Ivar just loves how she is just as tyrannt as him?

I would totally understand if you dont want to write it.

Anyways I hope you have a great day ❤️

Fury Amongst Us

Pairing: Ivar x fem!reader

Summary: Despite the forced marriage between you and Ivar, the two of you developed some sort of adoration. Still, you didn’t exchange much words to one another, until that one evening; you could not stand Magrethe talking bad about your husband.

Note: Thank you so much for requesting! I hope you will like it! I made Reader a little more tame than Ivar, but still fierce and respectable. I had quite some fun writing this. Have a lovely day anon. <3

Content: established relationship, swearing, arguing, fluff, blood

Word count: ~1400

You prepared yourself for the festivities in the grand hall as your people prepared to celebrate the successes of the recent raids and the goods they had brought back. Each time the warriors returned, your father made the journey to Kattegat for the grand celebrations. He always claimed he came to see you, his daughter, but you knew he was drawn to the infamous vibrance of the town. You loved your father, and you couldn’t complain about seeing him. You had grown accustomed to these occasions, yet tonight was more exciting than the festivities before: it was your first evening in the grand hall as a married woman.

Your marriage to Ivar Ragnarsson, the son of Ragnar Lothbrok, was not born of love but of strategy - a political alliance to unite your families and strengthen ties between your folk. It was an act of power, not passion. Therefore you met with prejudice and discomfort, which vanished quickly. You did not begrudge your fate. The man could have been an ugly, aging warrior; instead, you were married to a man who was young, complex, and intriguing.

You had heard of Ivar's reputation long before meeting him. His anger and cruelty were legendary, and those who spoke of him did so with both fear and awe. Yet in the months since your marriage, you had glimpsed a different side to him, one the world rarely saw. His legs, which many deemed a weakness, were not so to him. His ambitious will and sharp mind more than compensated for any physical limitation. You found this quality admirable, even endearing. But with his strength came a quiet torment. You have experienced his rage, however, it was never turned on you but others. As if he tried to spare you from his ugliness, which you appreciated. He cared somewhat about his wife.

Over the past week, you had tried to overcome the distance between you and Ivar, seeking moments of closeness and tenderness. Yet he remained distant, avoiding your affections not with cruelty but with a quiet humility that suggested he believed himself unworthy of your love. He declined intimate acts, and your efforts to make up for the lack of romance between you. Who would have thought that Ivar the Boneless, the man feared across lands, carried such a burden of self-doubt? You respected his boundaries, offering him space but showing your care in subtle ways. And with each glance, each moment shared in silence, you felt a growing pull in your heart. You watched him, often questioning what thoughts stirred his mind. Was this marriage beginning to blossom into something real? If not, why did you feel those emotions then? You weren’t sure, but you found yourself eager to explore.

As Magrethe and another woman helped you dress, their usual gossip floated around the room. You paid little attention to it, your mind drifting to thoughts of Ivar. Magrethe’s sharp tongue often spilled tea, and though her stories rarely concerned you, today her words felt especially bitter. She rambled on about a couple who had argued loudly the night before, her tone dismissive and mocking.

The room quieted when Ivar appeared in the doorway. His presence was commanding, his piercing blue eyes immediately finding yours. For a fleeting moment, you thought he might say something, but he quickly averted his gaze, moving into the next room where his brothers waited. The door remained slightly open, and you caught him glancing back, as though reluctant to leave the sight of you.

Magrethe noticed your melancholic expression and, despite the envy that often laced her words, she tried to comfort you. "Ivar is not only ruthless in battle but also with the people closest to him," she said, her voice deceptively soft. "You should be careful, my lady. His anger might one day find you, too."

Her words, though spoken with genuine concern, carried a hidden mischief. You replied calmly, your tone steady.

"I appreciate your concern, Magrethe, but I am his wife, not the cause of his fury."

Your chest tightened at her cruel words, but you remained composed. Through the mirror, you saw Ivar just beyond the door, his head bowed as if trying to shrink away. His brothers’ laughter did little to drown out the sting of Magrethe’s remarks, and you knew he had heard every word. His eyes reflected the self hatred and disgust he owned for himself, and that alone hurt you.

"But haven’t you noticed?" she pressed, her voice growing sharper. "He cares only for power and pays no mind to the cost of his ambitions. He would hurt anyone to achieve importance. Yet, no matter how much power he has, he will always remain a cripple - a man who must rely on others to carry him."

With curiosity, you encouraged her to continue. "Go on," you said calmly.

Though the fire in your heart burned hotter with every passing moment. You set a trap for her to step in, and so she did.

Magrethe leaned closer, her tone dripping with mean words. "I pity you, my lady, being tied to such a man. The worst of it is that Ivar doesn’t love anyone… not even himself. He pushes everyone away. That’s why he’ll always be alone, no matter how powerful he becomes."

Her words were the final spark. Fury surged within you, and you turned to face her, your gaze cold and unyielding. Through the open door, you caught a glimpse of Ivar, his shoulders stiff, bracing for what he assumed would be your agreement with Magrethe’s cruel assessment. He clearly expected you to complain and cry. But what came next was far from what anyone expected.

Without warning, your hand struck Magrethe’s cheek with a sharp small object, the force sending her stumbling backward and falling to ground. Blood welled from a thin cut where your hidden blade had grazed her pure skin. Her shocked whimpers filled the room as she clutched her face.

Ubbe burst into the room, his expression one of alarm. Before he could speak, you turned to him, your voice cutting through the tension like steel.

"You allow such insolence to fester in your household, Ubbe? This woman insults your brother and dares to do so in my presence."

Magrethe sobbed before you, her arrogance shattered. Kneeling, you grasped her chin, forcing her to meet your gaze.

"You speak of my husband as though you understand him, but you know nothing of his strength, his pain. You, Magrethe, are nothing more than a jealous, envious snake, slithering beneath the feet of those greater than you." You continued to torment her, not letting that behavior go. „How can you speak of self esteem when you’re reeking of jealousy? How can you act as if you’re above him?“

Your voice softened, but each word carried the weight of your fury.

"If Ivar is broken, then I will carry him. If the world taunts him, I will silence it. And if you or anyone else dares to challenge him, I will make the gods themselves regret it. The world will burn in flames, and I will cause it if someone dares to question us, our marriage or our love."

As you stepped into the hall, the cool air brushing against your flushed skin, you found Ivar waiting. His blue eyes were filled with a mixture of awe and longing. For the first time, he reached for your hand, his touch tentative but warm.

The room was silent, only for Magrethe’s soft sobs. Even Ubbe was speechless, his gaze flicking between you and the trembling woman at your feet. You rose, your movements deliberate and commanding, and turned to Ubbe.

"Teach her to learn her place. If I hear another insult, I will not stop at a scar."

"You didn’t have to do that," he said softly, his voice laced with emotion.

For the first time, Ivar allowed himself to believe that perhaps he was worthy of such love. The anger he owned, he burdened himself with, now was shared with you.

Meeting his gaze, you replied with quiet intensity.

"I would do it again, Ivar. You are my husband, and I will not let anyone, not even you, think you are less than what you are."

#vikings ivar #ivar x reader #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #vikings x reader #vikings

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sanjisleggy · 5 months ago

Text

to deserve perfection (red-haired shanks x fem!reader)

req: Could you do a Shanks x reader (fem or gn) hurt comfort where Shanks gets really insecure about having only one arm. Maybe like during a fight they fall and another crew member catches you or like during a party or something she dances with one of their crewmates and Shanks gets sad and insecure he can't fold her like that

a/n: my first request YIPPEE :D tysm for requesting anon it means a lot :’D also i’m not super familiar with Shanks’ crew so i’m basing my knowledge of them and the general crew dynamics on OPLA and other fics i’ve read :3c

contents: fem!reader, unexplicit mentions of chronic pain and drowning, insecurity, angst to fluff, hurt/reverse comfort

wc. 2.3k

Shanks is often of the opinion that if any one person in the world is deserving of nothing less than perfection, it would have to be you.

you, the beloved botanist and assistant doctor of the Red Hair Pirates.

you, one of the few people he’s ever known to able to balance logic and empathy flawlessly. it’s a skill he finds quite lacking in the world in general, which makes your presence in the crew all the more valued.

you, the one he watched grow from timid young girl to confident woman just as he, himself, grew from a playful young boy to a man worthy of your seemingly endless love—or at least he hopes.

Shanks has never thought of himself as a perfect man—far from it actually. but now, only a little over a year since he lost his arm saving Luffy, he feels the most imperfect he’s ever felt.

ii.

he fears he’s a burden.

but Shanks keeps his worries to himself, opting to simply smile softly in gratitude whenever your eyes flicker over his face as your hands gently rub the special ointment over his stump. he didn’t even ask for your help tonight, as usual you simply read him like a book and ushered him over to your bed, bottle of the homemade remedy at the ready.

as much as he feels unworthy of your time and effort, he can’t help the light fluttering feeling in his chest, especially when your fingers travel up past his shoulder blade toward the back of his neck. you play with the ends of his hair before pulling him down to close the gap between your mouths.

“feeling better?” you ask after pulling away. you can’t help but chuckle when his lips chase after yours for a moment before opting to simply pout pitifully when you stop him by pressing your fingers to his bottom lip.

”i always feel better with you.” Shanks doesn’t quite answer the question but you accept it anyway. you trust he’d tell you the truth if your medicine truly stopped being effective; just as you trust him to lean on you in times of need, whether it be physical or emotional.

you’ll learn in the near future, however, that trust of such a nature can be easily shattered even from the purest of intentions.

iii.

the longing look in his captain’s eyes as he watches you dance with the locals is not lost on Shanks’ first mate. while the rest of the crewmates cheer and clap, all now inebriated to a certain degree as always, Benn Beckman walks over and takes a seat beside him as inconspicuously as possible.

”y’know you still have your legs, right?” the ever-easygoing captain can’t help but laugh out loud in response.

”straight to the point, huh?” he replies before taking another gulp of beer.

”i’ve known you both long enough to know she’d love to dance with you.”

“i know.”

i just don’t want to embarrass her.

the conversation dies for a few minutes as the two men sip at their drinks, eyes glued to the festivities taking place under the starry night sky. the massive bonfire illuminates your face in a way that accentuates your wide, carefree smile and your crescent-shaped eyes.

Shanks watches as you clumsily imitate the traditional dance moves, cheered on and encouraged by men, women and children alike as they take turns holding your hands and spinning you around. Even though a relaxed smile is plastered on his face, he can’t help but feel a soreness grow in his chest at the sight of you being twirled and dipped by the handsome male warriors of the village.

”are you sure we won’t get caught?” you whispered, though your willingness to follow and excited smile stretching across your face screamed that you didn’t care about getting caught at all.

”of course we won’t, just be quiet.” Shanks carefully pushed open the door leading to the front deck.

when the coast seemed clear enough he led you over to the centre of the deck of Roger’s ship before dramatically bowing and offering his hand.

”may i have this dance, milady?” you could only let out a muffled laugh as you placed your hand in his, a silent acceptance. he wrapped his other arm around your middle and started to sway to an imaginary tune.

neither of you knew how to actually dance, especially not like how the rich folk do in their fancy ballrooms. but earlier that day he’d asked what you wanted for your birthday and you said the first thing on your mind: to dance with him under the stars.

thus he made your dream come true, even if it did end with sore toes and sweaty skin.

“it’s not like you to just sit back and watch.” Beckman breaks the silence between them, yanking Shanks out of his memories. the first mate gestures to what essentially looks like a queue of men and women waiting their turn to dance with you. a bitterness emerges in the back of his throat at the sight.

both of the men know that on any other day, Shanks would’ve long intervened to steal you away for himself. reclaim his treasure, is how he used to describe it.

”whatever it is,” his dear friend says with a hint of resignation in his voice as he stands up. “don’t let it fester. you both share something special, don’t let it go to waste.”

iv.

you can tell he blames himself. no one else on the crew does but you also know that it doesn’t matter to Shanks, not when a mistake involves your safety.

a scuffle with the marines was not on that day’s agenda; especially not one out in the open seas while the darkened clouds overhead poured mercilessly.

what started as an issue that could have been resolved in under and hour lasted nearly twice as long due to the unfortunate weather impairing everyone’s vision and movements. the deck was simply too slippery, the waves were too high, and the ambush was too sudden.

you struggle to remember much of what actually happened after you slipped and fell overboard. all you can really recall is clinging onto the deck’s edge for dear life, Shanks reaching out as he cried your name, your fingers slipping from his desperate grasp, and then a bone-chilling coldness overwhelming your entire being. you remember gasping for air only to ingest a mouthful of salty water.

then, you’d woken up in the infirmary.

now you find yourself standing outside your own locked bedroom door, knuckles sore from knocking for the past hour.

“Shanks, my love,” you plead, “let me in, won’t you? i just want to see you.” you try to keep your voice steady but it gets harder with each subsequent word. “please? don’t lock me out.”

first you nearly drowned and now the love of your life is refusing to let you into your own room? tired and confused, you blink away the hot tears pooling in your eyes as you breathe deeply and slowly in an attempt to soothe your aching heart.

after a few more minutes of waiting, your sadness twists itself into some mixture of confusion and indignant frustration. it’s not like Shanks to cut you off like this and you refuse to believe that a single incident is enough to ruin a lifetime spent by each other’s sides.

it takes five kicks to break the lock of your bedroom door and four steps to reach the bed where your beloved husband lays curled into himself. just the sight alone melts away your anger; and when he lets out a strained whine, you feel your heart sink as your body enters autopilot.

you swiftly grab a bottle of ointment from the bedside drawer before crawling on the bed towards Shanks’ back. gently, you pull the blanket off him and reach over his body to roll him into a better position. thankfully, he doesn’t resist.

”is this why you weren’t opening the door?” you ask softly as you sit him up to unbutton his shirt. “was it too sore?”

oh how easy it would be to say yes and just leave it at that and receive your unconditional, undeserved forgiveness for my selfishness.

but i can’t lie.

not to you.

”No,” he whispers, avoiding meeting your eyes with his own. you hum in response, focused more on gently rubbing the soothing ointment over his aching stump.

”then why?” you prod, though your tone remains soft and genuine. “why didn’t you want to let me in?” you scoot closer, your chest now brushing against his right shoulder as you reach around to apply more medicine. your other hand subconsciously rubs his back.

”you must’ve known i wanted nothing more than to sleep in my own bed and cuddle my own husband after being fished out of the sea,” you add on with a laugh that Shanks doesn’t reciprocate.

ah, gotcha.

”so this is about me falling into the ocean, hmm?” you redirect your ointment-coated hand to his chin before tilting his face over to lock your eyes onto his own. “everyone knows it was an accident.” you offer him a small smile as your hand on his back travels up to rub at his neck. “aside from the shock of it all, i’m totally fine.”

”i should’ve been able to pull you up,” Shanks finally chokes out, lunging forward to bury his face into your chest. “i shouldn’t have let you fall into the water to begin with. the waves were so rough, we could’ve easily lost you.” he wraps his arm around your waist, fingers gripping tightly onto the back of your shirt; as though you would disappear once again if he wasn’t holding on tightly enough.

”but you didn’t lose me,” you coo, feeling your own heart twist and ache as you return the hug, holding him as close to you as possible. “i’m still here. it’s okay, my love.”

”i was fucking useless,” he exhaled, shoulders beginning to tremble. “i couldn’t even be the one to dive in after you. i wouldn’t have been able to swim and pull you up at the same time.”

you feel your eyes burn with tears for the second time today as you listen to Shanks berate himself.

”i couldn’t hold onto you. i couldn’t keep you safe. i can’t even dance with you like how we used to.” for the first time in years, he was losing it and it terrifies you.

“stop! stop saying all that!” you can’t help but raise your voice as you pry his face away from your body, no longer allowing him to hide anymore. when he finally looks at you, you see that your teary eyes are mirrored on his handsome face. although he looks up at you silently, you feel his hand tremble from how hard he’s holding onto your clothing.

“you—” you struggle to find the words. how were you supposed to reassure the most amazing man you’ve ever met that his thoughts of self-loathing are unfounded?

”Shanks, you’re…” you feel a fresh wave of hot tears run down your face when you see how tired he looks. it’s as though these thoughts have been running in his mind for longer than you think, and it’s exhausting him.

“you’re perfect,” you finally say as you cup his face between your hands before leaning down to brush the tip of your nose against his. “you’re so perfect. i don’t care how many limbs you have or scars you collect. i’d love you all the same until the day i die.”

“you deserve more.” Shanks can’t help but say what’s been plaguing his mind for weeks. although the relief of letting it out feels good, he can’t help the tightness in his chest when he sees you frown.

”what more could i possibly deserve, you silly man?” you let out a choked laugh, rubbing your thumbs under his eyes to wipe away his tears, old and new. “i don’t think you realise how lucky i am to have had you for so long. i’ve been loving you since we were children, for crying out loud.” you pause to breathe. “and with all the beautiful women we meet at every new island we visit, who clearly want to take my place; sometimes i feel like it’s only a matter of time before they steal you away—”

you’re cut off by Shanks capturing your lips with his own. the hand that was previously crumpling your shirt now trailing up your body before stopping at your face. you lean into the warmth of his palm whilst keeping your lips on his, saliva mixing with salty tears.

“don’t be ridiculous,” he pants the words out the moment you pull away for air. “don’t ever say such a thing.”

”now you know how i felt when you said all those awful things about yourself.” you turn your head to press a kiss to his palm, smiling when you see how his cheeks flush redder than they already are. “but you shouldn’t hide these thoughts anymore, my silly boy. you need to talk to me so i can tell you how ridiculous you’re being.” your finger pokes his chest, drawing a warm chuckle from the love of your life as he smiles for the first time since you were pulled out of the ocean depths.

“i love you,” Shanks whispers, words muffling halfway when presses his lips to your forehead mid-sentence.

”love you, too.”

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x yn #one piece x you #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #imagine #fanfic #opla x reader #one piece live action x reader

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mixtapesandwintercoats · 4 months ago

Text

women=scapegoats

Just my opinion.

TRIGGERING WARNING: SA/ SH

When did the word woman become synonymous with scapegoat? As I see the news each day, I realize this is the world we seem to live in. In light of recent events regarding the attempt to destroy the career and livelihood of a fellow actress and woman , I have felt compelled to write this, as I have unfortunately been subject to the same toxic masculinity throughout my life. In my recent career, I’ve brought forward concerns about a male colleague and was deemed “hysterical.” I was told my fears were figments of my imagination. Now, as I’m seeing this pattern pop up more, I realize this is the norm.

I, like a lot of women, had hope in change —especially in the latter part of 2017 when many brave women came forward during the #MeToo movement. There seemed to be an uprising, a new wave of recognition for those who had been abused, degraded, slandered, silenced and it was loud. But it was the kind of noise I can only liken to a firework. It can wake you up out of a sound sleep, it burns so bright and shocks the shit out of you but then, it burns out — just like that. And when the smoke in the sky clears and the ashes and debris are swept away from the sidewalk, behind closed doors —to them— we are still just noisy women.

So we all go about our business until the next wave of injustice comes.

With the #MeToo movement, it felt different. People were annoyed (by people, I mean men and anyone who enables abusers). Annoyed that they might have to change their own dehumanizing behavior. I remember the shift from “yasss!!! Go women!!!! We are woke af!!!! We got your back!!!!” To “god, didn’t these bitches have their moment a few years ago? Get over it”. As if centuries of women being underpaid, undervalued, under-appreciated, raped, harassed, terrified and used for the benefits of dick-wielding heroes would be erased because you commented on your second cousins #MeToo instagram saying “stay strong”.

It was a pat on the head, a consolation prize accompanied by an eye roll as if we were just all constantly complaining that the gas station didn’t sell our preferred brands of tampons.

When a suit was filed against me by a former employer, (the suit was withdrawn), after making a confidential complaint against a coworker for unprofessional behavior, I had the silly and naive impression they would believe me. I am not known as a liar in my field of work, no matter how vocal I may be. Hence, why I’ve been working for 25 years. Instead of being believed and protected, a suit was filed against me for having the audacity to speak up. I was publicly shamed and defamed in the process. A reputation I had cultivated for over 2 decades had now been tainted as I became the crazy, paranoid and to quote directly, “hysterical and wild” woman, who apparently just had it in for men. My previous abuse was also brought up as “unfounded claims”, and I was made to seem like someone who just goes after men, rather than being seen as someone who has been dealing as a professional in this world, since I was a child, standing up for herself. This was after I had taken all of the recommended, reasonable and appropriate measures of reporting confidentially to my union.

The experience left me with a lot of questions, of the professionals in my industry, of the public, and of men.

To the public… I often wonder why are we always so excited to see the takedown of a woman? Why are we always so quick to defend a man after he is accused of bad behavior, but if a woman speaks out… she’s clearly a liar? I’d like to think it’s because we are supremely afraid to believe the truth that these things actually happen. I’d like to believe it’s some form of indoctrinated denial. However, time and time again, I find most people believe the approval of a man is far more significant than the burden of supporting a woman. For men, it is always innocent until proven guilty. For women it is the opposite. “Prove your fear.” “Prove your discomfort.” “Prove your pain.”

This MUST change.

And to men, I first wonder… if you complained about a coworker and you were called a liar… how would you feel? You probably can’t answer this because most likely, statistically, it’s never happened to you. Men are usually believed because so many “bosses” are men.

I will say this to those who have such a difficult time believing that women are truthful: do you know what happens to us if we report anything?

Do you know that most of the time when a woman reports a concern about a man, the burden of proof lies solely on us?

Do you know how it feels to be treated as a second rate citizen solely because we don’t have an appendage we can stick into anything we feel we own the right to?

And yet… you need us. You can’t charge your phone without an outlet right?

And is that all we are? Outlets? Something you can take your anger and vitriol and push that into us and onto us?

It leads us to the impossible double-edged sword we face everyday.

If we don’t speak up, we’re weak and aiding in the problem.

If we do, we are over dramatic, bitchy, bossy, divas.

Do you have a sister? Do you have a daughter? Do you have a mother? I’m sure you do.

And so here we find ourselves again, in a vicious cycle of crucifying another woman for speaking out against a man. Watching as the world splits in two over who is telling the truth, no matter how much evidence is presented. Because how could a woman do anything but lie or exaggerate?

So I ask you this:

How can a man do anything but lie when he is consistently told his deceptions are gospel? Are we forever to hold the burden of being “perfect” to be victims and to be believed?

To change the narrative, we do not need more women to scream. We just need a lot more men to shut up and listen.

-abbie

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jacesbetrothed · 2 months ago

Note

Hi, could you do Robb Stark husband!headcanons with childhood bestfriend reader? Thank you.

robb stark headcannons

husband!robb stark x childhood bestfriend!reader

( contains: fluff, slight angst, smut )

• a/n: i couldn’t help but give these two quite a backstory, but i hope it was what you wished for, and that you enjoy! •

( word count - 1.4k | unedited )

~ you were raised in winterfell, the child of a bannerman sworn to House Stark. your father often rode with Ned Stark, whilst your mother remained at the seat of your house.

~ you and robb were attached at the hip ever since you both learned to walk. whatever you did, whether that was climbing trees, running through the halls, stealing slices of cake from the kitchen, you did it together.

~ however, living many of your years in winterfell, you’d witnessed the reality of war that branched from many peoples grasps for power. how could you not when you grew up around lord eddard stark: the man who fought alongside the king during his rebellion, and the man who bested ser arthur dayne?

~ as you and robb aged and matured, your relationship followed suit. robb was the heir to winterfell, and spent most of his days reading, training, and setting an example for his younger siblings; he was being bred to be the perfect lord. responsibilities weighed heavy on his shoulders, and your feeble attempts to relieve him of it were lost in the cold grasp of time.

~ however, robbers was not the only one who’s burden of responsibilities took a sudden turn. while he was trained to lead, you were trained to breed. you were seen as a woman of court now, meaning you were suitable for marriage in the coming moons.

~ the separation between you and robb was gradual, but one that stung like a blade frosted from the cold air digging into your skin. you found yourself envying him from time to time; he spent his time learning histories and swordsmanship whilst you were cooped up in the castle learning the proper ways of a lady.

~ everything changed when robb first saw the suitors pile up, and the lines of men almost falling at your feet for a chance of your hand. robb felt his heart drop with a frost so cold it burnt him from the inside out.

~ perhaps it was anger, jealousy, or a primal, possessive trance that overtook him. so blinded was he with rage that robb had flung his parchment off his study when you happened outside his chamber. “i would advise you to consider those suitors from this morning, and quickly.” his words weren’t ones of advice, but of scrutiny.

~ robb felt it all crash down when his father was beheaded. no longer was he a boy, nor a man, but a king. you, however, were offered a choice: remain in winterfell, alone, or ride with robbers to war. you did not hesitate.

~ the kings road was a dangerous path, and one that robb had tried to dissuade you of as soon as you began packing to ride south. you were raised in the north, however, and you had grown to be ever-stubborn. but when an assassin was sent to your tent in the middle of the night, robb realized what it would feel like to lose you.

~ he had the man hanged, no doubt, and from then on, demanded that you share a tent with him to avoid this ever happening again (you were too stubborn to let him send you home, and sending you back north with his men wasn’t in robb’s best interest - or yours.)

~ the confession came fiercely and suddenly. it was late in the night. you were across robb’s tent as you mindlessly flipped through the pages of a book you didn’t care for. you found yourself stealing glances at him as he stood, looking over a large table. he was tense, his shoulders rigid and taut.

~ you moved swiftly towards him, as if your mind and body were two separate entities. you stood behind him, your hands pressing into the muscles of his shoulders and back, and massaging them through the fabric of his tunic.

~ there it was, your robb stark, turned to putty in your hands. his head fell forward and he gripped the table as you rubbed along his nape. the flames from the candles cracked and flickered as the wax dripped down the candle sticks.

~ there was a long silence, the tension from the years of distance, and the distant years of closeness, kept the air thick, before robbing finally spoke.

~ his confession was not gentle, it was raw and desperate, as if he had been drowning the words and thoughts deep within him. “i cannot lose you. not you. If i do, there is nothing left of me.”

~ the marriage was not a grand affair, it was done in haste and in secrecy, perhaps even against the wishes of the lords advising him. robb did not care. “i am a man who learns from my mistakes,” he told them, voice hard with defiance. “and i will not let duty take her from me again.”

~ war changed your husband. the boy who once laughed freely now carried grief in his eyes. first he listened his father, then bran and rickon; the weight of his losses weighed heavy on him, and some nights, even you could not reach him.

~ when the nights grew cold and lonely, even robb could not hide his regret. “you should have married someone who could keep you safe,” he once muttered, his fingers ghosting over the scar on your arm from the aforementioned attack in your tent. your eyes burnt cold into his, your hand coming to graze his cheek. “there is no use for safety if i am without you.”

~ as much as robb wanted to reason with you, to shake the stubbornness out of you, he couldn’t help but plant a soft kiss on your lips in admiration. you were undoubtedly strong, and never backed down from anything no matter how much he tried to dissuade you.

~ it started off slow, but the passion and fervour built as robb found his hands pressed against your cheeks as he continued kissing you. his hot skin a sharp contrasts to the cold air in the tent.

~ oh, there was no doubt desperation and fear in your kiss, as if the other would slip away without warning. you found your hands tangled in robb’s curls, tugging as he backed you against his bed.

~ laces were undone, boots were tugged off, and eventually, the clothes came off. you two were as close as humanly possible; soaking up the heat from each others skin.

~ robb was passionate and loving. he was always very gentle with you, and did not inflict any pain or hasten the moment. you were married in a time of war, and robbed did not know how much time he had left with you; why not take his time with you?

~ of course, you had needs, and sometimes the soft and slow intimacy wouldn’t cut it. robb was happy to oblige, speeding up as you needed, and watching your every reaction with wide, yet hazy eyes.

~ what robb loved especially, was the familiarity the two of you shared. you were a part of robb’s soul, and knowing you his whole life only linked the two of you closer. robbing loved knowing your quirks; your dislikes and likes, your opinions, and your ideas, even if war was a man’s job.

~ no matter how many times you two bickered, disagreed, or the ways you showed your love to one another, there was no doubt in your chemistry. even a fool could see the deeper connection between the two of you; your souls were forged from the same fire, your hearts from the same ice.

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sukirichi · 11 months ago

Text

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 008 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

c/w. modern royal au. infidelity. angst. gaslighting. toxic characters. toxic relationships. mentions of neglect and abuse. hurt and comfort. unedited.

notes. thank you to everyone who waited patiently, i hope you guys enjoy this chapter <3 this will be the beginning of kiyoomi arc!

wc. 11k

series masterlist | next

[ EIGHT ] all they keep asking me is if I’m gonna be your bride – the only kind of girl they see is a one-night or a wife

The Kingdom of Inarizaki was at a loss whether to celebrate the early return of the latest married couple from their honeymoon. The couple seemed to be doing great – according to the tabloids, anyway. When they arrived, the Princes and their wives waved to the people, all eager for a glimpse of the infamous couple who had married for love. For two years, society had their eyes on you – the shy, reserved noblewoman who caught the eye and heart of their one and only Crown Prince Suna Rintaro. And oh, what a wedding it was, broadcasted all over the world and celebrated like a holiday.

What the world didn’t know was that it was an entirely different story behind the Palace walls.

You may share a bedroom, but never the bed. You’d been acquainted with the couch for the next few nights, only seeing your husband once in the mornings before he left to do his duties, and every now and then when the Queen wanted to have dinner. Not that you were complaining – the space was most appreciated. Without Suna lingering, there’d be less reminders of how much of a fool he took you. A naïve, young woman who really deluded herself into believing a Prince could want her. Although…

Suna didn’t not want you, either.

In the few spaces in between, he would look for you. He would make small talk and ask if you’ve eaten. If you liked breakfast, which was a silly question, since it was always tea and waffles. If you enjoyed yourself while he was away, this, again, was a silly question. You spent the mind–numbing hours blaming yourself for being in this predicament. That, perhaps, if you had just been brave to walk away that night you found out the truth, then you wouldn’t be out here wondering if the maids’ whispers were true – that Suna spent most of his nights at Belleview Manor, because quote unquote, “he was unwelcome in his own quarters.”

As if somehow it was your fault he did not feel comfortable to sleep under the same roof with you.

Sighing, you flipped your novel closed. No one had given you official duties yet, other than the blatantly obvious one of giving the Crown Prince an heir. ‘They will have such sleepless nights!’, the Queen’s goons crooned. ‘So young and virile, they are, we’ll have a new Crown Prince in no time!’ Oh, if only it were that easy. If there were to be a Prince, Iris would most likely be the mother, considering he saw her more often than you did. And how funny of a thought that was – you wanted distance from him, yet something died inside you little by little the colder your room got.

“Since we have returned, my schedule will be full.”

You glanced up from where you sat. Suna had sauntered back into the room, his tie loosened; hair messed up like he ran his fingers through it several times. Already, a servant stood beside him to comb his hair back neatly. You couldn’t help but stare. How long had it been since you combed his hair for him? You knew he hated it when they gelled it back. He preferred it messy and unkempt, saying his bedroom hair felt most natural. The bedroom hair he’s shown only to you in the quiet breaks of the night when he was in your bed.

The bedroom hair Iris had seen, as well.

Just the thought of it forces a smile on your face. Standing up, you brushed off the imaginary dust off your skirt. Less than a week in the Palace, and you were already so miserable. You could at least try to look less bothered by his unrequited affections.

“Do what you must.”

Once his hair had been brushed to perfection, Suna gestured for his servant to step away. The man politely bowed down before exiting the room. “I mean to say,” he continued, stepping closer now that there was no one else around. Your breath hitched the closer he got, but you dared not move, not even when his warm, familiar hand cups the curve of your cheek. “The meetings I must attend and people to deal with will take up most of my time.”

You knew what he was trying to say – that he wouldn’t be around, and you had to entertain yourself in his absence. Gently, you take a step back from his touch, watching as an unreadable expression crosses his face.

“And as I have said, do what you must. I have my own duties to fulfill as well.”

“You do not sound bothered by this.”

“Why should I be?” you shrugged, “If I am to be stuck with you for the rest of my life, surely I can enjoy what little time left I have for myself.”

Suna’s lips thinned. “You could act a little less eager to get rid of me.”

“On the contrary, I have no intention of leaving.”

“So I will see you tonight?”

“If we run into each other at the palace, yes, yes you will.”

If he seemed discontent with your half–hearted response, he did not show it. Must be the practiced regality and composure befitting for a Crown Prince like him – all lazy, yet wary, watching eyes. He, too, must know the true meaning behind your words. There was no need to pretend.

You both knew Suna would run into Belleview Manor as soon as the night ends, and his duties for the day had been tended to. Meanwhile, his wife would stay up all night in her couch.

Not quite waiting for him, but not quite imagining if he slept better at her side, either.

It was an unspoken deal between you two already. So he leaves without another word, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding when the door finally slams shut.

Tears prick at your eyes for the umpteenth time. You were tired of this. Tired of not knowing where you truly were in his life – were you his wife, his friend? After you’d heard of his passion and dedication to Iris, you weren’t so evil to stop him from seeing her. He loved her first. And you of all people should know the pain of not having the one person you wanted most. To him, she was his unattainable treasure. She was already making him smile before you even came to his life. She was already offering companionship and the comfort he desperately needed in this tiresome world of politics and power. She was his solace in all this chaos.

And you… you were just his wife. And without a baby in your belly, you might as well be just another useless figure in the Palace.

You refused to be so.

You may be worthless to him as his wife, for you truly couldn’t have his heart, but you refused to be a worthless person. Deep down, you knew you weren’t. It was just the title of ‘Princess’ that made you feel incapable and short. Did that mean you weren’t meant to be Princess, then? Should you go back to your manor, learning how to handle the household and managing the family business like your parents taught?

If you were not for Suna, did that mean you were not for the Crown, as well?

You bit your lip in contemplation. There was only one person who could provide you a solution to this.

“It is not every day I am summoned by a Princess,” a smooth, deep voice filtered through the garden. Smiling, you stood up to greet the Third Prince. A curtsy, a bow, and soon you two were sipping tea – the momentary peace a guise of what was to come. Kita must have sensed it, too, his gaze flitting over your pinched face with understanding and patience. “To what do I owe this pleasure? Surely we are not here to discuss the pleasantries of your honeymoon.”

You grimaced. “Definitely not. There were no pleasantries to begin with.”

His face fell.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Are you… My apologies. I’m not sure how to proceed with this.”

Nodding, you set your tea town. You had a feeling he truly meant his apology, which felt good, seeing as most of the Princes had too much pride to know the word ‘sorry.’ But you hd always known that Prince Kita was unlike the other Princes – he had more honor, and a stronger sense of morality compared to his brothers. Maybe it was due to his being raised by his mother, who was a lawyer, and therefore was not so exposed to the greed and competition experienced by the other Princes.

Whatever it was, he was just different. And you could rely on him to be truthful, too.

“Have you always known about them?” you muttered, refusing to look at the Prince’s face in fear of being met with pity. That was the last thing you wanted – to be seen as the poor, unwanted wife. “Iris and Rintaro?”

“I have.”

“I see.”

Kita sighed. “Please don’t misunderstand, Princess. I never meant to keep it from you. None of us did – except for those truly involved. It was just… I grew up with them, too. Keiji and I were only a year ahead of Rintaro and Iris. When I heard the Crown Prince had become acquainted with a foreign royal scholar, we didn’t think too much of it. Her sudden marriage with Kiyoomi surprised us all, and none of us would’ve thought that her friendship with Rintaro would turn into something more.”

“You don’t need to explain all of this to me, Your Highness.”

“Perhaps, but…” reaching over the table, the Prince squeezed your knuckle. You chuckled, not having realized you’d balled up your hands into a fist. It turned out you couldn’t fool anyone, not even yourself, to act like you didn’t care how much it all hurt. “I do not want you to think I am not on your side.”

“You do not need to be on my side. He is your brother.”

“Blood means little to me when my own kind is cruel to others,” he retorted, looking offended you would suggest otherwise. “I have always been against it, Princess. I told him from the beginning that to covet one’s brother’s wife is one thing, but to involve someone else, all for his selfish reason of ascending a throne that was always rightfully his just seemed heartless.”

Heartless. Gods. To know that your husband was capable of being cruel was one thing, but to hear it coming from his own brother’s lips was another.

“But Rintaro is Rintaro. Of course he is stubborn.”

“Indeed, he is,” Prince Kita sighed in defeat, leaning back against his seat as he stroked his chin in thought. “Princess, while I cannot guarantee I can take all of your woes away, I want you to know you can trust me. If there is anything you need, let me know and I will do it for you. It’s the least I can do to make your stay here in the Palace tolerable.”

“Do you mean that?”

“I do, and I am a man of my word.”

“Then I suppose there’s no point beating around the bush,” you gritted your teeth, forcing the words to come out.

It had always been a lingering thought at the back of your mind – to leave Rintaro – but there was this prideful, equally stubborn voice at the back of your head telling you it was too early to give up. That you needed to fight. But what was there to fight for? It wasn’t like Rintaro would learn to love you. And neither do you plan on wooing him. So, instead, you swallowed up your pride and called for Kita, knowing he would never judge you for the choices you were about to make.

“I actually called for you today because I wish to discuss royal marital laws, possibly with your mother. She would know about it best.”

“You need legal counsel,” he caught on, and you nod, “I can arrange that. I assume you want it discreetly, too. That is no problem at all. But if I may be bold, I wish to ask something from you in return.”

“Name your price.”

“It is about this maid that I am fond of. Airi,” her name came out breathily from his mouth, almost like a whisper. You noticed the Prince glancing around the empty garden almost warily, though you already took measures to ensure no one would be around to witness this conversation. Reassured, Kita sat up straighter and looked you in the eye, nothing but sincerity and determination in his expression. “I will do anything you ask of me, as long as it is within legal reasons, if you take her in as your personal maid.”

“I’ve heard rumors about you having affections for a maid in your quarters,” you mumbled, feeling almost sorry for the kind–hearted Prince. It seemed he, too, did not escape the heartbreaking torment for falling for a person you could never have. “So it is true, after all.”

“It is. You seem surprised about it. Is it so shocking to learn of a Prince having genuine feelings for another?”

You shook your head. “Not at all. I think I should know best that passion is something you brothers certainly have,” you snort, and Kita fights back a grin. “Very well, then. I will take care of your lovely maid, although I do wish to know – why are you assigning her to me? Have you… done anything to stain her honor?”

The color seeped out of the Prince’s face.

“I would never do such a thing.”

“I figured you wouldn’t.”

Kita’s shoulders squared before he exhaled. “Airi is… Ever since I set my sights on her, she has been in danger. People have been very unkind towards her, especially with the staff in my quarters. And as much as I would love having her by my side in my every waking hour, it would break my heart to know that she is being looked down upon simply because I admire her. But I figure with her at your side, with a new assignment, she will have some peace.”

Your heart ached for him. You could tell this was not an easy decision to make, but a necessary one if he wanted to ensure his lover’s well-being.

“You can still see her, Your Highness. It’s not like I will take her away from you.”

“I wouldn’t let you, either, but these are very difficult times for everyone in the Palace. The security of the throne weakens every day. The Parliament is restless, and there is only so little I can do with all these failed unions,” he rattled on, eyes widening when he realized it too late. Bowing his head, the Prince’s brows furrowed. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to–”

“Our marriage is not a failed union. Not yet. I will make certain it will not be a failure.”

It couldn’t be a failure. There was only one way out of this dreadful marriage, and as much as you hated it, that exit only existed in a path where you had no choice but to let him be a great King. This is why you need Kita’s mother’s counsel. Surely there could be a loophole in the clause that would invalidate the marriage. But until that opportunity presents itself, you were stuck here in this Castle, surrounded by everyone but your husband.

You had to make it work.

“With all due respect, Princess,” sighs the Prince, looking more remorseful than irritated. “Why is it that you try so hard? You do not need to stay with him, you know. It may be against the law for royal marriages to be annulled, but surely we can find a way. You do not need to torture yourself by spending one more day with your husband.”

“I know that.”

“Then why do you stay?”

“Because,” you croaked out, feeling a lump grow in your throat. “Because loving him is all I had known, and perhaps it is time I learn to despise him, as well.”

Silence stretches. The prince sat there, unmoving, as your words hang in the thick air between you two. You knew he would understand; he wouldn’t judge. But there is still concern in his handsome features that made you realize how pitiful you really are. And maybe there was no one else to blame but yourself, because you were foolish, and in love. But you were trying – by the Gods, you really were doing your best – to just be in love and not have to be foolish anymore.

Kita could see this as well. Your strength, your grit. He could see everything from where he sat, and that was why he simply nodded. “Are you getting there yet?”

“I will get there someday.”

Before the Prince could say anything else, a servant appeared from the bushes. He looked sheepish upon the intrusion, an apologetic smile on his face directed to the Prince. “Your Highness. It is time for your lessons.”

The Prince sent you a knowing look. This was not to be the last time you see each other, and you smiled up at him, grateful. It felt good to have at least one person you could lean on in the Palace. You stood up, too, shaking his hand just as his servant excused himself. If your memory did not fail you, the Third Prince studied law outside of the Palace and had to attend university, unlike his brothers who had chosen to indulge in their promised wealth after graduating high school.

“Excuse me, Your Highness. I have matters to attend to, but my words still ring true – I am only a call away should you need me.”

“Thank you so much for your time, my Prince.”

“It was my pleasure. I will inform you right away of my mother’s availability.”

“Oh, and Princess,” piped up the servant from somewhere around the bushes, “Princess Maiko is looking for you. She is waiting for you in her drawing room.”

You should’ve expected that Princess Maiko would come looking for you. The whole ordeal she witnessed back at your rest house must have come as a shock for her. Sure, her marriage didn’t go so well, either, but at least Tooru hadn’t gone around sleeping with someone else. For a man who didn’t want to get married, he kept to his vow of loyalty to his wife. Still, you didn’t want this to be a competition on who had it worse – Maiko was simply worried, and you had to explain yourself for your untoward behavior on everyone’s getaway.

“Princess! Oh my gosh – how are you?! I was worried sick!”

“Princess,” you return her hug, smiling despite the fact the smaller Princess had a bone–crushing grip. “Thank you for your concern, but I assure you, I am well.”

“Oh, Princess, you couldn’t be,” she pulled back with tears in her eyes. You almost apologized on the spot now that you remembered demanding to return to the City without informing the others why. Especially not Maiko, who seemed to be clueless. “I… I heard from Tooru about everything. The entire situation with Iris and the Crown Prince – truly, I did not know a single thing. If I had, I would have told you right away.”

“I know, and I’m thankful for your support.”

You squeeze her hand in reassurance, and the Princess leads you to sit on the couch. She slumps on it rather ungracefully, her innocent, wide eyes moist as she shakes her head.

“I had no idea Iris could do that. I just… the moment she arrived in the palace, she was so lovely, you know? She was always a little reserved, and liked to keep to herself, but I never would’ve guessed. I truly thought she was a good friend of mine, and now I have no idea who she really is.”

“Neither did I.”

“How are you, though? And please, tell me the truth. You do not need to pretend all is well.”

You shrug half-heartedly. “I am the Crown Prince’s wife. I must learn to be strong.”

“You mustn’t torture yourself any longer,” she licks her lips, chuckling without a trace of humor in it. “Although I do not blame you for staying in a marriage without love,” she smiled sadly, holding your hand firmer where it sat on her lap. “What do you plan to do?”

“I will divorce him,” you announced, and finally saying it loud felt different than just having the thought float in your head. It now felt like a reality. A choice you had to be firm in making. Licking your lips, you couldn’t help but glance at the beautiful wedding ring sitting on your finger – how just like your marriage, it is sparkling yet meaningless.

Leaving him would be the right choice. It would not mean you were weak.

“Once I meet with Kita’s mother and work our way around the law… I’m going to leave him. If it is a proper marriage he wants, then it is the one thing he will not get,” braving to look her in the eyes, you force a determined smile. “I believe it is the right thing to do, Your Highness. I must pick my battles wisely.”

“I understand, and I support you if this is what you want to do.”

“Thank you, Princess.”

“Although…”

“Although?”

“I still find it hard to believe,” she quipped, momentarily letting go of your hand as she stood up, pacing around the room. Her dark hair, neatly braided and adorned with headpieces, slowly started falling into curled pieces around her delicate face with how fast she’d been pacing. Almost as if her feet couldn’t quite keep up with her thoughts. “Iris and Kiyoomi had been married for five years, and Tooru told me they’d loved each other long before then. I am aware I am not the best at reading the room, but surely I am not so foolish to miss the love in their eyes. I would have known, Your Highness, I swear.”

You smile, confused. “I… am not sure I understand what you mean.”

“I mean Iris never looked in love,” she reiterated. “Granted, she was never affectionate with Kiyoomi, so that much is clear, but with the Crown Prince? They barely even speak to each other.”

“You couldn’t have known if they did spend time together,” you told her as softly as you could, “I heard they often hid in Belleview Manor, away from the eyes of the public.”

“But I live here,” she argued, and you stopped trying to butt in. For such a small thing, you had already learned once Maiko had her head set on something, almost nothing could stop her. “I live in Honor Hall, just five minutes away from them! I could have heard something. And on the few times I do see them together, Iris had always seemed… walled off. If Rintaro was able to display his affections openly, Iris was not the same. That night you weren’t at the house, they did not seem like a happy couple to me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Maiko shook her head again, causing more curls to loosen. “They seemed familiar with each other, but not intimate. It was almost as if they were lovers purely in the bedroom, but they couldn’t have known each other’s heart,” her eyes lit up, before it dimmed again when she took in your somber expression. “I do not mean to give you false hope, Princess, but believe me. I know a man in love when I see one, and it is not the Crown Prince with Iris. But… but when you were not married yet, everyone could tell the Crown Prince smiled more. He laughed often, too, and he even spent more time with his brothers.”

“Well, that is only natural. He has a lot of siblings. Of course he would enjoy their company.”

“No, no, you do not understand, Princess. The Crown Prince… didn’t grow up that way,” she bit her lip, and then scooted next to you. “As the only son of the King and Queen, he was already more important than the rest. Because of that, he was raised differently – away and isolated from his brothers. He was always tutored alone, and never played with the other Princes. He spent his childhood locked up in his study, but then the Queen allowed him to attend regular school, and when he graduated… he met you. And I swear, he was different then.”

“Because he already met her,” you remarked, hoping she would stop already. Rintaro does not love you. “He’d become happier because Iris was already in his life.”

“I went to the same school with them; grew up with them. I had crushed on Prince Tooru for so long that I followed wherever he went, and where Tooru was, the Crown Prince would follow. They were born just months apart. And Iris never made the Crown Prince look… look…”

“Look what?”

“Look content,” she finally supplied. “But when the Crown Prince introduced you to us, he had this look on his face. When you spoke to others, he would always be looking at you, listening to your every word. Even when you were not in the same room, he would speak fondly of you. And he even once told me he still could not believe someone as precious as you had been attending the same lousy balls he’d been enduring all his life. He said that if he had met you earlier, he might have never skipped out attending the dances.”

“I don’t know,” your lips trembled, “I do not know what to do, Princess. Hearing of this does not make it any better.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but you must understand,” she squeezed your hand, desperation evident in her tone. “Your husband looks at you the way I wished mine would at me. He may say otherwise, but his eyes cannot lie. He softens when you are around, Princess. That night you did not return home at Greenville, the Crown Prince could not sleep at all. And these past few days…”

“I believe that is enough. I do not wish to hear how he spent his nights at Belleview.”

“He didn’t, Your Highness. The Crown Prince has never even spoken to Iris ever since we returned from your honeymoon.”

Rintaro could count the number of things pissing him off with one hand.

One: You had barely acknowledged his existence the past few days.

Two: Iris wouldn’t stop pulling him into dark, secluded corners in the Castle each time she chanced upon him. Two-point-five: She couldn’t understand he was not in the mood for another one of their trysts.

Three: Kiyoomi skipped another meeting concerning Itachiyama again.

Seriously, Rintaro understood being a Prince was tiresome work. It was not as grandiose as the tabloids made it out to be. Even in his sleep, he sometimes dreamt of paperwork, or he would wake up in the middle of the night with his hands signing off imaginary papers. The pressure was tougher on Kiyoomi, too, because he was expected to be ready to take after Wakatoshi at any time he even faltered – note: the First Prince never did – and to also act as representative for the other territory thanks to his birthright. But his brother was an hermit, and seemed to fear the sunlight, considering he never left his quarters. Or on the rare occasions he did, he would be hiding away in other countries doing who knows what.

He had just finished a meeting with some of the territory leaders regarding a public complaint that the price of goods had gone up, and some daily necessities were now ridiculously overpriced. One of the main suppliers of good livestock and coconuts, Itachiyama, made it even more expensive – not for any good reason, just that their leader loved to remind Inarizaki constantly that they needed him more than he needed the monarchy.

His goading affected his people, and Rintaro has had enough. Kiyoomi could at least try to pretend to be interested in the meetings. Out of all the nine princes, Kiyoomi was the most influential for being a half-blood. The Itachiyama president adored him. He wouldn’t have had to struggle negotiating for prices had he been doing his work. He was the damned mediator between the two countries, for goodness’ sake!

And to make it all worse, his life did not get any better outside the meeting rooms.

No, because his wife was intent on acting like he did not exist. And on the few times he did manage to be in the same space as you without you running off, you always looked through him. Like he wasn’t even a real person. As if he was just an apparition, a ghost in your mind that you could overlook if you tried hard enough.

He already knew you wouldn’t be in your quarters once he returned, but Rintaro still couldn’t help the pang of disappointment washing over him. He chose you to be his future Queen for many reasons, one of them being your wisdom in these kinds of things. You just needed a little encouragement to speak up, but Rintaro was confident you would make a great leader. You had genuine care for your people. You would have been able to help him make the best decisions for everybody – if you would just listen to him. Wasn’t that how marriages work? To share the burden of the Crown together? The Crown was too heavy for one person alone, which is why Kings cannot be crowned without their Queens.

Rintaro couldn’t do it alone. Each day was becoming more challenging for him, and he so desperately wished he could discuss the country’s future with you. He would feel more confident in his choices. He would be more reassured that he was doing the right thing, but it seemed that all he knew how to do lately was fuck everything up.

On his way back, Rintaro stopped trying to look regal. He let his shoulders slump and ran his fingers through his hair again. The gel be damned. Loosening his tie, he rolled his shoulders back and winced at how stiff his back was. Sitting on his ass all day long, having to listen to old men argue back and forth over money, and simultaneously having to deal with a marriage he’d already screwed over – Rintaro just wanted to disappear.

He wanted to return to Greenville.

It was peaceful there. People minded their own business, everyone had their own purpose and reason for waking up each day and there, he could just be himself. Not the Crown Prince, not a young man who had to hurt you for the sake of the throne. He could just… be free.

“Your Highness,” a servant bowed in front of him, keeping a respectful distance but enough to let him know he needed his attention.

“Good evening,” he greeted back, “Have you seen my wife?”

“Her Highness was with Princess Maiko this morning. Last I heard, she has not left the Palace, at all.”

“I see,” Rintaro was already moving towards Honor Hall before his feet could register it. It was a good twenty minute walk, and the chances of running into Iris weren’t miniscule, but it would be worth it. He could use some fresh air, anyway. And he figured with Maiko around, you would be less opposed to spending the evening with him – until he realized Maiko must have known everything, too. How he manipulated you, and left you in the middle of nowhere.

On second thought, having two Princesses who clearly did not welcome him would not make for a great night.

“My Prince!”

Rintaro stopped on his tracks. He had a split second to school his expression to surprise – the good kind – when he came face to face with the last woman he wanted to see.

“Mother,” he greeted, taking her gloved hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles whilst she fanned herself. “I wasn’t informed you would be visiting.”

She waved her fan around. “Oh, I had to nearly knock down the guards when they wouldn’t let me in, but I had to see my daughter. I heard from the news that you came home too early. Well, what is wrong? Is she sick? Does she not like the countryside? Or perhaps there was an emergency you had to attend to?” fanning herself harder, Rintaro’s hand wound at the small of her back to guide the older woman into a nearby seat. “She hasn’t answered any of my calls, and I am worried, my son.”

“Your concern for her will put her at ease, I’m certain,” he reassured, swallowing the uncomfortable lump growing in his throat. “This is just… a difficult time for us, Mother. I fear Her Highness is having doubts about our marriage once she saw how overwhelming the Crown could be. She simply wished to return home because she felt there were things to be done here.”

Your mother sighed and shook her head. “My poor daughter. She always felt the need to prove her worth by working herself to death,” spinning to face him, she pointed her fan in his direction – which would be considered a threat to the Crown Prince, but she was his mother–in–law. Her presence itself was a threat to his life. “Promise me you won’t let her exhaust herself, son. Promise me you’ll take care of her.”

“She is in good hands, Mother, I promise you this.”

Pleased with him, your mother beamed. “I was also… Well, I may be crossing the line, but now that you tell me my poor daughter is anxious about her royal duties, I was planning to hold a ball in her honor. A welcoming ball for the new Princess, of sorts. It should help her integrate into your world better, but still with the comfort of our support.”

“A ball sounds lovely. We can hold it anytime as we are still in our honeymoon period and she will be free for quite some time.”

“That is perfect! I will make the arrangements, then.”

Wearing his best Prince Charming smile, even if he was anything but, Rintaro found himself mindlessly agreeing to everything your mother wanted. He would have to squeeze all these events in his already hectic schedule, but he was not complaining. She was right. You deserved to relax and enjoy yourself. He should know best that having royal titles did not promise a life of gallivanting and endless tea parties. Once your mother had exhausted herself from all the planning, Rintaro escorted her out to the palace entrance, stopping only when your figure appeared from the corner.

Finally, you were looking at him.

But with a glare.

Well, he supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“You are a far better actor than I give you credit for – lying to my mother like that.”

“I did not mean to.”

You rolled your eyes, and Rintaro bit his lip. Cute, he thought, but he would never say it out loud. He would simply enjoy the fact you did not push him away, or walk away as if you were scalded when he started walking next to you. For a moment, everything almost seemed normal. Minus the extreme glaring, of course.

“Surely. It’s not like telling her you manipulated me for the past two years was on your to-do list.”

“Do not use that tone on me.”

“I will speak with you however I wish. You do not get to tell me what to do.”

“You are right; I cannot tell you what to do, so do as you please, then,” he surrendered, and you must be surprised by how he easily gave in from the way you froze. Glaring harder, Rintaro bit his cheek, tilting his head to the side as he gazed upon your pretty face. And oh, how badly he wanted to smooth that frown you’re wearing. “I missed you. I have not seen you all day long.”

“Must have been a lovely day for you, then.”

It was hell, actually, was what he wanted to say, but even that did not seem enough to articulate what he truly felt. I missed you, and I’m sorry I hurt you. Please sleep on the same bed with me again. I want to hold you all night long, and your scent calms me. But instead, all that comes out of his mouth was, “It was not lovely at all.”

“Hmm. I’m not Iris.”

“No, you aren’t.”

He agreed wholeheartedly – you were not his lover. Iris would not argue with him like this; in fact, they never argued at all. Whenever they had misunderstandings, they resolved it by taking out their frustrations on the bedroom, and the next day, all would be forgiven and forgotten. It was easier with Iris, in some ways, because with you he actually had to use his words, and he had to say the right ones. Both of which he wasn’t good at, but would try his very best anyway.

“I heard you spent the day with Maiko. How was it? Did you two have fun?”

“As fun as two women suffering at the hands of men who despise them could have.”

Rintaro took a larger step to stand in front of you, his eyes narrowed into slits. “I do not despise you.”

“Really? You made me feel otherwise.”

Sighing, he ran his hands through his hair again, feeling much more exhausted than he did after the meetings ended. “You do not have to make this so difficult, you know. I am trying to fix this.”

The laugh you let out is sardonic, teetering on the edges of borderline angry. But he would take it – because arguments with you were better than having you ignore him, and he would take a thousand more arguments if it meant you talked. He would consume your wrath over your coldness every other day. Even when you cross your arms and look at him like he was the most vile creature to ever walk the Earth – because your eyes are on him, and in that moment, in the middle of another of a hundred hallways in his Palace, there was no one else but you and him. A husband and his wife. A Prince and his Princess.

“Oh, are you now? Because last time I checked, you were still in love with someone else, and I’m still nothing but a pawn in your silly game.”

“I may be in love with someone else, but it was you who I couldn’t get off my mind.”

“Is that supposed to make my heart flutter?”

You reel back as if burnt, and Rintarou couldn’t fathom why your expression hurt him so much. As if his declaration, his vulnerability, of being putty in your hands repulsed you instead of excited you. However, he refused to show he hung desperately to your every word, refused to admit that you held all the power in your hands, not him. So, he plays it off, and flirtingly lifts a brow just to get you even more riled up.

“I was hoping it would.”

“Whatever it is you’re planning, Rintaro, you won’t win.”

His eyes darkened. Suddenly, all self-restraint he previously had had been thrown out the window. The urge to press his lips to you – yes, those same lips scowling at him – becomes all too consuming. He fools himself into taking the heat in your eyes as desire instead of anger. And he takes one step forward, two, then three, until your back hits the wall and his large frame prevents you from escaping. He liked you best here, he realized, under his mercy and staring up at him with your soft lips, pliant and open to release a gasp when he leans in. Closer, closer, only for his lips to meet the skin of your cheek.

Rintaro stifled a disappointed groan.

Masking it with a chuckle, he trailed his lips down your cheek and to your jawline, all the way until he’s inhaling your intoxicating scent – he wants your damned perfume to stick to his skin for days to come so everyone in the Palace knows he is yours. And like a flower, you bloom only to him. Craning your neck and pushing your chest upwards to his despite your resistance, breathing hard and heavy to let him know he wasn’t the only one affected by this.

And by the Gods, he wanted nothing more than to take you in this wall right here and then.

Brushing his lips just above your pulse point, Rintaro smiled. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, and he was certain his was, too, when you began to crumple his shirt in your hands. “I never knew my name could sound so important without the titles attached to it.”

“Wh–what?” your query came out breathily. Not that he could blame you, for his words have also begun to sound more like a whisper.

“Rintaro,” he echoed, nosing your neck to greedily take in more of your scent. If not on his skin, then he will settle for the evidence of you all over his clothes – and damned the servants who dared wash his dress shirt. “Not Prince, not Your Highness. Just Rintaro. It makes me feel like… it is just you and I, husband and wife, as simple as that,” you draw in another gasp just as his fingers start ghosting over your waist, fighting the urge to pin you in place, or to just hold you delicately because he knew he’d broken you enough. Rintaro felt weak, his head dropping in the column of your shoulder. “I truly did miss you. And I do not like how I spent many nights, in our bed, alone.”

“You do not deserve to share a bed with me.”

“I know,” he lamented, and that firm resolve of keeping him at a distance was enough to wake him up. Pushing himself off of you, Rintaro took a solid minute to admire you like this – lips parted, expectant for a kiss, and skin flushed with a thin layer of sweat, with eyes so bewildered he could see himself clearly in the reflection – that he was just a man now, and not really the husband you wanted him to be. Once he had his fill, Rintaro smoothed down the wrinkles you fisted in his shirt and took a step back. “But you do not deserve to sleep in just a couch. Take the bed tonight. I will sleep outside.”

“But that’s–”

“I’m the one who fucked up,” he smirked, sarcasm dripping from his face, “So I should be the one sleeping uncomfortably. I know I cannot tell you what to do, and neither do I plan on ordering you around, but this is the one thing you cannot argue with me on. You will take the bed. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Back to titles. Back to formality. Back to reality.

“Good girl,” he murmured absentmindedly, nodding in the direction of your bedroom. “Let us head back to our quarters. I’m buying you a new dress for the ball first thing in the morning.”

To say Rintaro had changed would be an understatement.

He was a completely different person than your husband in the honeymoon. It was as if… last night’s intimate encounter had brought him back to the Rintaro you fell in love with, but this time it felt different. He felt more intense. Maybe it was the fact that his secrets were now laid out in the open, which could mean his attentive actions toward you no longer held the purpose of winning you over. Maybe now he truly just wanted to spend time with you because he could.

Cancelling his plans for the day, he’d told the servants you were going out shopping, and oh, what a cunning, devilish Prince he is. He knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off of him out in public. With so many eyes watching, you spent nearly every second of the day with your arms looped around his, laughing and smiling at every word he said, and not daring to keep your eyes off him lest someone took a photographed and headlined it ‘Newly Married Royal Couple Having Their First Lovers’ Spat In Public.’ No. No, that would be catastrophic. The Queen would be furious.

Here, in public, you were forced to act sweet and touchy with him, to which the stupid Crown Prince basked in as he led you from boutique to boutique. He complimented you on everything, even when you wore a hideous bright orange gown that made even the designer flinch. But in Rintaro’s eyes, you were simply mesmerizing. He even got a suit that matched all of your dresses, claiming that everyone should know he was married to you. Everyone already knew that – the whole world knew – but you didn’t want to burst his bubble.

Aside from having a day off, your husband genuinely did seem to be doing things other than paperwork.

You stopped being kind once you entered the car, however, when the windows had rolled up and you had both stopped waving to the people. Here, it was just the driver and the both of you, and the driver knew better than to comment on whatever happened, anyway. Sighing, you scooted to the other end of the seat, prying yourself off of Rintaro’s tight grip around your waist.

“Drop the act.”

“What act?”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, taking off your gloves and folding them neatly in your lap. “We are in the privacy of our car. You needn’t pretend any longer.”

“Who said I was pretending?”

You looked at him dead in the eye. “You are not fooling anyone. This was all a PR act – you did not actually mean whatever it is you said to me out there, but worry not. I’ll get out of your hair and divorce you – surely that will make everything easier.”

The way Rintaro’s eyes nearly popped out of his head would be comical if he didn’t look so scared. In a flash, your husband crossed the distance and sat next to you, his hurried movements causing his bangs to fall into his eyes. His large hands began to engulf yours, and you suck in a breath – without the gloves, it felt more intimate. “What divorce?” he chuckled nervously, brushing his lips over your bare knuckles. It was the faintest of touches, only done to appease you, but it still didn’t stop the bolt of heat coursing through your thighs. Gods, it was just so hard trying to stay mad at him.

“You know that’s impossible. Royal marriages are forever. Look, if you truly wish to divorce me, fine. But you know you will have to help me become King first. Once I am crowned, I can write a new law that says royal couples can be separated.”

“You are despicable.”

“I am,” he whined. Whined! Seriously, who was this man? “But I promise you, if you help me, I will let you go. Look, I’ll even find a high–ranking nobleman for you. The best of the best. You wouldn’t have to be lonely anymore. Just… don’t ever mention divorce to me right now. I won’t let you.”

Scoffing, you pull your hands back from his heavenly lips. “You seriously think after everything, loneliness is somehow my biggest issue?” Rintaro opened his mouth to retort, but you shook your head, making yourself small between him and the window seat. You hated it, how helpless you felt, from wanting his touch to being burnt by it. You hated it even more how you couldn’t look him in the eye as you mumbled, “Have you ever thought that maybe I just want to forget you?”

“I do not want you to,” he breathed out, and your eyes snapped shut when you felt his fingers brush over your cheeks. “But I am not so selfish to deprive you of a good thing. You will find someone who can love you better than I could.”

Your heart fell.

“Well, that would be easy. You never loved me to begin with.”

The Crown Prince never spoke again. You both mulled over your silences as you arrived back at the Palace, heading into the bathroom to do your nightly routines. Rintaro was to your left, taking out his razor blade and shaving foam while you stood to his right, lathering on your cleanser and toner. Thankfully, the silence did not feel as heavy as it did on the ride back home, but it was still far from being comfortable. It was only after you’d moisturized and turned to leave the room that Rintaro caught your wrist, glancing down at you with a pleading expression.

“Please. Can we stop fighting? I thought today was fun. Let us not end it hating each other.”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, if I ruined your precious day,” you snapped, leaning back to examine how he missed a spot below his jaw. A slight stubble was visible, but you had to stop your hand from reaching out to him. You sighed. “All this space in the Palace and they couldn’t give us separate bathrooms?”

“Traditionally, royal married couples slept in separate rooms. Everything was separate, too, including bathrooms,” he gestured around you, “Perhaps you would’ve liked the old ways.”

Screw it. The small talk is the most awkward thing you have ever experienced.

“…You missed a spot,” you finally mumbled, taking his razor from him and gesturing for him to crouch down so you can reach. “Do you want me to finish it?”

Rintaro, despite his surprise, nodded and obeyed. It must have been uncomfortable for him to slouch, but he did so without complaints. He let you shave him as you saw fit, turning his head side to side, lathering on more foam, and you watched as his shoulders visibly deflated. Eyes fluttering close, Rintaro sighed, the tips of his fingers gingerly tracing circles as they laid beside your hips.

“You will take the bed as discussed,” he reminded, “You will not argue with me on this.”

“Okay,” you answered, because you, too, had no energy for more arguments. Once you were done with him, you wiped off the rest of the foam with a warm, wet towel. You both left the bathroom and went your separate ways – you to your king–sized bed, and him just outside the bedroom and into the lounge room, where you spent the past few nights sleeping. You realized he must not be sleeping well from it because of his large frame, yet Rintaro did not seem to mind.

Just as he was about to close the door, he lingered for a few beats.

“Thank you for going along the happily married couple act today,” he said, lifting his gaze from the carpeted floors to gaze into your eyes. “And for the record, I meant it when I said you looked beautiful.”

Then he turned, and swiftly closed the door, leaving you to be with your thoughts – all filled of him.

It didn’t help that the sheets and pillows still lingered with his scent.

You had your upcoming ball to thank for distracting you from your confusing feelings for your husband. That in itself was such a ridiculous statement, but one that ringed true. After Rintaro’s surprising gentleness, and the revelation from Maiko that he hadn’t spoken at all with Iris, you were now in a dangerous zone called Getting Your Hopes Up. Truly, you should know better. You had known Rintaro for years to know he could be effortlessly charming. He could have you wrapped tight around his finger, smiling like a lovesick fool, only for him to break your heart once more.

If not for that cold, hard truth, you would have invited him to bed with you that night. It seemed too tempting. It felt like the right thing to do. But you didn’t, and you were glad you held back on your desire, because you weren’t sure you could handle another heartbreak.

Especially because these past few days made you realize one thing – that you were still in love with him. The next morning, you found yourself wishing you had woken up next to him, and that was enough to make you avoid your husband all over again. And much to your disappointment, Rintaro stopped trying to chase after you, too, after countless rejections on your part. He had kept his distance, and only spoke with you momentarily when you arrived at your mother’s ball and had to exchange niceties with everyone.

After that, your husband excused himself and spoke with his brothers, but not after your parents couldn’t stop cooing at how adorable you and the Crown Prince were. He handled it with grace; kissing your cheek and thanking them for raising such a wonderful daughter. But the moment your parents became occupied with welcoming other guests, you were now left to entertain the other women in the ball.

Until the music began playing.

Until your song reverberated all across the room.

“This is the song you and the Crown Prince danced to the night you met,” your mother whispered beside you, giggling in your ear. “I requested it specifically for this night. Enjoy the dance with your husband. He’s already waiting.”

True to her word, you could feel Rintaro’s heated gaze on you from across the room. He’d stopped speaking with his brothers – the twins smirking beside him, Akaashi smiling at you softly, Tobio waving enthusiastically while nursing a glass of wine, and Kita firmly hovering from the walls with a concerned frown. Not that you paid attention to them. Your gaze was held by your husband and him only, bewitched as he started walking forward. The crowed parted for him like a true Prince until nothing stood in his way. Everyone smiled, giggling behind their gloves at the apparent ‘romance in the air.’ Beside you, your mother pushed you encouragingly, and you could feel everyone’s eyes on you, waiting to see if you would take the Crown Prince’s outstretched hands.

“My love,” he whispered above your gloved hands, and your heart skipped a beat. He didn’t call you Princess, or Your Highness. You knew it was for the sake of keeping appearances, but by the Gods, you loved him. You were so hopelessly in love with your husband that you placed your heart in his hands once more, silently pleading with him not to break it as he led you in the middle of the dance floor. “May I have this dance?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, your hand resting on his shoulder as naturally as his arms came to your waist. The exact same movements from the night you first met, with the same song, but with your love for him stronger tonight than it did when you first laid your eyes on him.

This time, you danced as man and wife, and you recalled his words from the other day.

How there were moments it seemed so simple – where there were no titles, just you and him, having this dance like it was the most natural, inexplicable thing in this world.

The chord struck. The crowd parted. He took the first step in the dance, and you took a step back. Not once did you tear your gaze away from him, happily drowning in the depths of his hazel eyes you could look at forever. And isn’t that what you’d always wanted? To spend a lifetime with him, to grow old together. It would have been so easy if it weren’t for –

“Don’t think about anything else,” your husband shook his head lightly, “Just enjoy this moment. Tonight, there is only you and I.”

“Okay,” you found yourself nodding, and his grip on your waist tightened for a second. “Just you and I.”

Rintaro’s lips curled into the faintest of smiles. “Just you and I.”

You and him in those moments – you felt immortal. Like nothing could stand in your way. Or perhaps you could die tonight, and you would die happy. Because you were in your husband’s arms, and he was looking at you and only you, murmuring how you were becoming more and more beautiful with each passing day. You were melting in his arms, like goo. Like pudding. And he was strong enough to catch you, to brush his nose against yours at each dip, or letting his lips linger on your forehead each time you came back to him with each spin.

But happy moments never lasted long enough, and soon the rotations were beginning. More couples have joined the dance floor. Through one spin, you caught sight of Tooru and Maiko. Neither of them looked happy, but Tooru visibly brightened when he caught your eye, and shamelessly winked. On the other side of the room danced Iris and Kiyoomi, with the latter looking so nauseous you worried dinner would be spilled on your mother’s floor. And then too soon, Rintaro’s hands were leaving yours as he moved to the nearest dance partner, and you were caught by a pair of strong, muscled arms.

“My turn,” Tooru teased, a grin now on his handsome face as he nudged his head in Rintaro’s direction. He was now dancing with your mother, and you could tell, even from this distance, the smile he wore was genuine. “Should I beat him up?”

You chuckled, throwing your head back. Despite his jokes and jabs, Prince Tooru was a surprisingly great dancer – less stiff than Rintaro, and more confident in his receiving when you spun and dipped. But dancing with him did not feel the same. There was no passion, no yearning, no longing – just the lighthearted air of good humor and his calming nature.

“I don’t think beating the Crown Prince up would be a very wise decision.”

“Indeed, but I was never the Prince known for making wise decisions. That would be more Shinsuke’s forte,” he snorted, and the song reached a part for another rotation. However, Tooru refused to let you go and intentionally spun you away from what was supposed to be your next dance partner. Out of shock, you slapped his chest, and his broad chest rumbled with laughter.

“Your Highness! That was unbelievably rude!”

“As I have said,” you both laughed when he spun you again, “I am not the Prince known to be socially adept.”

You bent over in giggles, your head resting on his chest as you danced more throughout the night. Your feet were getting tired, but your mother was right – this was a night to enjoy. You danced to your heart’s content, exchanging jokes with the handsome Fifth Prince until you craned your neck to the side, only to be stopped by Prince Tooru’s large hand. This time, he no longer smiled as he gazed upon the dancing partners behind you, and your skin turned cold.

You had a feeling you knew exactly why.

“Don’t look. You won’t like what you’ll see.”

Nodding, you pursed your lips and forced a smile at him. “It’s okay, Princess,” he comforted, “Just look at me. You need not concern yourself with others.”

So you danced, and danced, until you could hear your father pleading with the Fifth Prince to give his daughter back because he didn’t get a chance to have a dance with you yet. Reluctantly, Tooru handed you over to your father, but not without a faux frown.

“That was a lovely dance, Your Highness. I wish we could’ve danced more.”

“I think we danced enough.”

Tooru’s smile was guarded; secretive. “I’m afraid it was not enough.”

You danced with your father next. And it was lovely, seeing him up close with all his smile lines and wrinkles. You missed him so, dearly, and he felt the same way. It hurt having to lie to him when he asked how you were settling in the Palace, but you didn’t want to concern him with your personal matters, and for some reason, it didn’t sit well with you if your father disliked Rintaro. So you swallowed your discomfort down and told him everything was great – silently wishing he wouldn’t pry further. He didn’t. And when the song slowed, your father kissed you on the cheek before letting you meet with your next dancing partner.

Stood in front of you was a great wall of what could only be described as majestic. Dressed in white with gold ornaments, Prince Kiyoomi’s curls framed his handsome face beautifully. You had been so accustomed seeing him in more comfortable clothing, and in the privacy of his own home, that seeing him out here in society, it reminded you that he, too, was a Prince.

The Second Prince – the would have been next King should Ushijima and Rintaro falter.

“My Prince.”

“Princess,” he bowed, taking your hand in his as you made your way back to the dance floor. The music played again, this time louder, and the Prince leaned down until his lips were brushing against the shell of your ear. You repressed a gasp, unable to help yourself from digging your nails into his palm when you were greeted by how good he smelled – like mint, new leather, and pine. It also dawned on you how tall and firm the Prince was – perhaps taller and more muscular than Rintaro.

“Y–Yes, Your Highness?”

“Remind me to thank your mother for extending her invites to the forgotten Prince. Imagine my shock when I saw her invitation letter this morning.”

You chuckled nervously, thankful that he had now slightly tilted his head back. “I hardly doubt you are a forgotten prince.”

He snorted, effortlessly spinning you with one hand. “It’s not like I do my duties to begin with. I wouldn’t be surprised if I truly was forgotten,” distracted by his scent, you unknowingly stepped on the hem of your dress and slipped backwards. A scream nearly tore out your throat when the Prince’s large hands cupped the small of your back, your chest pressed to his and his curls brushing against your cheeks as he held you close. “Careful.”

“Th–thank you.”

You were a mess after that. You were never the best dancer, but something about being in the older Prince’s presence made you extra nervous. If he noticed, he didn’t comment on it. He simply danced with grace, and hid his grimace well each time you stepped on his toes. He had also convinced you to stop apologizing every time you did, and by the time the dance was over, you were more than ready to disappear.

“Thank you for the dance, my Prince,” you bowed, words hurried, “I shall see you–”

“Kiyoomi!” a woman appeared out of nowhere, her thick, dark curls pinned up beautifully with some loose strands swaying in time with her hips. She had the same moles as Kiyoomi, and you watched, entranced, as the older woman wrapped her arm casually around the prince. The two shared a silent conversation with their eyes before Kiyoomi glanced at you, and the woman followed his line of sight. “Oh! Your Highness. Greetings. I don’t believe I have introduced myself before – I’m Kanami; Kiyoomi’s mother.”

You smiled at her, politely taking her hand as she extracted herself from her son’s arms and taken to draping herself all over you. Discomfort must be written all over your face, because the Second Prince sent an apologetic smile your way.

“It is an honor to meet you, Miss Kanami. Are you enjoying the night so far? The travel all the way from Itachiyama must have been exhausting.”

“Oh, it was, but it’s all worth it now that we’ve met again!” she squealed, and you paled.

“We have met before?”

Just as she nodded and went about to retelling this so–called meeting, Iris popped up behind Kiyoomi, her smile stiff as she regarded Kanami. Instantly, your mood soured. She hadn’t spoken to you at all tonight, which you were thankful, but something about the thought of her dancing with your husband, and probably being suggestive while at it had your blood boiling.

“Mother! Such a shock seeing you here. I wasn’t aware you were invited.”

Kanami barely glanced her way, her dark, curious eyes still on your face.

“Hello, Iris, and it’s Miss Sakusa, dear,” she corrected, her enthusiastic smile momentarily fading into a scowl before it returned. “Say, Your Highness, since you’re still on your honeymoon period – and I’ve heard your dear husband is too busy these days – would you want to come visit Itachiyama with me? I would be honored to be your host. It will also be a great opportunity to learn more about your Princess duties and politics!” leaning closer, she whispered behind her gloves, although her words were loud enough to be heard by Prince Tooru and Iris. “Although if I will be honest, politics does not interest me in the least bit.”

Your mouth fell open and closed, unsure of what to say, until you settled on chuckling and patting her hand wrapped around your arm. “I… Thank you for invitation, Kanami. I am most tempted to see your beautiful country, but Princess Iris should be the one visiting her territory, should she not?”

Kanami scrunched her nose.“The Princess never grew up in Itachiyama. She would be just as clueless as you. Besides, I have always wanted to invite you over ever since you had Kiyoomi as your last dance on your eighteenth birthday!”

“He… was?”

“He was! Don’t you remember, dear?” she turned to Kiyoomi, who looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him already. But judging by his reaction, it seemed true – Kiyoomi was your last dance on your debut ball. “Well, in that case, I was always fond of you. I may be crossing the line here, but it was always a famous royal saying that whoever was your last dance on your debutante ball was your destined lover.”

#suna rintaro x reader #suna x reader #suna rintarou angst #suna x yn #haikyuu x reader #suna rintarou x reader #rintaro suna x reader #kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader fluff #kiyoomi sakusa x you #suna x you #tooru oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #suna rintarō x reader #suna rintarō x you #series: dusk till dawn

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lostintransist · 4 months ago

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Chiseled Heart | Part 3

CW: A man being creepy at the gym

AO3 | Part 1

“She gave me a gift card.”

König stares at his boots, arms crossed and shoulders resting against the back of his therapist’s couch.

“I’m not seeing why this makes you so upset.” Rich shifts in his chair across the small room, putting his stylus on the screen of his tablet. “Last time we talked you told me you were worried about a woman you had helped at the gym since she had been hurt and now you’re mad that she gave you a gift card to say thank you for the help?”

Frustrated, König turned to stare out the window. Sometimes squirrels would scamper down the powerline and give him an excuse to avoid trying to find words. He doubted he would find the words for this feeling in any of the languages he knew.

“I am…upset because,” he pauses, collecting his thoughts, “Danke was enough.”

“Do you feel like it’s fair to say you are upset because the exchange of money changed the interaction for you?”

“Ja,” he nodded.

“Okay,” Rich glances at his watch. “Can I give you my thoughts on the matter? I know you’ve been working at understanding others more.”

König narrows his eyes but nods his consent. He had worked with Rich for enough years to trust his opinion.

“You said she told you that she would bring a card the next day you saw each other but insisted after you walked her to her car, right?”

“Ja.”

“Okay, did you consider that she felt like asking for help needed something in return? Walking a woman to her car is a layer of safety, a measure of security that to her must have been a weight off her shoulders. She doesn’t know you well but wants the exchange to be equal. Could it be that she didn’t want to burden you?”

König turns the words over in his mind. You had been so apologetic even ask you asked for his help. The only time König had ever feared for his life had been under the hands of his vater.

“Help is no burden,” he argues, not quite willing to concede the point.

“I don’t imagine that it is, you work hard to be kind. I am saying that from her perspective, help and kindness are not guaranteed. By virtue of being a woman, she is always at a disadvantage and will do what she can to keep herself safe.”

He grunted.

“Sorry König, this might be one of those times to use radical acceptance. You will never understand the fear of existing in a small body where every man is a threat.” Rich shrugged one shoulder.

A moment passes in silence before König reveals the other reason the interaction bothered him so much.

“She has started to appear in my art.”

That got a double eyebrow lift from Rich. It wasn’t often that König caught his therapist by surprise.

“You’re art is how you process a lot of the trauma from serving right? How do you feel that your gym buddy is in your art?”

“Conflicted.”

Rich said nothing, only noting something on his tablet.

The silence compelled him to speak more. Rich knew it and König knew Rich knew it.

“Carving her feels different. Pulling memories from stone reminds me of the sting of pain.”

“How does carving her feel?”

“Freeing.”

Rich studies König. König leans over and picks through the basket of fidgets that sat at the end of the couch.

“Do you want to go into that more or leave it for now?”

König delayed answering until he pulled puddy between his hands.

“Leave it.”

“I’ll make a note to check back on the topic next time we chat then. How is your art selling right now? It’s still on display at the gallery right?”

They drift into more familiar and safe discussions.

There is only five minutes left. He has been watching the clock. There wouldn’t be time to get deep into this.

“Tell me to stop, to stop talking to her.”

Rich’s brows lift with confusion, it is also in the lilting of his voice, “You want me to tell you to stop making a human connection? The goal we’ve been working toward for nearly seven months now?”

König scowled as he shifted on the couch, arms folding across his chest. It sounded stupid when he put it that way.

“It’s okay to be scared König. This is a big step.”

He doesn’t reply, debating how to settle this struggle within himself.

“Did you already schedule your regular appointment with the front desk?” Rich asks, letting the topic drop.

One thing he excelled at carving had always been hands. The intricacies and the expressions that can be found in fingers had fascinated him. It was your hands he pulled from a small chunk of granite. Before he knew they were your hands he had carved a delicate ring on the left hand. The fingers on the left hand curled over the right ones, the piece ending below the right wrist. The pose reminded him of how you held pressure on your bleeding finger those weeks ago.

Frustrated he set it aside to continue on a massive piece. With a view into a building, as wide as he is tall, a house of worship is starting to come together. He carved out the rough shapes of the pillars and dug through the stone to what he had decided to be the back wall. Now came the time-consuming work of removing stone until he could begin to carve the bodies that lay scattered along the floor. This had been one of his worst nightmares. They had been too late.

Music drifted through the space from his built-in speakers. König worked late into the afternoon until Feather, the gallerist, arrived to peruse his recently completed carvings to see which she would like to house and which would be listed on the website or hawked directly to wealthy buyers.

Feather looked like she ran an art gallery. Her bold colors, expensive suits, matching lipstick, and perfectly done hair always set König on edge. Even in her heels, the top of her head reached his elbow. He remained seated as she let herself into his studio.

“Ah! There is my favorite artist. Where are the new pieces for me?” She breezed past him as he stayed seated on his stool. Feather knew where the new pieces would be by now.

Ignoring her, König focused on his carving. He could not work while anyone else existed in his studio but this process of removing stone to access the image didn’t count.

After several minutes Feather appeared in his line of view.

“I want the whole lot, stellar as always my dear.” She spoke with a crispness to her words, as if her job required a level of uppityness.

“Same terms as always,” König fiddles with the edge of his chisel. It needs to be sharpened soon.

“Agreed,” Feather crosses her arms. Her eyes drift over his current work in progress before she turns and points to the hands he had set aside.

“How much for the hands?”

A chill wraps itself around his spine.

“Not for sale.”

A good business woman Feather narrows her eyes at him and throws out a number much higher than they usually agreed upon for smaller pieces. He lifts a brow before shaking his head.

She tried three more offers before sighing and folding her arms dramatically.

“König I know all artists are finicky about their work but I have a patron who has been asking for something like this for a long time. He would pay through the nose if I sent him a photo. He would pay especially well since it is your work.”

“Goodbye Feather,” he pulled the remote from his pocket and increased the volume of the music.

He didn’t create for money. König carved images from stone because if he left them inside they would fester and canker his soul.

Feather got the message and fired off a text to him before leaving of when her team would be by to pick up all the pieces agreed upon and confirmed his payment would be sent via wire after they arrived at the gallery. He marked the messages as read and set all his tools in their home nearly an hour later. Eating a quick meal he readied himself for the gym, and more of you.

His time with KorTac gave him the ability to appear focused while his mind drifts. Sliding through his thoughts König cannot quite decide how to feel about the interactions he has had with you. Bringing you up in therapy hadn’t helped yet.

When the doors move and allow you entry König is shocked at your smile as your eyes find his. He reciprocates the small wave you give him as you head into the changing room. Then curses himself for the niggle of brightness that your smile brought. Continuing his workout König kept you in sight but did not approach. He had been stilted and stiff when you had pressed the gift card into his hands on Wednesday and didn’t know how or if he wanted to try and bridge that gap.

A man approaches you four different times in the span of twenty minutes. When you finally snap at him, anger contorting your face, you point to König. He watches as you stomp away from the man and approach him instead.

Any anger disappeared from your eyes by the time you reached him. You folded your arms tight to your chest and blinked rapidly as if to fight back tears. When you stopped you stood entirely too close for the acquaintances that you were.

“König?”

“Ja?”

“Can you bend down a moment for me?”

He does as requested, not pausing to think that he should not accept orders from you.

“There is a man that is bothering me and I told him you were my boyfriend. Can you pretend until he leaves?”

König can only blink at you before glaring at the man in question. The prick sneers a huff of breath in your direction.

“How does one pretend to be a boyfriend?” He keeps his volume low.

“You could put a hand on my waist or something? I just need him to leave me alone. The reason I like this gym is most of the guys only talk to me when they have a correction or to encourage me to hit a new PR. I don’t want to leave but if he keeps bothering me I am gonna have to go home,” you tighten your folded arms to your chest, clearly upset.

Following the twitch of his muscles König pulls you into a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head as he lets his killer face stare out at the man who bothered you. The fucker tries to maintain a sneer, but when your arms slip around König’s waist and the hateful glare pummeling him from across the gym becomes too much he man left in a tizzy.

When you pull back from the hug König struggles to return his hands to his sides and not leave them trailing the top of your hip bones. His fingers ache both from the touch and the lack of contact.

You rub a palm under one eye, wiping away the wetness that collected there.

“Thanks, sorry. I had a bad day at work and then the nonsense with a guy being a jerk I might actually call it a night.” You sniff lightly, giving him a watery smile.

“We can work out together if you want?”

König took whatever courage he had found a way to take the reigns and shake it until the bastard had to be dead in his skull.

You rub a thumb beneath your nose, face contemplative.

“That would actually be okay, yeah.”

He blinks at you, unsure why you would say yes. And then unsure of how to make this work.

“I don’t want to disrupt your routine,” you rush to fill the silence that had grown between you, “I can do whatever you are doing today, provided we fix the weights for me.”

Nodding König replies, “Company is welcome, but no offering to pay.”

You tongue at your teeth behind your lips.

“Okay, you are uncomfortable with thank-you gifts. Got it.”

König gives a startled laugh. You had labeled the feeling he and his therapist were unable to articulate.

“Ja, help is given, not bought.”

A beautiful blush stains your cheeks. The sight of your blushing smile sticks like a bur on a sock as he walks you to your car and waves to you as you disappear into the night. The change in color on your face haunts his dreams.

Masterlist | Chiseled Heart Masterlist

Part 4

@backseatsoldier minor updates from what you read but 😘

#cod #fanfiction #cod x reader #konig x female reader #konig call of duty #konig #konig x reader #lostintransist #lostintransit writing #chiseled heart

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ak319 · 5 months ago

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a nice request because we all deserve it, sadie and reader being besties/soulmates/sisters and even if people try to separate them, they somehow always come back together

When Sadie joined the gang, you were thrilled to have another woman you could truly call a sister. But when Arthur told you what she’d been through, you felt a shock settle over you and an urge to make her feel as comfortable in the gang as possible.

You didn’t do much work around camp yourself, likely second only to Molly in doing almost nothing, but Arthur’s hard work covered both of your shares. Even so, you could feel lazy at times. So when Sadie arrived and Ms. Grimshaw started scolding her for being a burden, you stepped in, doing more of the work so that Sadie could rest and cope with her trauma.

Your care and company helped her eventually open up to you, and you came to see what a remarkably strong woman she truly was. You couldn’t be prouder.

"Hey, (Y/N)." You turned to see Sadie striding over, her new gear and black jacket catching the late sun, an excited gleam in her eyes. Setting aside the dish you’d been scrubbing, you smiled. "Well, don’t you look dashing."

She winked, leaning against the basin with a smirk. "Wasn’t I always?" She tossed you a playful look, then tilted her head. "So…you know how to shoot a gun, right?"

You felt a little heat in your cheeks as you chuckled nervously. "Uh, gun? Not exactly."

Sadie blinked in disbelief, her jaw dropping. "What?! You’ve been living with outlaws all your life, and neither of ‘em thought to teach you?"

"Well…” you shrugged, glancing away. “I was young when Dad was around, and after he passed, I just never felt the need, I guess. And once we were with the gang--” You trailed off, only for Sadie to scoff and seize your arm, tugging you toward the woods without a second thought.

“HEY! Hey! Where are we going?!”

“Where do you think? I’m gonna teach you, girly!"

“Teach what?” Arthur’s shadow fell across both of you as he stepped into your path.

Sadie glanced up at him, not an ounce of her spark fading. “I’m gonna teach her to shoot, Arthur.”

“And why’s that, Ms. Adler?”

Sadie met his gaze, unflinching. “Because she’s my friend, and don’t you think the sister of the ‘best gunslinger in the West’ oughta know how to handle a weapon? She oughta learn, right, (Y/N)?” She looked at you with a fierce grin, her confidence contagious. You gave a firm nod. “Yeah…I do want to learn.” Arthur’s gaze shifted to you, a small scoff escaping him.

"Fine," he muttered, crossing his arms. "But don’t be gettin’ reckless. Be back soon. Don't got too far."

Sadie smirked, unfazed. “Can you stop orderin’ us around for one damn second, Morgan?” She nudged his shoulder as she marched you past, puffing up with satisfaction.

“Damn…” You chuckled as you walked beside her. “That was fun to watch, do that every day, please.”

She laughed with you, her stride bold as you both reached a clearing deep in the woods. There, with patient resolve, she taught you how to handle the gun, steady your aim, and shoot straight, her guiding presence turning each attempt into a small triumph.

Shooting wasn’t the only thrill that had become a staple in your friendship with Sadie. At least once a week, you both made it a point to slip into town, getting up to whatever mischief caught your fancy. It didn’t matter if it was something as innocent as shopping, where Sadie often barked down the shopkeepers during bargaining, or something as wild as crashing a wedding. You couldn’t help but smirk, you could officially check that one off your list.

When you both returned to camp, it wasn’t long before Susan caught sight of you, her face pinched in that familiar disapproving way. “Where did you two run off to today, hmm? Having fun while others do the work?”

Sadie shot back without missing a beat, her tone dripping with defiance. “Of course, we had fun. By the look of you, I’d say it’s been a while since you’ve had any.”

You nudged Sadie, stifling a laugh, though the humor didn’t last long. Susan’s voice cut through with a sharper edge. “Well, some of us do actual work around here instead of frolicking around all day in town.”

You took a deep breath, deciding to keep it civil. “I went after finishing what I could for the day, Ms. Grimshaw.”

“Oh? And by that, you mean what? Washing two pieces of clothing?” Her scoff stung, and your smile faded. That was it.

“Now, first of all, I don’t have to do any of it,” you replied, voice steady but firm, “seeing as this whole camp practically thrives off what my brother does. But I still help out, from the goodness of my heart. C’mon, Sadie.”

You grabbed Sadie’s arm, and she looked at you, a flicker of surprise in her eyes before breaking into a grin. “Well, look at that. My company’s finally having an effect on you, in a good way, I’d say.”

“I’m just sick of all the chore talk. Can’t a girl relax once in a while?”

Once you’d left Susan fuming in your wake, you and Sadie joined Abigail and the others, handing out the little gifts you’d picked up in town. The warm smiles from Abigail, Jack, and the rest made it worth it, a small reminder of what life outside the gang could feel like.

Soon enough, sneaking out became something of a habit. You and Sadie would slip out at night when Arthur was away on a job, sometimes taking the other women along. No Ms Grimshaw scolding or nagging to keep you tied down, just the freedom to be a little reckless, to feel like you had some control. And Charles? When he patrolled, he was easily convinced to keep it all a secret.

But Ms Grimshaw did have her ways of finding things...

"Well, if it isn’t our very own troublemakers," she snapped, her gaze fixed on you and Sadie, who were both just returning from a night out with the others. You’d barely managed to set down your packs when she stormed over, hands on her hips. “Thought you could sneak out and cause a ruckus without anyone noticing, did you? It’s dangerous enough out there as it is, but dragging others into your little escapades is a step too far.”

Sadie rolled her eyes but didn’t respond, and you braced yourself, knowing the real storm hadn’t even hit yet. Grimshaw shot both of you a withering look, muttering something about going straight to Dutch.

Not even fifteen minutes later, Dutch himself found you both by the campfire, his face a blend of frustration and disappointment. He folded his arms, giving you both a hard look. “Now, I heard some interesting things from Ms. Grimshaw this morning. You two think it’s wise to be sneaking around, taking half the camp along for a joyride? With Pinkertons and O’Driscolls sniffing around every corner?!”

Sadie stayed silent, her jaw set as Dutch’s gaze landed on her. "Sadie, I understand you’re your own woman, but this here’s a family. And we look out for each other’s safety. Taking the others out at night like that, it puts everyone at risk.”

You felt the weight of Dutch’s words, but Sadie huffed, arms crossed defiantly. “You call us family, Dutch, but don’t expect us to live like caged animals. We’re careful, we weren’t out in the open.”

Dutch’s frown deepened as he turned to you. “And you, (Y/N), you should know better than this. You might not be one of my gunslingers, but you still have a role to play. What if something had happened to you? Or one of the others? Arthur won't be happy if he found out...do you want that?”

Swallowing, you looked down, the reality of his worry sinking in, but not enough to make you feel you’d done something wrong. “NO! I mean--don't tell him please Dutch, and I’m sorry. But… it was just some time away from the camp, just a way to feel normal for a bit. No one got hurt. We’re still careful.”

He shook his head, looking both of you over before sighing. “Careful or not, you keep this up, and it’ll bring nothing but trouble. Next time, you both think long and hard about what’s at stake here!”

Once Dutch walked away, you looked at Sadie, both of you sharing a silent understanding. The scolding might have left a sting, but it wouldn’t change what you’d built together. She nudged your shoulder with a smirk.

“Well, at least he didn’t send us packing.”

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “Ain’t nothing gonna change, is it? Not Dutch, not Grimshaw, and certainly not us.”

Sadie grinned. “Nope. Not one bit.”

⋆⋆⋆

Word had gotten around the camp that Dutch’s scolding hadn’t done much to break up your mischief with Sadie. The next time you found yourself alone by the fire, Charles approached, looking a little uneasy as he settled next to you.

“You know, (Y/N),” he began carefully, “I’m not trying to get in your way, but a lot of folks are worried about you and Sadie going off so often. It’s... reckless, especially with all the dangers around.”

You shot him a look, half-amused and half-defensive. “Charles, you know Sadie and I aren’t careless. And you know better than anyone that the camp needs a little... escape.”

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, as if he wanted to say something more but hesitated. “Look, maybe for a bit, you should keep a low profile. Sadie’s got her hands full around here already. You know Grimshaw’s not about to let this go.”

The gentle nudge was clear, Charles was subtly trying to steer you away from Sadie, hoping it might keep the peace. You gave him a smile that you hoped would reassure him.

“I’ll think about it, Charles,” you replied, even though you had no real intention of distancing yourself from Sadie.

But the subtle hints didn’t end there. The next morning, Grimshaw handed you a mountain of chores, insisting you stay busy while Sadie got sent on an errand with Arthur, as if the camp were conspiring to keep you apart. The day felt like it dragged on forever, and by the time you were done, Sadie still hadn’t returned. You wandered back to your tent feeling restless, the quiet gnawing at you.

Finally, near dusk, you heard the familiar sound of footsteps. Sadie had returned, looking as annoyed as you felt, her gaze scanning the camp until it landed on you.

She sauntered over, her usual confidence edged with a slight smirk. “Heard they kept you real busy today.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “You, too. They sent you out with Arthur?”

“Sure did,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Probably thought he’d keep me ‘in line.’ But if they think a few chores and errands are gonna split us up, they’re wasting their time.”

You both shared a grin, the unspoken understanding strengthening whatever they’d tried to weaken.

“Well, looks like we’ll just have to be a little smarter about sneakin’ off,” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye.

Sadie chuckled, crossing her arms. “Reckon we will. Besides, it’ll be fun to keep ‘em guessing.”

⋆⋆⋆

Life at the ranch was a new kind of quiet you hadn’t known before. After everything, this normalcy, the steady rhythm of days spent under a roof, sharing meals with Abigail, John, Arthur and little Jack, felt almost surreal. You’d never imagined feeling the weight of peace settle like this. Thank God, that blindfold of loyalty is finally off your brother. Yet, even with a good life beginning to take root, you couldn’t shake the ache from how it had all ended...or how, despite everything, you and Sadie had been separated, each of you pulled in different directions as the dust settled.

Charles had told you she was safe somewhere out there, making a name for herself in whatever way only Sadie Adler could. But there was a hint of betrayal you couldn’t shake, an edge to the thought of her that made you wonder if she’d left you behind as part of that rough world you’d survived together.

On this particular morning, you were sitting on the porch with Jack, who was excitedly yapping away about a new book he’d found. It had become your morning ritual, letting him share every detail of the story while you sip your coffee, the soft morning light casting a gentle calm over the two of you.

But the peace was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of hooves in the distance. When you looked up, your heart skipped a beat. A lone rider, the silhouette familiar even from a distance. She rode into view, her hat tipped low, and you knew before she’d even slowed her horse.

“Sadie!” you shouted, the disbelief almost louder than your voice. You jumped up and ran to her, barely giving her time to dismount before you threw yourself into her arms. She wrapped you up tight, the both of you laughing, giddy with that same energy you’d shared back in camp.

But then, as the reality of her long absence hit, you started punching her, soft jabs that held more meaning than harm. "You absolute snake! BITCH!” you muttered, hitting her shoulder, her arm, anywhere you could reach. “You just left! No word, no letter...nothing! Do you know how long I waited?”

Sadie took it, grinning like she was actually enjoying the punishment, her laughter spilling out as she grabbed your hands to stop you from flailing. “Alright, alright! I deserve that, probably more. But I didn’t forget you, y’know.” She held your shoulders firmly, her face softening as she looked you in the eyes. “I never could dumbass.”

“Then why’d you stay gone so damn long?” you asked, your voice cracking.

Her expression turned serious, the reality of it all weighing on her. “Some things I had to settle on my own. And I knew you’d be safe here, with Arthur, John and Abigail. With family.” She squeezed your shoulder. "So now, you're talkin' to a real gold-ass bounty hunter," she said, throwing her arms out like a magician who’d just pulled off the trick of a lifetime. "But I’m here now, and I’m not plannin’ on disappearing again anytime soon.”

You let out a long breath, feeling the hurt ease a bit. “You better not,” you replied, hugging her tight again.

Soon enough, the others came out, drawn by the commotion and Jack's excited voice as he kept chatting with Sadie. The day rolled on with laughter and good company, and later, you and Sadie found yourselves sitting on the porch, enjoying the quiet night as she smoked.

“(Y/N), you’re mostly free, right?” Sadie asked, an excited gleam in her eyes.

“Um… no, I do work around here… and all,” you replied, caught a bit off guard.

“What if you didn’t for a few days?” Her eyes sparked with mischief, and you found yourself smiling despite yourself.

“You mean…”

“Yep! It’s time you learned a bit of bounty hunting,” she said, voice full of excitement. “Imagine it: two women, both traumatized by men, turning into man-hunting machines. Don’t you want that?”

“But Arthur… he won’t, and we left all this life behind-”

“Shh!” Sadie swatted at your face with dramatic flair. “Excuses are the root of failure. Enjoy a little , c'mon, just like the old times.”

“But we have a ranch-”

“FUCK THE RANCH!” She laughed, shaking her head. “Look (Y/N)...I wanna a home of my own and for that...I gotta remain in this field for a while so I can get somethin' to call my own, y'know.”

"This ranch is big enough for us all, Sadie. Of course we all will welcome you with open arms if you wanna stay here."

"I know, I know, and thanks, but no. I just want something of my own, even if it’s small. I mean, I can do it alone, y'know, but I want you by my side. And seeing that everyone else has left this lifestyle behind, I know they're definitely not gonna be joining me, not even Arthur. Now that we're free from all the gang shit, I thought we could roam and enjoy the rest of this life as much as we can." Her voice softened with each word as she stared down at her lap.

You looked down, thinking about it. She did deserve that after losing everything she had. And who wouldn't want to explore with their friend endlessly? You put your arm around her shoulders and gave a firm shake. “Say less.”

⋆⋆⋆

“No. Absolutely the hell not. Are you insane?!” Arthur snapped, finally turning around from his spot.

“Arthur, please! Be a good brother right now and just say, ‘Of course, (Y/N), you can go and have a good time with your pal.’ Come on, say it.”

He crossed his arms, unimpressed. “If you think I’m just gonna say yes to you running around out there, then you are DUMB!”

Abigail, standing nearby, came to the rescue. “Arthur, they’re just going for a trip. It’s nothing big, and Sadie can more than handle it. So can (Y/N). They’ll be back before you know it.”

“No, Arthur’s right,” John chimed in.

“Shut up, John. Please,” you replied, giving him a gentle nudge as you turned back to Arthur, your voice softening. “Pleaseee, Arthur! If you don’t let me go, I’ll… I’ll seriously do something drastic--t-to to myself!” You gave him your best pleading look.

Arthur groaned, rolling his eyes at your childish blackmailing. “You’re laying it on real thick,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. He gave Sadie a look. “And you, I know this whole thing was your idea!”

Sadie shrugged leaning against the chair. "It's just something we both need."

“Like hell you do! My decision is final. And you-” Arthur turned to you, his eyes darkening. “Think twice before even stepping foot off this ranch.” With that, he stormed off, leaving you both in tense silence.

But you were having none of it. He still thought of you as a child, someone who couldn’t defend herself, who couldn’t even swat a fly, let alone fend off danger. You glanced over at Sadie, who was staring off into the distance, a flicker of guilt settling into her expression, as though she regretted bringing it up and getting you tangled in her plans. And you didn’t like that one bit.

This was the woman who had taught you to be confident, to speak up, to stand your ground when the world tried to tell you otherwise. She was more like a sister than a friend, the person you’d count on to get through even the worst of times. You were each other’s rocks, through every fight and every high. Sadie would bring you gifts to cheer you up when things felt bleak. And now she was just trying to carve a space for herself, a house of her own, where she could finally feel free.

A spark of determination lit inside you. If she wanted a place to call her own, then by God, you were going to make sure she got it.

That night, as everyone else drifted off to sleep, you packed a small bag with essentials, just enough to keep you going for a couple of days. You knew Arthur would be furious, but you also knew he’d forgive you eventually. He had to understand that some choices were yours to make.

Carefully, you slipped out of the house and made your way across the moonlit yard, avoiding the creaky spots on the floorboards that might wake someone. Outside, the night air was cool and still, and the only sounds were the soft rustling of leaves and the gentle creaking of the barn as it settled. You made your way toward the stables, saddling your horse as quickly and quietly as you could. You took a steadying breath before mounting up, heart pounding with a mix of exhilaration and fear. This was your choice, and you were ready to see it through.

With a gentle nudge, you rode into the night, following the faint trail that would lead you to Sadie. You knew exactly where she was camping, she’d mentioned it enough times, and you’d memorized her directions. You just hoped she hadn’t moved.

After a few hours of riding, you spotted her fire in the distance, flickering like a beacon. You dismounted and walked up, and as you drew closer, you saw her sitting by the fire, eyes widening in surprise as she looked up.

“What in hell’s name, (Y/N)! What’re you doing here?” Sadie gasped, scrambling to her feet. Her surprise turned into a grin as she realized what you’d done.

“Arthur or no Arthur, I’m not letting you go on this adventure alone,” you replied, determination in your voice. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it together. Always.” Sadie’s face broke into a mischievous smile and pulled you into a quick, tight hug.

“I knew there was a reason I kept ya around.”

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stayevildarling · 6 months ago

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May I please request Agatha x reader where reader has such bad anxiety that they often don't leave the house because of it. Reader thinks Agatha deserves someone better, but she comforts reader?

Agatha Harkness x Reader- Tangled in fear, wrapped in magic

A/N: Thank you so much for this request. I‘m a whore for mental health fics like these so. Also this is my first time writing Agatha so please be kind to me😅🫶🏼

tags/tw: established relationship, female reader, mention of anxiety, mention of depression, mention of panic attacks, mention of agoraphobia

word count: 3.5k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahelvar , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @ahsatanizgay , @blu3dimples , @stepintomyworld

When the days began blurring together you knew it was back. The endless nights, days filled with fear and your mind clouded with thoughts. The sadness and fear followed you like a cloud of rain, droplets running down your brain, leaving an emptiness that you couldn‘t shake or fight on your own. It had been bad before, years ago when it all began one afternoon, your chest tightening, your hands and knees shaky and the ability to breathe suddenly leaving you.

Back then it took months of therapy and medication to get over this, to work through the anxiety and depression that followed afterwards, leaving you drained and exhausted. And you had been happy since, enjoying your life and the things you adored, even meeting your perfect and beautiful girlfriend in the process, having been beside her for months, the two of you completing each other perfectly. The two of you had met when you followed your passions and despite the very obvious attraction, the brunette wrapping you around her finger perfectly and capturing your heart.

Life with Aggy was perfect, she spoiled you, reading every wish from your lips, showing you sides to yourself that you had never explored before. Making your body and soul feel cared for and nurtured at all times. Nothing was ever too much for the witch, whether it was spoiling you, taking you on dates or cracking silly jokes to make you laugh. And in return you would give her your world, trusting the older woman with your entire life, letting her guide you in every way. It all started a few weeks ago when she had taken you to lunch on a weekend, excited to try a new place with you that had been hyped for the longest time. You sat opposite each other, her hands always lingering somewhere on you, the two of you chatting and catching up from each other‘s week when it happened.

Your body froze, the entire restaurant spinning for a moment and your head telling you „you are going to pass out“. And that triggered it all, the shaking of your hands, your heart always beating out of your chest and the fear following you everywhere. You never told Agatha, knowing she was way too busy with her life and magic, knowing she had other things to worry about and not wanting to burden her with something this ridiculous. Things turned worse when fear took over your entire being, first the driving- a panic attack after another and making the whole thing impossible. Then simple things like leaving the house or going for a walk and then even moving inside your own shared home with Agatha felt impossible. The fear of going to the bathroom, taking a shower or even to leave the safety of bed, at this point your only safe space, and go to the living room or kitchen.

Fear lingered and followed you everywhere and despite remembering your tools, remembering that this had happened before and passed eventually, you couldn‘t do this again, knowing the mountain of work that was about to follow to work through this and stop the fear. Your health anxiety began coming back, scared to eat certain foods and worried about food poisoning, scared when you felt a small headache or your tummy was upset for a day. Everything scared you, breathing, talking and existing and when that realization hit you, you knew you were lost in the darkness again. It began with not eating much, too scared to even enter the kitchen, forcing yourself to eat with Agatha in the evenings or on the weekends but never feeling truly calm. Accepting Aggys offers about joined baths gladly as the thought of doing it alone scared you.

Of course your girlfriend had noticed, the change of seasons also brought her a different version of you, one that she hadn‘t met before. The rain seems to patter against the windows of your shared apartment for days on end, matching your inner turmoil. She noticed how you were suddenly more quiet, the smile never quite reaching your eyes anymore, often noticing your legs bouncing up and down during meals, the fidgeting which she had never noticed before. And of coure she noticed the tossing and turning at night, having tried countless times to soothe you back to sleep but without success. She had tried a few times to talk to you, offer her support but you couldn‘t confide in her, feeling like a burden.

Your girlfriend noticed how you didn‘t leave the house anymore. You didn‘t work, Agatha prefering to do that part and giving you the freedom you deserved. But you used to go out, to the libraries, your favorite flower shops and cafes, walks by the lake. You would do the grocery shopping mostly, making sure there is a warm meal waiting for her when she would return home. But lately there had been a lot of takeout meals, the fridge empty and when she mentioned it, you ended up ordering groceries, her finding the receipt a few days later. But she couldn‘t connect the pieces yet, not understanding the depths of your pain and fear, assuming at first that maybe you had been tired, possibly a little depressed.

Agatha didn‘t know about the darkness that eloped you, the reoccurring and daily fear, as soon as you would open your eyes and never ending through the silence of the night. It had gotten that bad that you wanted it all to stop, feeling like you aren‘t in control of your body or mind, at times feeling like you are going crazy and this never ending cycle of doom would follow you for all eternity. If it wasn‘t for the love you feel for her, you would have stopped it already, letting go off everything but even the thought of leaving her like that, left a guilt that hurt way worse than what you had been fighting in silence for weeks now. You wanted to explain so badly, wanting her to hold you but the insecurities and nasty thoughts kept you from doing so.

Today had been another slow day spent at home, you sit on the couch again, legs tucked beneath you as you half- heartedly flip through the pages of a book. It wasn‘t that you aren‘t interested in the story, you just couldn‘t focus. The soft patting of rain against the window feels way too loud, your breathing uneaven and your thoughts so loud they crash over you like waves. Every sound from the outside world, an occasional car zooming past, the faint barking of a dog or sirens, another reminder of the scary world outside that was slowly beginning to slip away from you.

Your mind travels to the only bright spot in your life, the woman filling your heart with joy rather than fear and emptiness. But even she had become a source of guilt, you had been avoiding her without ever meaning to, slowly withdrawing from her too, making excuses to stay home when she invited you out, retreating into yourself when she tried to have a conversation with you. She deserved better. Your chest tightens at the thought, Agatha with her charm and wit, her strength and confidence, her powers. What could she possibly still see in you? When the world out there was filled with way more interesting people, witches, people with their lifes together rather than being scared to go out their own front door. She was wasting her time with you, all the effort that she was giving you and not getting an ounce what she deserved in return. You had hoped lately that she would just walk away, take the last piece of will and guilt away and giving you the permission to give into the darkness.

When the front door to your apartment opens softly, your thoughts stop for a moment as you instinctively pull the blanket a little closer to your shivering form. She doesn‘t announce herself, doesn‘t make a show of her return the way she usually would. She never would when you are like this, not wanting to overwhelm you further. Instead , she moves quietly through the room, setting down her bag and slipping off her jacket before glancing at you. „Hi darling“ she greets you softly with a warm smile, trying to keep her concern hidden.

You force a small smile, barely glancing up from your book „Hey“. She pauses as she thinks back to the times you would practically jump into her arms, calling and messaging her on her way home out of excitement and missing her and despite knowing you are struggling with something, it fills her heart with sadness. She pauses, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before moving towards the kitchen. „I picked us up something for dinner“ she calls over her shoulder, her tone light and casual, like she wasn‘t trying to probe too much. „Figured we could have a quiet night in“ she offers and you sigh in relief ever so quietly, relieved she isn‘t offering to go somewhere and you having to think of another pathetic excuse. „Sounds good“ is all you manage to reply.

Agatha didn‘t push you, she never did and that almost made the whole thing worse. You knew she could tell something was wrong. But yet she gave you time and space, allowing you to retreat into yourself without demanding answers. It was both a blessing and a curse, because it filled you with relief but at the same time left you alone with your thoughts that hadn‘t been kind lately. You hear her moving around in the kitchen, the clatter of plates and cutlery. Normally, you would join her, help out and crack a few jokes, asking about her day but today you just can‘t, feeling on the verge of tears since she stepped inside your shared home.

Minutes pass in silence and you try and focus on your book again, the only sounds coming from the kitchen but you can‘t, the words bluring together, the weight of your thoughts and anxiety growing heavier by the second. Agatha returns, wiping her hands on a towel as she leans against the doorway, watching you with an unreadable expression. You glance at her briefly and take in her features, the slightly curled hair, her outfit plastered in different shades of purple and suddenly your heart swells, missing her arms around you, her soft kisses all over your body and the feeling of safety. „Hows the book?“ she asks, pulling you out of your thoughts momentarily.

„It‘s fine“ you confess, hoping she wasn‘t gonna ask about the plot as you didn‘t remember a single thing from it. She doesn‘t say anything, simply watching you in that way that makes you feel like she could see right through the walls that you had been trying to build. „Do you want to talk about anything?“ she asks, breaking the silence, her voice soft, almost like she wasn‘t sure if now was the right time to ask. Your stomach instantly twists at the thought of trying to explain the mess inside your head and so you shake your head „I‘m fine“ you say quietly, though even you couldn‘t believe the words coming from your mouth.

She doesn’t push, simply nodding before she turns on her heels, offering a quiet „Alright, I‘m here though“ and leaving back to the kitchen. When she calls out for you a few minutes later for dinner, you can feel the tension building in your chest again, your head feeling fuzzy and your legs barely taking you to the table where she is patiently waiting for you. She looks at you with so much love as she begins eating, so much patience that your heart hurts, you want to tell her so badly, feeling like you owe her some answers, to let her in and show her how terrified you are but the words won‘t come, staying locked inside, trapped behind the anxiety that grips you so tightly.

The brunette watches you carefully as you push your food around with your fork, noticing how you hadn‘t taken a bite yet, her eyes search your face and you can feel the concern radiate from her, even if she was trying to hide it for your sake. „You‘re not eating sweetheart“ she say softly, her tone non-judgmental. You force a small smile, hoping it would be enough to brush off her concern. „I‘m just not that hungry“ you explain. She doesn‘t respond right away, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before she finally speaks, her voice quieter now. „You have been like this for a while love, haven‘t you?“ she tries, tilting her head in order to lock eyes with you.

Your heart skips a beat, your stomach twisting painfully, unsure how to answer, knowing she deserved the truth. „I‘m fine“ you repeat, though your voice begins to shake, barely able to hide the tears and the knot in your throat. Agatha sighs softly, setting her fork down and leaning forward slightly. „You don‘t have to be fine with me“ she says gently, her eyes softening. „I don‘t need you to pretend with me“. And that was it, the gentlness in her voice, the concern in her beautiful eyes, enough to cause your fork to fall onto your plate and the tears spilling down your eyes as you catch your head in your hands, the sobs wrecking through you as you can‘t hide them for a second longer.

„Oh darling“ she sigh, in an instand abandoning her food and walking over to you, kneeling in front of you before pulling your frame into her arms. Her world breaks for a moment, seeing you so sad and feeling so helpless at the same time. The usual confident and witty woman knew that not even her magic could fix this but yet she feels some relief, hoping you will finally share what has been burdening you for weeks. „It‘s okay, I‘m here“ she reassures, one hand on your knee, stroking little circles and another on your back, holding you steady and making you feel safe. She lets you cry until the last sob wrecks through your body and when your tear stained, helpless face meets hers, she offers a hand to you, guiding you to the comfort of the sofa before sitting you down and taking a seat beside you.

Agatha gives you patience, sitting beside you for the longest time, through the loudest silence, holding you and passing you the occasional tissue to wipe the tears and blow your nose. „If I knew, I would have bought a life supply of tissues“ she jokes as you go through an entire packet, causing you to giggle for a moment through the tears, the sound so unfamiliar, it takes you both by surprise. „My little lamb..“ she begins, the pet name almost causing more tears to resurface. „Can you tell me what‘s been going on in that pretty little head of yours?“ she asks softly, her hand holding onto yours tightly, another reminder she is there, patient and willing and not considering to leave, not now, not ever.

Her gentleness is enough to break through your walls and slowly every single confession, every thought and all the fear leaves you as you tell her everything that had been going on. Your past struggles with this, the trigger in the restaurant weeks ago and everything since then. And every confession is more painful than the other, Agatha fighting her own tears as she understands the depth of your pain and the intensity of your fear, wishing she would have figured this out sooner as she undeniably would have stepped in, would have handled so many things differently. „My darling girl“ she whispers before her hands hold your cheeks gently „Why didn‘t you tell me?“ she asks, her voice filled with sadness and her eyes filled with tears.

„Because.. Aggy I‘m pathetic … and you deserve so“ but she doesn‘t let you finish. „No“ she snaps, her voice more firm this time, not ever wanting to hear those words leave your lips, struggling enough with the thought of your head having told you that for so long. „Don‘t say that“ she begins, a tear rolling down her cheek. There is silence for a while as the exhaustion of your honesty washes over you and your girlfriend tries collecting her thoughts, unable to believe you had been suffering so much on your own, feeling guilty for not having been there. „But Aggy it‘s true, there is so much more out there for you and you shouldn‘t have to deal with this, you deserve so much better“ you explain, the words hitting her like a billion knifes. She chuckles lowly, a painful one before she locks eyes with you „Kitten, I don‘t even deserve you“ she sighs, knowing how lucky she had been to be loved by you, with all her flaws and her entire past.

„And none of what your head is telling you is true, you are going through a tough time but that doesn‘t mean I deserve you any less or love you any less“ she admits, her hands instinctively holding yours a little tighter, wanting you to believe her statement but the honesty in her eyes already enough to make you believe. „Sweetheart“ she begins speaking again „I don‘t need you to be anything other than who you are, your struggles, they don‘t make you less to me. They are just parts of what make you you, and I happen to love all of you“ she confesses, her finger softly booping your nose and causing you to smile.

„You have never held me back kitten, if anything, you have made me want to stay even more, because don‘t you think I see how hard you fight? even when it feels impossible?“ Her voice drops a little lower, filled with honesty „I don‘t need you to be perfect, you could never be a burden to me, not in the slightest. I choose you every day, anxiety and all“ the softness in her voice makes you tear up again and this time you lean into her, practically holding on for dear life as she strokes your hair and kisses your head. „So, stop worrying about whether you are enough for me, because you, my little witch, are enough for me, alright? and I‘m not going anywhere“. You nod into her chest as you begin crying again, the walls finally tumbling down with each confession and reassuring of your girlfriend, finally feeling understood, your heart less heavy and your head feeling empty for the first time in weeks.

The two of you stay tangled in each others embrace, similar to the way your hearts are tangled in each other‘s chest, the connection between you stronger than ever before. Agatha asks questions, listening intently to your experience with this in the past, curious how you overcame it to begin with and offering her help. She offered to get you on your old medication again, offered to take you to the neccessary appointments and therapy, never forcing you, only wanting to get you the best help possible and what makes you comfortable. And you agreed, knowing there was no coming out of this on your own. And so, the two of you made a plan, Agatha knowing you hadn‘t left the house in a while and knowing this required just that. But the two of you spoke throughout the night, more confessions slipping from your lips and the usual tough woman telling you of similar struggles in her youth.

By the end of the night, the two of you are wrapped in each other‘s embrace in bed, you laying in her arms, listening to her soft breathing and her hands on your back, rubbing soothing circles and drawing patterns, knowing it would calm you. „Thank you Aggy“ you thank her eventually, feeling the exhaustion from the evening but also the comfort of her embrace. „Always, bunny“ she reassures before pressing a kiss to your cheek and pulling you a little closer. And so, for the first night in weeks, you manage to fall asleep without the racing thoughts, your heart beating out of your chest and your trembling hands. Tonight, you feel safe, knowing the truth was finally out there, knowing she wasn‘t going to leave. And Agatha wouldn‘t leave, not now and not in the future when the days would look so much brighter again and this would be a faint memory and reminder of some dark times. She was with you, forever and always.

#agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness drabble #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x y/n #wandavision #agatha all along #agatha all along writing #kathryn hahn #kathryn hahn x reader #mcu #marvel #coven of chaos #lgbtq #fanfiction #writing

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mononijikayu · 7 months ago

Text

l’amour de ma vie — geto suguru.

"Suguru." you said softly, not meeting his eyes. "We’re not the same people we were ten years ago. You know that." He was quiet for a long moment before he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "And yet, I still find myself here. With you."

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Not Safe For Work (NSFW), R-18, Angst, Toxic Love, Romance, Break-Up, Situationship, Toxic Friends with Benefit, Falling In Love, Falling Out of Love, Lack of Communication, Dysfunctional Relationship, Hurt/No Comfort, Depression, Emotional Distress, Emotional Manipulation, Disassociation, Anticipatory Grief, Smut, P to V Sex, Bathtub Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Smoking, Depiction of Dysfunctional Relationship, Depiction of Unhealthy Behaviours, Depiction of Sexual Intercourse, Depiction of Depression, Depiction of Cigarettes and Smoking, Depiction of Disassociation, Mention of Physical and Or Bodily Harm, Mention of Murder, Mention of Blood, Mention of Character Death, Mention of Future Events;

WORDS: 9.8k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: if i should be honest, i think this little thing surpasses pretending as always and the other woman in terms of the sad meter. i really enjoyed writing this because it was just raw and emotionally revealing. if anything, this is my current favorite. i hope you enjoy it as much as i did and still do!!! i love you all <3

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EVER SINCE YOU MET HIM, HE FELT LIKE HOME. You and Geto Suguru had always been inseparable, two halves of the same whole from the very first day at Jujutsu High.

While the world often paired him with Gojo Satoru — the two of them known for their strength and partnership — there was something between you and Suguru that ran deeper, something unspoken but undeniable. You were his mirror in ways Satoru could never be. You understood him not just through the bond of shared power but in the quiet moments, in the spaces between battle and duty.

Where Satoru reveled in his god-like strength, you and Suguru shared the burden of understanding the world’s cruelty, the cost of being sorcerers. There was an unspoken connection between you two, built on a mutual respect for the world’s darker truths and the weight that came with protecting it. You saw him, truly saw him, in ways no one else could — not even Satoru.

It happened slowly, you're falling in love. It wasn’t some grand, sweeping romance but rather a quiet thing that grew over time, unnoticed at first. The little moments where you stayed back after training, talking under the stars, your conversations deep and philosophical, both of you sharing dreams, fears, and the weight of what it meant to bear the responsibility of a jujutsu sorcerer.

It was in the way he’d find you after a tough mission, silently standing by your side until you were ready to speak. The way his eyes softened just for you, in a way they never did for anyone else.

There was no sudden realization, no epiphany — just the slow warmth of knowing that his presence had become as necessary to you as breathing. You would exchange a glance across the room, and in that look, you would know what the other was thinking. It was as if your souls were entwined, slowly knitting together over time.

Suguru had always been cautious, thoughtful, but with you, his walls seemed to fall away bit by bit. He didn’t have to hide the weight of his worries, the questions that plagued him late into the night. And in return, you shared your own vulnerability, your own doubts, the moments of quiet despair that came with your duties.

Your hands would brush against each other during missions, the brief touch sending sparks through your veins, but neither of you spoke of it at first. It was too fragile, too precious to put into words. But those touches lingered, the brief glances became longer, and soon, the silences between you were filled with the unspoken understanding of what you both felt.

You fell in love in those small, stolen moments — not all at once, but in the way his gaze lingered a little longer on you during training, the way he would seek you out even when there was no reason to. You noticed how his voice softened when he spoke your name, how his laughter felt more genuine when it was with you.

It was gradual, this love. It wasn’t fireworks or grand confessions. It was a quiet, persistent thing, growing slowly but steadily, as natural as the rising sun. And before either of you truly realized it, you had become his other half — not just in battle, but in everything.

And Suguru, who had always carried the weight of the world so heavily on his shoulders, found solace in you, found love in a way that didn’t need words or declarations. You were his mirror, his equal, the one who truly understood the depths of who he was.

And he, in turn, became yours.

The change was subtle, barely noticeable at first. It was in the way Suguru’s shoulders relaxed when you were around, the way his eyes would light up just a little more when you spoke. Your friendship, already so deep, had slipped effortlessly into something more intimate without either of you acknowledging it out loud. It was as if neither of you wanted to disturb the delicate balance, afraid to name the thing that had grown between you for fear it might shatter.

You began to spend more time together outside of missions and training. You’d sit side by side in the library, poring over old texts or discussing jujutsu theory long into the night. On rare afternoons off, you’d find a quiet corner of the campus to sit and talk about everything and nothing — your pasts, your dreams for the future, your shared frustrations with the world you were tasked with protecting. In those moments, the world seemed smaller, more manageable, as if it was just the two of you in it.

There were no grand gestures between you and Suguru, but the small things added up — the way he would bring you tea without asking, knowing exactly how you liked it; the way you’d patch up his wounds after a particularly difficult mission, your fingers lingering on his skin a little longer than necessary. He’d watch you as you worked, his gaze soft, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

And you? You found yourself looking forward to the moments when it was just the two of you, when the weight of your roles as jujutsu sorcerers could fall away and you could just be. You knew you were falling for him, slowly but irrevocably, but you didn’t push it. You didn’t need to. What you shared with Suguru was natural, inevitable, like the slow blooming of a flower.

It wasn’t until one quiet evening, after a particularly grueling mission, that something shifted. You had been injured — not seriously, but enough to warrant Suguru’s concern. He had stayed by your side, helping you back to your room after Gojo had left to handle the debriefing. You could see the tension in his face, the way his jaw was clenched, his usual calm exterior cracking just slightly.

“Suguru, I’m fine. Really.” you said softly, trying to reassure him as you sat on the edge of your bed. “It’s just a scratch.”

But he wasn’t listening, his eyes dark with worry as he knelt in front of you, his hands hovering over the bandage on your arm. “You shouldn’t have taken that hit!” he muttered, his voice low, almost angry. “I should have—”

You reached out, gently cupping his face in your hand, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “Hey.” you said softly, your voice drawing his gaze up to meet yours. “It’s not your fault. We’re a team, remember? We look out for each other.”

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes searching yours, and something shifted between you. The air grew heavier, charged with an emotion neither of you had spoken aloud but both of you had felt for a long time. Suguru’s hand moved to cover yours where it rested on his cheek, his touch warm and firm, grounding.

“I don’t want to lose you, you know that....” he whispered, the vulnerability in his voice catching you off guard. “I can’t—” He stopped, his breath hitching slightly as he closed his eyes for a brief moment, gathering his thoughts. When he opened them again, the intensity in his gaze made your heart skip a beat. “You mean too much to me.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked at him, your own feelings rising to the surface, too powerful to ignore any longer. “Suguru…” you began, your voice soft, but he didn’t let you finish.

He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “I’ve been falling for you, doll.” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the confession was something too fragile to say aloud. “Slowly, but completely.”

You felt your heart swell at his words, the truth of your own feelings spilling over. “Me too.” you whispered back, your hand still cradling his face, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “I’ve been falling for you too.”

There was a brief moment where the world seemed to pause, where everything else fell away — the missions, the responsibilities, the looming sense of duty that always seemed to hang over you. In that moment, it was just you and Suguru, the quiet intimacy of your confessions binding you together in a way that was both new and familiar.

Then, as if some unseen barrier between you had finally crumbled, Suguru closed the small distance between you and kissed you, softly at first, his lips tentative, as if testing the waters. But the moment your lips met his, a flood of emotion rushed through you, and you kissed him back, your hand tightening slightly on his cheek as your other hand found its way to his shoulder, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened, slow and sweet, neither of you in a rush, savoring the moment as the truth of your feelings settled between you. When you finally pulled away, breathless and slightly dazed, Suguru rested his forehead against yours once more, his lips curving into a small, almost shy smile.

“Maybe we were always meant to find each other like this,” he murmured, his voice soft, filled with a tenderness you hadn’t known he was capable of.

You smiled, your heart full as you whispered, “Maybe we were.”

From that moment on, things between you and Suguru were different — but in the best possible way. The love that had been quietly growing between you had finally been given a voice, and while nothing about your relationship was rushed or flashy, it was solid, rooted in years of friendship and understanding.

You were two peas in a pod, and now, you were more than that. You were his mirror, his equal, his partner in every sense of the word. And together, you faced the world — not just as sorcerers, but as something more.

THINGS QUICKLY CHANGED. With all the highs came the lows, and you could trace the exact moment you began to lose Suguru. It was the day Riko Amanai died. Everything shifted after that. Geto Suguru had always carried a weight on his shoulders — the responsibility of being a jujutsu sorcerer, the burden of protecting the weak from curses that never seemed to end.

But after Riko’s death, that weight seemed to grow unbearable. You saw it in the way his eyes grew darker, the way his silences stretched longer, how the light that had once shone in him began to dim.

Where once his passion burned brightly, there was now only a smoldering ember, flickering weakly in the face of despair. The laughter you used to share felt distant, a memory that seemed almost foreign in contrast to the ever-present heaviness that hung over him.

He had always been quiet, thoughtful in his approach to life, but now that stillness took on a different shade — it wasn’t contemplation or a moment of rest, it was something far more unsettling. It was the beginning of withdrawal, of detachment from the very things that used to anchor him.

He no longer met your gaze in the same way; when he looked at you, it felt like he was seeing through you, as if he was trying to find something beyond the present — something that would ease the ache in his soul.

Conversations that had once flowed freely between you both became strained, stilted, weighed down by unspoken pain. He started questioning everything. Not openly at first, but in quiet, haunting ways — in the pauses between words, in the way he’d linger before answering, as though the truth was too bitter to speak out loud.

You knew Suguru was strong, resilient, but Riko’s death had shaken him in a way that left him fractured. It wasn’t just about losing someone; it was about what she represented — the possibility of something better, something worth fighting for. When that was ripped away, so too was Suguru’s belief in the world he had dedicated his life to.

And as that belief crumbled, you could see him beginning to unravel, piece by piece, day by day. His sense of purpose, once steadfast and clear, became clouded by doubts and questions, and you feared that he might never find his way back.

There were moments when you caught glimpses of the Suguru you used to know — fleeting sparks of the person who still believed, still fought. But they were just that: moments. Each one shorter than the last, like the dying flickers of a candle on the verge of being snuffed out.

It was in those moments that you knew you were losing him, and no matter how tightly you tried to hold on, he was slipping through your fingers. And you were helpless to stop it.

At first, you tried to reach him. You stayed by his side, offering your hand, your presence, anything you could to help him through the storm of grief and guilt. But Suguru had already begun to slip away, and no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t pull him back.

The moments of warmth between you grew fewer and far between. Where there had once been easy conversation and soft smiles, now there was a distance — a hollow space between you that seemed impossible to bridge. Suguru, once so attentive, now drifted away even when you were right next to him. You’d talk, but he’d be somewhere else, his thoughts consumed by something darker, something you couldn’t touch.

It drained you, the slow unraveling of your relationship. The pain of watching the person you loved most in the world grow cold, distant, slipping through your fingers no matter how tightly you tried to hold on. But you stayed. You stayed because you meant it when you told him he was the love of your life. You stayed because you couldn’t bear the thought of abandoning him in his darkest hour, even if he no longer wanted you there.

And he didn’t. You could see it in the way his gaze no longer softened when it landed on you, in the way he brushed off your concern with short, clipped words. He no longer sought your comfort. When he was hurting, he turned inward, shutting you out completely. And yet, you stayed, clinging to the hope that somewhere deep down, the Suguru you had fallen in love with was still there, buried beneath the grief and the anger.

But it wasn’t just grief. You could feel the bitterness growing in him, a festering resentment toward the world that had demanded so much from him, toward the system that had failed Riko, that had failed all of you. He stopped talking about your future together, stopped talking about anything that wasn’t steeped in cynicism and frustration. He was changing, and you could feel it, a slow and terrible shift that left you standing on the outside, helpless to stop it.

The breaking point came in quiet moments, little by little, until you couldn’t deny it anymore. You weren’t the love of his life. You weren’t his anchor, his equal, his partner. Not anymore. Suguru’s love had been replaced with something else — an obsession, a mission that consumed him, left no room for you or the bond you had shared. He became fixated on a world where the weak didn’t have to suffer, where sorcerers like him weren’t forced to bear the weight of protecting humanity. His ideals twisted, hardened into something cold and unrecognizable.

And you watched, heartbroken, as the man you loved disappeared into that darkness.

Even when he pushed you away, you stayed. You stayed because you loved him. You stayed because you believed, deep down, that there was still some part of him that loved you too. But with every passing day, it became harder to hold onto that belief. The way he looked at you had changed. There was no warmth, no affection, only a distant coldness that chilled you to your core.

You would lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling while Suguru sat in silence, lost in his own thoughts, the space between you stretching wider and wider until it felt like you were in different worlds entirely. You could feel the end coming, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave.

Because he was the love of your life.

But you could no longer say the same for him.

Somehow, the only way you could still feel his presence was in those moments of intimacy. When everything else seemed fractured, when his eyes were distant and his heart seemed closed off, it was in those fleeting, intense connections that you could still sense a glimmer of the man you had once known.

The nights were the hardest. You would lay beside him, and though the silence between you was heavy, it was in the quiet moments leading up to those encounters that you found a semblance of the closeness you had lost. When Suguru touched you, it was almost like a desperate attempt to reclaim a part of himself that was missing — a way to bridge the chasm that had grown between you.

When he made love to you, it was a paradox. It was as if he was trying to find solace in you, to fill the void within himself, even if the effort often left you both raw and aching. His movements were urgent, almost frantic, as if he was trying to escape from the pain that had consumed him. His touch, though sometimes rough, was filled with a fervor that betrayed the depth of his emotions, a desperate reach for something he had lost.

You would lay beneath him, feeling every inch of him as he moved, every thrust a mix of pleasure and pain. Even as tears streamed down your face, even as your body shook with a mix of conflicting emotions, there was a strange sense of connection. It was in these moments of vulnerability and rawness that you felt his pleasure, his need, and somehow, you still felt loved — even if it was through the prism of his own desperation.

His breath came in ragged gasps, mingling with yours, and the room was filled with the sound of your shared intensity. It was as if the pleasure was a balm for both of you, a way to soothe the fractures that had formed in your relationship. His hands gripped you tightly, his body moving with a fervor that spoke of a deep-seated longing to feel something, anything, that resembled the love you had once shared.

In those moments, when the world outside ceased to exist and all that mattered was the connection between your bodies, you felt a bittersweet semblance of closeness. Even as his pleasure mingled with your own tears, there was an undeniable intensity to it, a shared experience that temporarily bridged the emotional chasm between you.

But even as you felt him inside you, lost in the throes of passion, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was also a form of self-medication for him — a way to numb the pain, to forget the pieces of himself that were missing. It was as if he was trying to patch up the voids within him, using you as a vessel for his own fleeting moments of relief.

And so you continued, both of you lost in it, in a dance of pleasure and sorrow that seemed to provide a temporary escape from the reality of what had become of your relationship. The intimacy, though deeply painful at times, was also a reminder of what once was, of the bond you had shared — a bond that was still there, hidden beneath layers of grief and change.

As he finally reached the peak of his pleasure, his body tensing above you, you could feel the release echo through both of you. And though the moment was fleeting, it was a reminder of the connection that still lingered, however strained and fractured it had become. You lay there, both of you panting and spent, the silence of the room wrapping around you once more, the echoes of your shared experience lingering in the stillness.

In those moments, you clung to the hope that despite the overwhelming changes, there was still a part of Suguru that needed you, that loved you in the only way he knew how to express now. It was a painful paradox, but it was all you had left — the bittersweet solace of feeling loved through the remnants of a passion that once defined your relationship.

Suguru’s pace never faltered, his body pressed relentlessly against yours, each thrust deeper than the last. His eyes were half-lidded with a raw, burning need, his hands never loosening their grip on your trembling body.

Even as your voice broke into breathless cries, your hands clutched desperately at him, grounding yourself in the overwhelming sensations that coursed through you. He was utterly lost in you, consumed by the devotion he had promised — his worship of you unending, fervent, and wild.

Your body ached with the pleasure of it, shaking beneath him as he continued even after you had come. He was relentless, his hips driving against yours in a rhythm that sent shivers down your spine, each movement feeding the fire that burned between you. You felt overwhelmed, consumed, your body unable to keep up with the intensity of his desire, but you didn’t want him to stop. Not ever.

“Suguru….” you whimpered again, your voice cracking, barely able to speak as his thrusts grew rougher, more desperate. “Please…”

But whether you were begging for more or for a moment’s reprieve, even you didn’t know. He responded with a low, guttural moan, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot and ragged against your lips.

His eyes, dark and wild, locked onto yours as he murmured in a voice thick with lust, “I need you… I need you more than anything. You’re everything.”

Your heart pounded, his words igniting something deep within you as your body gave in completely, surrendering to him as if you were both caught in the grip of something sacred and sinful all at once. He pushed deeper, each thrust taking you to the edge of what your body could handle, the pleasure blending with a delicious ache that left you trembling against him.

The thunder outside roared, masking your moans as his worship grew more fervent, his devotion unrelenting. Your body shook beneath him, every nerve alight as he claimed you over and over. Your hands slid up his back, your nails digging into his skin, marking him as yours as he took you higher, his pace unbroken, his rhythm fierce and untamed.

Lightning flashed again, casting the room in harsh light, illuminating the way his muscles strained as he drove into you, his face twisted in both agony and ecstasy. His voice, hoarse and filled with desperate reverence, reached you between the booming thunder. “You’re mine… only mine.”

The words broke something in you, your body shaking as the pleasure surged through you once again, your cries swallowed by the storm. You clung to him as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you, your body collapsing into his as the intensity of it all took you to the brink of delirium.

Suguru wasn’t far behind. His movements grew frantic, his body trembling with the effort of holding back as long as he could. But in the end, he couldn’t resist any longer. With a low, primal groan, he buried himself deep inside you one last time, his release washing over him as he collapsed into you, his entire body shaking with the force of it.

For a moment, neither of you moved, tangled together in a haze of exhaustion and bliss, the sound of the storm outside slowly fading into the background. His breath was heavy against your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he whispered, “Take it. Like the good girl you are. Take it.”

YOU WEREN’T GOOD AT BEING ALONE. Not even after ten years had passed. Somehow, the only way you could still feel his presence was in those moments of intimacy. When everything else seemed fractured, when his eyes were distant and his heart seemed closed off, it was in those fleeting, intense connections that you could still sense a glimmer of the man you had once known.

Even after he left and defected, becoming Jujutsu society’s enemy — and in a way, your own enemy — Suguru still sought you out. It didn't matter that years had passed, or that he had crossed lines no one could return from. Ten years later, you still let him in. You still let him ruin you.

You told yourself you wanted to care. To be angry, to be disgusted, to shut the door on him the moment you saw his familiar silhouette lurking in the shadows. But the truth was, it was hard to care.

Even with the blood on his hands — the blood of innocent people, of those you once fought beside — you let him ruin you. Because you loved him. You always had, and some part of you suspected you always would, even if he didn’t love you anymore.

And maybe that was the most painful part — knowing that his love had withered into something twisted, something tainted by his bitterness toward the world. But you? You held on to what once was, clutching it desperately, as if it could somehow bring back the man he used to be. The Suguru who laughed with you, who shared quiet nights under the stars, who believed in protecting the world no matter the cost.

Now, all you could do was lie back in the tub, bright bubbly water enveloping your body, offering a moment of warmth in a life that felt increasingly cold. You have been there for a long while now. But you didn’t have the energy to leave. You’ve been on a mission for a whole three days, and you had nothing left in you. Nothing but bitterness and perhaps, the energy for a smoke.

All that was left in you was the will to smoke the cigarette between your fingers. You watched it burn lazily in your grasp, a thin stream of smoke curling up. It was addicting, to watch it dancing above the tip like fleeting memories. Fleeting, unattainable memories that you couldn’t quite grasp with everything in you anymore.

Your vinyl played those rough melodies, the loud boom of it filling the cramped, claustrophobic bathroom with anything but peace. Somehow the chaos was all that kept the thoughts in your head out. It was all that let you breathe. It was almost peaceful — almost enough to pretend things were normal. Chaos, you think, was the only thing that made your life have harmony. Even if it kills you softly.

You can only ever look up at him, leaning against the doorframe. Your deep, dead eyes looked at him as though there was still light in them. As though there wasn’t any resentment, any grief. As though there was nothing but emptiness. Perhaps all that will ever be left behind in them were those tired tenderness.

That brutal acceptance of what he was, what you had become to each other. You took a deep hit of the cigarette, taking in the smoke as though it was the oxygen you needed. His gaze never left yours as the smoke snarled through your face.

Suguru could only ever return the gesture, though you could see the deep set of fatigue etched in the lines of his face. His once-bright purple eyes, the ones that used to light up with hope and purpose, now seemed dull, as though the weight of his choices had drained the life from them. He, just as much as you, had become soulless. Lifeless. Walking corpses. Nothing more, nothing less.

His purple haze lazily traveled over your body, taking in the curves, the skin glistening under the dim light. But there was no lust, no hunger. At least, not that you know of. These days, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. But you suppose, his eyes tell more than his mind does. As empty as they were.

All you can see in him was acceptance, even if it was just a flash of a moment. That same old tired familiarity. He had seen you like this countless times before — vulnerable, exposed, both physically and emotionally. And yet, somehow, this moment felt different. More final, more resigned. More exhausted. More empty. Each and every time, you think it gets worse. But you suppose that’s just what it is.

He didn’t say a word, and neither did you. What was there left to say? You had given him your love, your body, your trust, and in return, he had broken you. Over and over again. But still, you let him. Because no matter how far he had fallen, no matter how many lives he had taken, you couldn’t bring yourself to turn him away.

You watched him as he stood there, wondering if he ever thought about what you could have been — if, in another life, things might have turned out differently. But you didn’t ask, and he didn’t offer. You don’t wanna think about it anymore. Instead, you took another heavy drag from your cigarette, the smoke filling your lungs as the silence between you stretched on. Only the loud chaos of the vinyl remained, and maybe, the tap water’s flow on the sink.

You wondered if he was going to stay the night, maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t matter. Either way, you would still love him, even as he ruined you again. Because that’s what you did. That’s what you always did. And some part of you suspected that deep down, you didn’t really want it to stop.

You exhaled a slow stream of smoke, watching as it twisted into the air before dissolving into the dimness of the room. His eyes lingered on the ash filled with water before returning to your face. For a moment, it looked like he was going to say something, but the silence between you stretched on, thick and heavy.

"Suguru." you finally broke the stillness, your voice quiet but steady. He blinked, as if hearing his name after so long startled him. "What are you looking for? After all this time, why come back?"

His gaze faltered. You could see it in his eyes — the hesitation, the wariness. He didn’t want to answer, not fully, not truthfully. "I don’t know, if I’m being honest." he murmured after a pause, his voice hoarse. "Maybe I’m just… tired."

You offered a faint smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. "We’re both tired, Suguru. But that doesn’t explain why you’re here. Why do you always come back."

He pushed himself off the doorframe, moving closer to you, the soft sound of his footsteps barely audible over the horrendous music. His large fingers brushed the edge of the tub, his eyes tracing the ashy bubbles floating on the surface.

"Do you ever think about what we could’ve been?" he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

You took another drag from the cigarette, the embers glowing brighter in the dim light. "I used to." you admitted, staring down at the water. "But thinking about it didn’t change anything. What we are now… it’s not what we could’ve been."

His expression tightened, a shadow of regret crossing his features, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he knelt beside the tub, his fingers trailing through the warm water. It was such a simple gesture, but it felt intimate — too intimate for what you had become.

"Suguru." you said softly, not meeting his eyes. "We’re not the same people we were ten years ago. You know that."

He was quiet for a long moment before he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "And yet, I still find myself here. With you."

You looked at him then, really looked at him. The lines of exhaustion, the hollowness in his once-bright eyes, the weariness that clung to him like a second skin. He was a stranger now, and yet… he was still Suguru. The man you had loved, the man you still loved. Even after everything. And you hated it. You hated everything about it. You hated him. And yet….and yet, you loved him all the same.

"I don’t know how to stop coming back to you." he admitted, his voice raw. "I don’t even know if I want to."

You sighed, the weight of his words pressing down on you. "Maybe you’re not supposed to," you said softly, flicking the ash from your cigarette into the water. "But that doesn’t mean this is healthy. For either of us."

He didn’t respond. Instead, he reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. His touch was soft, familiar, and you closed your eyes against the warmth of his palm, against the flood of memories his touch brought with it. For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to imagine that things were different, that you hadn’t ended up here, in this cycle of love and destruction.

But when you opened your eyes, reality came crashing back.

"Suguru," you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of unspoken words. "You ruin me. Every time. And I let you."

He swallowed hard, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. "I know," he said, his voice breaking. "I know. And I’m sorry."

You laughed softly, bitterly, shaking your head. "Sorry doesn’t fix anything. It never has."

He lowered his head, the exhaustion in his posture more evident than ever. "I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t think I can."

You took a final drag from your cigarette, letting the smoke fill your lungs before exhaling it slowly. "Then maybe," you said quietly, "you should stop trying."

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a sadness that ran deeper than words. "And if I don’t know how to let go?"

You reached out, your fingers brushing his, before pulling away. "Then we’ll keep doing this. Over and over again. Until there’s nothing left of either of us."

Suguru stared at you, his expression unreadable, but you could feel the weight of his guilt, his regret, in the silence that followed. You wanted to believe he would leave this time — that he’d walk away and never come back. But you both knew the truth.

He wouldn’t.

And neither would you.

The splashes of the bathwater almost seemed to compete with the wet, rhythmic sounds of your bodies colliding, creating a symphony of intimate noise that filled the cramped space. The small bathroom was alive with the sensory chaos of your passion. The ashy, bitter, bubbly water in the tub surged over the edges with each of your movements, cascading down the sides and creating a pool of frothy suds around the base.

Geto Suguru, relaxed and reclining against the porcelain tub, looked every bit the picture of serene indulgence. His chest rose and fell heavily with each breath, a reflection of the deep, contented sighs escaping his lips. His usual composed demeanor was softened by the way he surrendered to the moment, his purple eyes half-lidded as he took in the sensation of your body pressed intimately against his.

The rhythm of your bodies moving together created a steady cadence, like the ticking of a clock in a silent room. The sound of the water mixing with the echoes of your shared breaths and whispered moans painted a vivid picture of the intense connection between you. Each splash and ripple seemed to amplify the intensity of the moment, adding a physical dimension to the emotions that were already swirling around the small space.

In this confined setting, every movement was magnified, every touch felt more pronounced, making the experience all the more enveloping and consuming. The heat of the water and the warmth of Suguru's body combined to create an almost intoxicating environment, where the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the sensory overload of the moment you were sharing.

Your fingers clutched the rim of the tub for support, knuckles turning white as his hands gripped your waist, guiding your hips with a slow, deliberate pace. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with lust and something darker — something that lingered between desire and destruction.

Geto Suguru’s gaze was heavy-lidded with passion, with pleasure. His tired eyes never leave your face with every moment. His lips parted slightly, releasing a low groan as your movements quickened, water splashing violently around you. It was intense, almost punishing, the way you moved together — like you were trying to drown out everything else, the pain, the guilt, the past. In these moments, nothing else existed.

He let out a sharp breath, his grip tightening as he thrust deeper into you, sending another wave of water crashing against the sides of the tub. The wet sounds of your bodies moving together filled the room, mingling with the music still softly playing in the background. It was a strange contrast — the gentle melody against the raw, primal intimacy unfolding between you.

"Fuck…" Suguru muttered, his voice rough, barely audible above the splashing water. His hand slid up your back, pulling you closer, his lips brushing against your neck, hot breath ghosting over your skin. "I can’t… stop."

You gasped in response, your body arching against him as he pressed deeper, harder, his movements becoming more desperate. There was no tenderness, no softness — just need. Need for you, for the release, for the fleeting escape from the weight of everything that had come between you.

But even in the heat of the moment, you felt the familiar ache creeping back in, the realization that this wouldn’t change anything. You were caught in the same cycle, both of you — tangled in a web of love, regret, and ruin. And even as you lost yourself in him, in the way he filled you completely, you knew that this would never be enough to heal the wounds you both carried.

Your breath hitched as he buried himself deeper, your thighs trembling with the intensity of it all. His name left your lips in a soft, broken whisper, and for a moment, it felt like you were both on the edge of something — not just release, but something far more terrifying. The edge of losing yourselves to each other completely.

But as your climax built, the water splashing and your moans blending with the music, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not at that moment. You leaned down, your lips brushing his as your body shuddered around him, and in that fleeting second, it was just the two of you — all the pain, the guilt, the love, suspended in the air between the breaths you shared.

Then, with a final, desperate thrust, everything shattered.

Your body trembled as the waves of pleasure finally subsided, the water still sloshing gently around you both. The heat of the moment lingered in the air, but as the fog of lust cleared, reality settled back in — heavy and suffocating. You stayed there for a moment, leaning against Suguru’s chest, your breath still ragged, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on you.

But as his hand slid up your back, a soft caress, something inside you broke. This couldn’t continue. Not anymore.

You slowly lifted yourself off of him, your body protesting the movement as the water rippled in your wake. You stood up, the warm water dripping off your skin, but you felt cold inside. Turning your back to him, you grabbed the towel from the rack, wrapping it around your body, trying to create some distance — any distance — between you and what had just happened.

"Suguru." you said, your voice quiet but firm. You still hadn’t turned to face him. "This can’t happen again."

He didn’t respond right away, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching, waiting. You could almost hear his thoughts, the confusion, the quiet disbelief. He probably thought you didn’t mean it. That you were just saying it because the guilt always hit harder after intimacy.

You turned to face him then, your eyes meeting his. His expression was calm, though there was a flicker of something — maybe sadness, maybe frustration — in his eyes. "You have to stop coming here," you continued, your voice shaking slightly. "This is… it’s destroying both of us. And I can’t do this anymore. I won’t."

He shifted in the tub, his elbows resting on the sides as he sat up, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to understand where this was coming from. "You don’t mean that," he murmured, his voice low and even. "You always say you’re done, but you never are."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, and you shook your head. "I know. I’ve said it before. But I mean it this time, Suguru." You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "This… whatever we’ve become, it’s not love anymore. It’s pain. And I can’t keep letting you back into my life just so we can tear each other apart."

He ran a hand through his wet hair, his jaw clenched as he listened, his gaze never leaving yours. "You still love me," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That’s the problem," you replied, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. "I do still love you. I think I always will. But that’s not enough anymore."

You stepped closer to him, kneeling by the edge of the tub, your hands gripping the porcelain, your face inches from his. "Every time you come back, I let you in because I hope… I hope something will change. Maybe, this time, you’ll stay. Or that you’ll choose me over whatever it is you’re chasing. But you never do. And I can’t keep living with that."

Suguru’s expression faltered for the briefest moment, the weight of your words sinking in. But then, just as quickly, his usual calm mask slipped back into place. "You think I don’t want to stay?" he asked, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place — regret, maybe, or guilt. "You think I don’t miss what we had?"

"Then why don’t you?" you shot back, the frustration and heartache boiling to the surface. "Why do you always leave, Suguru? Why do you keep coming back, only to walk away again?"

He didn’t have an answer, and in that silence, the truth was louder than anything he could have said.

"I can’t keep doing this," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I need you to go. And this time, I need you to never come back."

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you thought you saw the same brokenness in him that you felt in yourself. But instead of pleading or apologizing, he stood up, the water dripping off him as he stepped out of the tub. He grabbed his clothes, moving quietly, his expression unreadable.

"Suguru," you called after him, your voice wavering. "Please. Don’t make this harder."

He paused at the door, his back to you, his head tilted slightly as if considering your words. Then, without turning around, he muttered softly, "You always knew this would end like this."

And with that, he was gone, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed through the quiet room.

You stood there for a long time, the sound of the bathwater still rippling behind you, the music still playing softly. But the space felt emptier now, colder. You sank to the floor, pulling the towel tighter around yourself, feeling the weight of his absence settle in your chest.

This time, you told yourself, it was really over. But as you sat there in the silence, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had truly meant it. Or if some part of you was still waiting for him to come back.

YET WORDS ARE EASIER THAN ACTION. And you know, you were born to be a liar. Both of you were. And in the quiet aftermath of Geto Suguru's departure, you knew deep down that the promises made were nothing more than echoes of empty words. The truth was, you weren’t ready to let go, and neither was he. The cycle, though painful, was one you both knew too well — and you were trapped in it, unable to break free.

As the door closed behind him, you sat alone in the bath, the water now cold and stagnant, reflecting the dim light of the room. You stared at your own reflection, the tears that had gathered at the corners of your eyes mingling with the water’s surface. The silence felt heavy, oppressive, a reminder of the lies you had told each other and yourself.

Hours later, long after the bubbles had dissipated and the water had turned colder than ever before, you heard the familiar sound of the door creaking open. He was back — just like always. The moment you heard it, a part of you felt a twisted sort of relief mixed with the sting of knowing you’d once again fall into the same pattern.

Suguru walked in, his face a mask of the same weariness you’d seen before. He didn’t say a word, but the silence between you was charged with the understanding of what was to come. It was a dance you both knew well, and despite the hurt, there was a certain comfort in the familiarity of it.

You stood up from the tub, wrapping yourself in a towel, and looked at him, your expression a mix of resignation and reluctant desire. "You came back." you said, the words sounding hollow even to your own ears.

Suguru nodded, a weary sigh escaping his lips. "You knew I would."

You swallowed hard, fighting back the surge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. "I did. I guess I always do."

He moved closer, his eyes searching yours for something — maybe forgiveness, or understanding, or just the old connection that seemed to bind you both together, no matter how hard you tried to sever it. "I’m sorry," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. "For everything."

You shook your head, a bitter smile playing on your lips. "Sorry doesn’t change anything. It never has."

He reached out, his fingers brushing your cheek, his touch as familiar as it was painful. "Then why do we keep doing this?"

You didn’t have an answer. Instead, you reached out and touched his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble under your fingertips. "Because we’re both liars," you said quietly, your voice breaking. "And we both know it. We lie to ourselves and each other about what this is, about what we want. And then we repeat it. Over and over."

He nodded, a resigned look in his eyes. "Maybe we’re just afraid of being alone. Or afraid of facing what we’ve become."

You turned away from him, walking slowly back to the edge of the tub. The cold, wet surface felt distant now, a reminder of how you’d tried to distance yourself from this pain, only to find yourself pulled back in.

Suguru followed, his presence heavy and unsettling. "What do we do now?" he asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.

You sighed, looking at him over your shoulder. "We do what we always do. We pretend. We tell ourselves that this time will be different. Maybe, somehow, it will all work out."

He came up behind you, his arms wrapping around you in a familiar embrace, his warmth mingling with the coolness of the room. "And then what?"

You leaned into him, feeling the familiar comfort of his presence despite the turmoil it brought. "And then we repeat. We rinse and repeat. Until we can’t anymore."

The space between you was filled with the heavy weight of your shared history, the cycles of love and pain that had come to define your relationship. As his lips brushed against your neck, the old familiar spark of desire reignited, even though you knew it was just another fleeting escape from the reality that awaited you both.

For now, you let him hold you, let the old patterns resume. You knew you’d fall back into the same routine — the lies, the hurt, the fleeting moments of connection. And as he began to kiss you softly, you resigned yourself to the truth you both avoided: that the cycle was far from over, and you were both too entangled to break free.

And so, you parroted the same lies, whispered the same promises, and let yourself be swept up once more in the inevitable repetition.

THAT DECEMBER RAIN WAS A PARADOX TO THINK ABOUT. You began to think that maybe, just as much, the rain was just like your love for Geto Suguru. And maybe, that’s the only way to describe everything about these past twelve years of being a prisoner to love. An inescapable, rough paradox.

When Suguru made love to you, it was a rough paradox. His touch was both urgent and tender, driven by a desperate need to escape the pain that had consumed him, yet somehow still managing to convey a deep-seated longing for connection. His movements were frantic, as if he was trying to fill a void within himself that could never truly be filled. It was as though every thrust, every caress was a plea for solace, for something that would make him whole again.

As he pressed into you, you could feel the raw intensity of his emotions, a tumultuous mix of pleasure and anguish. His touch was sometimes rough, but there was a fervor behind it that betrayed the depth of his feelings. It was a paradoxical experience — he sought to find relief in you, yet his desperation often left you both feeling more exposed, more raw than ever before.

You lay beneath him, feeling every inch of him as he moved, every thrust an amalgamation of pleasure and pain. The contrast between the physical sensations and the emotional turbulence was almost overwhelming. As his body pressed against yours, you could feel the heat of his desire, his need to escape from the emotional abyss he had fallen into. Each movement was a reminder of the complexity of your relationship — the way it was interwoven with both intense pleasure and deep-seated hurt.

Tears streamed down your face, not just from the physical sensations, but from the emotional weight that seemed to press down on you both. Your body shook with the conflicting emotions that came with these moments of vulnerability. The pleasure was undeniable, but it was mingled with an aching sadness, a realization of the cyclical nature of your interactions.

Yet, despite the tears and the pain, there was a strange, bittersweet sense of connection. In these moments, you felt his pleasure, his need, and somehow, you still felt loved. It was a love expressed through the prism of his own desperation — a love that was as flawed and tangled as the relationship itself.

His breaths were ragged, his movements increasingly frantic, as if he was trying to drown out the pain that clung to him, that clung to both of you. His hands gripped your hips with a fierce urgency, his gaze locked onto yours as if trying to find something in your eyes that could make everything right again.

Despite the intensity and the pain, there was an intimacy in these moments that was deeply profound. You could feel the depth of his need, the rawness of his emotions, and the connection that persisted even through the chaos. It was an unspoken understanding, a shared experience that bound you together in a way that was both beautiful and heartbreaking.

As he reached his climax, his body trembling above yours, the release was a mixture of relief and sorrow. You could sense the fleeting solace he found in these moments, the temporary escape from the anguish that had become a part of him. And as he collapsed against you, both of you panting and spent, the room fell into a heavy silence.

In the aftermath, you both lay there, the air between you thick with unspoken words and the weight of the cycle you were trapped in. The connection was palpable, but so was the realization that, despite everything, you were both still searching for something — something that might never be found. And as you lay there together, the intimacy of the moment was tinged with a poignant sense of resignation, the awareness that, even in your deepest connection, you were both still haunted by the same demons.

In these moments, you were reminded of the paradox of your relationship — the way it was both a source of comfort and a reflection of the pain you both carried. And as you lay there, holding each other, you knew that despite the rawness and the tears, you would continue to navigate this cycle, searching for solace in each other, even as you remained trapped in the same, unending pattern.

You both lay naked together, the warmth of your bed now replaced by the chill of the room. The silence was heavy, filled with the echoes of your shared vulnerability and the weight of what was to come. Suguru’s body was pressed close to yours, his breath warm against your skin, but the intimacy of the moment was overshadowed by the gravity of his next words.

“Satoru and the Jujutsu society…..” Suguru said quietly, his voice carrying a determined edge. “I’m declaring war on them tomorrow.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, and your heart raced. You turned to look at him, your eyes wide with a mix of fear and resolve. “You know I can’t let that happen,” you said, your voice trembling. “I’d have to kill you before I let you get to Satoru. You know that.”

Suguru’s lips curved into a sad, knowing smile. “Maybe it’s better that way, don’t you think?” he said softly, his eyes reflecting a mix of resignation and acceptance. “Maybe it’s better that you and I can’t be on the same side in this.”

The finality of his words was crushing, and tears began to stream down your face. You felt an unbearable ache in your chest, the raw pain of knowing that the love you had shared was leading to this inevitable end.

“Why did you have to make a home in my heart like this?” you asked through your sobs, your voice cracking with the depth of your sorrow. “Why did you have to become such a part of me?”

Suguru laughed bitterly, a sound that cut through the room like a knife. “I should ask you the same thing, hm?” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “Why did you let me in? Why did you give me a place in your heart when you knew how this would end?”

The room fell into a profound silence, the only sound the soft, stifled cries that escaped you both. The weight of your shared pain and the knowledge of the impending separation hung heavily in the air. The love that had once brought you together was now the source of your deepest anguish.

Suguru’s voice broke the silence, soft and filled with a tenderness that seemed out of place in the current turmoil. “I love you, with everything in me.” he said, his voice breaking. “I love you the most in the world. And if there is a next life, I hope….our rebirthed souls would be happy together.”

You looked at him, your heart shattering at his words. The intensity of his love was clear, even in the midst of the devastation he was about to bring. You wanted to reach out, to hold him, to find some last shred of comfort before the end, but the reality of his decision was unchangeable.

Suguru rose from the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He dressed quietly, his back turned to you as he prepared to leave. The finality of his actions was palpable, and you could feel the end drawing near, a dark and inevitable conclusion to everything you had shared.

As he opened the door to leave, you felt an overwhelming sense of finality. This was it. This was the end. There was no going back, no more second chances. The love you had for each other had brought you to this point, and now it was tearing you apart.

Suguru looked back at you one last time, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and resolve. Then, he stepped out, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

You sat there, alone in the silence, the tears flowing freely now. The emptiness of the room felt like a reflection of the void left in your heart. The weight of his departure, the knowledge of the impending conflict, and the finality of his words all combined to leave you in a state of profound sorrow.

As you wept, you felt the crushing realization that this was truly the end of everything you had known. The love, the pain, the shared moments — all of it was over. And as you cried out the last remnants of your heartache, you knew that you would carry the weight of this loss with you forever.

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schemmentigfs · 7 months ago

Note

Req/idea: Melissa wanting to pleasure the reader, but she’s inexperienced with women? (Talking her through it, reassurance, building trust, etc)

Her First Woman’s Touch.

Summary: Melissa goes through a difficult process of self-discovery and acceptance to learn more about intimacy between women, so she can give you pleasure during sex.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of religious trauma, internalized homophobia, a single slur, body insecurities, smoking, smut. melissa might be out of character sometimes? joe hate club

Notes: This is long, but it’s worth it. 🤍 i wrote it with so much love, so enjoy babies.

Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti wasn’t insecure and vulnerable. She always was the rock of her social circle, the unstoppable woman who could handle anything thrown at her with a steady, unflinching resolve. Her demeanor was tough, marked by a confidence that rarely wavered. But lately, a huge doubt consumed her.

After years of feeling trapped by a label that didn’t define and fit her, she finally came out as a bisexual woman. However, this new freedom came with its own uncertainties. Now, being in a stable four months relationship with you, a more younger, captivating and more experienced soul. Her heart was racing as she thought about how she wanted to please you and be sexually intimate, but her lack of experience with women made her hesitant.

The painful memories of her college years flooded her mind again and again, a time when she had yearned to explore her bisexuality but felt shackled by her upbringing. Her parents, deeply religious, had instilled in her a profound sense of guilt about any feelings that strayed from their beliefs. Melissa always watched with envy as others embraced their identities, while she remained in silence, suppressing who she was. This inner conflict persisted long after graduation, but now, as an adult, it felt heavier than ever.

The memory of her father’s harsh words cut through her like a knife. “You’re going to burn in hell, Melissa Ann!” he shouted, his voice thick with anger and disappointment. “You’re gonna be the black sheep of the Schemmentis. If you don’t stop with those stupid thoughts.” Those horrendous words, once echoing through their small, cluttered kitchen, now reverberated in her mind, haunting her even years later. “Someone corrupted you, that’s not the daughter I raised to make me and your mother proud. Non sei un fottuto frocio!”

A knot tightened in her stomach, a familiar feeling of dread and nausea creeping in as she recalled her traumatic childhood. She remembered the confusion and shame she felt, struggling to understand why she was drawn to both boys and girls. It was a realization she had kept hidden for so long, fearing the wrath and rejection of her family. Every stolen glance, every fleeting crush on a girl, had been tainted with guilt and self–recrimination.

For decades she blamed herself for not being straight. For not fitting into the strict normal mold her family expected her to follow. The fear of condemnation had forced her to hide her true self, living in a constant state of doubt. The burden of carrying her secret had made her feel isolated and alone, as if she were the only one in the world grappling with these feelings.

In her teenage years growing up in a strict devout Catholic household, Melissa would often lock herself in her bedroom, her sanctuary from the outside world, and pray. The room was small, with a crucifix hanging on the wall above her bed, and a small statue of the Virgin Mary on her simple nightstand. The faint scent of incense from morning Mass still lingered in the air. On the days when the weight of her feelings became too much, she would kneel by her bed, clasping her hands tightly together, her knuckles white with tension.

But her prayers often turned into desperate arguments with God. She’d rail against the silence that seemed to mock her suffering. In fits of anger and confusion, she would scream at the crucifix, questioning why she was cursed with desires that didn’t align with the life she had been taught to lead. Melissa was supposed to marry a good healthy man and start a family of her own, wasn’t she?

“Dear Lord, why have you condemned me to this torment?” she cried out, her voice cracking with desperation. “Why have you made me this way? Why can’t you accept me for who I am? Am I so abhorrent in your sight that I must suffer endlessly? Tell me—am I so wrong, so irredeemable in your eyes?”

She paused. “And what about my feelings for both boys and girls? Is it a sin to love them both? Am I to be punished because my heart refuses to choose between them? Why must my own nature be a source of such unending pain? Why can’t you understand that my love for them is just as real, just as genuine, as any other?”

One evening, overwhelmed by the unbearable weight of her internal conflict, Melissa’s deepest frustration reached a boiling point. She hurled a wooden chair across the room, its legs scraping loudly against the floor as it crashed into the wall. The violent act seemed to punctuate her desperation, the chair’s splintering echo a stark contrast to her deep-seated pain.

“Why do you let Pa call me a dyke? Why do you let him say I’m an abomination? You know the pain it causes me! Why do you let him tear me apart inside while Ma pretends nothing’s wrong?”

Her knees buckled as she collapsed to the floor. The coldness of the tiles was a stark contrast to the feverish heat of her anger. One of the holy saints statues, a symbol of her faith, tumbled from its pedestal and shattered, its fragments scattering across the room.

The once serene face was now a mosaic of broken pieces. The porcelain, once pure and whole, now lay in shards, mirroring her own fragmented sense of self. The saint’s broken visage was a stark reminder of the purity that had been tainted by the harsh reality of her suffering.

“No! Not Saint Maria! Nonna’s favorite saint!”

The exhaustion was overwhelming. She felt her limbs growing numb and her head growing heavy. Her vision blurred, and the room spun around her. Despite her attempts to fight it, her body succumbed to the fatigue. Her breaths grew shallower as she drifted closer to unconsciousness.

As she began to lose consciousness, her lips parted, and a whisper escaped her mouth. “I’m just… a failure,” she murmured, voice barely audible. Her depressive words were a final, fragile admission of her internal turmoil. The words were soaked in the weight of her self-loathing and the pain of feeling misunderstood and rejected.

The door creaked open slightly, and Kristin Marie peeked into the old bedroom, her wide eyes searching for her older sister. She saw Melissa sprawled on the floor, her form partially obscured by the scattered shards and a amount of blood. Her innocent curiosity was momentarily replaced by concern, but the sight of her stillness made her stop.

“Sister Mel is sleepy,” she giggled, her words full of poor miscomprehension. The toddler turned to leave, deciding to give her sister the rest she seemed to need. “Play later!”

Hours later, Melissa slowly stirred, her head throbbing with a dull ache. As she tried to sit up, she felt a sticky warmth on her forehead. She reached up, her fingers coming away covered in a faint crimson. Groaning softly, she touched the spot gingerly and winced as the pain intensified.

“Son of a bitch...”

Gazing at the mess and determined to salvage what was left, she carefully gathered the shards of the broken statue, her hands shaking slightly. She meticulously cleaned the pieces, placing them in a small box as though they were precious remnants of something sacred. And pretended that nothing happened. It was now her dirty little secret.

One that Melissa would keep with her until her death.

Every family gathering, every holiday, was a reminder of how different she felt, how she didn't belong. The Schemmentis prided themselves on their strong values, and she felt like an outlier, a blemish on their perfect image. The weight of her father's words and her mother’s neglecting was a constant reminder of the expectations she could never meet the acceptance Melissa feared she would never find. The poor woman’s siblings, although supportive of their sister, stood in silence, afraid of going against their beloved ma and pa.

In the midst of this stifling environment as life continued, the older woman remained in complete denial. At work, she kept her personal life carefully hidden. Even though her closest colleagues sensed her discomfort and unease, they never pried. She wore her public mask of professionalism and cheerfulness, but beneath it, she was struggling with her own truths.

Becoming a tough woman and pretending to just be heterosexual, a role she embraced, took a significant toll on her mental being. This strength she presented to the world was both a shield and a cage. The weight to maintain this image meant suppressing her vulnerabilities and emotions, leading to a constant internal battle. Her moments of solitude were marked by a deep, unspoken sadness as she grappled with isolation.

The persona she projected often felt like a lie, one that she had to uphold despite the emotional exhaustion it caused. Her mental health suffered as she became increasingly disconnected from her true self. Not recognizing herself anymore.

Melissa’s failed marriage with Joe was a constant reminder of the life she had tried to conform to but never truly belonged to.

That seemed to change when Ava hired you as the new teacher to take third-grade class. You brought a warmth and openness that cut through the fiery redhead’s worst barriers, sparking a connection she had not anticipated. As your friendship deepened into something more, she found herself struggling with feelings she had long suppressed. Despite her growing affection for you, she hesitated to cross the line into physical intimacy.

This vulnerability and insecurity consumed her every single second. As she lay in her king-sized bed on a Friday night after a busy day at school, she couldn’t help but replay every moment of your relationship in her mind. She worried constantly about whether she was good enough for you, fearing she might be making you impatient due to her reluctance to have sex. The fear of disappointing you gnawed at her, and she found herself staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. She ached with the desire to connect with you on a deeper level, to show you just how much she cared, but the uncertainty held her back.

Each night, as she lay next to you in your complex apartment, the older woman would often find herself tracing the gentle curves of your sleeping body with her fingertips, memorizing the softness of your skin under her touch. You were a source of warmth and safety, still every time she opened her mouth to voice her fears, the words lodged in her throat. It was a silent battle, one that filled her with shame and frustration. Melissa felt as if she was a stranger in her own body, struggling to reconcile her desires with her reality.

You had been nothing but patient, reassuring her multiple times that there was no rush at all, that love was about connection and trust. Even amidst your understanding, a humiliation consumed her. How could she be almost fifty four and still feel so unprepared for something natural like that? The shame burned fiercely in her chest, a constant reminder of her late blooming, leaving her wondering if she could ever truly satisfy you in the ways you deserved.

“Santo cielo. I can’t do this I fuckin’ can’t.” Melissa cursed, tears threatening to fall into her green eyes. Why was this so damn complicated? The internal struggle felt unbearable, as if a storm was about to explode inside her. It consumed her, and even surrounded by understanding, the pressure of everything was overwhelming.

Turning her head toward the mirror, she stared at her reflection. The image staring back at her was a woman trapped between two worlds. On one side was the freedom she had found in accepting her sexuality, a liberation she had long yearned for. On the other hand, the harsh reality of her insecurities loomed large, amplified by her constant comparisons to others who seemed so much more experienced and confident. The weight of her inexperience made her feel small and inadequate.

She sat up in bed, wiping at her eyes angrily. “Fuck this, Schemmenti,” she muttered. The words came out as a broken whisper, a desperate plea to herself, but the self-reproach did little to ease the turmoil inside her. The tears came anyway, hot and unchecked, as she let out a shuddering breath. She needed to find a way to talk to you, to bridge the gap that her disquiet had created. But the question remained—could she overcome her past and embrace the love she had found with you? She wanted to explore, to learn, to share everything with you, but the fear of failing paralyzed her.

“There are so many things I still don’t understand,” the redhead continued, her voice choking, as if she was waiting for someone to answer her. “So many things that I need to explore. And I keep getting lost in doubts. It’s not fair to you, baby. It’s not fair to me either.”

Melissa let out a long, weary sigh as she sank into the soft embrace of the sheets once again, curling up into a tight ball of self–deprecation. The emptiness of the bedroom started to swallow her figure, a stark contrast to the comfort and safety she used to feel. She stared at the empty space beside her, her gaze tracing the outlines of the pillow and the indentations where you lain on weekends. The walls of the room, once so familiar, now seemed cold and distant, offering little solace from the storm of emotions inside her.

Memories of happy times with you surfaced, fleeting but powerful, when she would catch you looking at her with tenderness, and such understanding, that it felt like the world stopped spinning. In those moments, her apprehension would momentarily dissipate, replaced by the warmth of your company and gaze. She remembered how you would gently reassure her, your voice a soothing balm to her restless state.

I know I’m your first woman; that means everything to me.

I’ll be gentle, just take your time. You’re safe with me.

Your reassurances helped—sometimes. When you’d say things like those, a part of her believed you, trusted in your kindness. But another part of her couldn’t stop the flood of negativity, couldn’t shut out the fear that she would disappoint you, that she was fumbling through something too precious to ruin.

You’ll never be enough for her, Melissa. You’ve never done this before. She’ll get tired of waiting for you to figure it out. You’ll embarrass yourself.

You’re fumbling, and she’s just being nice. She’s just waiting for the moment she can walk away.

You’re too old for this. You’re too slow, too clumsy. She can do better. She will do better.

“Mi dispiace amore mio, sono un codardo,” she yelled punching the mattress with her fist.

That Friday, she cried until she fell asleep. Exhausted, her salty tears wet the pillow, and silent sobs shook her body as she tried, in vain, to calm the storm of emotions built up inside her. The deep need to feel confident and equal to the love you gave her. And as a troubled sleep finally embraced her, Melissa felt a small relief. The crying, in a way, had been a step towards releasing the feelings that tormented her.

Was she really a coward that would never face her fears?

What were you doing with an old lady like her who didn’t know anything?

Wouldn’t it just be better if you left her?

Over the weekend, the older woman was relaxing on the plastic couch in her living room, a glass of red wine resting in her right hand as she puffed away at a cigarette. The soft lights created a welcoming atmosphere, and the sound of the television, playing Celebrity Jeopardy, filled the space with a comfortable familiar distraction. She was distracted, but her mind was away from the entertainment, deep in thoughts about what she had just watched and what she still needed to do. Melissa watched the show's contestants, her eyes scanning the confident faces on the screen.

She looked at her cigarette, which was almost finished, and let it go out in the ashtray. Her old cigarette addiction had become a metaphor for her deepest insecurities — a habit that was difficult to break, but one that constantly reminded her of her challenges and rage. Each ember that dimmed seemed to echo the older woman's own struggles, a poignant reminder of the destructive patterns she fought to escape. The acrid smell lingered, an olfactory ghost of her past, stubbornly clinging to her clothes and her very soul. With a heavy sigh, she flicked the ash and resolved to confront the parts of herself she had long tried to ignore.

She leaned back into the couch, closing her eyes and taking another sip of wine. The warmth of the alcohol spread through her chest, loosening some of the tension. She knew she needed to do something, to find a way to overcome her fears and insecurities. But where to start? And how to reach information? The idea of opening up about her feelings, of admitting her lack of experience, felt terrifying since she hated to show any sign of weakness.

“Maybe I should do some research?” Melissa thought aloud, the idea dawning on her slowly. It sounded ridiculous at first, but the more she considered it, the more it made sense. She had always been someone who liked to be prepared, to have all the information before making a decision. This situation was no different. If she wanted to feel more confident, she needed to educate herself.

As the edition of Celebrity Jeopardy on the TV ended, replaced by a late-night talk show, Melissa stood up and stretched, feeling the tension ease from her muscles. She walked over to the windows, looking out at the night sky. The stars twinkled brightly, a reminder that the world was vast and full of possibilities. She smiled softly to herself, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

The redhead raised another cigarette to the empty room, striking a match with a soft scratch. As the flame illuminated the dark space for a moment, she took a deep drag, letting the smoke curl up around her. “To new beginnings, for me, for Y/n. To us,” she whispered, voice barely above a murmur. The words hung in the air, resonating in the quiet of the room. It wasn’t a perfect solution, and she knew doubts and fears would still linger. But it was a step in the right direction. As the TV continued to hum, Melissa felt a small flicker of hope. She might not have all the answers, but at least she was ready to start looking for them.

Over the next few days and weeks, on several sleepless nights, the teacher searched on Google. How to navigate a same-sex relationship when you’re inexperienced? she typed, pressing enter before she could second-guess herself. As the results loaded, she skimmed through the titles. There were so many women who had been in her shoes, who had felt the same insecurities and fears at one moment of their lives. With each click, she felt more intrigued and amazed as she noticed the many different options for how she could give and receive pleasure. Articles, videos, forums—an entire world unfolded before her, revealing nuances she had never considered or imagined. She read article after article, watched educational videos, and even ventured into The Womanizer and Quinn blogs where women shared their intimate experiences and advice. The sheer variety of ways to connect and pleasure each other was both overwhelming and fascinating to her.

As she read through personal stories and advice columns, Melissa felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation. She took notes, bookmarked pages, and even found herself blushing at some of the more detailed descriptions. It was a strange, exhilarating education that left her feeling more informed but still uncertain. The more she learned, the more she realized how much she didn't know. And as she delved deeper into this research, she began to realize that the key was not just in techniques, but in communication and emotional connection. The Sicilian woman recalled how your soft touches and kind words made her feel safe and wanted. Perhaps the most important thing would be to bring that same security and desire to both of you.

After weeks of diving into intense research, Melissa found herself at a crossroad. Each day spent pouring over books, articles, and seeking advice had only heightened her awareness of her inexperience. The redhead made a heartfelt promise to herself, one that resonated deeply within her. She resolved that rather than allowing her fears and uncertainties to overshadow her, she would harness the insights she had gained to fortify the bond between you. This wasn’t just about confronting her own apprehensions; it was about opening her heart fully and trusting you in ways she had never allowed herself before.

She envisioned a future where both of you could explore and embrace the full spectrum of love and connection. Melissa understood that the path ahead would not be without its challenges. It would require patience, understanding, and a willingness to be vulnerable. Although, she was committed to embarking on this journey with you. She was prepared to face her worst fears head-on and let the promise of love and trust guide her.

—

“C’mon. It shouldn’t be that hard, stop being a pussy.” The redhead huffed, walking through the busy streets and holding a small pamphlet with an address on it. Pushing herself forward. The words were meant to be a pep talk, but they came out more as a grumble. Dressed in a black leather jacket, her left hand buried deep in her pocket gripping her keys so tightly that the cold metal dug into her palm. While the right clutched the paper, she cut a confident figure. But inside, she felt like a terrified kid again.

On this afternoon, Melissa found herself standing outside a cozy queer café in Philadelphia. The establishment’s large windows framed a warm, inviting interior filled with plush armchairs, bookshelves, vases of plants and soft lighting. A sign with an impeccable handwriting on the door read Sapphic Women’s Discussion Group. All Welcome! The vibrant façade, adorned with rainbow flags and welcoming posters promoting LGBTQ+ events, felt inviting and intimidating.

She was resting on the door handle. The intrusive thought of turning around, retreating to the safety of her car, and forgetting this whole idea crossed her mind. For years, Melissa had thought about walking into a place like this, spaces that welcomed women like her, women who loved other women—but she never imagined she’d actually do it. Not at her age, not after a life of silence and denial.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods enveloping her.

“Here goes nothin’,” The Italian redhead said with a hint of sarcasm, her South Philly accent wry and unmistakable. “I swear if anyone makes funny of me, I’ll fucking ran away–”

Inside, the atmosphere was lively but casual. Women of various ages and backgrounds were seated at tables, engaged in conversations. Laughter and the hum of voices filled the air, creating a sense of community and belonging. The older woman spotted a table in the corner with a small group of women and made her way over, hoping to blend in while still taking in the atmosphere and aura. The table she chose was adorned with a simple centerpiece of fresh flowers, next to a hand-drawn menu filled with witty drink names like Sappho’s Latte and Audre’s Espresso.

“Mind if I sit here?” she asked, her voice betraying just a hint of nervousness.

They nodded, murmuring polite welcomes, and she sat down, smoothing her jacket out of habit. Just as she was settling in, a woman in her mid-thirties approached, a friendly smile lighting up her face. She had short, dark hair that fell naturally across her forehead, and her denim jacket was covered with pins advocating for various causes—pride flags, feminist slogans, and more. There was something about her presence that radiated both strength and warmth, an unspoken understanding in her eyes that seemed to invite openness.

“Hey, you’re new here, right? I’m Jules. Can I join you?”

She managed a small, nervous smile and shifted her gaze downward, politely giving her a clumsy handshake. “Sure, it’s my first time being here. I’m Melissa.”

Jules took a seat and leaned back, her presence somehow instantly putting her at ease. “So, what brings you here today?”

Melissa took a deep breath. It wasn’t easy to open up about something so personal, especially to a place full of strangers, but something about the atmosphere in the shop made her feel safe enough to try.

“Recently, I came out as bisexual,” the older woman began, trembling. “It took me years to figure it out...or maybe I knew all along, but I was just too scared to accept it because of, you know... religious guilt and family trauma.”

“That’s a huge step, Mel. Coming out, especially after carrying something like that for so long... It’s not easy. You’re brave for even being here.”

Encouraged by understanding, she continued, though her words still came out haltingly. “I.. I’m in a relationship now, with a younger woman. She’s amazing, and I really care about her. But I’ve never been intimate with a woman before, and I... I’m so scared. I want to pleasure her, make her feel good, but I don’t know where to start. I was afraid to come here and open up about this. I thought... I thought people might laugh at me or think I’m not ‘really’ bi because I’ve never done it before.”

Jules reached across the table and placed her hand on Melissa’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring pat. “You’re definitely not alone in feeling that way. A lot of us have been where you are now. It’s completely normal to feel nervous, especially when it’s all so new. But what’s important is that you’re here, willing to learn and grow.”

The green eyed woman felt a lump forming in her throat.

“I was married too," she confessed, tinged with bitterness and pain. “My ex-husband, Joe… he was a dickhead. He was always drunk, and he cheated on me more times than I can count. I stayed with him ‘cause I thought it was the ‘right’ thing to do, you know? Because of my family, because of my faith… But it was killing me inside. I was miserable, and it took me a long time to realize that I deserved better.”

“I’m sorry you went through that,” the youngest said sincerely. "No one deserves to be treated that way. But you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

As they spoke, Jules gave a subtle signal to a few women seated nearby. One by one, they began to gather around, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and encouragement. They formed a small semicircle, their presence a quiet testament to the power of community. Each woman seemed to carry her own story, her own struggles and triumphs, but there was no judgment here—only acceptance.

One of the women, a young woman with thoughtful eyes, spoke up first. “You know, sometimes the most important thing is to listen and learn without rushing. Every relationship is different. What works for one couple might not work for another.”

Another woman, slightly older, nodded in agreement. “And balancing personal space with intimacy is key. You have to be able to communicate openly about your needs and boundaries.”

Melissa nodded, absorbing their words like a sponge. The advice was practical, yes, but it was the honesty and openness in their voices that struck her most. They weren’t just talking at her—they were sharing pieces of themselves.

The conversation continued, flowing naturally between experiences of first loves, heartbreaks, and everything in between. They discussed how vital it was to take things slow, to be attuned to each other’s needs, to ask questions, and most of all, to approach intimacy with openness and care. Each woman offered something unique, from personal tips to deeply felt wisdom, and by the time the gathering wound down, Melissa felt an overwhelming sense of relief and empowerment.

As the women began to disperse, exchanging hugs and goodbyes, Melissa stood up from the table, feeling lighter than when she had walked in. Jules caught her eye one last time, giving her a reassuring nod.

“You’ve got this, Mel. Just remember to trust yourself, okay?”

She smiled, a genuine warmth spreading across her face for the first time that evening. “Thank you… really.”

As she stepped outside, the sun still hung low in the sky, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. For the first time in a long while, she felt hopeful. She wasn’t just carrying the weight of her past anymore—she was moving forward, armed with the knowledge, support, and confidence she’d gained from this little café and the women who had opened their hearts to her.

Melissa was ready to take the next steps in your relationship.

—

Wednesday was different for Melissa. From the moment she woke up, she could feel the weight of anticipation pressing down on her chest. After dropping her second graders—whom she affectionately called her “little eagles”—off at the gym for physical education, her day should have felt like any other. But instead, her mind raced, a nervous buzz thrumming beneath her skin. She spent the rest of the morning mentally rehearsing what she planned to say, her palms growing sweaty each time she replayed the words in her head.

By the time the lunch bell rang, her resolve had formed, but her body still trembled as she made her way to the cafeteria. She spotted you immediately, seated at a table with Jacob and Janine. The three of you were deep in discussion, laughing about the success of the recent library program project. The sound of your laughter, bright and carefree, made Melissa’s heart flutter. It grounded her, reminding her of why she wanted to do this in the first place.

But as she approached, her heart raced, and the familiar anxiety crept back in. What if she said the wrong thing? What if you didn’t want the same things she did? She had planned something special for the two of you tonight, something that would show you just how much she cared. She just hoped she wouldn’t trip over now that she was so close to making it real.

You were in the middle of recounting a funny story about one of your students when your gaze shifted, and you saw her walking toward the table. Instantly, your surroundings blurred; the laughter and conversation between Jacob and Janine faded into a distant hum as your focus zeroed in on her. Melissa wasn’t often nervous, but there was something in the way she carried herself now—vulnerable yet brave—that made your heart swell with affection.

She hesitated for a moment, standing a few feet away. Her green eyes flicked to the floor as though she was searching for the right words. Her hands, you noticed, were fidgeting at the hem of her blouse, tracing the fabric as if seeking comfort. She drew in a breath before speaking, her voice soft but laced with determination.

“I, um… I planned a romantic dinner for us tonight.” She was cautious, almost tentative. “Would you be able to come over to my place at seven, hon?”

Your heart warmed at her nervousness, and you gave her a soft, reassuring smile. “Of course, babe. I’d love to.” The tenderness in your tone seemed to ease her tension, and you couldn’t help but add. “Do you want me to bring anything? A bottle of your favorite white wine or—”

“No, just you and your beautiful body,” The second the words left her lips, her face flushed a deep, fiery red, the color climbing up her neck and spreading across her cheeks. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth as her eyes went wide in shock at her own boldness. It was as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just said, and the mortification was clear in the way her shoulders tensed. “Oh?”

Jacob and Janine, who had been standing just far enough away to give you both some privacy, exchanged a quick glance. Janine, ever the romantic, stifled a squeal of excitement, biting her hand to keep from bursting into giddy laughter. Jacob, always the supportive friend, gave Melissa a discreet thumbs-up, mouthing.“You’ve got this. Just breathe, Mel Mel.” Their silent gestures of support didn’t go unnoticed by Melissa, and despite the fiery embarrassment burning in her cheeks, she felt a rush of warmth and gratitude.

You, too, caught the brief exchange between your friends and chuckled, though your gaze quickly returned to Melissa. There was no mistaking the anxiety in her posture, but beyond that, you could see the flicker of something else—determination, excitement, maybe even hope. She was putting herself out there, more than she usually allowed herself to, and that touched you deeply.

Just me and my body, huh?” you teased gently. “That’s quite the invitation, Schemmenti. What’s the occasion?”

Melissa’s face, already flushed, deepened into an even darker shade of red, but there was a spark in her eyes now, a glimmer of resolve. She was nervous, yes, but she had made her decision. “I just thought it was time to switch things up a bit,” she replied, her voice steadier than before, though still laced with vulnerability. “You know, take a leap and maybe… celebrate us.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. This wasn’t just about a dinner; this was about moving forward, about her desire to deepen your relationship. You could see how much this moment mattered to her—the courage it took to say those words, to open herself up to the possibility of rejection, even if that fear was unfounded. You stood up and closed the distance between you. Without hesitation, you wrapped her in a tender hug, your arms encircling her in a protective embrace.

She stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden display of affection, especially in such a public setting. But as soon as she felt your warmth enveloping her, she relaxed, melting into your arms as if this was exactly where she was meant to be. The proximity, the way you held her so tightly yet so gently, made her realize how deeply she needed this, needed you.

“Baby, that sounds perfect,” you whispered softly, your breath warm against her ear. “I can’t wait for tonight.”

Melissa’s hold on you tightened as she buried her face in the crook of your neck, the anxiety that had gnawed at her all day slowly ebbing away. She pressed a soft kiss to your hair, the gesture filled with such tenderness it made your heart ache. With your bodies pressed together, she could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against hers, the calming syncopation reminding her that she was exactly where she belonged.

As you held her, you caught a glimpse of Janine and Jacob, who were watching from a distance with proud smiles. Janine gave Jacob a giddy nudge, her spirit high and full of excitement for you both. Even Mr. Johnson, who was still sweeping the cafeteria floor nearby, muttered something about “first love making messes,” though there was a small, almost imperceptible grin on his face.

Eventually, you pulled back just enough to look at her, your hands resting on her arms. “So, what’s on the menu tonight?” you asked, with playful curiosity. “I’m guessing it’s not just spaghetti and meatballs.”

Melissa’s lips twitched, the nervousness in her eyes slowly giving way to something warmer, more confident. “You’ll just have to wait and see,” she said, her voice teasing now. “But I can promise you, it’s going to be unforgettable.”

You grinned at her, the excitement for tonight bubbling up in your chest. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

As you stepped back and returned to your spot, Melissa lingered for a moment, watching you with a cute, almost dreamy expression on her face. The weight of the day’s nerves had finally lifted, replaced by a sense of joy and anticipation. With one last glance at you, she turned and headed back to her classroom, her heart feeling lighter than it had in months.

“You two are seriously the cutest couple ever,” Janine gushed, nudging you with her elbow as she sat back down.

Jacob nodded in agreement, a small, knowing smirk on his face. “She’s a lucky woman.”

You felt your face flush with warmth as you beamed softly, your thoughts already drifting to the evening ahead. “I’m the lucky one,” you murmured, more to yourself than to them.

—

The soft glow of candles flickered across the kitchen, casting gentle shadows that danced on the walls. Melissa had taken great care to set the table just right. The white linen tablecloth was smooth and immaculate, the polished silverware gleamed under the dim light, and delicate crystal glasses sparkled like tiny stars. A simple yet elegant centerpiece—a vase filled with fresh roses—added a touch of romance, their soft petals a gentle reminder of the evening’s purpose.

After a quick shower, Melissa stood in front of her bathroom mirror, wrapped in a thick towel as her reflection stared back at her. She untangled her hair with her fingers, letting the soft waves settle naturally around her shoulders. The evening felt charged with meaning, and as she pulled on a deep green dress that highlighted the rich color of her eyes, she couldn’t shake a sense of anticipation that made her fingers tremble. But before she slipped into the dress, Melissa lingered in her reflection, standing there in her bra and underwear.

Her fingers brushed lightly over the delicate lace of her bra before trailing up to her cross necklace. The small, familiar weight of it rested against her skin, a reminder of her faith and the strength she often sought from it. She gently kissed the cross, her lips touching the cool metal, as if grounding herself. Closing her eyes for a moment, she whispered, “I’ll be okay.” Her voice was steady, a quiet promise to herself. When she opened her eyes again, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She was ready—nervous, yes, but there was an undeniable sense of purpose in the evening that outweighed her fears.

The act of kissing her necklace and reminding herself that she would be okay brought a small but real sense of calm. She unclenched her jaw, letting herself breathe before stepping away from the mirror to pull on the deep green dress she had picked out.

Slipping into the dress, Melissa took one last look at herself, smoothing down the fabric and adjusting the straps. It wasn’t an extravagant gown—just a simple dress that made her feel beautiful in a way that mattered most to her. It hugged her curves in all the right places, the fabric complementing her fiery red hair and highlighting the vibrancy of her eyes. She added a light touch of makeup, just enough to enhance her natural features, before stepping back to admire the final result. A moment of calm settled over her, the flicker of nerves tempered by the reassurance she had given herself.

The house was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of lasagna, garlic, tomatoes, and bubbling cheese coming together in the oven. The familiar, comforting smells filled every corner of the room, making it feel warm, welcoming. Melissa stepped into the kitchen, checking on the lasagna and adjusting the heat, ensuring everything was perfect. The faint sound of the record player drifted in from the living room, where a playlist of your favorite songs played softly, romantic melodies filling the air with warmth and intimacy. Everything was set, and now, all she needed was for you to arrive.

The doorbell rang, cutting through the quiet with a soft chime, and Melissa’s heart skipped a beat. She stood still for a moment, gathering her courage. This evening wasn’t just about the food or the setting—it was about the leap she was taking, the love she wanted to show you. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her dress once more and made her way to the door. As her hand reached for the doorknob, she murmured to herself, “I’ll be okay,” one last time, her fingers briefly touching the cross around her neck.

When she opened the door and saw you standing there, her nerves melted away at the sight of your smile. You looked at her, taking in the beautiful green dress, her soft waves of hair, and the way her eyes shone with a mixture of happiness and vulnerability. There was a beat of silence, the world falling away for a moment as you exchanged a quiet, meaningful look.

“Hey, babe,” you said warmly, stepping forward and pulling her into a gentle hug. You could feel the slight tremble in her body as she relaxed into your embrace, her arms wrapping around you as if she had been waiting for this all day.

“Hey, mia principessa,” she whispered back softly, but there was a strength in it. You could sense how much this night meant to her, how much she wanted it to be special. “Come in. I’ve got everything ready.”

The smell of lasagna welcomed you as you stepped into the cozy warmth of her home. You glanced around, admiring the thoughtful touches—the candlelit table, the vase of roses, the soft music filling the space. It was intimate, and it spoke volumes about the care she had put into this night.

“Lissa, this is beautiful,” you said, turning back to her. “You did all of this?”

Melissa smiled, the nervous energy that had been building inside her easing just a little at your reaction. “Yeah, I wanted to do something special for us.”

You reached out, taking her hand and giving it a gentle peck. “It’s perfect.”

For the first time that evening, your girlfriend felt a deep sense of calm.

You followed Melissa to the dining table, where the soft glow of the candles illuminated the spread before you. The lasagna sat perfectly golden in its dish, steam rising from the surface, and the fresh roses at the center of the table filled the air with their delicate scent. She pulled out a chair for you, her hand brushing against your shoulder as you sat down.

The older woman served the lasagna with careful hands, the utensils clinking against the plates as she handed you your portion. As you took your first bite, the rich flavors of garlic, tomato, and cheese filled your mouth, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes for a second to savor it.

“This is delicious, Mel,” you said, smiling up at her as you set your fork down.

“I’m glad you like it,” she replied sweetly, still carrying that undercurrent of vulnerability that made your heart swell with affection. You could see how much she wanted tonight to be perfect, and it already was. The evening felt like a beautiful, slow unfolding of something deeper, something you both had been moving toward for a long time.

For a while, you ate in companionable silence, the music playing in the background as the evening settled into a comfortable rhythm. Melissa stole glances at you as you ate, and each time your eyes met, she smiled a little more freely. But there was something else too—an sexual tension hanging in the air between you, unspoken but unmistakable. It made every touch and every shared look feel heavier, more charged.

After a while, Melissa set her fork down, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her wine glass as she spoke, quieter now. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while…” Her eyes lifted to meet yours, and you could see the seriousness in them.

You frowned, sensing the shift in the conversation. “What is it?”

“I’ve been… I’ve been wanting to take the next step with us. I’m ready. For sex.”

The weight of her confession settled between you, and for a second, it felt like the world outside this moment ceased to exist. Your heart skipped a beat, the meaning behind her words sinking in. You knew how much this meant to her, how deeply she felt things, and how careful she was with every step in your relationship. And now, here she was, opening herself up, offering all of her to you in the most vulnerable way possible.

You reached across the table, your fingers finding hers, and she held onto you like she’d been waiting for this connection all night. “Mel,” you began. “I’ve been waiting for you to be ready. I’m here. I’ll always wait for you.”

A soft laugh touched her lips, her thumb brushing over your knuckles as she held your gaze. “I know,” she whispered, and then, as if the moment couldn’t hold itself back any longer, she leaned across the table and kissed you. Her lips were soft, warm, and full of promise. The kiss started gentle, but there was a sense of urgency behind it, a need she had been holding back for too long.

You stood up, gently pulling her with you, and without breaking the kiss, she wrapped her arms around your waist. The closeness felt intoxicating, the room spinning with the scent of roses, the warmth of the candlelight, and the taste of wine still on her lips.

Melissa pulled back slightly. “Come upstairs with me.”

You nodded, unable to speak, the weight of the moment settling in your chest. With her hand in yours, she led you out of the dining room and up the stairs, her grip firm but trembling ever so slightly. The steps felt endless, each one echoing the rapid beating of your heart, but when you reached the bedroom door, everything else faded away. It was just you and her, the world quiet and still, as if this moment had been waiting for you both for a long time.

After going upstairs hand in hand, you enter her bedroom. The environment is spacious and welcoming, with a palette of neutral tones that creates a soft and intimate atmosphere. The walls are painted a light, almost sandy beige, and there are several old photo frames hanging in an elegant pattern. The floor is covered in a large, shaggy rug in a soft brown tone that provides a pleasant contrast to the dark wooden floor.

The center of the room is dominated by a king size bed, covered with sheets and bedding set in beige tones. The pillows and duvet combine in different textures and subtle patterns, creating a feeling of comfort and simplicity.

You lay down on the bed, messing up the bedding set and pillowcases that were still fresh and spotless. Melissa sat on top of you, with her knees on either side of your hips, and began to unbutton the elegant blouse you were wearing. Her movement was careful, almost reverent, as if each blossoming bud revealed not just your skin, but also the vulnerability and trust you were building together.

“I’ve never looked like that,” she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your own in a long kiss that was both hesitant and eager. As her mouth lingered on yours, she noticed the way you slightly shudder beneath her touch, a clear sign of your nervousness. And how anxious you seemed, more so than she felt herself. “You’re trembling.”

Melissa reaches for the lamp, her digits brushing against its switch as she considers dimming the light to make the room more comfortable and less intimidating. But before she can, you reach out to stop her, grabbing her wrist feeling the subtle pulse of her beat beneath your touch.

“No, I want to see you too,” you peel off your blouse, followed by your pants and underwear, letting them fall to the floor in a silent haze.

The older woman gulps and bobs her throat and starts to undress too. Her long green dress fell away in soft folds to the edge of the king size bed, followed by the delicate unfastening of her bra, revealing her full, supple and delicious boobs. Their natural weight makes them sway slightly and her nipples, a dusky rose, stood erect in the cool air. Her panties followed, slipping down her legs to reveal her glistening, damp center with some reddish, slightly trimmed pubic hair above her mound that was a stark contrast to the smooth milky white of her thighs.

For a fleeting second, doubt and insecurity crept in. She wondered if you saw her as beautiful or if the passage of time, with its subtle marks on her skin—fine lines around her eyes and mouth, the gentle curve of age. Arms flaccid and a little droopy, and the fact that she is not completely shaved underneath—might be off-putting. The decades that had shaped her were etched into her form, a testament to experiences and moments lived, but she questioned if they would overshadow the intimacy of the present.

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the side, overwhelmed by the thought of you finding her less than desirable, maybe even disgusting like Joe did when they used to have sex in their marriage years. The idea of her imperfections being too much to bear made her shiver with apprehension, and unexpected tears dropped into her cheeks as those thoughts almost brought her to the brink of crying.

In that vulnerable instant, Melissa searched for any sign of disapproval, any hint that the years might have dimmed her allure. But as your gaze locked with hers, she saw something entirely different—an intense, unspoken admiration, a hunger that seemed to pierce through her insecurities. This recognition of her allure gave her the courage to continue.

“You’re so beautiful, bambina.” She tilted her head, her swollen lips meeting yours again in a passionate kiss that deepened as she felt your response. Your hands roamed over her back, feeling the heat of her skin and the subtle firmness of her muscles. Her auburn hair fell around her shoulders, cascading like a dark waterfall that framed her face and partially covered her chest. The sight of her, disheveled and beautiful, made you catch your oxygen.

Melissa lets her thumbs glide down your abdomen, feeling the softness of your flesh beneath her fingertips while she trails imaginary patterns. That only she can see. She squeezes your breasts gently before she leans in to nip at your earlobe. There’s a hunger in the way she worships you, a need to feel you, to taste you.

She begins to kiss her way down your neck, her lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. When she reaches your boobs, she pauses for a moment, her breath ghosting over your nipples before she takes one into her mouth slowly. The feeling sends a shiver down your body, and you can’t help the loud whimper that escapes your lips.

“That feels so good. Don’t stop. Suck harder,” you gasped, unable to contain the fervent need building inside you.

The redhead hums in response, her gaze locked onto yours as she continues to suckle on your hardened peak. There’s something almost reverent in the way she’s looking at you, as though she’s in awe of the effect she’s having on you. Her hair, now tousled and wild, brushed against your skin like a silken curtain. You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of her lips on your sensitive areas, and opened your mouth to draw in deep, steady breaths, trying to ground yourself amidst the swirling sensations.

She traces a slow, deliberate path down your body, her lips grazing the curve of your waist, until she’s almost between your legs. Her hands rest on your thighs, gently urging them apart, and you feel the smirk ghosting over your most intimate area. When she parted your legs, her eyes widened slightly at the sight of your wetness dripping down and the intoxicating smell that made her drool.

“Can I put my mouth on you?”

“Please.”

Melissa’s hands move to your hips, and with a deliberate, almost possessive grip, she pushes you down against the mattress, pinning you in place. The bed creaks softly beneath you, but all you can focus on is the way her mouth hovers just above your aching pussy.

She lowers herself between your thighs, her breath hot against your skin as she leans in, her mouth finally making contact. The first contact of her tongue against your wet folds is electrifying, a shiver running down your spine. She’s never felt anything like this—so raw, so intimate. The sensation of your taste, warm and sweet on her tongue, ignites something deep within her.

The older woman begins to lick through your wetness, her movements grow more confident, more assured. Her face becomes slick with your arousal, but she doesn’t care—if anything, it only drives her to delve deeper, to explore every inch of you with her warm mouth. The soft slurping and suckling sounds she makes while she eats you out, along with guttural groans of satisfaction vibrating against your most sensitive spots muffled against your folds, tell you everything; how much Melissa is enjoying this. Amplifying the pleasure coursing through you. And you can’t help but moan, your fingers tangling in her hair, urging her closer.

“Oh, Lissa…go faster,” you murmur breathy, trying to guide her with gentle encouragement. “Just like that, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

She’s teasing your clit now, her tongue flicking over it teasing it with featherlight strokes that makes your hips buck involuntarily. She seems to be memorizing, learning and responding to your every movement, every sound. You can feel her fingers hovering at your entrance, the pads of her tips brushing teasingly against your folds. The need for more—more of her, more of everything—builds inside you like a tidal wave.

“Fingers. Use them to fill me up.”

Two fingers slide inside you easily, the heat and slickness enveloping her in a way that makes her gasp. The knowledge that she’s the one making you feel this way, that she’s the cause of your pleasure, is almost overwhelming for her. She starts to pump her fingers, slow and deep, crooking them just right to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

“Fuck, hon,” Melissa groans. “You’re so tight… so fucking good.”

“Mhhm.”

The older woman intensifies her pace, her fingers moving faster, deeper, her thumb circling your clit in slow, lazy circles. Her brow furrows in concentration as she continues.

The pressure builds rapidly, and your hips buck against her hand, your need growing more urgent with every passing second. Her eyes stay locked on your face, absorbing each scream and tremor that escapes you, her lips parting slightly as she watches your pleasure build.

“You feel so good,” she murmurs, never letting up the pace. “Are you close?”

Your breath catches, the coil tightening inside you. “I’m so so close, please let me come,” you beg, your voice trembling as you ride the edge.

A flicker of confidence crosses her face as she leans closer, her thumb pressing harder against your clit, her fingers driving deeper. “Cum for me,” she whispers, laced with longing. “I want to feel you, pretty girl.”

That command, spoken so softly but filled with intent, sends you spiraling. With a final, perfect stroke, you fall over the edge, your body arching as the pleasure crashes through you, wave after wave. Your whines grow louder, desperate, as Melissa guides you through the bliss.

She keeps going, drawing out every shudder and whimper until you’re completely undone beneath her. Only then does she slowly withdraw her fingers, leaving you trembling and breathless.

Collapsing against you, her face finds the crook of your neck, her figure trembling with emotion. It takes a moment to realize she’s crying, low sobs muffled against you.

“I did it?” she breaks in disbelief. “I made you feel good… I can’t believe I did it.”

You wrap your arms around her, pulling her close. “You did, baby,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You were perfect.”

Melissa shakes her head slightly, still clinging to you. “I was so scared I’d mess it up… but I did it.”

You gently lift her chin, forcing her to look at you. Her emerald eyes are red and glistening with tears, but the satisfaction you see there only makes your love for her grow stronger. You cup her face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over her cheeks to wipe away the tears.

She lets out a shaky breath, her curvaceous body leaning into yours as if seeking reassurance. Her pink lips brush over yours in a tender, almost desperate kiss. Between soft pecks, you speak against her lips, “You’re safe. I love you. You're safe with me.”

She gives you a small, tearful smile before pressing kisses to your chest, resting her head there as if she never wants to let go.

And you don’t want her to. Not ever.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #lisa ann walter #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary #wlw #wlw smut #yes #that was a carol (2015) reference

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