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les4elliewilliams · 29 days

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❝SHE’S A MANEATER!❞ – 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨.

LOSER!ELLIE ﾒ MEAN!READER

❝OH-OH HERE SHE COMES WATCH OUT, GIRL, SHE’LL CHEW YOU UP!❞

ᝰ.ᐟ ⌞SUMMARY⌝﹕After bumping into you on her first day of college, Ellie spends the entire year captivated by you from a distance. You're everything she could never be—popular, wealthy, and effortlessly alluring, with a perfect, disgustingly rich family to match. Convinced she didn’t stand a chance, Ellie resigns herself to watching from the sidelines. But when her best friend Dina suggests they work at a public pool for the summer, Ellie agrees, hoping to save up some money. What she never expected was to find you there, commanding the space with a magnetic, dangerous charm that pulls her in. Now, Ellie’s summer is about to take a turn she never saw coming, and she’s about to find out just how close she can get to you before it all falls apart.

✶.ᐟ ⌞THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS⌝﹕ approx 12.8k words⨾ cursing⨾ angst⨾ mention of drugs⨾ reader being a bitch for no reason⨾ 18+ CONTENT (porn with plot)⨾ fingering (𝑒!receiving)⨾ tribbing⨾ thigh riding (r!receiving)⨾ coworker!ellie⨾ dom!reader⨾ fem!reader⨾ player!reader x loser!ellie⨾ slapping⨾ jealousy issues⨾ overstimulation⨾ choking kink⨾ use of names (dollface, sweet/pretty girl, baby, babe, slut, etc...)⨾ ‘i love the smiths’ scene⨾ ellie loves spiderman boxers💔⨾ they 69 on a big canvas???⨾ lmk if i missed anything!

.ᐟ.ᐟ ⌞AUTHOR´S NOTE⌝﹕i've decided it's going to be three parts instead :p i also wanted to say thank you for all the support on part one i appreciate it sososo much mwahmwah🫦. proofread by @sapphichotmess!!

#.ᐟ ⌞TAGLIST⌝﹕@pick-me-up-im-scared @rew1nds @aouiaa @satellitespinner @boobdrug @ivying @elliewilliamsbelovedwife @mina-281 @hysteriawillnotsuccumb @chxrryvalxntine @bookpagecandlescent @fionaapplelover2010 @andersonslove @macaroni676 @elliesbabygirl @vampcubus @visupremacysstuff @elssaphica [comment to be added!]

#.ᐟ ⌞CHAPTERS⌝ ↯

˗ˏˋ 𝐨𝐧𝐞 ⋆ 𝕥𝕨𝕠 ⋆ 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 ˎˊ˗

palestine masterpost ⋆ read this ⋆ daily clicks

8th of August.

You and Ellie spent almost every day together, hanging out and spending time together without a care in the world. However, the way you acted when you were around other people, as if you hadn’t been spending time together in private, bothered Ellie. Alone, you were a completely different person—affectionate, clingy, and seemingly unable to keep your hands off her. Logically, she assumed you weren’t exceptionally comfortable showing affection publicly, and she understood that. Still, it stung each time you rejected her, even for something as simple as holding hands in public.

No pet names allowed, no subtle touches, no little gestures of affection—nothing. It hurt Ellie deeply, but she tried to convince herself that it was normal. After all, not everyone was comfortable with PDA, and you had told her that you weren’t ready yet. You had only been together for a few weeks, so it made sense. Every time you pulled away in public, you would notice the change in Ellie’s demeanor, the way she’d go quiet and distant. You’d try to comfort her, soothing her with your words, calling her your girl, and showering her with compliments and affectionate whispers. It worked; it always worked. She’d soften in your arms, her pissy mood disappearing as you reassured her. Ellie couldn’t help it, falling for your charm every damn time.

The auburnette knew that you meant everything you said; she knew you genuinely wanted her just as much as she wanted you. Whenever you had to reassure her, Ellie felt guilty, pushy, and selfish for even bringing it up. She would tell herself that it was okay, that she could wait for you to be ready. After all, it wasn’t a big deal, and who was she to rush you into something you weren’t comfortable with? She could be patient.

Being with you was enough for her. Ellie was so damn grateful to have you by her side. She still couldn’t wrap her head around how she went from admiring you from a distance to being with you every fucking day. She could feel you, touch you, and memorize every inch of your body with the rough, calloused palms of her hands. Her heart would flutter, and the butterflies in her stomach would go wild at every pet name you had for her, every sweet word, every compliment, every touch.

Everything you had to give, she took it all greedily. The sage-eyed girl knew she was lucky as hell to have you, lucky that you finally let her in, let her get to know you. The more she discovered about you, the more she liked you. Each detail that came out about your personality made her want to be around you every second of the day. It was like she was addicted, hooked on every little thing that made you who you are. And she couldn’t get enough, feeling like some sort of lovesick idiot.

So she’d wait as long as it took. It was going to be worth it in the end.

Ellie tried to brush those thoughts aside, but they were like an unwelcome guest in the back of her mind. Now that you were there, in her room, none of those concerns mattered anymore. Instead, she focused on the way your lips pressed against her skin, little smacking sounds filling her ears.

Sweet, damp kisses trailed along Ellie’s jawline as your hand eagerly squeezed the fat of her ass, making her whimper into your mouth. You found it endearing how sensitive and responsive she was to your touch. You could get her dripping wet with no effort at all, and she was so fucking loud and so easy to play with. You loved every second of it.

The sensation of her soft skin under your fingertips, the way she involuntarily arched her back under your touch as you pleasured her just right—it was addictive.

You pushed her back towards the bed, your hands roaming her body hungrily as she stumbled over her sneakers, which lay discarded on the floor. You giggled, lips detaching from her neck just long enough to capture her mouth again. Ellie’s slender fingers tangled in your hair, a smile stretching across her face at your soft laugh.

Your hands remained glued to Ellie’s body, refusing to let go, gently skimming your hands over her waist and sides, your fingertips tracing along her bare skin in a soothing motion. Her body molded effortlessly to yours, every curve and line fitting perfectly against you.

Ellie was convinced you were made for her, crafted together by some higher power. In your arms, she felt like the center of your universe, making her feel special and desired. The cinnamon-haired girl loved being the recipient of your unwavering adoration, a privilege not everyone was fortunate enough to experience. You were everything she could ever want or need, her perfect match in every way.

Ellie’s freckled back sunk into the soft surface of her mattress as you straddled her, claiming your spot on top of her. Her hands ran over your body with an almost desperate touch, as if they had never touched another human being before. She gripped and gently clawed at your flesh, unable to get enough of the feel of you underneath her fingertips, fearing that you might evaporate or disappear into thin air. It was too good to be true. Even she struggled to believe someone like you would sneak around with someone like her.

The kiss became a mess of open mouths and tangled tongues, both of you becoming more and more desperate with each passing second. Finally, you pulled away, both of you panting and out of breath, your lips swollen and sensitive from the never-ending connection. “You sure he won’t be back anytime soon?” you asked, your lips hovering just an inch from hers.

Ellie’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze meeting yours as she took a deep, shaky breath. “Joel’s staying at my uncle’s for dinner,” She reassured, her breathing ragged and uneven and her face flushed as red as a ripened strawberry from the intensity of the kiss.

A subtle, self-satisfied smirk played at the corners of your mouth as you hovered above her, your forearms resting on either side of Ellie’s head. You found yourself entranced by the sunlight pouring in through the windows, casting a warm, golden glow across her face, highlighting all of her best features—everything, basically. The sight of her was like gazing upon a masterpiece, each freckle and sun-kissed spot a deliberate brushstroke that came together to form a breathtaking work of art. Her beauty was nothing short of enchanting, like a Claude Monet painting coming to life before your very eyes, and she wasn’t even aware. No work of art could compare to the beauty of the girl under you.

“So we can be as loud as we want,” You whispered in her ear, the low timber of your voice sending delicious shivers down her spine.

You continued to pepper kisses along her jawline, savoring the unique taste of her skin. You took your time, slowly trailing your lips down her body, determined to give each inch the same amount of attention and love. Ellie let out a small gasp as your mouth tenderly traced across her skin, her fingers gently running through your hair to keep it out of your face, fingers lingering on your scalp. Her thigh pressed between your legs, creating just enough space for her to slide her knee against your center, the contact eliciting a moan of pleasure from you.

Ellie could never put into words how much pride she felt whenever a soft moan escaped your lips. It was as if she had just created a masterpiece, your sounds of pleasure serving as tangible proof that she had done something right. Every mewl and gasp from your lips filled her with a profound sense of satisfaction, like a child finally getting their drawing just right.

“Oooh, I like that,” A soft, raspy chuckle escaped the auburnette’s lips; she glanced up at you, her pupils dilated, and a broad smile spread across her face, the left side of her mouth forming a deep dimple. The sight was both endearing and incredibly attractive, her features a mix of playfulness and undeniable lust as she struggled to maintain her composure. You were getting her so worked up that it was almost laughable.

Your head tilted down as you met her gaze, eyes locked on her watchful, beautiful forest-green irises. “Like what?” you questioned, continuing to press kisses against the soft skin of her chest, right between her breasts. Your brows furrowed with confusion, your mind consumed by her, causing her question to bounce off the walls of your mind, not quite able to make sense of her words.

“The way you sound,” Ellie purred with a soft, appreciative hum, her fingers trailing lazily along your shoulder.

You pulled away for a moment, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips as you looked down at her, enjoying the way she looked like a complete wreck beneath you. “Yeah?” you sultry whispered, leaning in closer, your breath hot against her lips. “You ready for me, sweet girl?” A stray lock of your hair dangled between you, and she lifted her hand to tuck it gently behind your ear, her touch light as a whisper against your skin. The action was so natural, so casual, yet it was laced with a sense of intimacy and affection that made your stomach churn for a split second.

“Always ready for you,” Ellie uttered, her voice a breathless confession. And she meant it in every possible way. The redhead was always ready, obediently waiting for your gaze like a loyal dog, ready to be whatever you needed her to be at that moment. Whether it was to be your girlfriend or just a plaything to take your frustrations out on, she was there for you, patiently waiting for you to use her.

You pressed a kiss to Ellie’s lips, soft and lingering, before trailing a path back down to her chest. Your mouth found her hardened nipple, and you latched onto it with a hunger that proved to her how much you had been longing for her. Your tongue danced around her areola, lazy circles that made her shiver and sigh. One of your hands wandered to her other breast, kneading it with a firm yet tender grip. Ellie’s whimpers filled the room, each sound a love song that told you exactly how much she needed you. Her back arched, pushing her chest deeper into the palm of your hand, a desperate plea for more. Ellie’s fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, urging you on.

You switched your attention, your mouth finding her other nipple, lavishing it with the same adoration. “You taste so fucking good,” you murmured against her skin, your voice rough and urgent. She moaned in response, her hips shifting restlessly beneath you, seeking friction, seeking release.

Your hand slid down the moss-eyed girl’s body, fingers dancing across her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. She was already trembling, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her eyes locked on yours, darkening with need. The soft palm of your hand cupped her mound, her trimmed, auburn hair tickling your skin. Your index and middle fingers spread her folds, gathering all the slickness you had created and smearing it up to her clit. It twitched at your touch, throbbing like crazy, almost painfully, making Ellie whine.

She was truly mesmerizing in her neediness and desperation for your touch and attention, enjoying every second of your affections. Her body responded to you as if it were made for you alone by the Gods above.

Your teeth gently grazed her nipple as you pushed two fingers inside her, making her gasp louder this time. Ellie’s hips bucked instinctively, craving more, her body reacting to every touch, every sensation you delivered. And she just took it like a good plaything.

“God, you’re so wet,” you groaned against her skin, your voice thick with desire. “So fucking ready for me.”

“Oh… god,” Breathy moans spilled from her lips, ricocheting off the star-filled wallpaper adorning her room.

You released her nipple with a satisfying ‘pop,’ the little bud glistening with spit. Your mouth found her other nipple standing erect and waiting for your attention, looking a little too lonely for your liking. Her breasts fit your palms perfectly, filling your palms just right. You could see her trying to maintain control but her brain shut down, unable to process anything besides your touch.

Ellie’s nipples were always so responsive, hardening instantly under your touch, and you could feel her entire body quivering with need. You teased her relentlessly, feeling her writhe beneath you, each lick and gentle bite sending jolts of pleasure straight to her needy cunt. You loved the way her breath hitched with every pump of your fingers, her back arching slightly, and her hips bucking into your hand. What a fucking sight.

“Oh, so you believe in God now, huh?” You teased her, your fingers increasing the pace of their movements. She pushed her head back into the pillow, wholly lost in the sensations you were creating. Ellie’s eyes squeezed tight, her dilated pupils no longer able to focus as the pleasure consumed her entirely.

You curled your fingers inside her, brushing against that magical spot, and she gasped, her hands clutching the sheets, her knuckles turning white. You could feel her walls tightening, her whole body tensing as her orgasm built ridiculously quickly. Her breathing was ragged and uneven, the sound of her wetness making you feral. “That it? ‘s that the right spot?” you chuckled.

“Hmmphh—not funny,” Ellie weakly protested, but the attempt was feeble, her words faltering as she tried to sound grumpy. In reality, she was a mess, a moaning, beautiful mess that was falling apart at the seams, unable to form coherent thoughts. The type of mess you loved.

“Baby, look at me,” you commanded softly as your fingers picked up speed, curling upwards to hit that sweet spot inside her again. Her walls clamped down, promising to swallow your digits greedily.

Ellie’s green eyes fluttered open, understanding the silent threat, knowing damn well that if she didn’t, you wouldn’t let her finish and milk your fingers like she had been begging to do all day. Bugging you at work, begging for a quickie in the restroom like usual. You had denied her all day, leaving her desperate and needy.

But there was a reason behind your earlier refusal. And now that she was at your mercy, you intended to make her wait a moment longer.

You pressed your body against her thigh, grinding against it rhythmically as if drawn there by some magnetic force. Your movement was subconscious, automatic, and involuntary, your cunt aching.

“Feeling good, huh?” You said, your voice slightly breathless as you held back a groan that threatened to escape you. You couldn't help but smirk at her frenzied nodding. Shaking your head slowly, you expressed your disapproval with a sharp click of your tongue, clearly unimpressed by her response. “C’mon Els, you can do better than that,” You urged her to use her words, your intention being solely to hear the whiny words only you could coax from her, wanting to savor every little gasp and sigh that fell from her lips like they were your own personal currency.

“Y-yes…yes.” Ellie was completely breathless, and when her walls seemed to squeeze your fingers hungrily, you eagerly complied, burying them inside her. A contented gasp escaped her lips, her mouth hanging open in pure euphoric ecstasy as you brought her closer and closer to her orgasm. You were making her see stars and all the planets above, and this time it wasn’t the cheap plastic stars and planets glued to her ceiling—which did not glow in the dark anymore, much to Ellie's disappointment. What a ripoff. But then again, she didn’t need those when she had you, painting all the wonders of the universe behind her lids.

Ellie’s eyes rolled back, threatening to close again, but she fought against it. She needed to keep her eyes on you, to remember who was making her feel this way. It was you; you, you, and only you. You were all she could think about.

She was so full of you, literally.

“Just like that… keep your eyes on me, gooood girl,” you cooed, “Begging me to touch you like this… what a fucking slut,” your voice dripped with fake disdain, feeling her body coiled with tension as your fingers moved faster and deeper. Your breath hitched as you rode Ellie's toned thigh, your clit throbbing against her soft skin. You could feel your own orgasm building, mirroring hers. Your hips moved faster, seeking that final push, desperate for release.

Ellie whined at your words, soft sobs escaping her lips, filling the air with the sound of her desperation. She was at your mercy, unable to do anything but follow your lead. “Who’s making you feel like this, hm?” Your voice was laced with possessive undertones, making her whimper in response and her clit twitch madly. She loved it when you got possessive of her. The pointed question’s answer was obvious, but you wanted her to say it, to acknowledge the power you wielded over her body and soul.

“You… fuck, you…” You increased the pace, your fingers moving in and out of her with relentless precision, your thumb brushing against her clit, adding to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body. Ellie’s back arched off the bed, her body straining towards yours, every muscle taut with anticipation. You could feel her getting closer, her walls tightening around your fingers, her breath hitching with every thrust. “Pleaseplease”

Your wetness coating her thigh filled Ellie with a sense of pride and disbelief. She found it difficult to believe that you liked her, but feeling the evidence of your desire on her skin was undeniable. The thought that she could turn you on in such a way was surreal and hard to wrap her mind around.

“G’na cum on my fingers, dollface?” The pet name and the tone of your voice sent her heart into a flurry of flips and somersaults like a caged bird. She could practically feel the petals of a thousand blooms unfurling in her stomach, each beat of her pulse, another seed taking root.

Despite her tough facade, Ellie was a sucker for compliments and pet names, but only when they came from you. You couldn't miss the way her cheeks would turn cherry red as she blushed, her poker face failing miserably. She was an open book, easy to read and please, and you knew exactly how to get a reaction out of her. Sometimes, it felt like you could read every thought flitting through her mind just by looking into her expressive eyes. Not only were they breathtakingly beautiful, but they conveyed so much without her having to utter a single word.

Ellie’s responses were reduced to whiny “yeahs,” as she struggled to form coherent words. The way your hips rolled smoothly against her thigh elicited a tight clench around your fingers buried deep inside her. Her brows furrowed, and the moans escaping her swollen lips grew higher in pitch, threatening to reach an octave too sharp for your ears. Just as you felt her walls start to pulse, ready to explode, you withdrew your hand, leaving her gasping and aching for more.

Her head lifted weakly from the pillow, her eyes meeting yours with a pouty expression, mirroring the look of a kicked puppy. She was confused and dazed; the pleasure that had been consuming her just moments ago was fading away, leaving her feeling frustrated and unsatisfied. “What, wh-” but before she could start asking questions, you swiftly dismounted her thigh and gently patted her hips before grabbing her legs and pulling her closer.

“Wanna cum on your pussy. Gonna let me do that, yeah?” Though posed as a question, your words were laced with a commanding tone, as if you expected Ellie to comply. She didn’t mind, though; in fact, she found it quite attractive that you were so firm and sure of what you wanted, always in control. And, if there was something the auburnette loved to death, it was feeling your drenched core pulsating against hers, like she could die right there and then, utterly content. So pussy drunk.

Straddling Ellie, you aligned your soaked pussy with hers, a moan escaping her lips before you’d even begun to move. “Oh fuck…” she gasped, her back arching as she ground against you instinctively.

A moan escaped you, followed by a sharp slap to Ellie’s thigh, making her yelp. “Only patient girls get to cum,” you growled, positioning one of her legs over your shoulder. Your arousal dripped down onto her mound, making a mess. Her pussy was so slippery that it almost made it challenging for you to find the perfect angle that would satisfy both of you. You rotated your hips, testing the waters, and after some trial, you elicited a gasp from both of you.

“You feel so good, shit…” Ellie’s hips started to move on their own accord, picking up speed, creating a messy, erratic rhythm. Your nails dug into her toned flesh, leaving tiny half-moons behind as you ground against her at a more steady and controlled pace. She was becoming increasingly desperate, her body aching for the pleasure that you had cruelly taken from her, leaving her feeling frustrated and unfulfilled. “I’m close,” she gasped out.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you threatened, your eyes narrowing in disapproval. Ellie was a mess under you, her head pressed into the pillow and her eyes fluttering shut in bliss. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, drawing blood as she desperately tried to hold back her orgasm. “Hold it.” Your voice grew stern, echoing in the room. Rubbing your clit harshly against hers, you increased your pace, teasing her mercilessly. Smirking, you reveled in her struggle, knowing she was close. “You’ll wait until I say so," you commanded, your breath ragged with desire.

Not even a minute had passed before Ellie was vigorously shaking her head, her big green eyes welling up as they locked onto yours, begging with an adorable pout you knew would remain indefinitely until she got her way. But she wasn’t going to get shit. “I can’t… can’t,” Her whiny tone, desperate and pleading, sent a wave of amusement through you, drawing a bemused chuckle from your throat.

“Does it look like I give a fuck?” Your voice was a low, hissed whisper dripping with devilish intent. You were so close to her face that you could see the desperation in her eyes. The auburnette let out a puppy-like whine as you denied her what she craved. All she could do was lie there, pleading with her eyes and whimpering in frustration. “Gonna be good for me.” And again, it wasn’t a request, it was a statement that left no room for disobedience. “Gonna hold it like a good girl.”

As your thrusts became more insistent, Ellie’s lips parted in a silent gasp, “You cum when I tell you to,” you repeated, emphasizing your words by increasing the speed of your hips. You relished watching her squirm and pant, her breasts bouncing with each movement. She couldn’t hold it anymore, and you knew it. Knowing the power you had over her made it all the better.

Ellie’s body shook uncontrollably, her eyes squeezed shut, tears of pleasure streaming down her cheeks. You could see the conflict in her, the struggle to hold on. To her, it felt like she was about to walk through the gates of heaven, but you denied her that final step.

“P-please…please!” It made you proud, reducing her to nothing but a mess, a sobbing and pleading mess, and she was all yours to take advantage of, to ruin and destroy. A toy to play with. And she would take it all gladly.

Her doe eyes looked up at you pleadingly, begging for your permission, desperate for a sign, anything.

Her mind completely shut off when you were on top of her, your body pressing against hers in a way that made her feel like a virgin all over again. Even though she had experienced sex multiple times before you, it was never like this, so intense, so passionate, with her emotions and thoughts all over the place.

Ellie’s hands gripped your hips tightly. She didn’t know if she wanted to push you away or encourage you to keep going. Her abdomen tensed, holding onto her orgasm just like you had requested. “No, baby. Just wait for me,” your voice dropped to a velvety whisper as you leaned closer, your face mere inches from hers. A few strands of your silken locks found their way between the two of you, caressing her cheekbones and eliciting a slight scrunch of her nose in response. The ticklish sensations only lasted briefly, disappearing as soon as your hand encircled her neck, instantly transforming her expression into a mix of surprise. “Like the way my pussy feels?” Lewd noises filled the auburnette’s messy yet neatly organized room, and she was so loud you were sure the neighbors could hear you.

“It’s so… fuck… so wet,” she babbled between breathless cries and heavenly whimpers. The olive-eyed girl was breathtakingly beautiful as she gave herself over to you, taking everything you gave her with eagerness and lust. “Feel… so good.” Poor thing couldn’t even form proper sentences. Your stomach fluttered at her words, grinding harder and faster, and only after a few seconds, you felt it, too.

“Fuck, fuck,” You cursed under your breath as overwhelming pleasure took over your body, your eyes closing and your head rolling back in ecstasy. Your grasp around her neck became firmer, “Ellie…” The way you cried out her name would’ve been enough to make her cum right on the spot, but she had to hold it like you told her to. “Cum with me, baby. Wanna feel you,”

You didn’t even have to tell her twice. She was already spasming against your core, her puffy clit pulsating like crazy against yours. Between the two of you, Ellie couldn’t tell who was being the loudest, not that it was an issue, considering you were alone and Joel wouldn’t be back until later in the evening.

When you and Ellie came down from your highs, you collapsed beside her. Despite her trying to pull you closer by wrapping her fern-tattooed arm around your waist, you rolled away, still panting and sweating. Her eyes flickered towards you, disappointment etching across her heavenly features, not understanding why you never stayed in bed cuddling after sex, each time hoping it’d be different, but it never was. The exhausted girl was also in disbelief—how could you be so energetic after sex? She will never understand.

“Where you going?” she rasped out, her green eyes never leaving your naked body, scanning your sweaty back to the way your bare chest heaved with each deep breath you took. You could feel her eyes on you, tracing every line and curve of your body. Her disappointment hung in the air, heavy and palpable. You knew she longed for those tender moments after each of your passionate encounters.

“‘M sweating like crazy, gonna shower before your dad comes back,” You padded to her closet as if the space were your own, your steps soft on the carpeted floor. You riffled through the hangers, knowing where everything was. A crisp scent of laundry detergent and Ellie's perfume wafted into the room as you carefully pulled out a fresh pair of clothes. You didn’t even bother to ask for permission; after all, you had done this countless times before, staying at her place and acting like you lived there. In fact, you had even met her dad, and he had taken a genuine liking to you.

“And you should too, Angel Knives,” you taunted her, your gaze drifting to the floor near the bed, where her Savage Starlight shirt lay discarded. The shirt was clearly a favorite, judging by the faded lettering and the soft, worn fabric, and even then, Ellie refused to throw it away.

She rolled her eyes at your teasing words, sitting up on her bed. The nickname made her cheeks flush, a playful annoyance glinting in her eyes. You could see her struggle with wanting to protest and the realization that you were probably right, feeling the sticky humidity cling to her skin.

“You a fan, too?” she asked, peeking at you with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“Nah, my sister reads that nerdy shit.” You scoffed, rummaging through the drawers of her wardrobe, most likely hunting for fresh undies to wear. “Do you have anything that isn’t… Spider-Man boxers or–” You paused, pulling out banana-patterned boxers and letting it hang from your index finger. “...weird-lookin’ underwear?”

Ellie’s brow arched, a mock offense etched across her face. “Well, excuse you! I’ll have you know that boxers are highly comfortable,” she retorted playfully. “And they don’t ride up your ass like those damn thongs you wear.” She huffed out a laugh, clearly amused.

“Okay,” you shot her an unamused look. “You love my thongs,” you added, pointing your finger at her.

She shrugged, the corners of her lips curving into a lopsided smile. “Never said I don’t. They’re just uncomfortable—why do you need a thong anyway? Who’re you getting ready for, hm?” She stood from her bed, reaching for her wrinkled shirt, forgotten on the messy floor.

“I’m not the one flirting with Alexa all day at work,” you snapped half-jokingly, seizing the opportunity to needle her, which made the auburnette roll her eyes and groan. It wasn’t the first time you’d complained about their friendship, convinced there was more to it than just friendly banter. You could see how Alexa looked at her, or whatever her name was—not that you gave a shit.

“Here we go again,” Ellie muttered under her breath, rubbing her damp forehead with the palm of her hand, clearly exasperated.

“Uh, sorry? Couldn’t hear you.” Your hands were already on your hips, staring at her, daring to say something more. Your authoritative demeanor, once effective, seemed to be losing its impact on her.

Ellie exhaled deeply, pulling her shirt over her head. Her hair was a tangled mess, her face still flushed from your recent activities. “Throwing that drink at her was unnecessary.”

“You smiling at her was unnecessary.”

“I was just being nice!” she protested defensively, her brows knitting together in frustration.

“Right.” You scoffed, finally picking out a pair of boxers, deliberately avoiding her gaze. Ellie frowned, her eyes tracking your every move. She picked up her dirty boxers from the ground and pulled them on, feeling the uncomfortable dampness of dried precum, but they’d do until you emerged from the bathroom and she could finally shower and freshen up.

“Babe, c’mon, it’s not like that. You know it isn’t.” Ellie’s voice softened, reaching out to touch your arm. Every fiber of her being seemed to be pleading for reassurance, comfort, and attention. She couldn’t handle it when you got pissy with her.

“Gonna shower,” you said flatly, your expression unreadable, as you walked away from her and disappeared into the bathroom. “Don’t join me,” Your words echoed behind the door you slammed shut, cutting off her access to you cruelly.

But she did just the opposite. Ellie walked into the cramped shower after you, joining you in the steam-filled space. There was something about the steam of the shower and the sensual touch of her hands that immediately calmed you. She had learned how to soothe you just the way you liked, the combination of warm water, gentle caresses, and her worshiping touch making your body hum with pleasure. Soon, her name was a whispered plea on your lips.

When Joel returned home, the room felt like a still-life painting of quiet contentment. You and Ellie had already transformed, dressed up and looking more presentable than earlier. He stepped in and shut the door quietly, exhaling deeply, the weight of the day's burdens evident in the sigh that escaped his lips, a white cake box in his hand, which she recognized as the box from Maria’s bakery.

His tired, wrinkled eyes scanned the living room, taking in the remnants of your earlier feast—the pizza boxes stacked haphazardly on the coffee table, a testament to an easy, carefree evening. The two of you were nestled on the couch, your head resting gently on Ellie’s shoulder, your long lashes brushing against your cheeks, picture of serene slumber.

“Hey, kiddo,” Joel’s voice, a blend of gravel and warmth, broke the silence. His greeting was aimed at his daughter, who was still awake, her eyes fixed on the TV. The screen’s muted hum was a lullaby for you, drawing you deeper into the realm of dreams, while Ellie, her heart swelling with affection, watched over you, cherishing the sight of your peaceful expression. Ellie’s eyes lit up at her dad’s voice, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She gently shifted, careful not to wake you, moving just enough to acknowledge Joel’s presence.

His gaze softened as he looked at the two of you, seeing not just his daughter but also the close-knit friendship that had blossomed between you. It was a sight that brought a subtle, contented smile to his weathered face, glad that, for once, Ellie had stepped out of her comfort zone and made a new friend.

“Maria made a cake for you. She thought you were coming, too,” The middle-aged man said, swiftly placing the cake box on the table near the entrance and shrugging off his coat. “Your favorite.”

Maria loved to cook, not for herself, but for the people she cherished. She’d make Ellie’s favorite dishes whenever she knew Ellie was coming over, baking cookies or whatever the redhead craved.

Joel’s brother and his wife had always been like a second family to Ellie. Being a single dad wasn’t easy for Joel, and Tommy was always there to support him, as was his wife, Maria. She had been a rock for Ellie, comforting her during the turbulent waves of adolescence, like when she got her first period and cried hysterically in her arms. Maria was the mother Ellie never had, guiding her with gentle wisdom.

Whenever Joel became too suffocating, Tommy’s house was Ellie’s sanctuary, and Maria was the only woman she could pour her heart out to, complaining about how harsh her dad could be at times. Joel wasn’t a bad dad; he was trying his best. He was always willing to learn and adapt whenever he made mistakes, ready to listen to his daughter’s needs.

The young girl nodded at her dad’s words, the small movement causing your head to slip from her shoulder, waking you instantly. Your eyes darted to Joel, confused and half-asleep.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you yawned, straightening your posture and offering a soft smile.

“Thought we were past formalities, kid,” he responded with a half-smile. “Staying for the night?”

“Not this time. My mom’s coming back from a business trip,” you explained, glancing at Ellie for a moment before looking back at Joel.

Every time you looked at him, Ellie noticed a sparkle in your eyes, as if you were gazing at the most precious gem, something you desired but couldn’t have. Despite your wealth, the cinnamon-haired girl was unaware of how much richer she was in the things that truly mattered—she had a small house, yet it was full of joy, life, love, and a dad who would do anything for his daughter.

Love. Something so simple yet elusive, even for people like you.

Ellie saw the bittersweet smile on your face whenever Joel teased her or made silly dad jokes to make her laugh. Your dad never cared, nor did your mom. They were too focused on appearances, money, and molding you into the perfect daughter, but never actually caring for you. They were always traveling for work, never home, no family dinners, no Sunday picnics in the park. They’d praise you and leave money in your hand, their fake and forced words ringing in your ears, making you smile even as your stomach churned with dissatisfaction and longing. But you wanted more than words. You wanted more than money could ever buy.

26th of August.

You unlocked the front door and entered your family’s mansion, the heavy wooden door creaking softly on its hinges. You held it open for Ellie, who hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. She had never been to your place before, and with both of your parents gone for the week on business, you had seized the opportunity to bring her over.

The mansion was pristine, everything looking like it had been plucked straight out of a glossy magazine. The warm hues of the hardwood floors and the soft, ambient lighting softened the clean lines of the modern furniture.

Yet, despite its beauty, the house felt impersonal, like a perfectly staged showroom devoid of any real warmth. The pristine walls were adorned with a few framed photographs—mostly of your parents’ wedding, your first birthday, and a picture of your dad at what appeared to be a promotion party. No clutter, no personal touches. It was a house, not a home.

“Make yourself at home,” you kicked off your shoes and placed them neatly on the shoe rack by the entrance. Ellie hummed in response, her eyes roaming around the space as she wandered deeper into the house, her backpack still slung over her shoulder.

Her gaze remained fixed on the picture frame, a puzzled expression on her face as she asked, “Is this your sister?”

“Sister? What sister?” Your reply came out quick and unfeeling, as if the mention of a sibling was foreign to you.

Ellie’s eyebrow arched in skepticism at your dismissive tone, clearly certain of what she was saying. “You told me you had a sister,” she repeated, her gaze unwavering as she tried to jog your memory. Confusion evident on your face, she continued, “You know, the Savage Starlight fan…?” she prompted, recalling the conversation, her confusion deepening as you remained oblivious to what she was talking about.

“I never said that,” you scoffed, “Maybe your brain is scrambled from all the weed you smoke on breaks with Dina.” Ellie’s eyes widened slightly at your accusation, a flicker of surprise and amusement crossing her face.

“Whaa—”

“Ooooh, thought I wouldn’t notice?” you teased, a playful chuckle escaping your lips. You adopted a mock scolding expression, pinching her waist gently, making her squirm and jump away from you.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, raising her hands protectively in front of her abdomen. A playful grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. “It only happened once.”

“Uh-huh,” you responded, your skepticism evident in your tone.

“...or twice,” she added, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Uh-huh,” you repeated, giving her a look that was a mix of disbelief and amusement.

Ellie chuckled, the sound warm and genuine, echoing through the otherwise silent mansion. She dropped her backpack by the foot of the couch and flopped down onto the plush cushions, sinking into their softness. You watched her for a moment, the way she seemed to bring life into the sterile environment, her presence a stark contrast to the usual cold perfection of your home.

“Seriously though,” she started, looking up at you with a more earnest expression. “Thanks for inviting me over. Your place is... well, it’s pretty amazing.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but her words brought a small, genuine smile to your lips. “It’s just a house,” you said, dismissing the compliment. “But you’re welcome.”

Ellie nodded, her eyes drifting back to the framed photos on the wall. She seemed lost in thought, her fingers tracing patterns on the couch fabric absentmindedly. “So, what do you want to do?”

A sly grin graced your lips, the corners of your mouth curving up. “Well, with the parents away, we’ve got the place to ourselves. I was thinking we could order Mexican food, watch a movie, and just hang out. Sound good?”

Ellie’s face lit up with a genuine smile. “Yeah, sounds perfect.”

She ended up staying for more than just the night. One night turned into two days, then three, with Ellie insisting she couldn’t leave you all by yourself while your parents were gone. “I’ll keep you great company,” she had said with a mischievous grin.

Your days in her company were a blissful blur of sex, cuddles, kisses, and more sex.

Rinse and repeat.

You groggily woke up one morning, instinctively reaching out for her, but the soft white sheets beside you were empty and cold. The faint scent of something sweet hung in the air, mixing with the lingering vanilla from the candles you had lit the night before, back when Ellie had eaten you out so good that it put you to sleep.

Sitting up, you rubbed the sleepiness from your eyes. Ellie’s over-sized shirt hung loosely on your body, brushing against your thighs as you stood. Your steps were almost inaudible as you padded toward the kitchen, drawn by the soft sounds and sweeter smells.

There she was, by the stove, flipping golden pancakes with practiced ease. A soft smile spread across your face as you admired her quietly. The morning light tiptoed through the window, casting a gentle glow on her goddess-like features. She hummed a tune to herself, a song you didn’t recognize, so engrossed in her task that it made your heart swell, a warm and unfamiliar feeling creeping up into your chest.

You walked up behind Ellie quietly, wrapping your arms around her waist. She jumped slightly, her humming stopping abruptly, before chuckling softly. “You scared the shit outta me,” she murmured, revealing her perfect pearly teeth in a smile you were too late to see. You pressed your cheek against her back, hugging her tightly. One of her hands gripped the spatula expertly while the other came to rest on top of your forearms, which were snugly hugging her waist.

“Sorry,” you mumbled softly, still half asleep.

Ellie laughed gently, the sound a soothing balm to your sleepy mind. “Didn’t hear you coming.”

You nuzzled closer, inhaling her scent, a mix of morning freshness and something uniquely her. God, you loved her smell. “Pancakes?”

“Yep,” she said, flipping another perfectly golden one. “Figured you’d wake up hungry after last night.” she teased.

“Oh, haha”

She chuckled again, a warm, melodic sound that filled the kitchen. “I made a whole stack.”

You stayed like that for a moment, just enjoying the simple intimacy of the morning. The pancakes sizzled in the pan, the smell of syrup and vanilla mingling in the air. The light continued to play across the room, casting a halo around Ellie’s head, making her look even more divine.

Finally, you loosened your grip, and she turned around, her eyes meeting yours with a tender look that made your heart skip a beat. “Breakfast is almost ready,” she informed you softly, her fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“You didn’t have to,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Ellie didn’t have to go out of her way like that. Not even your own mother bothered to show that level of care. She never worried if you had eaten while she was out all day in meetings or away for a whole week on a work trip. Ellie really didn’t have to be so incredibly kind to you, to spoil you, to push you to your limits at night only to care for you in the morning. And the worst part was that you were becoming accustomed to it.

Ellie leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I wanted to,” she murmured.

You smiled up at her, feeling a swell of emotion you couldn’t quite put into words—it was nothing you had felt before. It wasn’t just the sex or the cuddles or the endless nights of talking and laughing. Moments like this, simple and pure, made you realize just how much the auburnette actually meant to you. That’s when a sudden wave of worry washed over you, wondering what it would be like if all this was ripped from you. It all felt too perfect to be real.

“Where’d you even learn to make pancakes?” you suddenly asked in disbelief, your eyes fixed on the impeccable stack of pancakes sitting on a plate atop the glistening white marble. They looked like they had emerged from a step-by-step tutorial video or one of those captivating cooking shows on TV. The kind of pancakes that you’d attempt to recreate but could never quite make as beautiful as the ones on the screen.

“Maria,” Ellie smirked, clearly proud of her cooking skills. “You should try hers. They’re sooo good.”

The morning continued, filled with laughter, stolen kisses, and inside jokes. Ellie insisted on washing the dishes, her movements swift and efficient as she tidied up the usually immaculate kitchen. She almost felt guilty for using and messing it up in the first place.

You leaned against the living room door frame, watching Ellie with a soft smile. Her fingers traced over the spines of the vinyls on the shelf near the record player, curiosity etched on her face.

“That’s all my dad’s,” you said, tugging her back from her reverie. “But I doubt he’s ever used it once,” you added, a wistful sigh escaping your lips.

Ellie turned to you, her brows raised in curiosity. She had seen a vinyl record once at one of Joel’s friends’ places when she was a kid. Bill had a bunch of vintage stuff, and she had asked if she could try it, only to get a gruff, “Don’t you even try, you little shit,” in response. That had obviously been met with a scolding glare from her dad.

She hummed in acknowledgment. “Does it even work?” she asked, her fingertips tracing the edge of the record player.

“‘Course it does. I use it all the time,” you revealed. Ellie’s eyes darted to the vinyl in the player, assuming it was only for decoration before your words. You walked over and placed the needle on the record, the familiar crackle filling the room before the first notes of a ‘The Smiths’ song began to play.

Ellie laughed in disbelief. “The Smiths, really?” she teased, a hint of humor in her tone. She couldn’t help but find it jarring that this soft, romantic song didn’t mesh with the polished, cool exterior you usually projected.

“Surprised?” you teased back, a glint of challenge sparking in your eyes. “There’s more to me than meets the eye, you know,” you whispered mischievously.

Ellie smiled, shaking her head. “I guess so.” She moved closer, her hands finding their way to your waist as the music played softly in the background. “What other secrets are you hiding?”

You wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her closer as you swayed together, your bodies moving in perfect synchrony. Her body was warm and soft against yours; you couldn’t help but tease her in return, a playful smirk on your face. “Wouldn’t you like to find out?” you echoed, your voice low and suggestive.

The room seemed to constrict around you, the music creating an intimate bubble that isolated you from the rest of the world. Ellie traced patterns on your back, her breath warm and comforting against your neck. The song played on, its melancholic lyrics weaving a spell around you as if the music herself had woven a net to capture the moment.

Her gentle laughter, a delicate and enchanting sound, intertwined with the lyrics, creating a mesmerizing harmony in the air. Leaning in, she whispered, “Oooh, I want to know everything about you,” her words caressing your lips before capturing them in a soft, lingering kiss. Time seemed to stand still in that moment as if transported into a surreal dream or a romantic movie scene.

The moment the kiss shifted down to your neck, you instinctively tilted your head, surrendering to her touch and allowing her to explore the sensitive flesh with her lips. Your eyes fluttered shut, a soft hum of pleasure escaping from your throat as you leaned completely against her, letting her control the slow, swaying motion of your bodies.

Ellie mumbled something against your neck, her words lost as she continued a trail of soft kisses along the sensitive flesh. Your mind was hazy with pleasure, your body responding instinctively to her touch. “Hmm?” you hummed, realizing you hadn't entirely caught what she said.

“I said I love the Smiths.” The redhead repeated herself, pulling away from you to meet your eyes, her dilated pupils fixed intently on yours, her mouth shaped in a sheepish, dumbfounded smile. In that moment, you could see firsthand how love had a way of making even the toughest person look utterly idiotic.

You grinned widely at her words, your hand reaching out to tenderly tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Your gaze flicked down to her lips, a sly gleam in your eyes before you abruptly crushed your lips against hers. Her eyes widened momentarily, a pair of small, smiling wrinkles forming at the corners before she melted into the kiss, her hands needily pulling your body closer to hers, almost tripping as she stumbled backward.

28th of August.

Ellie’s sobs filled your ears, a melody of desperation and delight, messy and unrestrained. Her body was a masterpiece, splattered with a riot of purple paint, accented with hot pink and blue, those elusive spots that refused to blend together, tangible proof of her impatience. She lay sprawled on the largest canvas your dad’s studio could offer, a living, breathing work of art.

It all began with an innocent, trivial question. “What’s with the face paint?” Ellie’s eyes widened with wonder as she caught sight of the face paint set tucked away in your bathroom. The tubes were crusty with dried paint, a relic of past experiments, and her inquisitive nature couldn’t resist the lure of discovering more about you.

She needed to know everything about you.

One thing led to another, and soon, you were painting her body a delicate shade of blue. Flowers bloomed around her areolas, her pink nipples hardening instantly as the brush’s bristles teased her sensitive skin, causing giddy giggles to erupt from her. Her thighs, once adorned with intricate floral patterns, now bore the marks of your passion, a chaotic blend of colors that turned into a deep purple.

You continued your creative spree, doodling and pouring your love into each stroke, turning her into your personal canvas. She lay there, naked and willing, on the actual canvas, her body the perfect medium for your artistic expression. She was so fucking perfect. Prettier than any supermodel. Your instrument moved across her honeyed flesh, connecting the dark, espresso-colored dots to create unique constellations. Your brushstrokes caressed her skin like a stargazer tracing patterns in the night sky.

When she was given the chance, Ellie’s hands moved with an unexpected elegance, sketching whimsical, Van Gogh-esque drawings on your soft, supple skin. But your features were so perfect, so divine, that they hardly needed any embellishment. And Ellie was nothing more than a devoted disciple, ready to worship your body at any second. She tried her best not to ruin her masterpiece by pouncing on you, but the temptation was too strong. She pressed her body against yours, her pink-stained hands exploring your form, leaving behind a beautiful mess on the once-blank canvas beneath you.

In a heartbeat, you had Ellie pressed against the canvas that would soon become a masterpiece. Her body was sprawled across the expanse of white as you trapped her beneath you, enclosing her with your thighs like the frame around a piece of art.

You were dead sure all those well-known artists would be jealous, their hands trembling with envy at the passion you poured into each other. Each movement etched another stroke as you worked together, painting love into existence, daring history itself to look away.

Your fingers worked relentlessly inside her, thrusting with a fierce, almost reckless abandon. You watched the redhead quiver and squirm, her soft sobs echoing through the vast mansion, filling the silence with a melody of need and desire. The mansion felt so empty, yet so complete with the addictive sounds of her pleasure.

“Just a bit more, pretty girl. Gonna make such a cute painting, yeah?” you purred, your tone dripping with sugary sweetness. Your free hand held her hips down firmly, abandoning her tits to focus on the task at hand.

Ellie nodded, crying out your name, her legs twitching and threatening to clamp around your hand, trapping it between her toned, plush thighs. Thighs that bore the marks of your love from the night before, purple love bites adorning her slightly tanned skin. Purple suited her so well, whether it was the paint or the love marks you left behind.

“I’m gonna hang this masterpiece where I can see it every day. A reminder of how fucking perfect you are,” you murmured, voice like liquid sin, your pink-stained knees planted firmly on either side of her hips as you hovered over her, your body a kaleidoscope of passion painted in wild strokes of color. Your lips brushed against hers, whispering sweet nothings; your words ignited a flurry of excitement in her stomach, making her insides perform all sorts of acrobatic feats at every syllable that escaped your lips. The idea of you displaying both of your bodies—or, well, the mess you two had made on the canvas while you destroyed the shit out of her—turned her on even more and made her feel special; it made her feel oddly appreciated.

Your fingers, slick and relentless, plunged deeper inside her, exploring her depths like an artist lost in the throes of creation. “Babe… g’na cum again,” she panted, her voice trembling with a mix of desperation and anticipation. Her hands, stained with pink and blue, clung to your arm, leaving smears of paint like love notes on your skin.

“I’m not stopping until you do,” you promised with a wicked grin, your free hand roaming her body, feeling the curves and dips like a sculptor molding clay. Your breasts hovered over her smaller ones, purposely rubbing your hard nipples against hers in a slow, sensual motion, feeling her chest rise and fall with each breath, “Muses deserve to be worshiped.”

The auburnette couldn't agree more; her sketchbook was filled with drawings of you. Every line, every curve, every feature of your face and body were etched onto the pages as if they were a permanent fixture in her mind. The sketches captured your essence in a way that words could never fully describe. The casual moments she had spent observing you burned into her memory, and she felt compelled to translate them onto paper.

She had never shown them to you, of course, and she hoped you would never find out. The sketches were her secret stash of stolen memories, snapshots of intimate interactions, a reminder of the unique connection she shared with you that words alone could never capture.

Ellie’s back arched, pressing her painted body closer to yours, the heat between you both almost unbearable. The canvas beneath you was a riot of color, a testament to your passionate union, each brushstroke a symbol of a moment where flesh met flesh.

“You’re my fucking masterpiece,” you rasped, fingers working faster, deeper, drawing out her pleasure with every thrust. The sounds escaping her lips were almost musical in their intensity—mewls and whines so high-pitched and fervent.

Ellie cried out, the sound echoing through the usually silent mansion, a symphony of unfiltered sinful pleasure. Her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, her body trembling with the intensity of her orgasm. You felt her cunt squeeze your fingers, her release painting you in a mess of sticky wetness and raw need, mixing with the paint all over each of you.

Your sacred nectar dripped onto the rough canvas, merging with the pink and blue stains like a varnish promising to seal the artwork, smudge-proof. But it wasn’t enough; it was never enough for you. You always pushed Ellie past her limits.

As the emerald-eyed girl came, you left her no time to recover from her orgasm. “Sit on my face,” you commanded. You never just asked—you took whatever you wanted, doing as you pleased. And she complied, like a good brainless little thing, letting you use her, just like always.

“Am I too… heavy? Can you breathe?” The questions rolled off Ellie’s tongue, her anxious mind racing. She was almost afraid of putting any weight on your face; the last thing she wanted was to hurt you. Oh, if she knew how much you wanted to suffocate between those toned thighs.

Blue-stained hands gripped her hips firmly, dragging her down onto you. You huffed at her nervous questions. “Just like you’d sit on a chair,” you instructed. She let you control her every movement, shivering as your breath ghosted over her wetness, her hand resting gently on your abdomen to steady herself.

You took a moment to admire the mess you had made of her, translucent cum coating her cunt and various colors painting her body, making her look like a beautiful mess. “So messy,” you murmured, your voice muffled. Your tongue traced along her slit, gathering every drop of her essence with your muscle. You teased her entrance with your tongue but never quite stuffing it inside, instead traveling to her swollen clit.

Ellie squirmed and jerked away from your face, still incredibly sensitive, but you stopped her in her tracks, gripping her hips to keep her anchored to your mouth. She cried out as you teased her throbbing nub, applying the smallest pressure, and she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Oh my god…” she gasped, her head thrown back, mouth agape in a silent cry, eyes rolling back as you began to suck gently. But when she looked past her shoulder and took note of your paint-smeared thighs, the way you rubbed them together in search of desperately needed friction. She couldn’t drown the urge to make you feel good. You were always so good to her, taking care of her body with fervent dedication and love, and she wanted to do the exact same thing to you. Ellie swiftly turned to lay on top of you, her body adhering to yours perfectly, mixing paint with sweat and cum; she gently parted your legs to bury her face between them. Her fingertips traced a delicate pattern, and a shiver ran through your body, goosebumps erupting on your skin at the feather-light devoted touch.

Your body shivered with anticipation as she began to play with your sensitive core, her long fingers circling your entrance and making you grow more impatient by the second. The auburnette couldn’t help but smirk at your urgent movements, watching as you bucked against her, desperately needing more from her touch.

There was an unspoken competition between the two of you. You were determined to make Ellie come before you, and she had the same goal in mind for you. Her fingers filled you, her mouth on your clit, sucking harshly, as if she was drawing life itself from you, making it hard to focus on anything but the building tension in your belly.

Your paint-smudged face contorted, a beautiful blend of frustration and ecstasy, as you succumbed to the overwhelming knot tightening in your stomach. Your thoughts were scattered, unable to focus on the task ahead anymore. What prevailed was the connection between you, a cosmic collision that was both fierce and gentle, like the merging of planets, or the joining of stars.

Your mouth left Ellie’s core, your nails sunk into the plump flesh of her colored ass, paint collecting under the nails, and your eyes squeezed shut. The redhead’s mind was lost in the filthy noises you were making, so lewd and animalistic. She was eagerly slurping on you, tongue flicking against your clit, her digits coated in the slick wetness that was pouring out of you with each pump of her slender fingers.

Ellie’s rough fingers dug deeper and deeper, and as soon as she added a third finger, you came; she enjoyed the feeling of you pulsating around her so much, like a kid who had found the toy they had wished for under the Christmas tree. You left a trail of crimson nail marks etched onto her skin, a vivid reminder of the moment that would replay endlessly in her mind like a film caught in a loop.

Her hands glided over your trembling thighs, fingers tracing gentle reassurances in the paint that anchored you in the moment. “Did so good for me,” Ellie murmured, her voice a soft caress that warmed your skin like sunlight filtering through leaves. For a heartbeat, it felt as though roles had reversed. But the shift was fleeting, like a breeze that stirs the leaves for only a moment. Her breath hitched as your mouth found its place again. Her voice caught in her throat, countless stifled sounds bouncing around the room as you pressed on, more determined than ever to bring her to her orgasm.

The ivy-eyed girl gasped, the word “fuck” tumbling from her lips, raw and unguarded, as her body shifted above you. But you held her close, your arms encircling her, a protective, possessive cage that kept her pressed against you, unable to escape. Your grip left marks, but she didn’t mind; they were reminders of the intensity of this moment, of how much you needed her. Her hips moved with a desperate rhythm against your tongue, her essence mingling with your own, painting your chin with slick saccharine juices. “I’m close again,” she warned, her words more of a plea than a warning.

“You’re so fucking good at this,” Ellie breathed, the words tumbling out in a mess of praise that barely held meaning, but you understood them perfectly. You continued your worship, devouring her like she was the first taste of sweetness after a lifetime of bitterness like you had never known anything more intoxicating than the flavor of her. And it was true. She rode the waves of her peak, her hips undulating in a rhythm you wished you could capture, freeze in time, and replay endlessly just to marvel at the poetry of her movements.

When she finally shattered, you made sure to savor every fragment of her, to pull every last drop of her essence into you, draining her completely. She was your ambrosia, a feast for a hunger you hadn’t known you carried until you met her. And there was something almost unholy in how desperately you craved every part of her, a need that would remain your secret. She didn’t need to know all that.

You lay there together, bodies tangled in a heap of sweat and colors, the aftermath of your passions a vivid painting that had yet to dry. Your breaths mingled, an echo of exhaustion and contentment, until finally, the euphoria began to fade. You helped each other to your feet, and together, you made your way to the bathroom, the remnants of your creative explosion still clinging to your skin, a Picasso of emotions splashed across your bodies, leaving the actual canvas you had fucked her on laying on the floor, drying.

The moment you two stepped into the shower, steam began filling the bathroom, sticking to your paint-splattered skin. It felt oddly intimate, a sensation that left you struggling to comprehend how taking a shower with Ellie could feel so profound. You had showered together countless times, often after sex and sometimes leading right back into it, your hands unable to keep to themselves, drawn to explore and touch.

But this time was different. Neither of you spoke nor dared disturb the comfortable peace that had formed in this box-shaped sanctuary. Yet, without words, you were communicating more deeply than ever. Ellie’s touch wasn’t hungry or greedy; she wasn’t pulling you closer to satisfy her own desires. Her hands moved with a tenderness that almost made you cry as she carefully massaged the soap onto your skin.

Have you ever been touched like this before?

Her green eyes watched your body with such love and care, meeting your gaze with an intensity that spoke louder than words. It was as if you could hear the unspoken confession that echoed in her mind like a haunting refrain she couldn’t shake off. She didn’t want to overstep, didn’t want to scare you away, but the feeling was there.

Your eyes remained locked on each other, the silence both comforting and suffocating, your minds plagued by the same simple yet devastating confession.

“I love you.”

But neither of you dared to say it. The fear of such vulnerability held you back. You had never felt this way before. Your heart and mind, usually so guarded, ached with the desire to be loved, to be unwrapped and discovered like a precious gift. There was so much more to you than the expensive clothes, the money, the bitchy attitude, and the snarky comments. She saw it all. She could see right through you.

And that’s when it clicked. You kept Ellie around, not just because she didn’t let your bullshit faze her and snapped right back at you like a boomerang, but because she made you feel seen. This feeling of being truly seen was the most terrifying thing in the world. It sounded so simple, so stupid even. Wasn’t that what everyone wanted? To be seen?

Not when it came with the power to destroy you, to leave you in pieces if they ever decided to walk away.

Only when you had stepped out of the shower did you finally speak, both of you trying to ignore the intense moment that had just transpired. You pretended it wasn’t there, that the feelings and infatuation didn’t linger in the steam-filled air. Ellie helped you wrap a clean towel around your body, her touch lingering just a fraction too long, and you did the same for her, your hands brushing her skin with a familiarity that felt both comforting and dangerous.

“When are they coming back again?” she asked, breaking the sacred silence, her voice soft. Her crystalline eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made you almost uncomfortable, compelling you to look away.

She could sense it—like a truffle-hunting dog, she picked up on the uncertainty, the fear radiating from you. But she didn’t call you out on it, not even when you turned your back to her, pretending to be too busy tidying up the self-care products scattered on the gray marble of the sink.

You busied yourself with arranging the bottles and jars, your hands moving with a mechanical precision. “The day after tomorrow, but I invited my friends over tonight,” you announced, your voice cutting through the thick silence.

The auburnette hummed in acknowledgment, a sound that felt more like a placeholder than a response. You sighed, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, and turned to look at her. An apologetic, guilty expression painted your face.

“What?” she mumbled, her brows lifting ever so slightly, confusion knitting them together. She couldn’t read your expression or decipher the tangled thoughts wandering through your mind.

“It’s gonna be a girls’ night.”

Ellie’s brows arched in perplexity, and she huffed out a chuckle. “I’m a girl too,” she uttered, the confusion clear in her voice, her eyes searching yours for clarity.

“No, I meant... I want time alone with my friends.” You could see the shift in her eyes, the realization settling in like a storm cloud, darkening the light in her gaze.

She let out a scoff, her voice tinged with sarcasm as a bitter expression took over her features, her freckles standing out like splatters of ink against the canvas of her anger-flushed cheeks. “Ah, yeah, sure.” She could feel her patience slipping away at your bewildered and wide-eyed look as if she had been waiting for this very moment to unleash her true thoughts. The meadow-eyed girl’s expression hardened, a slight frown crossing her face as she prepared to speak her mind. “Is it that or the fact that you’re ashamed of me?”

“What are you on about?”

“C’mon, Y/N, I’m not fucking stupid.” She shook her head in disappointment, her eyes clouded with hurt. “I thought we were past this bullshit.”

You chuckled, a hollow sound that echoed off the marble walls, trying to brush off her words and dismiss them, just like you always did whenever you wanted to avoid confrontation. “You’re overthinking it.”

But she wasn’t having it, not this time. Ellie stood there, the dampness of the shower still clinging to her skin, her frustration palpable. Her eyes, usually a soft haven, were now sharp and piercing, searching yours for any sign of the truth you were so desperate to hide.

“Yeah, say all you want. I know what you’re doing.” Her voice raised ever so slightly, her flushed face contorted in anger. A few baby hairs stuck to her damp and humid forehead, a loose strand escaping her little bun and framing her face like a wild halo. “What about when we’re gonna date, like, officially?” she blurted out, frustration dripping from every syllable.

“Date?” you scoffed, your voice softer than hers, your expression starkly contrasting her intensity, almost… mocking.

“Yes, date. What the fuck are we?”

“Ellie, do not start with this again,” you grumbled, annoyed, your eyes rolling at her question. “We’re having fun, that’s what we are.”

Her eyes narrowed, the hurt and anger blending into a storm behind her gaze. “Having fun, really?” she echoed, disbelief and desperation lacing her words.

“We’re having fun, Ellie. Isn’t that enough?” you snapped back, arms crossed, your posture defensive, closing off like a fortress. The air between you felt electric, charged with the tension of unspoken truths and buried fears.

“Enough? For who?” she shot back, her voice cracking with emotion. “For you, maybe. But not for me. I need more than just ‘fun.’ I need to know what this is. What we are.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, the weight of her words pressing down on you. “We’re just… Can’t we just keep it simple for now?”

“Simple?” The freckled girl’s scoff was sharp, her head shaking in disbelief as she tried to banish the tears that threatened to well up in her eyes. She refused to let you see her cry, to give you the satisfaction of thinking that she was weak, that you had any power over her emotions, feeding your ego like some kind of gluttonous beast. “You call this simple? Hiding me from your friends, pretending like we’re just hooking up? That’s not simple; that’s cowardice.”

Her words stung, each one a dagger to your carefully constructed defenses. “It’s not like that. It’s just... complicated.”

“Complicated? Or are you just scared?” she challenged, stepping closer, her eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity. “Scared of what this could be. Scared of letting yourself feel something real.” she had this almost devilish smirk on her face, “Have you ever even been in love before?”

The accusation hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. Ellie was right, and you knew it. The truth was, you were terrified. Terrified of how deeply you felt for her, terrified of what it would mean to let her in, truly and completely. Not again, at least; it was something you couldn’t afford.

The fear was suffocating, and you couldn’t bring yourself to admit the truth. Not yet. “I just need time,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

“Time,” Ellie repeated, her voice hollow. “How much time? Because I’m here, right now, ready to give you everything. But I won’t wait forever.”

You looked at her, really looked at her, and saw the vulnerability she was laying bare. The silence between you was deafening, a chasm that threatened to swallow you both whole.

“Ellie, I…” you started, but the words caught in your throat, tangled in the web of your own fear.

“Forget it,” she said, turning away, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Just forget it.”

She walked past you, bumping your shoulder as she stormed off, her footsteps echoing in the tile-lined hallway. She rushed to your room, her movements frantic and determined, immediately gathering her clothes—everything. By the time you ran after her, the auburnette was already half-dressed, slipping on the last piece of clothing. The distance between you felt insurmountable, and you realized with a sinking heart that you might have just lost the best thing you never knew you needed.

You stared at her with wide eyes, your fear laid bare. “El, c’mon. Stop acting like this.” You tried to shake her out of it, but it was clear she wasn’t going to sit there like a good puppy and let your lies control her every decision. Not this time.

She kept pacing back and forth quickly, shoving her belongings into her backpack with an urgency that broke your heart. You walked towards her, reaching for her arm. “Baby, hey, look at me.” Despite the softness in your voice, she snatched her arm away from your grasp.

“Don’t fucking ‘baby’ me,” she snapped, her voice a whip crack in the tense air.

“Let’s talk about it, please,” you pleaded, desperation creeping into your tone, something you never even dared to do, not even in your wildest dreams.

She paused for a moment, her back to you, her shoulders trembling with the effort to hold back tears. “Talk about what?” she finally said, her voice breaking. “Talk about how you’re too scared of being seen with me? How you’d rather hide me away rather than face your stupid fucking friends? Or… whatever it is you're scared of.”

Your silence spoke volumes, the truth too heavy to put into words. “Ellie, I’m trying. I really am.”

“Trying?” she repeated, her voice laced with bitter disbelief. She turned to face you, her eyes red-rimmed and shining with unshed tears. “I can’t keep doing this, Y/N. I can’t keep waiting for you to decide if I’m worth the risk.”

Her words sliced through your soul like the bite of a razor-sharp blade, the sheer weight of her anguish resonating deep within your very bones. You wanted to reach out, to pull her into your arms and promise her the world, but the fear held you back, a dark shadow whispering doubts into your ear.

“Ellie, please,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Don’t go.”

She shook her head, the finality of her decision clear in her eyes. “I can’t stay,” she said softly. “Not like this.”

“Hey, hey, stop it. Don’t.” You stepped right in front of her, stopping her in her tracks. Your hands gently cradled her face, and you gazed intently into her intense emerald eyes. You pressed your forehead against hers, your breaths mingling as you held her gaze.

Ellie’s hands delicately rested on top of yours, her voice barely audible as your name escaped her lips like a gentle sigh. Her long eyelashes fluttered closed briefly, as if the moment’s intensity was enough to take her breath away, leaving her feeling overwhelmed.

“You don’t wanna leave,” Your voice was soft and soothing as your thumb tenderly caressed the freckled plane of her cheekbone, your words a silent plea that you couldn't bring yourself to speak aloud.

Why not simply reveal your feelings, confessing that you loved her just as much as she loved you? Why not lay bare your heart and express how her absence leaves an aching void within you, a void that can only be filled by her presence alone? Pride had a way of ruining everything, an invisible force that drove wedges between hearts. Add to that fear of vulnerability, and the situation becomes even more dire, a toxic combination that threatens to destroy even the strongest connections.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say it, the words caught in your throat like thorns. And so, Ellie left, slipping away like sand through your fingers.

You watched as she zipped up her backpack and slung it over her shoulder, her steps heavy as she walked past you. The door clicked shut behind her, the sound echoing in your ears like a death knell taking with her that little warmth only she could provide, your house growing uncomfortably cold and empty again.

Back to the origin.

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illnessfaker · 7 months

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tw: black+trans death

from the_yvesdropper on instagram:

our beautiful black trans brother, 35 year old Righteous Torrence "Chevy" Hill, was murdered in Atlanta, GA this weekend.

he went by his nickname 'Chevy' he was originally from Macon, GA. he owned Evollusion, which is a black/ queer owned LGBTQ+ salon in Atlanta that provided and dedicated full service to specializing in hair, nails, barbering and makeup. growing up as young black queer boys/kids, the barbershop experience can sometimes be a tricky space to occupy, this was something that Chevy understood and wanted to cultivate a space of safety where you can also get the affirming look and style you want, and he did exactly that.

Chevy was a beloved son, brother, partner, and father.

one of his last posts that had a photo of himself said :

"if you truly know me, you know i am a humble, modest, private man, that i love my community, i have the love of God in me and will give the shirt off my back to any soul in need, also i never post pictures of myself, legaey give myself credit, that stops today, i am my legacy!"

(a close friend of Chevy asked if i could share more then one photo of Chevy, since he never posted photos of himself and in recent years he got the confidence to want to share more photos and now he won't get the chance to)

Chevy, hey king, hey brother, hey angel, thank you for everything, i lové you, we lové you, i'm so sorry. there are a lot of photographers in heaven who will be able to photograph you as the glorious black trans angel that you are.

there will be a homegoing service/memorial for our brother

there aren't many details about what happened but apparently he was shot by a family member last wednesday, the 28th (at least this article was the one linked in relation to his murder.)

judging by both the IG post and the comments section he was well-loved by many people and those people have many good memories with him and nothing but good things to say. this is a comment that was left by tirajmeansgolden which was hidden by IG for some reason:

I started testosterone in February 2020. I hit this man up at the end of 2019 after numerous Google searches for an LGBT-friendly barber near me (and by near me... he was a good 35-40 minutes from the rural area I was in outside of Atlanta: but when I found out he was a trans man and that his business was the first and only LGBT hair bar, I knew it would be worth the trip). I was a dysphoric mess in his DMs one Sunday. I hated how my hair was growing out. I never had a "masculine" hairstyle before but decided one day I would buzz it all off myself, then allowed it to grow out a bit... I sent him a video and despite him being closed on Sunday, he told me to come through. I got my hair braided and he gave me my first really masculine fade. Explained the different terms. Lined me up. Was asking me about my decision to transition and provided some helpful advice + guidance. I told him how I was a therapist and he was hype and said he talked with a group of trans men and he would love for me to stop by and also give some mental health tips. So whoever said he was humble - wow, what an understatement. Such a community man! Made me feel SO comfortable because barbershops were a source of major trauma and triggers for me. They were such an integral part of my early transition (I just celebrated 4 years later week). And he was such an integral part of the Atlanta Queer community with hosting events like Queer Con. How I found so many other great resources + queer businesses/artists. May you rest in peace, Chevy. You'll be missed. You've made such a different in the lives of countless people. You definitely were living your Purpose + left a legacy behind ...

#op #rest in power #black trans lives matter #death -#black death -#trans death -#didn't add a tw to the top of this post at first. sorry everyone.

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cogaytes · 1 month

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i know it's not directed at me, but my conversation starter is that i personally find fandom as a place for anyone and everyone. i think my genuine confusion for the discourse is that the age limit to use ao3 is 13, and that most of these works in question are properly tagged as well. (if they aren't then that's an entirely different conversation.)

oh and also that teenagers have sex?

if you don't wanna see it that's never a huge problem! of course you should stay within your comfort zone and avoid things that make you feel uncomfortable (especially if you're on the younger age of the spectrum of minors on these websites!)

but arguing that smut shouldn't exist is something i've never truly understood. Sexuality is something that people (yes that includes young people) can and should explore if they want to. Writing and consuming it in fandom is a way for many older teenagers and young adults to do that in a safe and healthy way.

Especially when it is those things like rape and non-con stuff--shouldn't we be relieved that instead of causing harm to others, people are just using their creativity to write about it?

Tumblr has always been the Gay People Site™, and to me and my expression of both my gender and sexuality, sex is a huge part of that. People have sex! Teenagers have sex! Some people even like to read and write about it!

Unfortunately for a lot of people, their self expression is not socially accepted as the norm, and they can--and may already have--faced disgust and discrimination for their private interests. Sites like Archive of our Own and Tumblr were made for the freedom of self expression and exploring personal interests in an anonymous way, especially those that may be considered taboo.

Will you find me reading incest fics? Probably not, that's not my cup of tea. But I won't complain either, because I know that it may be that for the author and some other people. As long as a fic is properly tagged, I personally do not have issue with content as long as it does not cause mental or physical harm to other (real world) people.

These are fictional characters, and I truly believe that censoring authors and artists just because what they're creating is considered problematic or even just openly disobeys what is widely accepted as the norm is silly and reductive of what we've been fighting for for decades. Humans are sexual beings with sexual minds, and in our modern age we use our thoughts to write whatever we feel like. Sometimes that happens to be sex!

It may be uncomfortable, and may not be for you, but the existence of fanfiction as a whole can open up more understanding for people who are looking for connection, not just connection that you yourself deem "acceptable."

Sex is not something that's impure nor dirty, it is inherently human. It's personal and intimate, but it is not wrong.

this ask is mostly applied to what i've found in kotlc as a fandom, but my inbox is open anytime if you (or anyone who may read this) wants me to expand more on fandom spaces as a whole. i have more thoughts on real world people and a lot of other topics, but i tried to keep it to just what applied to keeper. (trying not to write an entire essay in yours haha.)

i'm aware that i may have a more lenient view on this than most as well, so i'd love to hear your thoughts <3

yeah no i agree basically with all of this! it's something i've been really grappling with over the last few years (especially recently as a ship i really find uncomfortable has become big in some of my circles of mutuals, which has been interesting to see how i thought about it when it was first a thing 3ish years ago and how my reactions have changed now). i think as i grew up i just stopped almost. caring about what other people make? like i just. filter shit out on ao3 and on tumblr and scroll past shit i don't want to see. i unfollow or block if it really becomes an issue.

but personally i just really don't like the idea of any art being given a moral value, even when it portrays topics we really don't want to think about or might feel uncomfortable with. like, my parents wouldn't let me read the hunger games until i was a certain age because the mass child death etc were just so fucking horrifying that they didn't want me exposed to it. and even reading it as an adult i'm like. okay. holy fuck. but that doesn't mean it's immoral or gross or disgusting just because it portrays fucked up things as fiction. and it definitely doesn't say anything about the author that she wrote it.

you don't have to read smut if you're not comfortable with it! you're allowed to be made uncomfortable by sex! but as long as it's properly warned for so you can avoid it, that doesn't mean it shouldn't be allowed to exist.

#kotlc discourse #kotlc smut discourse #tobi my beloved

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youwouldntlietopapa · 8 months

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The Words That Were Never Spoken (OC Re-Edit) - Chapter 5

If anyone were to quiz Isobel on Papa Secondo’s sermon or, really, even asked the topic, she wouldn’t have an answer. The entire Mass, she is lost in her thoughts. So far away from his booming voice and lessons, it might just as well be taking place on a different planet. Copia takes the seat next to her, as always, and her eyes land on his gloved hands neatly folded in his lap. From that moment she is lost. Chanting the responses to the prayers more on muscle memory than anything. She’s not even sure if she looked up at Papa once. In her mind it’s the towel around Copia’s waist. It’s his back and his shoulders. It’s the overwhelming desire to watch that towel slip to the floor and to drag him back to his bed.

Izzy clears her throat quietly and crosses her legs, trying to stifle the heat building at her core. Copia nudges her side gently and when she looks, he quirks an eyebrow up. Are you okay? His expression says. She nudges him back the same way with a small smile and a wink. I’m all right. His brow relaxes, moustache twitching just so when the corner of his mouth turns up a hint, and he returns his attention to Papa. It’s always like that with him. Something Izzy noticed early on. The way he pays attention and cares. The silent language that they share. When he can ask her a question across a crowded room without a word and hear her answer just as clearly. Her other half in a way she never truly understood the phrase.

She slips her arm through his and shifts a little closer. A gesture she’s sure she’s made a thousand times. But this morning it feels like the only thing keeping her from shattering into a million pieces.

It’s only him moving to stand that shakes her out of her thoughts at the end of Mass and she follows after him. Ducking away from the crowd and into a quiet alcove. Not that he’s particularly stealthy in his red cassock amongst all the black. Still, it’s an old habit, hiding until the rest have gone, and not one she’d be eager to give up.

“You seem distracted today, Isobel. You don’t sleep well last night?” He leans against one of the window sills, the sunlight through the stained glass casting a spray of colours across his cheek.

“Oh no, not at all. Actually, I think that might have been the best sleep I’ve had in ages.” She takes the spot next to him, nudging his side again. “It’s almost like I feel safe with you or something.”

Copia snorts. “I only lull you into a sense of security. You know how we are here, no? You see the protesters? We are all wicked, evil men here, tesoro.”

She can’t help laughing at that. The thought of anything within these walls being at all like what some people think is absurd. “You mean you don’t eat babies and sacrifice virgins, Cardinal?”

He laughs with her. “You find me a virgin here and I will eat my biretta!”

Slowly, the crowd from Mass thins and the two of them are left in the quiet of their private space, comfortable and more relaxed than she’s felt all morning. But the day is waiting and there are duties to perform. Yesterday was one thing, but she can’t avoid work forever. No matter how much she’d give to stay tucked away, chatting and laughing and not worrying for once.

“I will come with you today, to help with your things.” Copia offers and, as much as she’d like to accept, Izzy shakes her head.

“I kept you from your work for nearly the whole day yesterday. I don’t want you getting into trouble on my account.”

“… You’re sure?” He reaches for her hand and it feels like her entire soul is drawn to that point, pooling there under his warm touch.

“I am. Really. There’s a whole Abbey that needs you, Cope. I’m just one Sister. I’ll be all right.”

“You are not just anything. And I know you will be all right. You are strong and smart.” He gives her that look he gets when she runs herself down. That look she knows better than to argue with. “If you need to do this alone, I will leave you to it. But you know where I am if you need me, si?”

“I do. Thank you. I’ll come find you when I’m finished with things up here.” Izzy smirks. “Are you going to survive down there without me?”

Copia looks at you gravely and sighs. “Maybe, tesoro, with the Dark Lord’s blessing, but only barely.”

She chuckles and kisses his cheek before letting him go. “I promise I will bring coffee to revive you.”

“Bless you, Isobel!” He calls, walking off down the hall. “A strange place to find an angel, but here you are all the same.”

The day is, as expected, long, frustrating, tedious, and difficult. By the time Izzy makes it down to the archives, coffee in hand, it’s late in the day. Copia is still sitting at his usual table, surrounded by all the clear signs his day hasn’t been any better. The piles of crumpled paper, his biretta threatening to fall off the edge of the table, and his hair is wild from his hand being buried in it. He doesn’t even notice her walking up, only registering that someone else is there when she reaches over him to set his coffee in front of him and kiss the top of his head.

“Your back is going to make you regret sitting like that later, Cardinal.”

He holds up a finger, taking down half the mug in one go. “This word here,” he points. “Has 14 different translations. None of them make sense. So I do more research. But then this I need to translate. Then I need a scroll to understand that. Then another to understand the first scroll. And that, only in the first two hours.”

Copia slumps back in his chair, grumbling to himself and clutching his coffee like someone might try to snatch it away. Izzy walka around him, leaning on the edge of the table and offering a sympathetic smile.

“Dinner in tonight?”

He smirks and nudges her leg with his knee. “Just for me? Or for you too?”

“For me too. It was a long, shitty day.” Her smile falters a little before she can catch it and he reaches for her hand. “I’m all right. But I’d rather hide in your quarters than face the dining hall, if that’s all right with you.”

“More than all right, Izzy.” His lips brush her knuckles and he sets down his empty mug. Quickly dumping the crumpled papers into the trash. “You see? Finished for today. Just for you.”

She can’t help chuckling. Not missing how quickly he sets aside his own frustrations to make sure she’s taken care of. Something she needs to fix and make a mental note of. He offers his arm and she takes it gratefully, following him back upstairs and away from the drudgery of the day.

………….

Dinner isn’t fancy by any means and Copia does not care. Not even a little. He doesn’t need a fancy dinner. He needs peace and quiet and privacy. Apart from Isobel, of course. She is, as she has been for a long while, part of that privacy. Dinner tastes good and it didn’t take any real thought or effort on either his part or hers, and that is the only criteria that matters. Besides, the wine makes up for any lack of atmosphere not provided by the food. And, having eaten, his mood is significantly improved.

Seeing her in one of his shirts again isn’t hurting either.

He drags himself off the couch to grab something to snack on from his stash, and when he turns back, the wine glasses are refilled and she’s setting a couple of throw pillows on the floor in front of the couch. Copia smirks. “Am I being evicted from my spot, Isobel?”

She smiles in that way he knows too well. Like she’s up to something. “I don’t think I’d put it like that exactly.”

He sets the bowl of chips on the coffee table and raises a brow when she holds out his game controller. Taking it regardless of his confusion. “You want to play?”

“Nope. That’s just for you.” Her smile only gets a little wider. “You took care of me all day yesterday and you’re letting me stay here. Let me, at least, try to return the favour. Even just a little. All you need to do is sit and enjoy your game.”

He sits in the offered seat, setting one cushion on his lap to rest his arms on, and shakes his head. “This is not something to repay. You know this. I want to help. I want to look after you. It is not a debt, tesoro.”

“All the same, I want to do something for you as well. Are you going to keep arguing or are you going to let me be nice to you?”

A teasing flick to the back of his head makes him laugh and throw his hands up in surrender. “I give! I give! Please, Isobel, be nice to this poor old man.”

He can practically hear her rolling your eyes and he braces for the swat he knows is coming. More of a tap than anything, even if he knows how much she actually hates those comments. “Shush with that.”

“This is elder abuse, you know.” Copia giggles, turning on his game.

“I swear, I will ask the kitchen to blend your dinner into mush for the next month, old man.” The threat carries less weight when she laughs while making it.

Whatever joke he planned on making, however, vanishes the second her hands rest on his shoulders. Thumbs working into the knots of stress from a day hunched over dusty old books and scrolls. Massaging muscles that have been threatening all day to be a problem, and feeling them melt under her touch. The game is nearly impossible to focus on with her hands on his neck but, hellfire, he tries. Even as he strains against his sweatpants and the pillow on his lap. Even as he curses at himself silently not to moan or to make a fool of himself.

It’s not the first time she’s done this for him. Of course she’s done it before. She’s always taking care of him. She knows where all the knots are because she’s got them mapped out like everything else about him. The same way he knows her. The same way she’s so much a part of who he is that he can’t quite tell where she stops and he begins. And if that isn’t love, he’s not sure what is. But how to even put that into words? He has several languages at his disposal and he still doesn’t have enough words to articulate that feeling in a way that doesn’t sound like madness.

“Cope, it would be easier to point out the places that aren’t knotted.” Izzy huffs behind him. “I’m going to ask about getting a better chair for the archives.”

“I have a better chair in my office.” He smirks, trying to look normal, tipping his head back to look up at her. “I still manage to hunch.”

She smirks right back. “Fine, then remind me to get you some muscle rub at least.”

Copia turns his attention back to the TV, focusing hard on the game and not on the words muscle or rub. Which is much more difficult with her hands on his neck and shoulders. The wine won’t help either, but he drinks it all the same. Anything to keep his attention outside of himself. Away from the warmth of her touch and the urge to lean into her hands. To turn around and grab her wrists, to kiss each finger and the entire way from her fingertips to her lips. To promise her anything and everything if she’ll just stay. Not for now. Forever. To stay and be with him. To pour out his entire heart and trust that it will just… work out. That it won’t be just fine, that it will be perfect. That she won’t laugh or, worse, look at him with pity and tell him how sorry she is, that it’s not him, it’s her. That he’s such a good friend… Because he is. And so is she. More than a good friend. More than a friend. The anchor that keeps him from spiralling so far out of reach he wouldn’t even begin to know how to get back. The other half of his soul. Even the thought of suggesting that’s not enough makes him feel sick.

“Cope?” Her voice breaks through his thoughts and he jumps a little. “Are you all right?”

“Yes! Yes. Scusami. Long day, I get lost in my thoughts.” Copia forces a chuckle.

The couch squeaks softly and he can feel her leaning forward. Her arms draping down to hug him from behind, her chin on his shoulder. “You know you can talk to me.”

He places his hand on her arm, letting himself sink back into the embrace, even just a little. His temple resting against hers. “Si, I know. I do. There is nothing to talk about really, only work. Things to do, meetings, paperwork, all of it. Sono sempre le solite cazzate, Isobel. I will be alright."

The hug tightens a little. Just enough to notice. Her fingers idly worrying at the collar of his shirt. “You’re sure?”

“I am. Honest. Grazie.” He turns his head enough to kiss her cheek, feeling like a fraud and a liar. “I tell you if I am not, si? Always.”

“Always,” she echoes. Arms loosening and sitting back again. Her nose nuzzling against his cheek and her breath next to his ear, lips brushing so lightly he wonders if he imagined it.

He goes back to his game and, for a long moment, it’s quiet. The worry settling in that it was the wrong answer, that she could feel the lie and he’s made a terrible mistake. That she’ll pull away and keep her hands to herself. Until she reaches past him and sets her empty wine glass next to his on the table. Until she’s settled and her fingers brush along the hairs at the back of his neck sending a shiver down his spine.

“Headache?” The casualness of the question letting him breathe a sigh of relief.

“Not bad. You already help.”

“Do you want me to go get you something for it?”

He tips his head back again and smiles softly. “No. It’s all right. Stay here.”

The kiss on his forehead, he doesn’t have to wonder about. The smile is real too. Copia returns the smile and lets the panic go. Through everything, she’s stayed. Even when he was sure she’d vanish like people always seemed to. But there she was. Here she still is.

Her fingers brush his hair again and his eyes slide half closed. Expecting them to work into his neck again. But they slip up into his hair, seeking out the places his headaches always settle. Massaging over his scalp with delicate precision. Pressing into the places that need to be coaxed into calm. Her nails scratching softly, fingers tugging carefully to relieve a little pressure. Inching over the top of his head while he swallows a moan and tries to keep from drooling on himself. Whatever dark magic She has in those fingers works its way into his soul. Winding around his spine and making his cock throb until it aches, demanding attention. Every pass of her hands through his hair driving him a little closer to madness. When she slips away slowly, it’s all he can do not to whimper, and when he feels her moving to stand, the urge to grab a hold of her just to keep her close is nearly impossible to ignore.

Izzy smiles when you catch his worried look and chuckle softly. “I’m just going to the bathroom, don’t worry. I’ll be right back.”

Copia nods and watches her go. Waiting until the door is closed before finally giving in, reaching under the pillow, and palming himself through his sweats. Clapping a hand over his own mouth to stifle the moan. He’s going to die. That much he’s sure of. He’s going to die right there on the floor, lovesick and hard as a rock and still too much of a coward to say three words.

How much worse could it be? How much worse could anything be than feeling like this? At least there would be an answer, some kind of… release from this. Good or bad. But… if it’s bad… if it’s no…

As soon as he hears the door start to open, Copia snatches his hand out from under the pillow. Trying to look innocent and nonchalant, certain that he’s failing entirely. But if she notices, she doesn’t say a word. Retaking her place on the couch and flopping sideways, lying with her head on the armrest, watching him play. Fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck sleepily. While he leans down on the pillow just to find a little resistance, starting to lose the battle to keep his hips still.

“Izzy…?” He breathes a little raggedly. Too far gone to panic.

Her fingertips drift down his neck, stilling just behind his back. A quiet whine escaping him before he can stop it.

“Mhmm…” The response is soft and relaxed. All he can think is how absurd it is that one little sound, her breathy voice humming a melodic confirmation he’s been heard, is enough to make him want to wrap his arms around her and hold her close forever. That one small sound is enough to make his heart ache.

“I want… I need…” Copia huffs, closes his eyes, and tries again. “… I love you. Ti amo, Isobel.”

Nothing.

For a long moment he waits. The silence deepening every second and his stomach churns uncomfortably. Surprise, Copia supposes, is only fair. But this silence is… is worse. Worse than a no. Worse than almost anything. Almost too terrified even to look.

Satanas, please say something….

He can’t stand it any more. Turning to see her, to face the rejection he knows must be coming. Preparing to beg for a response. To confess it all. To do whatever he has to to salvage even a little from the trash fire his entire world has rapidly become.

Turning and looking at her, and finding… She's asleep.

“Cazzo…” Copia closes his eyes again, stuck between crying and laughing. Finally, finally, after how many years, he says the words out loud, finds the courage to say it not just in his thoughts or his dreams or to the space where she had been standing only a few minutes before. Finally he confesses the truth he knows in his soul… and she’s asleep. It’s not her fault. He knows that. It’s his bad timing, a long day, and too much wine. But, Dark One below, there is a part of him that wants to accept this apparent fate, curl up on the floor, and let death take him.

“Sogna cose belle, amore mio, come io ho sognato te.” He whispers, barely a breath. All the need and the urgency that had been plaguing him settles into something far less carnal, much more quiet and still.

Copia climbs to his feet, turning off the tv and ducking to carefully slip his arms under her, lifting her off the couch. The rest can wait. The games, the wine, the food, all of it. It can wait. Izzy needs sleep and he… needs her. But bed will be enough for now. Just to be next to her. Knowing she’s there, safe, with him. It’s enough. It has to be enough.

He sets her carefully onto the bed, pulling the blankets over her. Watching as she rolls onto her side, facing the wall, hugging his pillow. Copia climbs in after, lying the same way. Keeping back just enough to not disturb her. Close enough to feel how warm she is… Close enough. His eyes slide shut and letting the day's exhaustion, and the wine, wash over him.

Drifting off to sleep thinking of her.

________________________________________________________

Sono sempre le solite cazzate - It's always the same bullshit

Cazzo - Fuck

Sogna cose belle, amore mio, come io ho sognato te. - Dream beautiful things, my love, as I dreamed of you.

#ghost fanfic #copia x oc #MDNI #re-edit

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the1975attheirverybest · 1 year

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If we're doing concepts can I push gf smoking weed with Matty for the first time? Like she never did it bc she was afraid of not having everything under control (hello it's me) but she trusts him so she tries it.

Thank you so much for doing concepts, even if you don't do this one, I will gladly read whatever you write 💕

I WILL TOTALLY DO THIS ONE! I think it’d be so funnnn. Maybe more for Matty, even hahaha. So we know he smokes a TON and for him it works as harm reduction (slay. Go off Matty. Good for you man.) so like he’d be lighting one up just about any time he wanted (as long as he’s in spaces where he’s legal and/ or private).

She’s always understood that and been supportive of him, but there are moments when she’s, like, watching him. Maybe rolling one by hand. (Omg I can’t wait for the Caveh Zahedi episode to come out.) or just smoking and in the back of her mind, she’s like, “what would it be like if I were the sort of person who smoked weed? I wonder what it feels like.”

Maybe one day he sees her looking at him and he’s like “what? You want some?” And just hands it to her. She’d aghast! Shocked! Refuses it quickly. Not cuz she doesn’t want to. Just out of reflex cuz she’s always felt that’s what she’s supposed to do. Matty simply giggles and is like “why not? It’s….not going to bite you.”

She surprises both herself and him when she ends up just ranting about how she’s always been curious but scared. And her friends have made her feel less cool about it. And she’s been trying to break out of the restrictions that she put on herself but she doesn’t know how. At the end of her long speech, Matty just smile. “Alright, then.” He sits up straight “this is your moment.” She’s blushing cuz she knows for him it’s such a non-issue and she’s made it into a whole big thing. “What??”

He points out they’re home and not in any public situation. She’s safe if she doesn’t end up feeling right he’ll take care of her. He’s been around stoned people long than he’s been an adult. He’s even been around people doing much harder drugs nothing would scare him.

He explains to her that it’s not about either getting high or not. It’s not a switch where one moment she’s stone cold sober and then the next she’s not. It’s more like a spectrum. And everyone’s bodies react differently so she can start with whatever makes her comfortable. Gives her a little kiss, giggling against her face. “I’m so excited. This is gonna be fun.” He grins. She’s not sure. Feels wrong. Like she’s breaking an unwritten and unsaid rule. She’s a bit nervous but his excitement and smile make it a happier occasion than it otherwise would be. So, she leans into it and follows his guidance. And he makes a whole fuss about it “you’ve lost your weed virginity. How’s it feel? Have I corrupted you? Are you gonna be a stoner now? Just don’t leave me to go hang out with s circle of hippies in Big Sur California to take mushrooms and discover your true self or some shit.”

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herenya-writes · 11 months

Text

Day 22: Scratchy

When he and Dorian returned from Redcliffe, Arlaros gave Dorian space. He took their horses to the stable and let Dorian disappear, no doubt to the library, to clear his mind and settle. He had been quiet their entire ride back, but Arlaros could feel the way his magic simmered in response to his emotions. He had nearly burnt down the tavern while talking to his father, and Arlaros had no desire to risk that happening to Skyhold’s library.

He understood, though. Well, no, he didn’t. He didn’t understand how Dorian’s father could be so dismissive of his son’s wishes, and he couldn’t begin to conceive why a parent would resort to blood magic to try and change their child. How could a parent look at Dorian and be anything but proud? He was intelligent, brave, and handsome. What more could Halward Pavus want from his child? He just couldn’t understand how Dorian’s choice of bed partners could cause such a rift between father and son.

What he did understand was that Dorian was hurting and that he needed some time to himself to sort things out. But Arlaros also had a feeling Dorian would appreciate some company, eventually. There was such a thing as spending too much time alone. He didn’t want Dorian to get lost in his father’s words.

He waited until dinner was over (Dorian hadn’t shown) and everyone had drifted off to their respective quarters or the tavern for the night. Then, he gathered a plate of fruits and cheeses—things that could be eaten easily—and made his way to the rotunda. Solas was gone, no doubt off dreaming with the spirits somewhere, which Arlaros was grateful for. Having fewer people around should help put Dorian at ease. Dorian always seemed to be aware of who was watching him, and he was always putting on a show. He didn’t want him to have to do that tonight.

Arlaros climbed the stairs slowly, making enough noise that people in the library would be able to hear his approach. When he reached Dorian’s alcove, the man’s back was still turned, and he was staring out the window. For a moment, Arlaros just stood there, his tongue tied into all kinds of knots. What right did he have to intrude on Dorian’s solitude like this?

Eventually, though, his heart won out. If Dorian wanted him to leave, he would, but he couldn’t go without trying to offer some comfort. He set the plate of food down on Dorian’s desk. Dorian’s head turned slightly at the sound, but his eyes stayed fixed on some distant point past the window.

“Are you alright?” Arlaros asked, taking a half step forward and keeping his voice low.

There was silence for a moment, and then Dorian sighed. “No. Not really. My father says were alike: too much pride. Once, I would have been overjoyed to hear that, but now...I don’t know if I can forgive him.”

“Do you have to?”

Instead of lightening Dorian’s burden, the words seemed to make his shoulders sink. “I don’t know. I think he truly came here to begin making amends, but even in that he couldn’t help but lie and rope in people who shouldn’t have been involved.” He shook his head. “Resorting to blood magic was an act of desperation. I was doing everything else right, but I refused to pretend. I wouldn’t put on a show, marry the girl, keep everything unsavory private and locked away. Selfish, I suppose, not to want to spend my entire life screaming on the inside.”

Arlaros’s feet moved without his permission, bringing him closer to Dorian, until there were only a few inches between them. “Fathers aren’t supposed to act like that.”

“I know. But he reached out to me. He’s trying. A better man would forgive him.”

“A better father would continue making amends even if he was never forgiven,” Arlaros countered. He was still angry at Halward Pavus, but he tried to keep his anger in check. This wasn’t about him.

At that, Dorian turned fully toward him. His eyes shone with a dozen emotions, and his face was lined with worry. All at once, Arlaros felt he had made the right decision in coming here, in trying to pull Dorian out of whatever abyss his meeting with his father had sent him spiraling into.

“Thank you for bringing me out there, and thank you for telling me about the letter. You let me choose, and you stood by me. I won’t forget that.” Then, Dorian’s eyes grew darker, and he chuckled humorlessly. “Though, Maker knows what you must think of me now, after that whole display.”

The sincerity in Dorian’s voice made something in Arlaros’s heart melt. He caught Dorian’s eyes and held them. “I think you were brave to try and talk to your father after everything.”

One corner of Dorian’s lips pulled up in an expression that wasn’t quite a smile but seemed to want to be. “Brave?”

Arlaros nodded. “It’s not easy to abandon tradition and walk your own path.” He paused, then smiled softly. “I don’t think any less of you. More, if that’s possible.”

The expression on Dorian’s face slipped into a true smile, his eyes soft. “The things you say,” he whispered, shaking his head.

A blush crept up Arlaros’s cheeks, but he held his ground. “I mean it.”

Dorian’s eyes grew impossibly softer, and Arlaros thought he saw his own flush echoed on Dorian’s cheeks. Then, his gaze grew distant. “My father never understood. Living a lie...it festers inside of you like poison. It spreads until it infects everything. You can’t lock away what’s in a person’s heart like that. You have to fight for it.”

Once again, Arlaros was overwhelmed by how brave Dorian had been. He turned his back on his family and his homeland so that he could make the right choices for himself. That took strength, and while Arlaros had seen hints of that strength before, he felt he finally understood it now. It was beautiful, and undeniably attractive.

“Does that heart have a place for me?” The words were out of his mouth before he had time to think about them, but he didn’t regret them. Especially not when the smile on Dorian’s lips grew into something sharp and teasing.

“It might. Like I said, you haven’t exactly been subtle, Arlaros.”

It was the way his name rolled off Dorian’s tongue that did him in. Before he knew it, he was leaning forward, and Dorian met him halfway. Despite their trek to and from Redcliffe, Dorian’s lips were soft, a delicious contrast to the gentle scratch of his moustache. Then, Dorian’s hand went to his hair, and all thoughts left him.

The kiss was over all too soon. Dorian pulled away first, and while there was a smile on his face, Arlaros sensed something deeper beneath. One kiss wouldn’t chase away everything Dorian had been through.

“I see you enjoy playing with fire,” Dorian quipped, and Arlaros raised an eyebrow with a smile, not denying it. “At any rate, time to drink myself into a stupor. It’s been that sort of a day. Join me sometime, if you’ve a mind.”

“Maybe I will,” Arlaros replied, his lips still tingling with the echo of their kiss. “Don’t forget to eat.” He gestured at the table, and Dorian glanced over, seemingly noticing the plate he had brought up for the first time.

“Ah, you are too kind to me.”

Arlaros wanted to say that if this was too kind, Dorian had been treated awfully in his past, but he kept that too himself. Instead he smiled softly. “Take care, Dorian.”

“And you.”

Arlaros left the rotunda quietly. His thoughts swirled with the events of the day, and his emotions were an equally disorganized mess. He was still furious at Halward, at Tiventer, at everything that had conspired against Dorian’s happiness. But he was also hopeful for the first time that there might be something more between he and Dorian than just flirting.

Dorian’s mustache had been scratchy against his lips, and he wanted to feel that again. Preferably soon.

#my fics #dorian pavus #arlaros lavellan #dragon age inquisition #dai #this is the second time i've written their first kiss #i think i like this version better #even if it isn't terribly kiss focused

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goddesscru · 2 years

Text

Words & Thoughts: The Secret Life of Shhh…

What’s really good, yo?

So check it, y’all know nobody follows this blog for any particular reason anymore. I found myself checking on my cousin and a friend earlier and I realized, I am not cryptic or mistrusting of the people I make the effort to talk to, but I know there isn’t anybody who knows EVERYTHING. Nobody knows where all the skeletons are buried, baby. And there is a damned good reason, lol. Even my biggest supporters don’t know. I kinda can’t pull them into my shit. It still doesn’t fully make sense to me to even be calling it that.

My personal life just ain’t a large space. So the seating is hella limited, but I’m also laughing at my supposed “secrecy”. My secret life or lives can hardly be secret. I’m no master of disguise or even a decent liar. I tend to shield myself from the watchful (judgmental) eye of people who wouldn’t understand. Few months ago I had this realization that I wasn’t trying to feel too much. In addition to overthinking, I damned sure wasn’t about to unleash that shit on myself. For anyone who followed this blog at its peak, there would be these text posts where I would allude to having an issue that I just wasn’t sure how to face. Facing it was never the issue.

Being too excited about something has always made me nervous. Happiness I can deal with, but excitement has been a motherfucker. When I get excited, it means I am really invested and hoping for an outcome which I’ve likely thought about for some time. Trying to squelch excitement, as a result of being let down, became instinctual. Don’t get those hopes up, because it could lead you to landing on your ass. Is that the smartest approach? Not exactly, but I be sensing myself losing the plot. Someone has to know the ledge. I know it and at times have been extremely harsh to myself while making sure it’s something of which I remain aware.

This was never about me cheating my way to a happily ever after without having to experience my feelings in real time. I can’t evade myself. No amount of suppression ousts (oh brother, my word selection) something planted so firmly within my mind. I want to do all that it takes to truly have an experience worth all the commotion. My excitement isn’t a mistake. These feelings aren’t being wasted or ignored. They’re actually going to resonate AND be reciprocated. That stuff hasn’t really taken off. Maybe I’m too caught up in thinking “will this go over well?” Perhaps I’m trying not to freak them out with my feelings. Shit, sometimes I’m talking myself out of my feelings.

These things aren’t secrets, but I know why they stay private. Too many people feel entitled to something beyond being informed opposed to involved. I remember wanting to ask someone about approaching someone, at least my first time approaching someone. The year is not important, but I am grown y’all. So I had to give myself “the talk” and I didn’t consult a peer or a trusted older relative or anything. I took it to the source, lol. My decision was to get their attention and response. I went to the person in the way I felt most comfortable. I wrote what I was feeling in a letter and gave it to them. Like, I hand delivered it. My foolish heart pounding out of my chest and all. I’m sure the letter was mid. Over a decade and change removed from being that teenage girl, to the woman I know I’ve grown into, I could have done better. The writer in me knows.

However I choose to feel about it now, the letter got the point across. It “worked” in a sense that I didn’t let my excitement get defeated by nervousness. The purpose was not writing a letter, though. I wanted to make sure the recipient understood how much I was feeling them. In a way he did… But eh, he also didn’t, lol. I clearly didn’t live “happily ever after” with him, but I guess I couldn’t figure out navigating the rest of the way there. I embarked on what I thought would be a longer expedition, but somehow never reached the destination I had in mind. And love, you have never been a destination, my heart just wanted to be where you were. Now that I’ve reflected, it was well meaning, but it just didn’t happen like that.

I’ve written other things. Poems, letters, text messages hell EMAILS, slim. Whatever medium existed, I tried, yo. But if I hadn’t learned how to not outsmart myself, but to avoid subjecting my emotions to so many trials, maybe shit would go differently now. I’m not secretive, but I prefer involving the person I want to be involved with. Sometimes, that shit ain’t it. Other times, people act like you’re sneaking around because of something you aren’t trying to get caught doing. Look, baby, I’m not sneaking anywhere. It just so happens, I don’t find it necessary to alert people to my desires, when they can’t help fulfill them in any way. What good would that do? The last person I want to surprise is the person who I’m trying to divulge my feelings to. Let it surprise people who will remain unaffected. If it surprised the man I wanted, that would be wild.

Nothing is secret. I’m not saying everything is being laid bare, but the less people know, the more I have a chance to be honest. I don’t want people assuming I’m not being genuine based on who knows and how many people may be watching. I’m not changing up, but this part of my existence isn’t something everyone is likely to experience. I don’t ever want to come across as “saving that side of myself” because nah. But I’m not willing to let other people pressure me out of what I know I want. Hell, sometimes I’m other people and I have to move around as result. Who does or doesn’t approve doesn’t matter more than if I ever gave myself a real chance. (The exception here is like married men, though. I know who disapproves off top, lmao.) Did I attempt to erase my excitement because I was afraid of something, or did I push that self doubt aside? Currently, I’m not excited about anyone in a way that makes me afraid of whether I’d be able to enjoy that feeling. Stimulated yes, lol. Excited takes some getting to. I’ll let you know if I get there, though.

Peace, Hip Hop & Purple Rain.

#Personal #Words & Thoughts #About me

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maximotts · 3 years

Text

𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑢𝑚 • 𝑤. 𝑚𝑎𝑥𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑓𝑓

a/n: hello and welcome to: Lustful Yearning! No but really I'm super excited for this series and I hope you all love it as much as I do. The parts are already planned out, outlined, and marked off as per the masterlist so I'm excited for y'all to go on this lil journey with me!

words: 2K

warnings: This is an 18+ series, minors DNI; smutty intentions/happenings; masturbation; voyeurism; loss of orgasm; Wanda is a Frustrated Individual and reader is an Asshole

desires unspoken AU; on one of her afternoons alone, Wanda spies you across the lake and her curious mind does what it does best... create fake scenarios

desires unspoken series. || main masterlist.

• 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑢𝑚 | 𝘥𝘦𝘴·𝘪·𝘥𝘦·𝘳𝘪·𝘶𝘮 | \ ˌ𝘥𝘦𝘴əˈ𝘥𝘪𝘳ēə𝘮 \ 𝘯. 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨; 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺: 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 •

──── ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─────

Getting away was rare. For as long as she could remember, there were tasks to do, people to look after— true downtime was practically nonexistent. If Wanda wasn’t being forced to wait on her painfully dysfunctional husband, she was dealing with whatever crisis of the hour her mother-in-law could think up for her. Some would think that since this was the only kind of life she’d ever known, she could never want for different.

Those people would be sorely wrong.

Wanda, burdened as she was, knew she needed more. There’d never been a particular lifestyle in mind, but something comfortable and warm, preferably with someone who understood her. Love should’ve been a necessity, but she’d long since given that up; her guardian turned mother-in-law -who insisted on being called an aunt, never a mother of any sorts- kept her away from any actual prospects. Much of her life was the same way; sheltered away from anything that could let her grow or develop past the confines of the household she was forced to stay in. Unfortunately for her, Wanda didn’t have the privilege of being blissfully ignorant. For as much as she was made to stay away, the act itself increased her rebellious nature and the young brunette found such rebellion in books.

It was easy enough to get those, her aunt at least allowing her the freedom to be well-read, but the ones she found herself drawn to weren’t the type to be discussed in “proper” educational circles. Not that it mattered; Wanda was never invited or welcomed to conversations with her husband and his peers. Staying quiet, out of trouble, and available 24/7 were the only traits desired from her. It was aggravating, but it let her read whatever she pleased in her small leisure hours. And read she did.

There were a wealth of books in all lengths dedicated to romance, worlds where everyone always found a way to sate their desires and societal norms were thrown to the wind… oh how Wanda wished she lived there instead. She felt smothered how she was living right now, forced to be someone else for the sake of others around her. Wanda barely knew herself outside of what she could do for others, but there was never enough time to think about who she wanted to be or what she longed to do if it wasn’t during these short escapes.

Before moving to Paris, she snuck away for her private reading and people watching time, but now here in the city it was harder. It’d taken her weeks to find a quiet space in a pasture rarely traversed, a place where she could just sit and be. She was halfway through her latest novella find, the woman within being snuck away to a secluded alleyway for a quick tryst, when she heard a rustling nearby. No one was ever here when she was, much less to actually stay in the vicinity instead of just passing through, and Wanda couldn’t help but feel a bristle of annoyance at being interrupted.

For a while Wanda stayed still, waiting to see if the intruder would wander away like most did, but after a few minutes when she could still hear the far off crunching of leaves and grass, she knew she had to take action. Reluctantly putting her book down, Wanda twisted until she was sitting on her knees, crouched in the tall grass, seeking out the source of the disturbance. She expected an annoyance, some day drunkard stumbling through the city outskirts, but maybe even more daunting, Wanda found you.

Clearly you were picking something, bending and stretching, walking around until you found more of what you were after. It made sense when she thought about it; herbalists had to get herbs from somewhere, but she never would’ve thought you’d find them out here of all places. Work duties aside, Wanda was finding it harder and harder to ponder on why you were picking your own plants as she watched you examine each sprout you picked, handling them gently and grading them against the low sunlight before putting them in your neatly organized satchel. Each time you bent over, she could catch the barest glimpse of skin under your buttoned cotton blouse, sun reflecting the outlines of your breasts just enough for Wanda to remember it later.

It was hot outside that afternoon, humid by the shallow lake separating you two, and it seemed like that heat affected you too, nimble fingers unbuttoning three fastens until the shirt was loose around your chest. Wanda assumed you thought you were alone; otherwise you’d never expose yourself so, but she chose to believe the show was specifically for her. This time, you’d started to crouch, knees bent and body hunched over while you dragged your fingers through the field of wild herbs and flowers and Wanda didn’t try to deny the tingle making its way through her body wasn’t a direct result of her imagining those hands on her.

The last time you’d met, she’d felt your hands on her, one hand helping her with the window while the other, hidden from view of the others, gripped her hip, possessive over something you didn’t own. It’d driven her wild then and every night since, theorizing how she could get your touch back but without layers of clothing in the way. Wanda’s mind got away from her easily, thoughts drifting to being the thing you touched silently out here instead of the plants you picked. This wasn’t the first time she’d done this, spying on someone from afar during her private escapes and letting her mind go wild; there was no way Wanda could get more painfully stifled than her life and if she didn’t allow herself this, she’d surely combust. The brunette started slowly, rolling her hips against the firm ground just enough so she could feel it.

You rolled your sleeves higher, pinned at your elbows and when you reached forward, grasping for that one perfect plant you seemingly had to have, Wanda pictured you reaching for her instead, beckoning her closer to get a better look. She imagined you’d take her with all the confidence you walked with; so sure of yourself in everything, you’d hopefully know exactly how you wanted her. Maybe you’d pull her over your head, how she’d only ever read in books, and force her down until she had to feel your tongue licking her over and over until she cried out. If she were lucky, maybe you’d examine her with the same awe you did your work, pleased with the thorough job you were doing ruining her. Just before Wanda closed her eyes, she was blessed with a better view of your chest, round breasts drawn forward with your position and Wanda hoped to one day see them up close, hopefully while you took her apart with your fingers from above.

She was moving faster now, mouth hanging slightly open with soft gasps blowing the wisps of straw shielding her from direct view; the ground wasn’t enough, it never was. The heat from outside and her dress turned the gasps into pants, her long, loose hair sticking to the sticky sides of her head. It was nearing uncomfortable how hot and wet she felt, squirming erratically for anything that’d let her have this one little pleasure to no avail. Still Wanda thought maybe, just maybe, this time with so many ideas swirling around that she could just finally hit just the right-

“Enjoying yourself, Mrs. Maximoff?”

Wanda nearly leaped sky high, flipping over onto her back and sitting up on her elbows to shamefully face whoever caught her. Giving them a once over, from foot up, she realized it was you once she saw that half open blouse up close, “Do you enjoy giving women heart attacks?”

Her face was beet red, partially embarrassed, but mostly the arousal of being caught by just the person she was fantasizing about. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t hoping being alone like this wouldn’t spark something further; dreams were nice and all, but Wanda was smart enough to know nothing could be better than reality. Heart beating faster than it ever had, Wanda sat up, knees folded to the sides of her and you’d bet money if you could peek under her skirts, her clothed center sat ready to rut against the soft terrain at a moment’s notice. There was no one around, nothing but your incorrigible nature wanting to see Wanda absolutely beside herself before you gave her what she wanted… but fuck, you wanted to have her right here.

“You won’t get far that way, sweet thing, too many layers.” And then she shifted; you knew it was to get any remaining dress layers out of the way, only the thin cotton of her underwear and the knit blanket she’d laid out for her private afternoon picnic kept her from the ground. Wanda was teasing you; innocent as she appeared, she at least knew how to do that. The cracked spine of the erotica novella laid out next to her confirmed that. Two could play this game— Wanda was cute, but you had the experience.

Wanda shrugged, “I think it feels fine..” Truly she didn’t know any better, having tried everything she’d read about, but with the same frustrating ending of zero release. She’d read about it countless times, utter bliss exploding from every pore while tossing and turning in the sheets, but try as she might, she hadn’t been able to do it. Dreaming in the grass was the closest she’d come and despite the lack of orgasm, it felt good and it was all she had.

“Fine isn’t how anyone describes ecstasy,” you leant forward, bent at the waist to give her the view you’d seen her ogling from across the water just moments ago. Wanda’s chin was soft and delicate in your hand, instantly pliant as you tilted her head to yours… good. The kiss you placed upon her lips was feather light, but the spark was there and it took everything in you not to break first push her back and take her right there in the field until all she could do was scream your name.

But you had other plans for her.

As you pulled away, Wanda tried going with you, surging forward with a whimper until you stopped her straight where her sex pressed perfectly into the blanket. “Why don’t you describe ecstasy for me then,” But you shook your head as you straightened up and she loathed that wolfish grin you wore. “Aren’t you supposed to help your patients, doctor?”

“You are not yet my patient, Mrs. Maximoff. Someone hasn’t yet visited me.” You’d been waiting for her to come around and while you knew she was busy, you’d grown impatient and maybe you did a bit of trailing to figure out her little spot, but it was all worth it to catch this scandalous moment. Wanda grimaced, but her pout gave away her disappointment and you folded, just a little. Not because the puppy dog expression melted your heart; push and pull never hurt in these types of games. “Fine. Try a pillow next time, anything for leverage.”

You gave the advice as easily as you’d tell someone to ice a sprain, playing it off by walking away before Wanda could ask more, but you would regret seeing her eyes go wide with the excitement of something new.

──── ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─────

Late that night found Wanda with her favorite pillow between her legs, desperately rocking herself over it back and forth for just that last little bit of pressure she needed. It worked, it was going to work, but she just.. couldn’t. “Fuck, fuck.. please…!” The brunette’s legs shook with exhaustion and she was forced to pause, falling forward with her hips pushed up from the squished lump that was her pillow.

She huffed and blew her hair out of her face, never more happy that her sorry excuse for a husband worked late nights and slept away from her most nights. “That was hardly any help…” Wanda rolled over, sprawled out and anything but relaxed even in the solace of her bedroom. First thing in the morning, she’d be off to the doctor to deal with her most recent headache: you.

#desires unspoken au #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x f!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #motts writes.#motts is away from her computer.

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wonwoosthetic · 3 years

Note

mtl to be into pda in svt??!

—🍩

Some of these were so obvious, for some I had to think a bit😅

Most

Mingyu: ALL. THE. FREAKING. TIME. This man can’t keep his hands to himself, in the best way possible. Even a kiss to your temple or cheek would be 100% him.

S.Coups: also someone that would love to show you off. I also feel like it would probably happen kinda unconsciously with him because he just wants you to be close to him. No make-out session though. Not in public.

Hoshi: he’d just want everyone to know that he actually got you as his partner. He’s so proud, so he’d obviously want everyone to see that he’s the one who gets to hold your hand or hug you or even kiss your hand if he’s extra cute

Jeonghan: you tell me. Why would this man actually get a thrill out of touching you in a public? Am I the only one to think like that? He’s cheeky, obviously he’d want his hands to be on you somehow. Maybe not necessarily hand holding, at least not always, but if you’re on an escalator, his hands would definitely find your ass for a quick second. On accident. Like five times.

Joshua: has to have your hand in his to know that you’re not going to just walk away and be gone in a big crowd. Maybe also a quick peck on the cheek here and there.

DK: like Joshua, we know what a sweetheart Dokyeom is. So, he would go overboard with it, but he’d definitely enjoy it having you by his side as closely as possible

Seungkwan: doesn’t HAVE to hold your hand or be insanely close to you but will do it if it makes you feel more comfortable. I’m crowded spaces he’ll probably take your hand in his, but not much more

Dino: around his friends? No. When it’s just the two of you? Maybe. Also, he doesn’t need it but once either one of you get anxious, he definitely doesn’t mind

Wonwoo: is okay as long as he can see you. Once he loses you, that’s when the panic sets in. After that he might hold your hand for like a minute but that’s about it

Minghao: prefers keeping his hand on your lower back and that only if he feels like you might need to know that he’s still there. If there are a lot of people for example. Other than that, he’d rather look and smile at you than show affection directly

Jun: why do I feel like he’d be too uncomfortable to even hold your hand😂 not because it’s embarrassing but just because it’s not really his style. He sees you’re still next to him or he sees you’re in front of a store during your shopping trip, then everything’s fine.

Vernon: no. No. He doesn’t like it. Never understood it how people could do it in public transport and stuff and he knows how uncomfortable it can make people, so he wouldn’t want to do that to others.

Woozi: doesn’t get why he would have to hold your hand or hug you or, oh god, even kiss you in public. You’re doing it privately, that’s enough. He doesn’t need nor want the rest of the world to see that. Affection is something between two people and only for them to see.

Least

P.S.: sorry if I broke anyone’s heart with that, these are just my opinions :)

#🍩 anon #mtl #seventeen #pda #scoups #jeonghan #joshua #jun #Hoshi #wonwoo #woozi #Minghao #Mingyu #dk #seungkwan #vernon

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ghostbusters-hq · 3 years

Text

Workplace Distractions (Egon Spengler x Reader)

words: 1.3k

pairing: Egon Spengler x Gender Neutral Reader

summary: Egon's been working a lot lately so you go to the firehouse to try and distract him for a while. (Established relationship, Egon trying to be a Good Boyfriend, lots of cute stuff!)

Janine was sitting at her desk, her chin resting on her hand with her eyes cast down at the magazine she was idly flicking through. At the sound of the front door opening, she glanced up.

“Oh, y/n!” she perked up when she saw you, lifting her glasses off her face.

“Hey Janine.” You said, pushing your hands into your jacket’s pockets as you approached her desk.

“What are you doing here, ain’t it your day off?” Janine asked.

“Yeah, I was bored at home. Figured I’d come see what everyone was up to.” You said, and turned to look at the empty space where ECTO-1 was normally parked. You nodded your head towards it and turned back to Janine. “The guys out on a job?”

She nodded.

“Just Ray and Winston.” She said.

“Oh right, nice.” You said, rocking back onto your heels and fidgeting with the few coins that were in one of your pockets. “So um, is-“

“Egon’s upstairs.” She said, giving you a knowing smile, and you felt your cheeks heat up.

By this point, everyone knew that you and Egon were...romantically involved. Not that you minded, of course. In fact, you were actually glad everyone knew, and they were all supportive so that was nice. You just always got a little sheepish whenever it was brought up, even though the two of you had ‘officially’ been going out for a few months now.

“Oh, o-okay! Thanks Janine.” You said, giving her a smile before heading for the stairs.

As expected, you found the elusive Dr. Spengler hunched over his workbench the other side of the room as you reached the top of the stairs. You smiled and headed across to him. He clocked your footsteps as you approached and lifted his head from his microscope, glancing over his shoulder.

“Oh, y/n. I thought you were off today?” he asked.

“Thought I’d come down and bother you instead.” You replied, sidling up to him and giving his arm a playful nudge. He gave you a small smile.

“Fine with me.”

You grinned and peered over his arm to see what was on the desk. “Whatcha working on?”

“Oh.” He said, turning his attention back to his work. “Just taking a closer look at the ectoplasm sample we got yesterday. Very interesting, it’s different to anything else we’ve ever seen...”

He continued talking and you stepped over to an empty part of the workbench and hopped up onto it as you listened to him.

“Sounds pretty cool!” you said, having not actually understood half of the scientific terms he’d used. It didn’t hinder your interest, though. You did genuinely love listening to him speak about his work. He seemed vaguely amused by your summarisation.

“Yes, I’d say it was pretty cool.” He said.

His attention returned to his microscope, and you bit your lip as you watched him.

“So, um…” you said after a minute, breaking the silence. Egon didn’t look up from what he was doing, but you knew he was listening.

“I was thinking, maybe we could…go out for pizza later?” you asked, restlessly swinging your legs.

“I-If you’re not too busy, that is. It’s okay if you have work to finish.” You added quickly, not wanting to pressure him.

Egon looked up and you had your eyes cast down at your lap, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. He suddenly realised he had been working an awful lot lately and you had been incredibly patient with him – as you always were, and he never took your patience for granted.

“I’d love to.” He said, straightening up.

“Really? You’re sure you’re not too busy?” you asked.

Egon smiled and moved across to where you were sitting on the edge of his workbench, stepping forward to stand between your legs.

“I’m sure I can make some time for you.” He said quietly, letting his hands rest on your waist.

You met those big brown eyes of his and felt yourself blushing up to your ears with how close he was.

Egon famously despised most forms of physical contact. He didn’t like shaking hands with people, never mind hugging them. So at the beginning of your relationship, it was mostly you initiating things – after you’d made sure he was comfortable with it, of course.

It had made you wonder if there really was any truth in Venkman’s teasing “40 year old virgin” comments, but you quickly learned that Egon was just self-conscious when it came to expressing himself physically. Despite not being sexually active during his younger years in college, he’d assured you that he had been with a handful of people through his adult life. You’d left it at that.

It made your heart swell knowing that he was comfortable enough with you to let his guard down a little now, even when you weren’t in private.

You couldn’t get any words out before he leaned down and kissed you, so gently that it was as if he were worried you might shatter under him. Your shoulders relaxed almost immediately, and you wound your arms around his middle, underneath his lab coat, feeling his warmth against your palms through his shirt.

Even sat on the workbench as you were, your height difference was still evident with the way you were stretching up to meet him. He pulled away (much too soon for your liking), and you were left gazing up at him, lips slightly parted. Egon smiled, lifting a hand to rest against your cheek, his thumb lightly grazing over the skin there.

“I like it when you blush.” He said, enjoying how you then blushed even harder at his comment.

“I-I…uh…” you stumbled over your words, mind still reeling from the kiss he’d just given you. “Shut up and kiss me again.”

He smirked and leaned down again, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly as he pressed his lips to yours. You could smell the hair gel he used, the smell of soap that still lingered on his skin from his shower that morning, and he tasted of coffee and candy bars (yeah, he really needed to cut down on those things). There was also something else that you couldn’t describe that was overloading your senses – something that was just uniquely Egon. You loved it, and you wanted more.

“Whoah, hey!”

The incredibly enjoyable moment you’d been having was abruptly halted by Venkman’s voice coming from the top of the stairs. You immediately yanked your head back and poked your head out from behind Egon to see him approaching, shaking his head.

“Please, no frolicking in the workplace, kids.” He said. At this point, Egon seemed immune to Peter’s teasing comments, but the fact you’d been caught in the act still got you all sheepish.

“Hello, Peter.” Egon said with a small smile, stepping away from you just slightly. “Did you need something?”

“Forgot my wallet. Ah! There it is.”

By chance, it was lying just beside you on the workbench and he reached over to grab it, then pushed it into his jacket pocket.

“Now, I’m going to meet Dana. Don’t you two lovebirds go havin’ too much fun now, you hear?” he said, giving you a wink before he turned to make his way back to the stairs.

“Mmhmm. Bye Pete.” You said. “Say hi to Dana for us.”

“Don’t forget to use protection!” he called as he descended the stairs. Your eyes widened at the comment, and you heard him chuckle before he went out of earshot.

You sighed and hopped off the workbench, letting out a small laugh. “I’m gonna hit him one day.”

“I think Janine might beat you to it.” Egon said, looking down at you. “But how about we get that pizza first?”

You grinned and nodded, suddenly overly aware of how hungry you were. “Good plan.”

#ghostbusters #egon spengler #egon spengler x reader #ghostbusters imagine #myfics #FIRST EGON FIC LETS GOOOOOO #i'm new to writing the boys but if you read this i hope you enjoyed it 👉👈

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Blackberry Winters.

PART 1 🌸 PART 2

Namjoon Werewolf Au!!

Pack Head Alpha Namjoon and mate OC!

Arranged marriage sort of?

Pack dynamics / strangers to lovers.

Part 3

“You did not think to tell him no? To demand that you had every right to stay there?” Her mother in law looked disappointed , eyes trained on her as Jiah carefully pulled the blouse of the tunic down over her tummy, frowning when she realized that it didn’t do a thing for her figure.

She felt self conscious, the grey cotton of the tunic making her feel drab and lifeless. Why did she always choose clothes in colors like this? Why did none of them fit her right? Why did she never make an effort to look at least a little good. Her hair was limp, a mousy brown and while it was thick, it had no luster… Why didn’t she use one of the hundred powdered mixtures the village healer liked to give the younger women?

“Jiah, are you listening to me?” Namjoon’s mother said sharply and Jiah jumped a bit, guilty.

“I didn’t want to be a bother..” She said nervously, not sure how to handle her mother in law. On the one hand she seemed to be understanding of her many hang ups, but she also looked impatient and upset, anytime Jiah failed to stand up for herself.

Lady Kim drew herself up to her impressive height and Jiah cowered. She’d hung around enough pack bonfires to recognize that stance and that gaze. The woman was about to give her a piece of her mind.

Sure enough, her voice thundered when she addressed her.

“If you keep viewing yourself as a bother, I’m not sure how others will begin seeing you as anything else. You’re the head alpha’s mate. Your place is by his side, helping him with the crown on his head. It’s not a choice. Your duties are not mine and I am tired of doing them for you.” She snapped.

It stung. Guilt churned and Jiah could feel the beginnings of one of her episodes. The ones that always left her shaking and breathless. Much to her surprise, Lady Kim’s gaze softened at that and the next second she was being drawn into a warm embrace.

“Good lord child, why are you so terrified? Has my family not been kind enough to take away this stark terror out of your veins?” She sighed deeply. “You must not let your fears dictate your life. I want you to live your life, pleasing the person you’re bound to .”

Jiah felt her shoulders sag. Please the person she was bound to. Of course. Namjoon. It all came down to the alpha wolf. And how was she supposed to please him, if he couldn’t bear to be in the same room as her?

“Yourself.” Lady Kim’s voice, laced with amusement made her jump.

Jiah frowned, pulling back to look at the older woman in confusion.

“You’re bound only to yourself , Jiah. You need to please yourself. To do and be the person you want to be. And then everything else will fall into place.”

Jiah watched as the woman went back to the door, calling for and directing a few more workers as they finished setting up the outer courtyard of her living quarters. Still a little chilled, she grabbed a thick coat from the small cupboard by the door, draping it over herself and tying it together with the sash. She moved quickly to the door, watching her mother in law talk to the workers, looking them straight in the eye , firm and clear in her instructions.

It was fascinating.

Lady Kim’s stance fairly vibrated with power and her voice brooked no disobedience. People looked at her and listened. They saw someone who knew what she was talking about and many a time, Jiah had felt it herself, the comfort of someone reliable. Someone who wished no ill on anyone.

Namjoon’s mother had lost her husband at a young age. Namjoon had scarcely been a babe of two when it had happened and the entire pack had expected the young wolf to lose his birthright as the heir. It was unheard of for a mate to take over the head alpha’s duties but Lady Kim had risen to the occasion with an elegance that had stunned everyone. The woman had met pack leaders and settled disputes, had negotiated boundary conflicts and made elaborate plans for new buildings , all while carrying around a babe that was still fed at her breast.

What was more, she had defended her position against the men who had wanted to usurp it. Mnhyuk and Jaejoon were two of her husband’s cousins, eager to sink their fangs into the woman to mate her, just to be able to get their hands on the pack. They were terrible men , even worse wolves. Their ideas on how the pack ought to be run dripping with archaic ideals and oppression of women.

But Lady Kim had humiliated them, told the whole pack in no uncertain terms that the next pack alpha would be Kim Namjoon. Her son would be raised to rule the pack with kindness and understanding and she would make sure of it.

The tales were told with hushed tones of disbelief and admiration and Jiah had listened to them with hunger and aching. Had felt such a huge surge of affection for the matron , had wanted to hug her and tell her she had done a great job.

And standing here as her daughter in law, she realized that she would be a fool not to listen to her. Not to learn from her. Especially when it was obvious that in the entire pack, the only one who didn’t seem to hold Kim Namjoon on a pedestal, was ironically his own mother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ They’re going to challenge you again. I can feel it.” Taehyung said gruffly, dropping the bundle of scrolls on the table and Namjoon flinched, head throbbing.

“That bad?” He asked hesitantly and Taehyung nodded.

“They want you to re-negotiate that treaty about courtesans owning property. Think it would make them quit the profession… if you let them own stuff” Seokjin said quietly and Namjoon bristled.

“They are no different from any of us. They work for their pay too. Why shouldn’t they be allowed to do what they wish with money that they’ve earned?” He demanded angrily.

“You’re a good man Namjoon. A fair one. And you’re striving to build a pack that treats all it members as equals . Obviously people who thrive on abusing their power aren’t going to like that. Especially Minhyuk and Jaejoon’s pups. Those two are terrible.”

“You should accept their challenge and just rip their throats out someday.” Taehyung said firmly AND Namjoon gave him a glare.

“I’m not going to shed blood without cause, Taehyung. Don’t suggest that. Even in passing.” He said firmly and the younger beta bowed politely in apology.

“Where is Jiah?” Seokjin asked casually.

Namjoon glanced at him, brows raised.

“Since when are you so familiar with my mate, hyung?”

Seokjin rolled his eyes.

“She used to come sit with me, when I watched over the herds on the outer pastures. Sweet little thing really. Very funny too.”

That made Namjoon pause.

“Funny?” He asked, completely confused.

“Witty. She would make these clever little riddles and jokes that would always leave me in stitches. We made a game of it. I would give her one of my funny jokes and she would give me a riddle. Is she feeling better now?”

Namjoon who was still kind of struck dumb by the idea of his cowering, reticent mate doing something as…. Normal and friendly as laughing and being witty….. could only stare at Seokjin in confusion.

“I…. Yes. She’s well. We’re expecting a pup.” He said softly.

Both Taehyung and Seokjin went still.

“What?!!! Why didn’t you say that first?!!” Taehyung exclaimed, offended.

“It’s not that important…” Namjoon waved it off, reaching for the scrolls , “ what about the treaties, then? You did tell Jungkook we aren’t changing anything right?”

Seokjin scoffed.

“ Only you would say that these treaties are more important than your own pup.” He snapped.

Namjoon sighed a bit at that.

“I don’t mean that. I’m just saying, what she needs now is to rest and take care of herself and the baby. I’m not what she needs . I’ve arranged for her to stay in some private quarters with the other women.”

Seokjin sighed deeply. After years of being one of Namjoon’s trusted friends, he could feel his heart ache for the younger and all that he hid from the people around him. He reached out and gently placed a palm on Namjoon’s shoulder.

“ Namjoon, you don’t have to do all of this by yourself. Tae and I , we can take over duties a couple of days a week… You can relax… Maybe spend some time with your new wife….”

“She hates me.” Namjoon said softly. “ I spent a whole month trying to talk to her, all she did was tremble and shake. Even when we…” Namjoon exhaled sharply, “ Even in bed , she made me feel like I was some kind of…. Predator.”

Taehyung bit his lips, looking worried.

“You’re not… You’re not going to break the bond are you?” He asked nervously.

Namjoon sighed.

“I’m not. I may have considered it, before . But now… She’s with pup. I can’t do that to her. I don’t want to either.”

“Why did you pick her?”

Namjoon stayed quiet.

“Because you wanted a wife who wouldn’t ask or demand or complain.” Taehyung said distastefully.

“That’s not… You make it sound so terrible. I’m supposed to be taking over pack duties, supposed to renegotiate every single treaty we’ve drawn in the past twenty years, not to mention get the entire pack ready for the winter…. Of course I wanted a wife who would adjust. Have you seen the omegas in our clan? The ones I could court ? They want to leave on trips… They want to visit the neighbouring packs…. They want me to arrange festivities and feasts for every damn thing…. You think I can marry someone like that??” Namjoon snapped angrily. “none of them understand a damn thing about helping me out. They’re shallow and vain. Jiah… I chose her because she didn’t seem like one of them. She seemed like she could understand what it means to be my wife. But I was wrong. I thought she understood my responsibilities and was giving me my space…. Turns out she just thinks I’m some kind of monster she needs to run and hide from.”

Seokjin reached out, patting his back soothingly.

“Namjoon I understand… It’s been hard on you, and you’ve been doing all of it by yourself. Its bound to take a toll. And that’s why I think you should take a few days off, a week. Give us all the instructions. We’ll carry it all out. You can relax.”

“That’s exactly what my uncles want. For me to slack off. They’ll summon the council and want to challenge me again. I can’t afford it. “ Namjoon shook his head.” Not until the babe is born and my position as pack alpha is solidified. I can’t let them use this against me.”

Seokjin and Taehyung exchanged looks.

“Joon-ah….”

Namjoon gave both of them a tired smile.

“I’ll be fine hyung. It’s going to be okay.” He said reassuringly. “ The council’s meeting tomorrow right? I’ll try to go over these tonight.”

“Its already past sundown.” Taehyung said worriedly.

“Then I better ask the maids to keep enough oil for the lamp to last.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What are you doing here?” Namjoon blinked, staring at her like she was out of her mind and Jiah flinched. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. But the sight of him made something curl in the pit of her stomach. He looked exhausted. Like he had been up all night. She wondered if perhaps she ought to retreat. Go back to the private quarters he’d arranged for her.

No. No , you will not chicken out of this.

“ You have a council meeting, this evening. Could I come with you?.” She said softly, watching his face carefully. She tried to read his emotions, tried to look for traces of irritation or anger but all she found was a sort of hopeless resignment. Like he had stopped trying to fight whatever was bringing him down.

“Come with me….?? ” Namjoon stared at her like he wasn’t quite sure what she was talking about.

She inhaled sharply.

“Your mother told me I could go. As your mate, I’m allowed to sit in on council meetings. She told me it’s a new provision. That you were the one who had it written in. So perhaps, you should… let me come with you.”

“My mother-“ He paused, sighing. “ You don’t have to do everything my mother asks you to.”

She blinked, the words throwing her off. The truth was, she had been the one, tailing the older woman all day, trying to see what she did and how she did it. Lady Kim had merely offered to help her do her duties. She had mentioned in passing, that for centuries , mates hadn’t been granted many rights of their own. Namjoon had spent the past couple of years making a lot of amendments to pack laws and the council hadn’t taken to kindly to all of them.

“ Of course. I just thought that, as I am your mate , perhaps I should accompany you. ” It was a miracle, the way her voice came out, steady . Not at all betraying the nervousness coursing through her veins.

“Jiah…. I’m not sure.” His voice dripped with hesitation and she flinched. Oh, well, no one could blame her for not trying.

“If you don’t want me there, that’s fine.” She said quickly.” I’ll go…”

She turned around, feeling her face burn red as she quickly descended the stairs to the courtyard.

“Jiah wait!!” His voice made her still.

She turned around swiftly.

“I didn’t mean to imply that I did not want you there. I just….Council meetings aren’t short. They tend to go on for hours. Will you be alright?” He asked gently, gaze dropping surreptitiously to her middle.

It took her a minute to understand what he was even talking about.

“I… Oh.” She quickly pressed her palms to her stomach, confused. “ I mean… I may have to be excused a couple of times to relieve myself. I’ve been doing that way more often than usual.” She laughed.

Namjoon’s lips quirked in a hint of a smile and she flushed. Surely, her stern mate didn’t want to hear about her body functions? What was she even doing…

“But, yes. I wouldn’t mind sitting with you. Truly.” She said quickly.

Namjoon nodded.

“Well, then. You can come with me. It’s an hour before sundown… I’ll come fetch you myself.”

“Yes , alpha.” She said brightly, curtsying lightly and immediately feeling like a fool.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“They’re called red feathers …” The healer, a middle aged woman called Selma, opened a small earthenware jar to show her the contents. Jiah peered into the jar, catching sight of a bundle of dried flowers and roots.

“These can help me…?” She asked dubiously and Selma gave a quiet chuckle.

“They help you sleep better and also help you relax. They’re good for you. You won’t feel this anxious if you take them regularly.” She said calmly.

“Oh… alright.” Jiah nodded, glancing carefully at her mother in law who was standing elsewhere, looking through an assortment of salves and tinctures. “ Can I…. is this safe for Namjoon?”

Lady Kim stilled, turning around to glance at her sharply and Jiah stiffened. God, her impulsive mouth. She wasn’t even sure why she said it. Just the whole , helps sleep better , had immediately reminded her of how tired Namjoon had looked.

“I’ve already tried to get him to drink some of it. He refuses.” Lady Kim said tiredly. “ He feels that it may affect his mental faculties”

“Auntie Selma?” A high, soft voice rang through the hut and Jiah glanced up. She went still, catching sight of Jisoo, dressed in red velvet and all of her ornate jewelry.

“Ah… Jisoo…you’re back.” Selma said cheerfully. “ How can I help you child?”

Jisoo stared at her, eyes steady and unreadable.

“I need some wild carrot seeds and ginger roots.” She said softly and Lady Kim scoffed.

“I hope the man you’re taking into your bed is not who I think it is , Jisoo.” She growled. The younger woman merely bowed.

“I’m but a courtesan, my lady. I go where I am asked to.” She said softly.

Lady Kim sighed.

“Then perhaps you should go back home. Now.” She said sharply and jisoo flushed and ugly red.

“Your son wants me to visit him for tea , this evening. I was hoping to meet my lovely lady there…but I hear you no longer stay in his hut.” Jisoo turned to her, tone dripping with acid and Jiah swallowed nervously.

“I… I’m…” She couldn’t quite talk, much less think of something to say.

“Because she is with child.” Lady Kim said sharply, a hint of triumph in her tone. “ Namjoon’s child.”

Jisoo had gone paper white, her face pale and bloodless.

“What?” She whispered.

“It’s true. She carries my son’s heir. You know what that means, Jisoo. It means they are bound, for life. I like you. I respect your courage and admire your talents. You are beautiful and you deserve a mate of your own. Do not pursue my son.” Lady Kim said firmly.

Jisoo didn’t respond for a few seconds.

And then she bowed again .

“Like I said, my lady. I only go where I am called.” She said quietly.

She turned on her heels, stalking away and Jiah could only stare after her, heart pounding a bit at what had just happened. She wasn’t sure why she felt so much disquiet. She’d never had high hopes of fidelity from Namjoon. The entire village knew that Jisoo had been his paramour. But now that she had seen how dismissive the younger girl was of her, she felt the unaccountable urge to fight back. To stake her claim.

“You look pretty upset. Don’t let her bother you. Namjoon will not break his vows.” Lady Kim said quietly and Jiah gave her a soft smile, although her heart still raced. She remembered how pretty the girl had looked in all her brocades and velvets. She stared down at her own murky yellow dress. She couldn’t go to the council meeting, dressed worse than a courtesan. Couldn’t embarrass Namjoon like that.

“ My Lady….” She turned to her mother in law. The older woman hummed, returning to examining the shelves.

“What is it, child?”

“Can we stop at the seamstress’ hut on our way back?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whatever Namjoon had been expecting, as he knocked on his wife’s private quarters, it hadn’t been this.

He stared , or to be more accurate, gaped at his wife, completely thrown by her appearance.

She looked…. Cheerful.

That was the only word he could think of, taking in the warm yellow and green fabric of her gown, all with an abundance of ribbons and lace. She had also clearly made some effort to tame her hair.

Not a very successfully attempt, considering the dozen strands sticking out of her bun and curling over her bare neck and shoulders …..but an attempt nonetheless.

Which reminded him.

Why was her neck bare?

“I…. have you forgotten… part of your dress…?” He asked awkwardly, gaze trained on the pale, blemish less expanse of skin in front of him. Too much of it was on display he felt.

“Oh?” Jiah twirled about for a second, glancing at herself. “ Not at all, my alpha. This is how it is.”

Namjoon blinked.

“Right… the night is getting colder. Perhaps a shawl?” He suggested tactfully.

Jiah frowned, sticking a hand out of the door as though to the gauge the night air.

“Really? Feels quite warm to me.” She said thoughtfully.

“It may be cold for the baby.” He said quickly and that made her pause. She glanced back down at her tummy and he wondered what she expected to see, every time she did that.

“Perhaps you’re right alpha….let me be back.” She floated back into the hut and he sighed in relief when she reappeared with a white fleece shawl over her shoulders.

“Shall we go ?” She asked quietly and he hesitated before slowly offering her his arm. She gripped it lightly, and they began the short walk to the main village square where the council usually convened.

“You… You’re better adjusted to this place now?” He asked carefully, trying to find the girl he had taken to his bed. The terrified, nervous , trembling young girl.

Jiah didn’t respond at once.

“I… I’ve been drinking some of Selma’s potions. They help.” She said quietly and he frowned.

“Potions? Potions for what?”

“They help with my nerves. I get scared easily…imagine things ….” She trailed off nervously.” I’m very anxious by nature and it gets worse in a new place. With new people.”

Namjoon considered that carefully. That made sense. Perhaps, that was why she had been so odd.

“The potions help?” He asked carefully and she nodded.

“Yes…that and your mother.”

“My mother?”

“She’s very kind to me.”

Namjoon laughed a bit at that. In all the years he has had people talking to him about his mother, the word ‘kind ‘ had never come up.

“ I’m being honest….she has helped me adapt to this place. To see how things are run. I… I don’t want to be a bother. I want to pull my weight. In the pack. To help in any way I can…”

Namjoon felt a sudden unaccountable fondness bloom in his chest at the innocent words.

“ That’s very virtuous of you.” He said seriously and she flushed.

They didn’t say anything else, continuing the rest of the path in companionable silence Namjoon spotted the seven council members gathered around a blazing fire and lightly stepped closer to her.

“You can stay close to me. You don’t have to answer them. If they try to draw you into any controversial topic, just ignore them. I’ll handle it.” He said quickly.

Jiah gave him a wide eyed, nervous look but nodded quickly, fingers moving from his forearm to his palm , linking with his own and gripping tight.

“I’m here. You’re not alone.” She said quickly and it was ridiculous, how the words actually helped him relax just a little.

Taking a deep breath, he led her on to the meeting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : i thinks its about time i accepted that this is a full blown fic and not just a drabble. fuck my life.

Note : Red feathers are actually herbal medicines used as anti depressants. So this is just werewolf au equivalent of therapy.

#namjoon au #namjoon werewolf au #bts werewolf au #alpha namjoon #namjoon smut #bts smut #bts au #bts fics #bts fanfics

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blu-joons · 3 years

Text

Married In Secret ~ Lee Minho

You couldn’t help but sigh as you reached into the pocket of your coat, pulling out your wedding band and placing it back onto your finger once the two of you were safely in the comfort of the studio and out of the way of the fans outside.

Minho didn’t miss anything you did, allowing his gaze to follow how annoyed you were. “It’s not forever,” he reminded you, but that was a phrase you’d heard come from him so many times, and yet still nothing seemed to change.

“It sure feels like it,” you responded before giving yourself much time to think, leaving Minho surprised by your statement.

“You knew what we had to do when you agreed to marry me, so don’t start getting funny now.”

Of course, you still remembered the promise that you made to Minho when you got married. The two of you agreed to keep things quiet for a while after a hectic few months from the band. But the short while that Minho assured you of had soon become a few months and began to near almost a year of secrecy.

His eyes rolled, but his hand moved across to rest against your leg anyway. As frustrated as he knew you were, he couldn’t let things bubble out of control too much.

“I know it’s not easy for you, but it’s just one of those things,” he spoke up, trying to ease your mind, “I don’t know what else we can right now aside from this.”

“Just tell them,” you stated as if it was all so obvious, “I’m fed up with constantly having to hide these days.”

Minho’s frown grew, he understood how annoyed you became and how hard it was for you to be quiet. Whilst it came naturally to Minho as a result of his career, there were frequently times when you questioned why you couldn’t just be honest with people.

You were forever having to move your wedding ring on and off and be aware of the people who were around you. Every time someone brought up marriage around you, you had to pretend that it was something you saw in your future and not something that you already had done.

A heavy sigh came from Minho as you continued to look away from him, “do you not think that I’d love to tell the fans that we’ve got married?”

You looked across to him at last, shaking your head honestly back at him. “You’re too worried about your image to risk telling the fans that we’re married, you constantly think about the reaction that we got when we announced that we were dating.”

“Well, the fans weren’t exactly pleased.”

“So, that should get in the way of our happiness?”

Your question sent a shiver down Minho’s spine, it was a perception that he’d never quite looked at before, but it was one that made a lot of sense.

“I appreciate that you want to keep loyal to your fans and keep them on side, but do you think that they appreciate how private you are back to them?” You asked of him.

His shoulders shrugged back at you, there had definitely been times when he’d decided to keep quiet about a lot. The image the fans had of him was of great importance to Minho, but with each day, that image became faker and faker as a married man.

“I just don’t know how to tell people; it feels like maybe we’ve left it too long to suddenly announced it to the world. I care a lot about what the fans think about me, but I care a lot more about you and how you look at me and feel about me.”

Minho knew he’d almost settled into a comfort zone of being able to travel the world and come back home as a loving husband. The secret life really was such a norm for him that he failed to see anything wrong with it, but then he always allowed himself to forget that it wasn’t a life that you were used to, instead you were used to the opposite.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked you, “what’s the solution to make you feel better about this?”

“Why do you have to ask me?” You challenged, “why can’t you come up with a solution on your own and realise that I’m not happy living like this. I shouldn’t have to solve this for you Minho.”

“I know,” he sighed, brushing his hand through his hair, “I just don’t want to leave anyone feeling unhappy. If I tell the fans, you’ll be unhappy, if I don’t tell the fans then you’ll continue to be unhappy. Right now, it just feels like I can’t win.”

Your head shook at his response to your question, “maybe you need to ask yourself what means more to you in that case, is it me, or is it the fans Minho?”

“Are you really going to ask me to do that?”

“The answer should be obvious Minho.”

You stood up from your seat, walking out of the studio and through the company towards the café where you knew you could find some space to yourself. Minho stood up to follow you, only for a hand to rest against his shoulder and pull him back down. His eyes looked back to see Chan smiling in his direction.

He followed his leader and sat himself down in the chair, burying his head in his hands as you walked away. Whilst Chan didn’t mean to listen in, it was impossible not to with the raised voices that came from outside.

“What are you going to do?” Chan asked him, “something has to give.”

Minho’s head nodded immediately, “I just feel like I’m stuck in the middle, whatever I do one side of my life is going to be hurt.”

“But which is more important?” Chan continued to question, “as important as Stray Kids is Minho, you’re a husband, and that’s important too. Can you really run the risk of losing Y/N?”

“Do you really think that could happen?” Minho suddenly asked him.

“Maybe, if you don’t sort things out.”

Minho’s eyes looked in the direction that you walked in, he knew that time would be his friend for now and that it was something that you’d need. But the comfort of knowing you were coming back, for now, was what he held onto.

“I don’t want to lose Y/N,” Minho admitted, “but I don’t want to lose the fans we’ve worked so hard to get too over all these years.”

Chan’s head shook, reminding Minho that the true fans would stick by the group. The volume of fans never bothered the boys, they wanted loyal fans, and if they couldn’t support the two of you, then they were never fans, at all.

“You’ve got our backing if you decide to tell people, but you don’t want to leave things too late Minho, because then you will end up upsetting both parties.”

“I’ve really messed up.”

“Not yet, you haven’t,” Chan assured him, “but if you carry on like this for much longer, then I don’t think you’ll be quite as lucky. The longer you carry things on now, the harder it’s going to be in the long run for you.

Minho’s head nodded, letting go of a heavy sigh. His head threw back as his eyes closed, allowing himself a moment to try and stay calm.

“You’ve still got the chance to make things right, so use it,” Chan warned him.

“I will, don’t worry.”

---

Masterlist

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daddyjackfrost · 4 years

Text

“He can smile that wide?”— Ushijima Wakatoshi

okay hi, i love this man.

Ushijima Wakatoshi was a man of few words, and few expressions. In fact, if you asked his volleyball team, people that are around him all the time, they’d tell you one thing.

“Ushijima-kun? He’s so stoic.”

And that’s it.

Well, that is, until he began dating you.

If anyone would have told you or Ushijima that you two would be dating in the future, they’d get a laugh from you, and a stare from him. How you two got together? Well, let’s just say it was quite literally written in the stars.

Ushijima’s team often discussed, when he wasn’t there, how your relationship was going. You, were a loud, unapologetic, yet elegant girl, while Ushijima was made of stone and only really cared for volleyball.

What they didn’t know, is that Ushijima was not built of stone. His body often felt like it was, but he was absolutely not stone on the inside. He was a wonderful lover, and a good one at that. It took some time for him to be completely comfortable with you, but once he was, he was always reaching out for you.

Ushijima is a touch-starved boy. Which you found out when he demanded to be cuddled after practice every day. Well, not demanded per say, it was more of a slight indication.

“What are you doing, Toshi?”

Ushijima stared at you and the empty space beside you. You followed his gaze and it clicked.

You let out a small smile. Would it be too cruel to have him say it?

“I’m tired.”

You aimlessly nodded, hiding your smile behind your book. “Take a nap, yeah?”

Ushijima stared at you. You usually understood his small indications. Why couldn’t you understand this?

After a long pause, Ushijima sighed. “Can I lay with you?”

You broke out in a wide grin, which caused Ushijima to frown. You patted the space next to you and put away your book. “You never have to ask, Toshi.”

Tendou often asked Ushijima about your relationship. He just couldn’t believe his best friend would be any less of an impassive man that he is on a regular basis, with you.

Ushijima never went into detail. He believed that whatever you both did in private, was meant to be only discussed in private. Sure, the team had seen you kiss his cheek, or hold his hand, but they still didn’t believe that he would initiate anything.

Oh, how wrong they were.

You had finally finished making the snacks that you promised yourself you were going to finish yesterday. The snacks were for Ushijima’s team. Due to your own busy schedule, you hadn’t been to their practices in a few days, and you hadn’t seen Ushijima in two days.

Practice was going to end in 20 minutes, so you quickly put the snacks in a bag and made your way to your car, and drove with a small smile on your face.

Meanwhile, Ushijima stared at the ball in his hands. He hadn’t done well on his math test, and it was bothering him. He usually did really well, but this one, this one was not done well.

Ushijima knew why. It’s because you didn’t tutor him. Ushijima knew you had been busy the last week and he decided not to ask you to tutor him. He could do one test without you, right?

Wrong.

He didn’t fail, he just didn’t do as well as he always did.

Semi and Goshiki stared at their captain. Ushijima often looked monotone and stoic, but there was a small furrow in his eyebrows today.

Tendou walked up to his two teammates and threw his arms around them. “Whatcha looking at?”

“Ushijima-kun looks... upset?”

Ōhira quietly walked up to them. “He didn’t do well on his test.”

The three of them looked to their vice-captain with narrowed eyes. “How can you tell?” Goshiki asked.

Before either of them could answer, your loud footsteps were heard.

“Toshi!”

Every head in the gym turned to your cheerful voice. Tendou, Shirabu, and Goshiki broke out into smiles. They absolutely loved when you came to practice. Practice was always the same, Ushijima would never change it, but it was more enjoyable with you there. You got to put on music, or you would tell funny stories, or you would yell different plays. It made everything fun.

You slightly started to jog. Ushijima’s olive eyes met your bright ones, and he let out a wide smile at the sight of you. He had no idea you were coming to practice. You usually always told him. He was pleasantly surprised.

Goshiki let out a small gasp. “He can smile that wide?!”

You ran towards Ushijima, who dropped the ball instantly. He seemed to already know your intentions.

You missed him so much, and by the small glint in his eyes, you could tell he was pleased to see you as well.

You threw your arms up. “Catch me.” It came out quietly, but you knew he heard you.

You threw yourself at him, and with no surprise, he caught you in his strong arms.

Your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders and his arms wrapped around your waist.

Your chin tucked into the brick of his shoulder and his cheek rested against your head.

“Hello, y/n.”

Ushijima put you down and you smiled up at him. His face glistened with sweat but he glowed under the white lights of the gym. The hug had been a bit stiff, but still heartfelt. You knew that spontaneous actions of affection in public usually made Ushijima uncomfortable, but you wanted to be greedy for a moment.

Before you could answer your boyfriend, arms were wrapped around your shoulder.

“Y/n! My favourite human ever!”

You turned to Tendou, whose red eyes shined with amusement. His lips tilted into his infamous grin and you smiled back, standing on your toes a bit to ruffle his hair.

“Satori! My red haired devil,” you cooed at him. Tendou’s smile turned more genuine and you patted his cheek. You loved the sardonic man like a brother, and he was grateful for it every day.

You looked over Tendou’s shoulders to find the rest of the team staring at you. You side stepped the red haired man and clapped your hands, bringing them to your lips. You let out a small mock gasp.

“Look at you boys,” you murmured. The team just looked at you amused. You did this every time you hadn’t seen them in a while. “You all look so much older!” You pointed at Semi, whose eyes widened a bit at your sudden attention. “You! How dare you grow even more!”

Semi just shook his head at you, used to your tactics.

You motioned for the boys to come closer to you, and they did. You began firing questions at them about their week, and they all answered you just as energeticly. Except Ōhira, but that was a given. He gave his answers more calmly.

Ushijima stared at your back. He always felt this warm feeling engulf his heart everytime he saw you interacting with his team.

The first time he had every felt that way, was when you ran up to Tendou and complimented his outfit. It had made Tendou’s entire week, and Ushijima felt a sense of proudness. He couldn’t understand how you were so good with people. With emotions. With understanding him, and his shortcomings.

Ushijima let you catch up with his team. He knew he had time with you after, even though he was feeling a bit greedy for your attention.

Quietly, Ushijima picked up the ball that was on the floor and threw it in the bucket of balls.

Ushijima stared at your back once again. He wanted to be near you. No, he wanted to touch you. Ushijima never liked touching anyone besides you. He had a three feet rule, and it applied to everyone but you. And now that you were here, he wanted nothing more than to pull you close.

He assessed the situation. You were currently talking to Goshiki, would it be rude to walk up to you and pull you away from the conversation? Ushijima thought back to your words. You had created a game for him. You would give scenarios, and he would tell you the best direction to take. Except, at first, Ushijima just thought you were just bad at understanding situations. It was only a couple of months later when you told him it was to help him understand social situations a bit better.

Yes, Ushijima finally concluded. It would be rude. Ushijima tired thinking back to all the ads he had stored in his mind. Nothing helpful came up, except a movie you made him watch a while back.

Ushijima remembers how the male love interest walked up to the female and hugged her from behind. He remembers you ‘awh-ing’ at the sight. Would that be a good thing to do? Ushijima wondered.

Ushijima didn’t think too much. He had hugged you from behind before, it was just always in private. It wasn’t that he was shy in front of his teammates, it was more that he felt a thread of uncomfortableness wrap around him. So, Ushijima took a couple quiet steps and he slowly slid his arms around your waist.

You weren’t surprised at the feeling. You leaned into his chest as his arms tightened a bit around your waist.

Ushijima rested his chin on your head, and his eyes lazily met Shirabu’s wide ones. Ushijima hadn’t even noticed how his teammates had gone quiet.

“Did I do something wrong?” Ushijima mumbled to you. You just patted his arms as you laced your fingers with his.

“No, love, I think they’re just speechless.”

And they were.

Not only did they find out that Ushijima actually can smile, they also found out that the most dense and earnest man they knew, actually initiated things first.

You smirked at the baffled team with a glint in your eyes.

That’ll show ‘em, you thought, proud.

ugh we love Ushijima being Ushijima.

header credit: @artistslayouts

#haikyuu #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima scenarios #ushijima x y/n #ushijima fluff #haikyuu x reader #fluff #haikyuu!!#ushijima hcs #haikyuu fluff #hana.writes!

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kpopfanfictrash · 4 years

Text

Raise the Barre (Ch. 11)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: ANGST part 3! But again, with progress attached.

Word Count: 10,246

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.

When you woke Saturday morning, you felt clearer about things than you’d felt all week. Your nap had lasted longer than intended, so when you woke around ten and groggily looked at your phone, you realized you’d missed your opportunity to talk to Finn.

He’d called around seven, but you seemed to have slept through this, and he’d left you no voicemail. Shooting him a text, you tried to stay up but promptly fell back asleep. When you woke to the sun streaming through your windows the next morning, you realized this was it. You’d reached a breaking point.

Pushing aside your covers, you climbed down from bed and began to get ready. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you fixed yourself up as best as you could before leaving the dorm. It was still early in the morning, the air containing a chill while you walked to the coffee shop. Finn still hadn’t responded to your text from the night prior, so you decided to give him an hour before you went over.

It had been three days since your fight in the library. If he didn’t know what to say to you by now, he could figure out what to say when he saw you in person. Steeling yourself for this possibility, you entered the shop and walked to the counter.

Staring at the holiday specials on the board, you felt nothing but numbness. As you ordered a peppermint latte and left a tip, you made a mental note to pick up Noelle one on your way home. She’d been the best friend to you this week – all weeks, really. Despite not knowing what was wrong, she’d done her best to cheer you up and be there for you.

Sipping your coffee at a table in the corner, you stared blankly at your phone. It was strange, being in a place you’d once been happy with Finn and no longer feeling attached to the memory. It was strange, contemplating the idea of breaking up with a cool sort of detachment, as though it were happening to someone other than you.

You wondered if all relationships reached a point where you simply felt tired. Maybe all humans had an emotional cap; a quota wherein all emotions following simply went unfelt. If this was this case, you imagined you might have hit yours.

Once your drink was finished, you stood and walked to place your mug in the bin. It had officially been an hour, which meant it was time to confront Finn at Redfield. Hiking your bag higher, you were about to leave the shop when you heard a familiar voice coming from behind a potted plant.

“Mom, are you serious?” Sabrina said, sounding upset. “This is a good thing.”

Uncertain, you paused. When you glanced around the fern, you saw Sabrina seated with someone unfamiliar at a table. The other person was a woman – older than you and, judging by the conversation, she seemed to be Sabrina’s mother.

Whoever she was, the woman sighed with the tone of someone who’d had this conversation before. “Tell me what’s good about it, Sabrina,” she demanded. “Vlad Copson is recommending you take additional classes outside of Russet.”

“I know.” Sabrina faltered. “It’s just because I asked about the contemporary dance program, though. I don’t… I don’t have a lot of experience in that area.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“I’m not saying it’s anyone’s fault, I’m just saying I want to–”

“We’ve been over this before, Sabrina. You need to work harder.”

Sabrina stopped talking. “I know.”

“Do you, though?” Pulling out her phone, her mother scrolled through her email. “You’ve had every advantage money could buy. Private lessons, an elite dance academy. How could you possibly be falling behind? It’s barely even the first semester.”

“Everyone’s talented at Russet, mom.”

Realizing you were staring, you side-stepped until you were hidden partway behind the fern. Mind racing, you wondered if this was what Sabrina had wanted to discuss. You’d had no idea she was interested in contemporary dance. She hadn’t seemed comfortable in the master class last week – but then again, maybe that’s what sparked this conversation.

It was strange to hear her sounding so small, so defeated. You were used to Sabrina being larger than life. If nothing else, the Sabrina you knew was confident – as soon as you thought this, a different memory came to mind. Something Jimin had said to you inside Dr. Gonzalez’s office.

He’d compared you to Sabrina and mentioned she was more insecure than you were.

“Why don’t you ask one of your friends for help?” said Sabrina’s mother. “Kelsey… or Alex?”

“Katie and Allison,” Sabrina stiffly corrected. “I asked them but um, they didn’t have time. You know… end of semester and stuff…”

She trailed off, sounding uncomfortable and you frowned. Again, you remembered last week’s master class. Sabrina’s friend Katie had stood beside Jungkook instead of helping her out. You’d thought it was weird at the time, but maybe they weren’t as close as you thought they were.

Or maybe they were similar, in that Katie wasn’t the type of person to help someone else when she had the chance to pull ahead.

Her mother made a noncommittal noise. “We’ll, you’ll just have to figure something out then, won’t you? I told you something like this would happen. That boy was a distraction. You’re better off now that you’ve ended things with him.”

Stiffening, you wondered if the boy they spoke about was Jimin, but then Sabrina scowled.

“Eamon was not a distraction,” she said, sounding sure of herself for the very first time.

Eyes widening, you stared. You’d had no idea Sabrina and Eamon were even a thing. Frantically, you thought back and tried to piece it together. You remembered Eamon leaving the dance floor at the club to head upstairs, which was where Sabrina had been sitting. Ten minutes later, she’d stormed into the downstairs bathroom in tears.

Based on what her mom was saying, it sounded as though Sabrina had broken up with Eamon. Immediately, your heart fell, and you wondered if your fight with Sabrina in the bathroom had been part of this aftermath.

“Still,” her mother said. “The time you spent with him was time you could’ve spent practicing! You’re young, Sabrina and ballerinas only perform until they’re thirty-five – if that. You’ll have plenty of time to date later on.”

“I barely even saw him as it was!”

“Maybe I need to cut the hours on your phone again.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Sabrina said tightly. “I need to go.” She stood from the table, chair scraping beneath her. “I told Katie we’d meet to head to a ballet class uptown. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Alright, then.”

Her mom didn’t seem concerned, waving goodbye like one might an acquaintance. Sabrina hovered a moment before hitching her bag to walk past. You realized you were still standing there, gawping at and swiftly sprang into action.

Pushing your way out the door, the bell jingled above you. You saw Sabrina’s head move but left before you could see if she’d noticed your presence. Hurrying down the sidewalk, you pulled your jacket tighter and kept your head down. That hadn’t seemed like a conversation you were meant to overhear.

Also, you weren’t sure what you’d overheard. As your steps began to slow, Sabrina’s comment from earlier in the year began to make sense. She’d relayed her mother’s advice on success – that only a few women ever made it to the top and as such, if Sabrina helped you to succeed, it’d be detrimental to her.

Having now seen Sabrina’s mom in action, you understood where she got this from. At the time, you’d been mad at Sabrina but now, you felt a strange sense of pity. The possibility of Sabrina falling behind had never crossed your mind and yet, it seemed Mr. Vlad had recommended extra classes. This made you think about what Jimin had said. Everyone at Russet was corrected, at some point of another.

At least you had a support system to fall back on, though; Sabrina had nothing. Her so-called friends had fled at the first sign of conflict and her mother didn’t seem interested beyond her ranking in class. This struck you as indescribably sad.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have time to linger upon Sabrina’s situation – as soon as you entered Redfield’s campus, all thoughts of Russet flew from your mind. Redfield University was such a short walk you’re your campus; if you did break up, it would be so awkward to run into Finn later on.

This was something you would’ve considered in high school, but you hadn’t imagined this to be a factor once you went to college. The realization made your heart sink, realizing how distant you’d become despite living so close together.

As you walked under Redfield’s archway, you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Orange-brown leaves crunched underfoot, seemingly having fallen from trees overnight. As you wound between dorms, you saw only a few people about at this hour. Pulling your bag higher, you hoped Finn would even be at his dorm.

He’d talked about moving off campus a few weeks ago – there wasn’t much space in the city for dorms, so students often moved out after freshman year, or even during their second semester. Maybe Finn would move further away and solve your concerns about running into each other.

Startled, you realized you were thinking about Finn in the past tense. Shaking this thought from mind, you stuffed your hands in your pockets and walked to his dorm. It took longer this time for someone to let you in – it seemed most of Redfield didn’t wake before 10:00 AM – but soon enough, you were climbing the steps to his room.

Your hands trembled as you walked down the hall, the lack of noise oddly suffocating when you stopped at his door. It took you a long moment to knock; several heartbeats you counted out like a watch.

After a second, you heard movement inside.

“Ben?” Finn called out, a bit groggy. “I already told you. I don’t want to get breakfast, I –”

He pulled open the door, revealing the entire room and you froze.

It was difficult to choose what to focus on first. Finn, in his boxers, Madison tugging on jeans, or the unmade bed behind them in the corner. Your gaze darted to each one in turn until, feeling suddenly nauseous, you stumbled backwards.

When he saw it was you, Finn froze in place. As soon as he came to his senses, he stepped into the hall and tried to shut the door, but it was too late. You’d already seen.

Every emotion you’d felt over the past couple of days rose to the surface. All the horror you’d felt, the self-flagellation you’d done – it had all been for nothing.

Suddenly livid, you began to see red.

“No,” you said, pushing past him. Shoving open the door, you glared hard at Madison. “I think I’d rather have this conversation in here. You should leave,” you informed her.

Finn muttered something which sounded like a curse. Madison glanced at him, startled and Finn slowly turned. Wrestling a hand through his hair, he seemed slightly panicked as he nodded at Madison.

“You should probably go, Maddie,” he said.

Hearing him speak, your vision blurred. He’d called Madison ‘Maddie’ in the library, but it suddenly struck you how familiar it was. How casual, how intimate her name sounded on his tongue. Closing your eyes, you forced the image from mind.

It refused to go.

Swallowing hard, you realized you couldn’t do this. You couldn’t have this conversation right now; couldn’t stay any longer.

Opening your eyes, you quickly shook your head. “I have to go,” you said, pushing past him. “Forget it, Finn. We’re done.”

As soon as you left, you bolted for the exit. Heading for the stairs, your blood pounded in your veins and drowned out all thought. You were grateful for this, since if you had time to think rationally, you’d think about Finn and Madison, half-dressed in the dorm.

Slamming open the door to the stairwell, you were halfway across the lobby when the elevator dinged and slid open.

“Y/N, wait!” Finn gasped, running out. He hopped on one foot as he slid on a sneaker. “Please – please, talk to me.”

You continued to walk. “There’s nothing to talk about, Finn.”

“There is,” he insisted, grabbing you by the elbow and turning you to face him.

Roughly, you shrugged him off.

“Please,” he begged, sounding desperate. “Please. I fucked up, Y/N. I fucked up so badly and I’m sorry.”

Freezing in place, you met his gaze.

You honestly couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Finn was asking you to forgive him. He was asking you to forgive him as though he wanted you to stay. He had cheated on you. Finn was an absolute idiot if he thought you’d forgive him after that. If he thought you could trust him after that.

Immediately, your heart sank because you’d cheated on him, as well – maybe not like this, but you’d cheated all the same.

Some of the anger drained from your body.

“What are you sorry about?” you said, turning to face him.

Finn shook his head. “For… that,” he said. “For you having to see that.”

“Are you sorry for sleeping with her?”

He winced. “Yes.”

Releasing a low laugh, you looked away. A strange thought occurred to you, and you remembered Yoongi’s reaction when he’d said the name Madison. It seemed too coincidental for you to have walked in on their first time together.

Still facing away from him, you asked, “How many times?”

Finn paused. He exhaled, sounding pained and you felt your heart stumble.

“Just once,” he whispered. “But… we kissed last weekend. I was really drunk on Halloween and I… apparently, we kissed.”

It hurt more than you thought it would. Like a physical punch to the gut, you imagined Finn with his body on hers, their lips molded together, and his hands tangled her hair.

Swallowing hard, you nodded. “Oh.”

“It was stupid,” Finn insisted, stepping forward. “The kiss on Halloween – I didn’t even remember it until Madison told me on Thursday. She was there when I came back from our fight and asked if I remembered what happened Saturday. I said that I didn’t. She explained what happened, we got to talking and I…”

“I get it,” you said tightly, looking back. “I don’t need a play-by-play.”

“Sorry.”

“I called you, Finn. Multiple times.”

“I know.” Lifting his palms, he rubbed at his eyes. “I know, but when I got your message… I didn’t want to talk anymore. I thought what I wanted was to break up with you and Madison… she was simple, you know? I was hurt, she was there and it just kind of happened.”

His words sounded so crushingly similar to how you’d felt with Jimin. It was like looking at a warped mirror of yourself and this was when you realized nothing about this was normal. The two of you had hurt each other too many times to ever get back.

“Please say something,” he said. “Y/N, please.”

“What do you want me to say?” you said quietly.

“I – I don’t know.”

After a moment, you said, “Do you still love me?”

“Yes,” Finn murmured.

When you made a dismissive noise, his gaze narrowed.

“It’s true,” Finn insisted, stepping closer. “I do love you. That’s what I realized when I woke up this morning. I rolled over and saw her and I just… I knew, Y/N. I’d made the worst mistake of my life. I woke up this morning and knew I didn’t want to break up after all.”

“Don’t… don’t do that,” you exhaled, looking away.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t try and put this back together,” you bit out, eyes flashing. “If it took you sleeping with someone else to make you realize you wanted me, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

Finn was silent for a moment.

“I know,” he said miserably. “I know that you’re right, and I’m sorry.”

The words hung in the air and you couldn’t help it – you ached. The temptation to give in was right there. The temptation to forgive, to forget and let things go back to normal. But when you looked at Finn, you saw her, and you knew this could never be fixed.

“Why?” you said, voicing the first question you thought of.

He blinked. “Why, what?”

“Why her?”

“I…” He looked down. “I don’t know. She was my friend and then… I don’t know. She was there. Maddie listened to me, she paid attention and it felt like you were slipping further away.”

“So… you slept with her because she listened to you?”

Finn groaned and closed his eyes. “I don’t even know why I’m trying to explain. I can’t. I can’t explain this away, it can’t be excused… I’m sorry, Y/N.” Slowly, he shook his head. “So, so sorry.”

After a moment, you looked at the elevator. “Is she still up there?”

Finn opened his eyes and nodded.

“Tell her to go.”

Silently, he pulled out his phone and sent a text. Finn waited for a reply and once he got it, slipped his phone back in his pants.

“She’s taking the stairs down,” he said.

“Then let’s take the elevator.”

While you waited for this to come, you crossed both arms over your chest and stared at the numbers. You weren’t going upstairs because you thought Finn deserved a second chance. If anything, his infidelity made it clear you both wanted out. Your constant hurting each other meant more than the love you’d once shared.

This wasn’t love, anyways.

Hanging onto that ideal would only demolish you further. You were going upstairs because you owed that much to yourself. You deserved more than half-explanations and you weren’t leaving until you got them. You and Finn had been together two years at this point. If you left now and ran away, you’d always wonder what if.

When you entered his room, you came to a stop in the center. Yoongi wasn’t here and you felt a twinge of regret, realizing he’d been trying to tell you something Wednesday. Turning around, you slowly sat on the edge of his futon. This seemed a safer option than his bed.

Finn hovered a few feet away.

“So,” you said, looking up. “You still love me?”

“I do.”

Gently, you closed your eyes. “And you think that’s enough?”

Finn didn’t say anything at first, sensing a trap until at last, you sighed.

“It’s not enough,” you said, opening your eyes. “That’s what I was coming over to tell you. Finn, you haven’t even texted me since our fight on Wednesday. You just ghosted me, and I know – I know I’ve done that to you, too. But that’s the point! We keep hurting one another. Is this really the relationship you want?”

“No,” he said miserably.

“Then, what do you want?”

“What do you expect me to say to that?” he said, sounding frustrated.

“You’re the one who’s saying you love me,” you pointed out. “You’re the one who’s saying this was all a mistake. Do you really want to be together still, Finn?”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit!” You gave a bitter laugh. “Don’t just say the word without knowing what it means. Do you want to be in this relationship, Finn? I don’t mean the idyllic version of us. I mean the messy, right-now version. Do you really want that?”

He stared at you, uncertain. “I just… I want us how we used to be.”

“Don’t you see, though?” you whispered. “We can’t be that. I want that too, Finn, but so much has happened. Not just the cheating, but everything else. All the fighting, all the miscommunication. You have a specific idea of what your girlfriend should be, and I’m not it. Not anymore.”

“I don’t need any of that though,” Finn finally said. He sat beside you on the futon. “I mean, yeah. I’d like to see you more. I want to be with you more. But that’s just it. I want you. I –”

“I kissed Jimin.”

Finn immediately stopped. He stared at you a second, as though struggling to make sense of the words. When you turned and met gaze, you felt your heart break again. This wasn’t how you’d planned on telling him. You had wanted to explain, wanted to ease him into it, but it was clear Finn wouldn’t stop until he knew this was over.

His lips parted, and then his gaze narrowed. “When did this happen?”

“Wednesday.”

“So, after…” He paused, as though calculating. “After our fight.”

“Yeah. After you accused me of cheating with him.”

Finn sat back on the futon, a bit dazed. He stared at the wall for a long moment, then looked your way. “Was our fight… was that the reason…?”

“No,” you said sadly. “Or maybe. I don’t know. There were a lot of things. I was confused and upset, so I went to dance and Jimin was there…”

Trailing off, you heard the words said out loud and knew how similar they sounded to his. You had been upset and Jimin had been there. The main difference was, after Finn had cheated he’d realized he wanted to stay and you’d realized you needed to go.

Glancing at him, you waited for Finn to speak, but he didn’t.

“I was crying,” you whispered. “Jimin saw me and he asked what was wrong. He was being so nice and I just… I kissed him. I don’t know why.”

Finn slowly closed his eyes.

Now, you were the one waiting desperately for him to speak. “Say something.”

He shook his head. “I don’t… don’t know what to say. Do you want to be with him? Is that what this is about?”

“No, I – well, I don’t know.”

He opened his eyes in disbelief. “You don’t know?”

“I wanted to come and talk to you,” you said, a bit frantic. “We haven’t talked since Wednesday and I needed to see what you felt.”

“What I felt?” Finn stared. “I felt like I’d fucked up, but I still loved you and wanted us to be together. Now, you’re telling me you don’t want that.”

“It’s not that I don’t want it. It’s just – how?” you blurted. “Finn, you cheated on me. How am I supposed to trust you after this? How are you supposed to trust me?”

His face crumpled a little. “I don’t know,” he said hoarsely. “And please… don’t say that’s all I seem to be able to say.”

You managed to smile, although this disappeared quickly.

“Guess you know me pretty well,” you said quietly.

Finn sat there and stared at the floor for a moment. “Yeah, I guess I do,” he exhaled. “Which is why I have to say… this thing with Jimin. It’s not just a kiss, is it?”

Slowly, you shook your head.

He closed his eyes. “Right. So… what now?”

“I think you know what now.”

Finn leaned back on the futon. “Were you planning on breaking up with me when you came over this morning?”

“I wanted to talk things out with you, Finn. Things have been so bad lately.”

“So, yes.”

“I honestly didn’t know.” You looked at him helplessly. “But after seeing you with her, it all seemed so clear. Finn, what are we doing? We’ve hurt each other so much and we keep on hurting each other.”

“I know.” Miserably, he looked away. “I just… I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Finn.”

Honestly, you weren’t sure if you loved him anymore but seated on this futon, faced with the prospect of not being together, you couldn’t help but reminisce about the past. All the good times you’d spent, the laughter, the kisses and firsts that you’d shared. Finn had meant so much to you at one point. How your relationship ended didn’t change that.

Slowly, he turned, and you saw his eyes were red. “So, is this…” Choking a little, he swallowed. “Are we…?”

Heart breaking, you leaned in and wrapped your arms around him. Something wet landed on your shoulder and you realized he was crying. Hugging Finn tighter, you buried your face in his chest and felt your eyes start to water.

For a long time, you simply held one another and cried. It felt therapeutic, as though everything had changed but for only this moment, you’d found your way back. For a single moment, you let yourself believe the semester had never happened and none of this pain had ever come between you.

It didn’t work completely.

In the back of your mind, your heart continued to ache. The image of Finn with someone else remained and you couldn’t fully erase it. For a moment though, you let yourself play make-believe.

When you left his dorm hours later, you felt utterly exhausted. Finn had tried to convince you to stay longer, but you’d flatly refused. At some point, you needed to draw the line.

Coming to a stop outside Redfield, you stared at the brick archway and realized you wouldn’t see it again. You were single.

For a word which was supposed to feel freeing, it felt oddly heavy. Turning around, you began to walk in the direction of Russet. It didn’t take long to get there, entering Grace Hall and climbing the steps to your room in a numbed haze.

Noelle took one look at you when you entered and immediately shut her laptop. Dimly, you realized you’d forgotten her coffee. You needed to remember to do that tomorrow. Before you could make it two steps inside though, you felt the tears forming.

“Oh, no babe,” said Noelle, descending her ladder. “Don’t cry!”

As you plopped down on the futon, she joined, rubbing your back while you buried your face in your hands.

“I’m sorry,” you said, choking up a little. “I just – Finn…”

“What happened?”

“We… we broke up.”

“Oh, no, babe.”

“Yeah,” you said, wiping your eyes on your sleeve.

“What happened?”

“I…” You hesitated. “He cheated on me.”

“He what?” Noelle rose from the futon. “That crusty, limp lint ball. I will… I will cut off his balls with a rusty spoon!”

“I also kissed Jimin.”

Startled, she turned. “Oh.” Noelle paused. “Well. I’m still going to cut off Finn’s balls.”

Weakly, you laughed. Taking a deep breath, you found the whole story pouring out of you again. Noelle sat down, listening to you speak and nodding encouragingly. Oddly enough, as you told her everything, the weight on your chest seemed to lighten a little.

You’d thought it would be the opposite. This was one of the main reasons you’d kept things inside you for so long, not bothering to tell anyone what you were going through. The idea of burdening others made you feel guilty but talking to your mom had made you realize some truths about yourself.

It was the same thing with Noelle. Seeing her face when you described walking in on Finn and Madison was enough to reinforce you’d made the right decision. She was so livid when you told her, you needed to tug her back to the futon again.

“Okay, but you only kissed Jimin,” she insisted. “You stopped right away! And you know what Finn did? He avoided you for days, decided you were going to break up and then slept with someone else. He kissed her!” she said, arms flailing. “And thought hm, better go in deeper! God, I hate men.”

It hurt to laugh, but you couldn’t help it. Noelle was right. It was ridiculous when she put it like that. Yes, you’d fucked things up but at least you’d tried to fix it. At least you’d been realistic about what had happened. Finn had messed up and just wanted you to forgive him.

“The worst part was he tried to get me to stay,” you whispered, knees curled into your chest. “That really hurt, you know? It was like he didn’t realize how much he wanted me until he’d had someone else. I couldn’t stop thinking… what about the next time? What if every time things got hard, he ran off and stuck his dick in someone else?”

Although Noelle snorted, she shook her head. “He’s dumb, babe. And immature. Men that age always are.”

“I know,” you said quietly, staring at your knees. “But he was my dumb and immature guy. And now… I just feel kind of empty.”

“Ah, Y/N.”

“I know.” Closing your eyes, you shook your head. “It’s stupid, but I keep thinking about all the small things that’ll be different. Like, Finn loves this one video game and I used to send him memes I found on Twitter all the time. Or we were watching this TV show together and now, I’ll have to watch the next season alone. Or Finn won’t text me good morning, or tell me good night and I just…”

“Hey.” Noelle pulled you closer when you began to cry. “It’s okay, babe. Even if he hurt you, even if it was the right decision to break up – you can still be upset about it. You can still love him. Feelings like that don’t go away overnight.”

Weakly, you nodded. You knew Noelle was right but couldn’t help feeling broken. Everyone said the only thing which healed heartbreak was time. It was the only balm to this kind of pain, but on the first day of your breakup, time seemed like such a cruel concept.

“If it makes you feel better,” Noelle offered. “I’ll watch the TV show with you.”

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Weakly, you smiled. “You might end up regretting that.”

“I might,” she agreed, smiling as you pulled away.

Standing up from the futon, Noelle went to your minifridge and opened the freezer compartment. “Fuck weigh-ins,” she said, retrieving your ice cream and grabbing two spoons.

You both dug in, taking a large bite of fudge ripple. The treat tasted like sawdust on your tongue – somehow, you didn’t seem to have an appetite.

“I think you did the right thing, for what it’s worth,” Noelle offered.

“Yeah?” you said, taking another scoop. “Then, why does it suck so much?”

“Love sucks.”

“True.”

“He cheated, babe,” she said, a bit gentler.

“Yeah. I think that’s the worst part, though. I can kind of understand why he did.”

“Oh, no.” Noelle clucked her tongue. “Don’t go down that road.”

Weakly, you smiled. “It’s just… Finn was right. I never had time for him. I didn’t really fit in with his Redfield friends. His schedule always took a backseat to mine and I just… I can understand him not feeling like a priority in my life. What kind of girlfriend does that make me?”

“The strong kind.”

When you looked at her, Noelle seemed deadly serious. Lowering her ice cream spoon, she slowly exhaled.

“You’re a woman with ambition, Y/N,” she said quietly. “I won’t lie, that terrifies a lot of men. A lot of guys want their ego stroked and when their self-esteem can’t be fixed by someone else, they’ll blame you. You’re not a bad person for knowing what you want, though. When you find the right guy, he’ll love that about you.”

Immediately, your eyes watered. It was exactly what you’d needed to hear right now. Leaning forward, you hugged her again and silently thanked Russet Academy for pairing you as roommates.

You stayed awake for a while, ordering a pizza which Noelle forced you to eat. As she put on a movie and you settled into the futon, you thought more about Finn and what Noelle had said.

She was right, you knew. Finn didn’t want the kind of woman you’d become. The kind of woman he wanted wasn’t bad – not inherently. He wanted someone who fit into his life, someone who wasn’t defined by their career. Someone who could leave their job at five and spend time with him after.

It was fine to want those things, but it wasn’t okay to place those things on you. Possibly if you’d realized this earlier, none of this would’ve happened. It was pointless to wonder what-if, though. Before you came to Russet, you hadn’t even known this part of yourself existed.

You and Finn had spent two wonderful years together in high school. That wasn’t something you wanted to forget, but things between you were different now. It would be foolish to stay together while trying to ignore the fact that you both walked on different paths.

Somewhere in the middle of the second movie you dozed off and when you woke, you found Noelle turning off the lights and putting things away. Mumbling good night, you climbed into bed and plugged your phone into the wall.

Finn hadn’t texted, for which you were grateful.

Jimin hadn’t either.

Rolling over, you found you couldn’t think about him right now. There was too much to unpack, especially fresh off your breakup with Finn. You’d said things about Jimin you needed to digest, but you couldn’t afford to do that right now.

Right now, all you could do was start to recover.

By Monday morning, you felt like a zombie. Noelle had done her best to distract you over the weekend, but the looming prospect of Monday drained whatever progress you’d made.

It was the closest you’d ever come to being late to class. The second hand was between 7:59 and 8:00 when you and Noelle entered the room. Setting your things down at the barre, you caught Mr. Vlad’s disapproving gaze before he shut the door.

He began to teach pliés and you found yourself falling into the familiar rhythm. All weekend long, you’d dreaded coming to dance because you knew you’d be distracted. In the past, whenever your personal life had fallen apart, this usually had resulted in mistakes in your professional. Not today.

Today, you let the soothing movement drag you under. The repetitive nature of warm-ups gave a much-needed break to your overworked mind. For the first time in days, your eyes didn’t water for unknown reasons. Overwhelmed with gratitude for the momentary peace, you threw yourself into your exercises at center.

When the time came to find your partner, you spotted Jimin for the first time today. He found you first, winding across the room to stand by your side.

He was silent for a moment, then glanced in your direction. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you said softly.

Jimin’s brow furrowed. He searched your face and seemed about to speak, but then Mr. Vlad began to teach. Falling quiet, Jimin learned the steps alongside you. He didn’t say anything more during adagio, but you caught him occasionally looking from the corner of your eye.

Feebly, you hoped you didn’t look too terrible. This was probably a lost cause, given you’d barely glanced in the mirror before leaving. Not that how you looked was a priority right now. It didn’t even crack the top ten, but you couldn’t help wanting Jimin to see you. Your conversation with Finn had been eye-opening in so many ways.

Not least of all was how you felt about Jimin. Finn had asked if you wanted to date him and you’d replied you didn’t know.

Just a week prior, you would’ve blustered your way through a response. You would’ve said of course, not but you would’ve been lying. Something important existed between you, but along with it came a sinking feeling.

Breaking up with Finn had been the most difficult decision you’d ever made. Everything Noelle had said was right – feelings didn’t disappear overnight, no matter how badly you wanted them to. No matter the pain he’d put you through and no matter the pain you’d caused him.

You had a lot you needed to learn before you began dating someone new. You’d thought you’d known what you wanted before and had been proven wrong. It would be equally foolish to think you knew what you wanted right now.

Besides, you had kissed Jimin while still dating Finn. That was a terrible foundation to a new relationship. Your own words came back to you about trusting Finn. He’d cheated on you with Madison and you knew that if you’d stayed, you would have always wondered if he’d do it again.

Maybe Jimin would always think this about you.

The thought made your chest ache since it could’ve been avoided. If you’d done something differently, if you’d been less stubborn and ended things with Finn earlier, you wouldn’t be feeling this way now.

Such thoughts were pointless though because they weren’t what had happened. It was meaningless to wonder what-if because the point was, you hadn’t. You hadn’t ended things earlier. You hadn’t left when Jimin found you that night. You’d made the choices which made the most sense at the time – or in a moment of weakness – and now, you needed to live with the consequences.

At the end of class, you were packing your things when you felt a shadow fall over your bag. Glancing up, you expected to see Jimin and found Sabrina before you.

Surprised, you sat back. You’d nearly forgotten about the conversation you’d overheard in the cafe but now, it all came rushing back. As you straightened, you caught sight of Jimin as he walked out the door and felt your stomach twist.

You had been hoping to catch Jimin after class to tell him – what, exactly?

You didn’t know what you’d wanted to say. You didn’t know what would be appropriate. Should you say you’d broken up with Finn? You didn’t want to give Jimin any kind of false hope. He should at least know you were sorry, though. You were sorry for kissing him, sorry you’d run away and sorry in general for messing things up so badly.

“Hey, Y/N.” Sabrina adjusted her bag. “Can we talk?”

After a moment, you nodded and zipped your bag shut. “Yeah,” you said as you stood. “Yeah, okay.”

Noelle walked past, hovering when she saw you speaking with Sabrina. Her gaze moved between you. “Are you heading back to the dorm, Y/N?”

“In a second,” you said, managing to smile. “I just need to do something first.”

Noelle nodded, but her gaze lingered before she walked away. You couldn’t blame her for her suspicion. Sabrina had been nothing but rude to you the entire year but now, you had a little more insight as to why.

Somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her. You kept contrasting your last phone call to your mom with the conversation you’d overheard. If Sabrina received that kind of support in her own home, it kind of made sense for her to be the way she was with ballet.

Sabrina turned, leaving the class as you followed. You walked beside her in silence until you reached a secluded part of the hall. Here, Sabrina turned and hesitated when she saw you. The difference was startling; you were so used to the version of Sabrina who was constantly on the defensive.

“Hey,” she repeated.

She didn’t add on, so you arched a brow. “Hey. Don’t take this the wrong way, Sabrina but – what do you want?”

Her upper lip quirked. Just as quickly, her expression smoothed to normalcy. “I thought I saw you on Saturday,” she said bluntly. “Was that you in the coffee shop near Grace?”

You paused, debating whether to lie but deciding it wasn’t worth it.

“Yeah,” you said. “That was me.”

“Did you hear what me and my mom were saying?”

Again, you hesitated but before you could respond, she rolled her eyes. “What am I saying?” Sabrina muttered. “I know you were close enough to overhear.”

Unwittingly, you almost smiled. It was kind of refreshing to hear her speak like this again. Your last interactions had thrown you, making you rethink who Sabrina was. Her bluntness was oddly comforting in its normalcy.

“Well, if you know I overheard, why are you asking?” you shot back. “Look – you don’t need to worry about me telling anyone. I’ll forget what I heard, and we can go back to hating each other. I don’t care about your personal life, Sabrina.”

A flicker of something unknown passed over her face. She nodded, curt and you turned to leave – but then she exhaled.

“Wait,” she said quietly.

Stopping in your tracks, you looked over your shoulder. “What?”

Sabrina made the oddest expression, halfway between regret and disgust. “I wanted to apologize,” she said at last.

Eyes widening, you froze. Seeming to mistake your silence for anger, Sabrina barreled on.

“That’s why I wanted to talk the other day in class,” she admitted. “It’s been bothering me all week what went down on Halloween. I wasn’t in a good place then and I took that out on you. I – I’m sorry about that.”

Finally, you managed to shake yourself free.

“You’re… apologizing? To me?”

“Yes. Listen, this is awkward enough without me having to repeat myself.”

Again, you suppressed a smile. Folding your arms over your chest, you forced a stern expression. “Yeah, well, forgive me if I’m having trouble comprehending,” you said. “You don’t really seem like the apology type.”

“I’m not.”

“Then, why are you now?”

Sabrina exhaled and looked away. “I’m not going to pretend I regret everything that’s happened between us this year,” she said. “Most of it I stand by. But… it wasn’t your fault I snapped at you on Halloween. I was down and I was feeling jealous.”

Your eyes widened. “Jealous? Of me?”

She nodded, then looked back. “I got crappy feedback during the master class and then you came over, inviting me out on Halloween like some pity invitation. I know,” she said, catching your look. “Maybe that’s not what you intended, but that’s what it felt like. And then I was at that party, looking around and… I just realized no one liked me.”

More than anything else, this startled you. You hadn’t seen Sabrina much at the party but hadn’t heard anything negative, so you’d assumed she had a good time.

“I never really thought you’d be worried about something that,” you said cautiously. “Whether people liked you, or not.”

“Most of the time I don’t.” Sabrina paused. “Well. I don’t know. It’s hard,” she admitted, playing with a thread on her bag. “For the most part, I don’t. But sometimes…”

“Sometimes you do,” you finished.

“Yeah.” She nodded. “I know it’s no one’s fault but mine. I’m the one who pushes people away, who refused to help you when you asked. I was the one who left Jimin on read when he said he just wanted to be friends.”

“He… what?” you said, snagging on this thought.

Sabrina rolled her eyes. “You two really need to work through whatever’s going on between you. But anyways,” she continued. “I was going through a lot and… and I just lashed out. You were the one who happened to be closest.”

“That sucks, but… I get it,” you said.

You really could. It was what you did, after all. You’d done the same thing to Jimin after you got bad feedback at Russet. You’d eventually moved past this as a habit, but you couldn’t fault Sabrina for having the same journey as you.

“Seriously, though.” You tilted your head. “Why are you telling me this? It seems very… out of character for you.”

“I know.” Sabrina considered. “Honestly? I’m not sure. It’d be easier not to, but… then you overheard my conversation with my mom.”

Awkward, you shifted your weight. “Ah.”

Again, you thought you understood. It was difficult to reveal vulnerable parts of yourself. Sometimes it was easier when someone else did it for you.

“So,” you said and then paused. “Is your mom… always like that?”

“Like what?”

“So… intense?”

She gave a bitter smile. “That was her being chill.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.” Sabrina shrugged. “She means well, I guess. My mom raised me alone after my dad left when I was young. She’s the top lawyer in the city, so she has firsthand experience on how to get there.” Here, Sabrina hesitated. “I just don’t think it’s always been the happiest road for her.”

“Probably not,” you admitted.

“I always thought that’s what I wanted,” Sabrina said softly. “To be like her, but with dance. At the top of my field, not needing anyone but myself. Now… I don’t know.”

Knowing this put a lot of things in perspective. Sabrina had been raised to believe she could only rely upon herself. It was no wonder she’d turned you down so many times.

“Well,” you said slowly. “I don’t think anything is set in stone, if that makes you feel better. It’s only the first semester, after all. There’s still plenty of time to make friends if that’s what you want.”

“Yeah.” She paused. “Maybe.”

You hesitated, and then nodded. “I appreciate the apology.”

“No problem.”

Glancing away, you wondered if this was all. While it helped to understand where Sabrina was coming from, you couldn’t imagine having sleepovers with her anytime soon. It was nice of her to apologize, but that was only a first step. You didn’t have much in common.

Except that wasn’t true, you realized. You had a lot in common, possibly more than you’d given yourself credit for. You understood more than you wanted about where she was coming from.

Turning back, you met her gaze. “So, Eamon?”

Her eyebrows shot upwards. “You heard that?”

“Kind of,” you said, offering a guilty smile. “What happened there?”

For the first time, a touch of sadness entered her gaze. “It’s a long story,” Sabrina said, and then hesitated.

You considered, then said, “I have time. Are you heading back to Grace Hall?”

Although Sabrina seemed surprised, she nodded, and you turned around. As you fell into step alongside her, you thought about how weird this all was. Returning to the dorm with Sabrina, talking and not being at each other’s throats.

Maybe you wouldn’t ever be friends, but you appreciated her attempt at an apology. You hadn’t realized how exhausting it was to have an enemy. To be constantly directing negative energy at something you couldn’t control – you had to give Sabrina credit because apologizing took courage. Taking a step forward was always an act of bravery.

As you walked, you felt your gut twist and an unknown voice whispered in your ear. It’d take an equal amount of courage to make things right with Jimin. Steeling yourself as you left the building, you determined you would do just that.

One step at a time, you’d move yourself forward.

Sabrina didn’t stay long, just long enough to explain about Eamon. Apparently, they’d been hooking up at the start of the year but had become something serious. Sabrina had broken it off at her mother’s insistence, but they hooked up again shortly before Halloween. When she’d ended things a second time, Eamon had been understandably frustrated.

It seemed clear Sabrina liked him, but you kept that thought to yourself. She’d either realize this on her own, or you’d eventually get to the point where you could give her a reality check. Once she eventually left, you lounged on your bed and scrolled through your phone.

As odd as the encounter with Sabrina had been, it’d taken your mind off Jimin and Finn for a moment. Now, left alone with your thoughts, you had time to overthink all your actions.

On Sunday, Noelle had made you go through your phone and delete all old conversations with Finn, blocking him on social media so he couldn’t reach out. You’d balked at this but eventually given in. Clearly, you were a creature of habit – it made sense to set physical boundaries.

Oddly though, it hadn’t been difficult not to text Finn today. Maybe because you’d been growing apart for so long. There had been multiple weeks since the start of the semester when you and Finn hadn’t even spoken for days.

Rolling over, you opened your photos and released a sigh. Finally, you began the arduous task you’d been dreading. Although you’d blocked Finn on social media, you’d yet to go through your old albums to delete. It had felt somehow wrong, as though you were ridding yourself of memories you one day might want.

Starting at the beginning of the semester, you began to delete. You found one from the night you’d moved into Russet and another from a walk at sunset along the river. There was one of Finn in his dorm room, pulling a stupid face at the camera. You deleted each one with a heavy heart, moving on to the next grouping and pausing.

Your scrolling had brought you to Halloween night. You found several photos of you, Noelle and Irene dressed as the PowerPuff girls. More from the pregame followed, with you playing flip cup and Jasmine cracking up. There were some from the couch and a few from when Hoseok had stolen your phone – when you scrolled to the next one, you froze.

The shot was candid, not taken by you, although you were in it. Paulo had made you laugh, nearly doubling over while you sat on the sofa. Irene and Jasmine were also in the shot, but it was Jimin who made you stop scrolling.

He was in the photo too, also laughing but his gaze remained focused on you. The look he gave you – it made your breath catch. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at you like that; like they simply enjoyed seeing you happy.

Suddenly, you threw aside your covers and descended your bed. As you tossed on a coat, you hastily checked the mirror before deciding fuck it, and hurrying out the door. Your coat flapped as you walked, trying to zip this up with one hand.

It was only a block to the boy’s dorm, but it might as well have been across the entire city. Your teeth were chattering by the time you arrived, hurrying into the warmth of the lobby. You took the steps two at a time to Jimin’s floor, hurrying down the hall before you could second-guess yourself.

When you finally reached his doorway, you paused.

Eyes closed, you willed yourself to breathe. You could do this. Completely unconvinced by your lukewarm pep talk, you opened your eyes and forced yourself to knock.

You heard movement inside, saw the handle turn and then Hoseok flung open the door. When he met your gaze, his eyes widened. This fact made you wince, since it was obvious Hoseok knew about the kiss between you and Jimin. Either that, or you looked like an absolute mess. Possibly both.

Staring at you, Hoseok made a noise which sounded like, “Argh.”

Before you could respond, Jimin called out.

“Is that Alex?” he groaned, sounding closer. “Did he break the showerhead again? Because I swear to god, if he –”

Jimin stepped into the doorframe, stopping once he saw you. He stared at you for a moment and Hoseok awkwardly eased himself backwards.

“Uh, I forgot I need to go to the store,” he said, grabbing his coat. Shoving his feet into sneakers, Hoseok grabbed keys from a chair. “Just um, need to grab a few things. Ice cream. Condoms. You know, the usual. Bye, guys!” he said, edging around you. “Have fun!”

Hoseok fairly ran down the hall, his coat flapping behind him.

After a moment, you returned to Jimin. He still hadn’t moved, continuing to stare at you from inside his room.

“Hey,” you said weakly, giving a wave.

His gaze hardened.

“Wait,” you blurted, throwing out a hand in case he shut the door. “Please, Jimin. Just let me explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain, Y/N,” he said, a bit quiet.

“Yes, there is. Can I come in?”

Jimin hesitated, warring with something but finally, he sighed and stepped aside. You nodded your thanks as you passed, stopping inside his room.

It smelled like him. There were the usual dorm smells of plaster and concrete but beneath that was his cologne, his detergent and something unmistakably Jimin. It made your heart clench as you turned around.

Jimin continued to look at you warily.

Seeing him like this tore something within you. It hurt, seeing such blatant mistrust in his gaze. It hurt to stand here and wonder if he was the reason you were single. Deep down, you knew this wasn’t the case, but all the pain mingled and was hard to separate. Looking at him made you feel hurt, yet hopeful; confused, yet still longing.

Broken, you inhaled as you shut your eyes. “Finn and I broke up.”

“You – what?”

You could hear the shock in Jimin’s voice. Shock, confusion – and maybe something else. Something more, which made you long to move closer.

“Yeah,” you continued. “We broke up on Saturday.”

Jimin was quiet for a moment, long enough for you to open your eyes. His expression had softened a little, but not by much. Instead, he cocked his head.

“That’s why you looked so sad in class today,” he said at last.

Apparently, you’d done a worse job of hiding things than you’d thought.

“Yeah,” you said. “That’s why.”

Jimin swallowed and nodded before looking away. He pushed a hand through his hair, leaving several strands ruffled as he lowered his hand. Multiple emotions fled across his expression until at last, he exhaled and looked back.

“How are you?” he said.

It was such a Jimin response, your eyes immediately filled with tears. Of course, with all this between you, his first instinct would be your well-being.

His eyes widened in response. “No – Y/N, no,” Jimin said, rushing forward. Forcing himself to stop, he held himself still. “I didn’t mean to… shit,” he cursed, hanging his head. “Even when I’m mad at you, I just… I don’t want you to be sad, Y/N.”

The simplicity of his statement settled over you, making your heart ache in all its jagged pieces. Jimin was so good. He was so good to you, and you didn’t deserve him.

“Well,” you said with a hiccup. “I’ve been better, but that’s not why I came here.”

“No?”

“I came here to apologize.”

He blinked, but didn’t respond, so you took this as a sign to continue.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” you said in a rush. “I had a boyfriend and no matter how bad things were between us, I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. At the very least, I should’ve stayed when you asked me to talk. I – I’m so sorry, Jimin. Things have gotten so messed up.”

While you were speaking, his expression began to change. No longer did he seem angry, but something within his gaze had changed to uncertainty.

Swallowing hard, Jimin looked away. “It wasn’t your fault, Y/N.”

“No, I –”

“It wasn’t.” He looked back. “I knew you had a boyfriend. I knew it, but it didn’t stop me from feeling something for you. I was the idiot. Of course, the kiss didn’t mean something to you. It wasn’t fair of me to… to expect that from you and –”

“It did, though,” you said, cutting him off.

Jimin paused. “What?”

“The kiss. It meant something to me”

Breathing hitching, he stared at you in confusion. “What are you saying, Y/N?”

“I’m saying kissing you wasn’t about Finn,” you whispered, wrapping both arms around your waist. “I didn’t kiss you because Finn and I were fighting. I kissed you because I wanted to. Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Because I’d been wondering for weeks what it would be like. That’s why I kissed you, Jimin.”

Staring at you, his expression turned wondering.

“He was cheating on me,” you said, wanting him to know the whole truth. “That’s what I found when I went to see him on Saturday. My boyfriend was cheating on me.”

At this, his face hardened. “He’s… a fucking idiot,” Jimin said, low and intense. “What was he thinking, cheating on you? I swear, I’ll–”

“I cheated on him too, though.”

Jimin stopped talking.

He stared at you for a moment, and something within him seemed to falter. In that moment, you knew he understood. The kiss had been a mistake. You had been in the wrong and still, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. Neither of you did.

“That was different,” he said at last.

“Was it?” you said. “I think Finn and I have been drifting apart for a while now. Maybe if I had ended things earlier, things would’ve been better. I don’t know.”

“Maybe,” he allowed. “But you can’t blame yourself for that, Y/N.”

“I think I can a little. I didn’t want to admit we were growing apart. I couldn’t see things were over between us because there wasn’t some big, glaring reason.”

“That’s hard for anyone to do, though.”

“It wasn’t for you,” you pointed out. “You broke up with your ex before college.”

“That was different. We weren’t in love. You loved Finn – or you did at one point.”

Slowly, you nodded. “I did.”

“And now?” The look he gave you was cryptic. “Are you saying things between you are truly over?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Things haven’t worked for a long time. I just didn’t want to see it.”

Jimin stared at you a moment, then his face gradually fell.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he said.

“Like a mess?”

“No. Sad.”

Staring at Jimin, your breath caught in your throat. The way he was looking at you made your heart ache and for a moment, you let yourself imagine a different reality. One where you’d never become enemies and instead, all the passion between you had been put into your friendship. Maybe even more than that.

At some point, Finn had looked at you the way Jimin did now. You just couldn’t remember the last time he had.

Even so, the fact that you’d compared Jimin to Finn in the same sentence was exactly the reason you needed to say what you did next.

“I’m not confessing to you,” you whispered, before you could stop yourself.

His expression flickered. “I didn’t think you were.”

“It’s just…” Trailing off, you shut your eyes. “I’m still hurting, Jimin. I might not be in love with Finn anymore, but I still love him. I don’t want to start a new relationship and have it become a mistake.”

“So. A new relationship would be a mistake?”

“It would be,” you said, opening your eyes. “At least, it would be right now. Finn and I broke up barely two days ago. I’m still hurt and confused and it just… I don’t want to mess anything up by diving into something else.”

Jimin looked at you intently, seeming to understand what you wouldn’t say. You couldn’t be with him until you’d moved on from Finn.

As intense as your feelings for Jimin were, it would be a mistake to start dating right now. The embers of your previous relationship still burned and if you entered something now with Jimin, he would always exist in the shadow of Finn.

If you wanted a chance at happiness – a real chance – you needed to give yourself some time to heal.

“I get it,” Jimin said, however quiet. “You should take your time.”

“Okay,” you said.

You stood there a moment, the silence lengthening between you but not in a bad way. It felt like a new kind of moment – one where you looked at Jimin and for the first time, saw possibilities and not only regrets.

“That’s all I came here to say,” you said softly. “I just wanted to tell you –”

“Y/N?” he said, interrupting.

Blinking, you stopped. “Yeah?”

Meeting your gaze, Jimin kept his own steady. “When you’re ready,” he said quietly. “You’ll tell me. Right?”

Thrown, you stared at him a moment. Finally, you nodded.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’ll tell you.”

Jimin smiled. You stood there another moment before realizing there was nothing more to say. You’d apologized and he’d apologized. He knew you were single, but you needed more time. You’d tell him once your heart became available again.

Saying goodbye, you left Jimin’s room and when you entered the hall, you felt completely unburdened for the first time in months. This sadness still lingered, a heaviness in your heart from everything which had happened but for the first time in ages, the future felt open.

As you exited the building, you came to a stop on the sidewalk and took a deep breath. The inky sky above you was full of city light and beyond that, were the stars.

When you inhaled, the air burned your lungs but somehow, this provided the clarity you needed. Winter could be like that. It was painful, withering away dead things, but it also made way for new growth to come.

Smiling faintly to yourself, you began to walk home.

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading 😊 WE ARE ALMOST DONE! Only the Epilogue remains! New chapters of Raise the Barre will be posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST

#btsbookclub #bangtanarmynet #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #jimin writing #bts writing #jimin au #jimin series #jimin dance au #bts au #bts series #bts dance au

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Sovereign Talks (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil Genre: Bit of angst sandwiched between two pieces of fluff Rating: T for language Notes: Another partially/selectively mute reader story! Again, this is somewhat self indulgent, essentially being a self-insert story with edits to make it better for a wider audience. PS Daniela says some stuff that's kinda insulting, though it's out of misunderstanding rather than poor intentions, and she tries to make up for it. Also, some of the descriptions of the reader's muteness might not make sense to everyone, as I'm essentially describing how it feels for me, personally. Summary: Daniela's favorite servant is sweet, charming, eager to please, all the things she wants from a romantic partner. But there's one detail she's never quite understood. An argument, a discussion, an inevitability.

Try as you might, it was nigh impossible to please your employer. No matter what you did, there was always something wrong, and Daniela Dimitrescu was more than pleased to point it out to you. At least her intentions weren’t severe. It didn’t really bother her if you missed a spot while dusting, or if you accidentally stumbled upon a ‘private’ conversation. What mattered to her, at the end of the day, was having material to tease you with, or ‘bargain’ with. She’d approach you slowly, musing out loud about your chores. Then she’d point out a flaw, smirking ever so slightly, before placing a finger beneath your chin. You’d make awkward eye contact, desperate to get out of the situation.

And then she’d tell you exactly what she wanted from you.

Most days it was simple enough. Or at least it had been at the start, when she first sought you out. ‘Carry these books for me’, she’d say, beckoning you to follow her. ‘Make a copy of this poem so I can return the book to Duke’, she’d command. Every single time you were powerless to refuse. Hell, you couldn’t even say anything if you wanted to. So you did as she asked. In time, you came to realize the truth behind her actions, the center of her motivations: She wanted to spend time with you.

You had been baffled, at first, to connect the dots in such a way. But Daniela made no attempt to hide her feelings, letting her touches linger on your skin, smiling without any cruelty when you were near. Once, she had even covered for you after you broke a vase. When you had tried to protest, hands waving, mouth refusing to speak, she had shrugged you off with a simple ‘you are worth the price’. Ever since then, the two of you had been rather close. Sure, she had never officially asked you on a date, but she had held your hand while the two of you read. And she had held you, swaying back and forth, as music played in a distant room. Then there were the times she caught you in the corridor, pressing you against the wall for a quick kiss… or a long one, that is. Certainly that meant something? Otherwise you’d look quite silly, blushing as hard as you tended to.

Eventually your concerns subsided considerably. It took a long, difficult conversation, however, and an argument you’d never forget…

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“Have you read Crier’s War yet?” Daniela asked, looking at you over her own book. The two of you were in her personal study, near the library, lounging in peaceful quiet. Well, it had been quiet. At her question you glance up, ensuring you made eye contact before shaking your head no. “I think you’d like it. Impossible love between two people from vastly different cultures, who start out opposed… sounds familiar, hmm?” This time you nod, laughing a little under your breath. Then you’re returning to your novel, oblivious to the way your partner is watching you, her eyes narrowed. When she catches your attention once more, it’s with a question you had hoped she would never ask. “Why don’t you talk?”

Trying to hide your discomfort, you practically bury your nose in your book, refusing to look up at Daniela. In response she grabs your notepad, slowly sliding it closer to you. For every second of silence she moves it another centimeter. With a slight groan you give in, snatching it from her hands, but sending her a glare as you do. Quickly you grab your pen and scrawl her a note. Not an answer, rather a question of your own.

“Why does it matter?” Clearly that wasn’t what she was looking for, as she leans back and gives a groan of her own.

“Seriously? I’m just curious. You can laugh, groan, make other, nice little noises… I just want to know how you work,” Daniela explained, frowning all the while. Admittedly, you understand where she’s coming from. But that didn’t mean that you were terribly comfortable with this conversation. In fact, it’s a subject you’ve been dreading ever since the two of you started ‘dating’. How exactly were you supposed to explain your condition? Especially without being able to talk directly through it?

“It’s complicated,” you write, angling the paper so Daniela can read it from her side of the table. But she only spares it a quick glance, before staring hard at you again. “Fine, babe. My mouth feels like static. My tongue is heavy, and trying to talk is like walking when both your legs are asleep. There’s never not a lump in my throat.” Now she’s reading attentively, frown vanishing, replaced by a confused expression. Shifting awkwardly, you internally pray that she doesn’t have any follow up questions. Alas, there are no gods on your side this day.

“Did something happen? Or were you… born like this?” Daniela asked, watching you closely. Frustrated, you give her a pleading look, hoping that she’d get the message and back off. Instead she doubles down. “We could arrange for a doctor to come out here, if that’s what you need. All you have to do is tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t expect you to understand. It’s a multifaceted issue, and-” you have to turn the page to continue writing at this point- “a very personal one. But if you must know, it has to do with my anxiety.” There’s a pause, and for a few seconds you think the conversation is over. The relief that floods your chest only lasts a single moment. Then you’re face to face with Daniela, who’s leaning across the table, eyeing you with an expression you can’t make sense of. Now your heart is racing, leaving you trembling.

“So… it’s not a matter of whether or not you can talk at all? It’s a choice?” Daniela questioned, sounding aggravated. Instantly you’re shaking your head, scowling at her interpretation of your words. “What, you’re saying you can’t even relax enough to talk around me? Your fucking girlfriend?” This was exactly the sort of thing you had been worried about. How could you expect Daniela to understand the way your mind locked your jaw in place? How could she ever realize how terrifying the whole castle was?

“Calm down and let me elaborate, please,” you write, as fast as you can. But Daniela yanks your notebook away from you, tossing it to the side. All you can do is stare at her in shock. This was more than just a misunderstanding, this was her actively sabotaging your only reliable method of communication.

“You want me to calm down? Can’t you see why I’m upset? I just found out my partner isn’t comfortable around me. We could have been talking all this goddamn time! Why haven’t you told me this before? Why haven’t we worked on this?” Daniela was practically yelling now, and both of you had risen to your feet. You’ve backed away a meter or so, only for her to close the space between you, one hand cupping your cheek. No matter how hard you try, you can’t bring yourself to look her in her eyes. “C’mon, please,” she whispered, voice barely audible. Tears are starting to cloud your vision. “Say something. Anything.”

Wordlessly, you pull yourself from her grasp, too overwhelmed to do anything other than let your feet carry you out of the room. Half to your relief, half to your misery, Daniela doesn’t lift a finger to stop you.

-----------------------------------

Two weeks. That’s how long it had been since you ‘talked’ to Daniela. Ever since, she had been avoiding you, and you her. Hell, for three days you struggled more than usual to communicate with anyone because you hadn’t dared to go back for your notebook. In the end someone had found you a new one. It didn’t quite feel the same though, considering your normal one had been a gift… a gift from the very person who had taken it away from you. For two weeks it had felt like every single thing was another reminder of your loneliness. You wanted desperately to fix your situation, but had no clue where to even begin. Until an irritated Cassandra hatched a devious plan, that is.

You weren’t privy to the specific details of her scheme, and could only guess as to her motivations (presumably being annoyed by Daniela’s sulking). All you really knew was that one moment you were following the middle child, supposedly to assist her with organizing something, and the next you were being shoved in an unfamiliar room. Inside, Bela was trying to stall Daniela, making up a ridiculous excuse for her to be there. As soon as you entered, the eldest daughter made a beeline (flyline?) towards the exit. Before either you or your girlfriend could process what was happening, the door had been shut and locked, trapping the two of you within.

“What the fuck?” Daniela asked, temporarily ignoring you in favor of pounding on the door. It didn’t budge, unsurprisingly, but someone outside did yell in response. Not that you could make out what the muffled voice was saying. “Ugh, I swear I am going to kill them for this.” Unable to get out, she finally turns to look at you. In an instant the anger drains from her face, replaced with a bittersweet smile. There’s enough tension in the room to weigh the corners of your lips down. It’s getting harder to breathe, and you can’t quite look Daniela in the eyes. “Hey. Hey, c’mon, if they’re going to be assholes, we might as well make the most of it, right?” She asked, voice a million times softer than you would have expected, considering your previous conversation. With that she moves to sit down, gesturing for you to join her.

“Mmm?” You ‘say’, really just making a confused humming sound. For once, you do want to talk. More than any other time you’ve wanted to. But your tongue was caught in the bear trap your teeth represented, preventing almost any sound from escaping. Still, this is a side of Daniela that you do not often see, with how prideful she tended to be. All it takes to get you to move is for her to pat the spot next to her. Then you’re shifting, blushing hard as you lower yourself onto the couch. Not quite ready to meet her gaze, you stare at your thumbs, twiddling them like an anxious child.

“Bela seems to think that I’ve made a fool of myself in front of you,” Daniela mused, more to herself than to you. One of her hands slides towards you, however, eagerly intertwining her fingers with your own. After two whole weeks of isolation… it’s an amazing feeling. “I said something stupid. It’s been driving me mad, and I have no clue what to do about it. Fuck-” she flinches as she speaks, eyes clamping shut- “I just want to fix this. I want you to feel good around me. I want you to feel the same way I do. More than anything, I want to be your safe haven.”

Your eyes meet, finally, as warmth floods your chest. Words fail you, as they are wont to do, so you leave them behind. Instead you reach for your stars- the body of your girlfriend, pulling yourself into her arms. Even as tears drip down your cheeks, you are smiling softly, overwhelmed by the embrace. Soon enough you can feel Daniela rubbing soft circles into your back with her fingers. She presses a gentle kiss to the side of your head, enjoying the hug too much to pull back even the slightest bit.

“Is there anything I can do? Anything to make you more comfortable?” She asked, for a moment not even realizing the difficulty you would have with responding. Finally connecting the dots, she changes the position of her arms, ensuring that you could stay in her lap while still being able to gesture with your hands. Instead of replying, your first concern is to gently cup your girlfriend’s cheek. Then you place a kiss on her forehead. “You’re my everything, you know that, right?” Daniela whispered, sounding almost in awe. Suddenly you’re possessed by a rush of courage, clearly bolstered by her affection, and you move without thinking. You lean back in for another kiss, hand moving to the back of her head for stability.

Both of you are smiling now, even as your kiss gets more intense, the two of you pressing against each other as best as you can. One of Daniela’s hands runs itself through your hair, before taking it in a loose grip. All you can think about is how right this feels. Your heart is racing, especially as your girlfriend switches to an open mouth kiss, letting her tongue slide across your lips. It catches you off guard, and you need to pull back to catch the breath she had so eagerly stolen. Even then you swear you can feel her pulse pounding just as hard as yours is.

“Sorry, I got a little carried away,” Daniela murmured, embarrassed, worried that you had stopped for a very different reason. In response you shake your head a little, then practically smother her face in tiny kisses. She’s giggling at that, grinning, all of her anxiety fading away. Most of yours does too. Everything feels perfect. So much so, in fact, that you feel something you haven’t felt in almost an entire year: The loosening of your jaw muscles. Clarity unstiffens your tongue, making age-old static clear up. Can I…? You wonder, wanting so desperately to use this opportunity as best as you can. After all, who knew when you’d ever be this comfortable within the castle again. Hell, the thought alone makes you more nervous, and you struggle to think of something, anything, to say.

“L-l… Love,” you stuttered, barely getting the syllable out, mouth feeling incredibly dry, mind racing, hating how it sounds because holy shit you haven’t talked in a year and was Daniela going to hate your voice and forget all about what you were saying and ruin the moment or worse was she going to hate you or thoughts thoughts pounding in your head like a hurricane, because because because-......................... Anxiety, above all else, was an asshole. One that had prevented you from hundreds of conversations, and limited a thousand more. Now, moments after finally speaking, your mind is on the brink of a tear-worthy breakdown. But you’ve said your piece, and by God has it been received.

“Yes, absolutely, fuck baby, I love you so much!” Daniela cried, equally overwhelmed, for a far different reason. She’s holding you as close as she can, burying her face in your neck. Likewise you rest yourself against her, letting your eyes drift shut, happy beyond description. There were still things you had to talk about, yes, and you would once more have to rely on your trusty notebook. Daniela had a lot to learn, to understand, but this was a start. More than that, it was the first step after the mending of a broken bone. Everything to come would be far, far easier, a labor of love done fearlessly.

-----------------------------------

“Should we open the door now? Or at least unlock it?... How long does it take two idiots to stop being mad at each other?” Cassandra asked, leaning against the hallway wall. Meanwhile Bela had her ear to the door, straining to hear what was going on within. Sure, she had gone along with her younger sister’s plan, but she hadn’t been entirely convinced that it wouldn’t end in disaster. Then again, so far so good. No yelling, no (loud) crying, just some quiet words from Daniela. Maybe they’re working things out, Bela thought, starting to smile. And then she heard something she’d never forget…

“Yes, absolutely, fuck baby, I love you so much!”

“We are not opening that door,” Bela replied, suddenly, her ears burning red. She didn’t know how things had gone from so quiet to so potentially dirty in such a short amount of time, and she did not care. Without even a hint of an explanation, she turned to leave, desperate to get certain mental images out of her head...

#daniela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #yes the ending is a bit of a joke #ps i know it might not be everyone's cup of tea #especially since the reader does end up saying something #i went back and forth on that part for awhile #but again this is really self indulgent #and personally it worked better for me??#like i can occasionally force myself to say something even when my mouth isn't cooperating #and if anyone can make me do that it's someone i love #like my best friend who i kind of also loved romantically at one point #this is a literal example #anyway enjoy

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