#but i feel an urge to leave and have been since like may last year

[imagineagreatadventure]

i don't know how to put this into words exactly but I'm not really happy where i'm at job wise rn. it feels like pulling teeth for me to work right now. and that's kind of the opposite of who i am as a person - i'm an overworker usually. and that's probably a good thing to get a break from that aspect of my personality (bc why overwork for the boss man amirite) but also...... i'm just not happy?

and i can't tell what exactly it's stemming from - if it's the people (tbh doubtful, i like everyone but i also have no super bestie work friend like i've had at prev jobs), or the work itself (which I used to love doing), or the industry (i have been in it a long time), or maybe it is where i work (which tbh is a pretty good place to work so again doubtful?) - or if it's nothing to do with my job and all to do with other stuff going on in my life?

idk i'm just..... I feel kind of bored and over it. like i usually hit this wall when I feel like there's nothing more to learn at where i'm at but that's not quite what's happening. there's still a lot to learn - but I'm just not sure i want to learn it.

and until i know what the hell the exact issue(s) are here i don't feel confident to go looking for the next job. because I would likely end up in a worse place until i know what is up.

anyhow any advice isn't necessary but appreciated because i'm feeling odd about the whole thing.

[notjustjavierpena]

Tink

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This is so many days late but I promise that it is worth it. I hope you enjoy a broken heart.

Summary: You leave a Halloween party to go see Joel but it turns into a horror show when conversation between you takes a poor turn.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, secret relationship, dad’s best friend, possessiveness, daddy kink, lots of pet names, alcohol consumption, dirty and dark Tinkerbell roleplay, dirty talk, ass smacks!!!, clit stim, fingering, squirting, doggy style, overstim, tears, rough sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, angst, fighting, no happy ending.

Word count: 9.9k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60461590

Tink

You’re readjusting the straps on your pale gold stilettos as Joel slips into your childhood bedroom. He has gone unnoticed by the rest of the people in the house like he always does, having mastered the art of sneaking around since the beginning of your little fling. This is even as he has gotten far bolder over the summer, especially over the last month when you told him you loved him. It fills him with a carefreeness that he hasn’t felt in years, a feeling unlocked from his teenage days that he was so sure his body had forgotten by now. However, it doesn’t mean that he is careful not to disturb the noise downstairs as he clicks the door shut. 

You’re standing in front of the full-body mirror just opposite the door, bent over as you undo your shoe strap to tighten it slightly. Joel feels like a damn dog as he lets his eyes skim up your beautiful legs, letting his gaze wander over the body he has come to know so well before it eventually settles on your strutting ass. 

You are wearing a Tinkerbell costume, its green satin fabric hugging your curves like it has been specially tailored to your body. You have chosen a version of the fae that he doesn’t quite remember from the movie he used to watch with Sarah; the neckline dips way low, the straps are tucked away into the top to expose your chest and shoulders, and the hemline of the skirt barely reaches your mid-thigh which he is sure that a twirl will reveal your underwear to the world, something that makes his jaw tighten when you should be for his eyes only. And then there are the wings; pale, translucent and with tiny flecks of gold in them. You may be demanding attention from people other than him but despite being sexy and driving him wild, you mostly look cute. It makes him smile affectionately as he takes a moment to gather himself instead of being completely overtaken by the need to possess. 

You are lost in your own world, clearly not expecting anyone to come in, so it takes you by surprise when he pads across the room to lay his hands on your hips without announcing his presence. He swallows hard as he sees the two of you in the mirror, imitating something far more explicit than what he is actually doing. 

His touch startles you, eliciting a small gasp from you as you feel him caress on top of the fabric of your dress. He curls his fingers into it, fighting the urge to lift it and see what kind of panties you’re wearing underneath. 

“You frightened me,” you say but there’s no accusation in your tone. Instead, he can hear that you’re happy to see him and his hands stay on your body, only going up to your waist, as you straighten, “Where does Dad think you are this time?”

“Restroom,” he answers simply and lets his palms move to lay on your tummy. He leans his head over your shoulder, looking at you in the mirror with a soft smile. When he speaks, it is with paternity lacing his voice, “Ya goin’ out like that?”

“He might think you have bladder issues soon, old man. You can’t just barge in each time you want some sugar,” you tease him, eyes sparkling in competition with the glitter on your blush-covered cheeks. Joel leans in to kiss your neck. He nibbles along your pulse point, inhaling deeply to breathe you in as he reaches where you’ve applied your sweet perfume.

“You smell so good, little fae,” he says instead of acknowledging your jab at his age, the tip of his nose skimming along the delicate column of your throat. Shamelessly, he grabs the hem of your dress and lifts it just enough to start something between the two of you that he cannot finish, “What’ve you got under here?” 

“Joel,” you say with fake outrage and tut disapprovingly. The both of you know that he’ll fuck you at some point tonight. Still, you make a statement out of grabbing his much bigger hands and removing them from your dress. You stretch his arms out in front of you both to keep him out of reach but he is so much stronger than you, manhandling you easily until he catches you in an embrace from behind. Being caged against his broad chest makes you giggle so goddamn heavenly, his body responding with interest in getting you on your back.

“You didn’t answer my question, Princess,” he whispers into your ear, letting his breath tickle your skin until you shiver. 

“About?” You light up the room when you smile innocently at him in the mirror and God, if it doesn’t make his heart nearly leap out of his chest. Your eyes are wide, your grin mischievous. 

“If you’re goin’ out like that,” he tightens his arms around you, focusing on the softness of your palms in his rough ones. He isn’t letting you go before you give him an answer.

“I am,” you lean back into his chest, turning your head away from the mirror to glance up at him through your lashes. You are in the mood to dare tease even further, “Don’t you like it?”

“You know I do. Too much actually,” he murmurs back at you as he takes in your costume once more in the mirror. He notices that you bite your lip as he ogles you, tilting back and forth on your feet while you let him eat you with his eyes. When he finds that you aren’t looking at yourself but rather still batting your eyes up at him, he reaches up to cup your jaw. He turns your face to the mirror, “I’d like it much more behind these walls.”

“I’m not staying here,” you say. Joel lets out an annoyed sigh and shakes his head as if to argue but his head isn’t in it. He feels somewhat secure when your voice sounds a little out of breath, “Besides, you know I’ll always come back home to you. No one makes me feel like you do.”

“You better, sweetheart,” he can almost imagine you shrinking down and flying around in his close proximity just to tease him. He finally moves you around in his arms until you are face-to-face with him and then, still holding you by your chin, he leans in to capture your mouth in a kiss that’s slower and deeper than usual. He brushes your soft tongue with his own, kissing you like he is claiming you and hopefully reminding you of what awaits back home. 

When he pulls back, you’ve gone dumb. There’s a vacancy in your eyes, a dazed look that tells you just how ready you are to melt into him and forget about everything else. Joel would love to keep you home but he’ll settle for the satisfaction he feels from looking at you blink rapidly, “Still with us, little fae?”

“Barely,” you admit with an embarrassed smile. 

“Go have fun,” he encourages with a little smirk and, albeit reluctantly, lets you go but not before giving your ass a playful smack and causing you to yelp quietly, “Before I change my mind.”

“Bye, Daddy,” you whisper to taunt him as you leave out the door, and Joel has to stay behind for several minutes to get his aching cock to flag down. It doesn’t take long since he is an expert now, has learned to join the party downstairs without any trace of what he has been doing to his best friend’s daughter. 

—

The party has been going on for a few hours now, with costumes ranging from elaborate to barely there. The crowd of people crammed into the tiny house is buzzing with exciting fun, resulting in happy bursts of laughter bouncing off the walls along with the music, both of which get louder as drinks are consumed. Yet no matter how many times your friends cause you to throw your head back to laugh along and no matter the three drinks you already have in your system, your mind plays tricks on you and continuously goes back to Joel. The way he had kissed you goodbye earlier still feels imprinted on your lips, haunting you like a ghost and causing your skin to buzz, your thighs to press together. Nothing seems to get you out of this trance, not even the lingering eyes caused by the dangerous hemline of your Tinkerbell costume. The attention feels good, sure, but it is nothing compared to the way Joel makes you feel when he looks at you. 

You take a sip from your fourth drink. You’re supposed to be out having fun, dancing and drinking, but you can think of nothing else than leaving this place and going to his, only so you can slip back into that familiar embrace where you belong, only so you can feel his calloused hands grab your hips as he drags you down onto his—

“Who is he?” You look up to find your best friend staring at you with a knowing smirk. Hannah awaits an answer, quite a few more drinks in than you. She is dressed as a Poison Ivy, complete with green painted skin (which has been smudged off on every surface she’s touched) and her red hair decorated with plastic leaves she has cut off from a fake plant. 

“What are you talking about?” You ask innocently but you betray yourself by not being able to maintain eye contact with her. Your cheeks are warm but if she asks, you’ll say it is due to the alcohol. 

“You’re staring off again,” she notes and her eyes grow more devious. She points the straw from her drink at you and tiny splashes of homemade daiquiri fly in your direction, “I didn’t fly home and go to this party with you to not hear about who you are having sex with.” 

“Who says I am having sex?” You ask with comical indifference which accidentally reveals you in your lie. You rub off a spot of red liquid from your arm, “I’m not.”

“Please,” she dismisses your statement by waving a hand and moving closer to you on the couch. She talks loudly over the music, “You’re either getting continuously laid by some great secret boyfriend or I need to take notice of your skincare routine since you’re practically glowing.”

“Hey, keep it down. I don’t need anyone but you to know,” you shush her with a finger pressed to your lips. There’s no way you’re telling her that your secret boyfriend is Joel Miller… but right now, with alcohol in your bloodstream, it is tempting to let someone else in on the secret that’s been eating at you since June. Perhaps even to brag a little bit.

“You’re acting like seeing a guy is some forbidden romance,” Hannah sighs dramatically but when you smile and shrug, she narrows her eyes just a second before they go wide, “Wait, it is?”

“It’s a secret… because he’s a lot older,” you lean in to make the conversation more private, taking Hannah’s drink out of her hand in case the excitement that looms underneath her surface will make her spill the red liquid onto you. 

Her eyes are nearly bulging out of her skull, “Like how much older are we talking? Silver fox?”

“Old enough to remember dial-up internet and hate my music?” You test the waters and watch her process your words, not sure if her reaction is going to be one of shock or enthusiasm. However, with the amount of questionable things Hannah has gotten herself into over the years, you are more certain that it’ll be the latter. One can never know though. After all, right now you are keeping out the earth-shaking detail that the guy you give your nights to is your father’s very best friend.

A satisfied smile spreads on her face, slowly because she’s intoxicated, “So you’re telling me that you - the girl with a history of pissant boyfriends - have a mature, well-seasoned man in your grasp?” 

You giggle, happiness bubbling up at Hannah’s silly wording but your heartbeat thrums underneath your ribs because how Joel makes you feel is nowhere near previous flirtations; it’s intense, it’s all-consuming, and has you tossing and turning whenever. You can feel your cheeks ache from smiling. With a groan, you lean forward to bump your forehead against her shoulder. 

You earn an embrace in return, squeezed by the arm around your shoulder, “Or maybe he has you in his grasp?”

“I think it’s serious, Hannah, I love him,” you whisper in the crook of her neck just loud enough for her to hear you over the noise around you. There’s a gentle vulnerability in being nearly four drinks in and confessing your love - even if it’s words tumbling out of your mouth - for a boy to your person, the one who came through and gave you her approval without hesitation despite the scandal. 

Hannah pulls back a little, excitement on her face instead of shock. She has always had a tendency to live vicariously through you whenever something exciting happens, and it comes across when she urges you away, “Then what are you doing sitting here with me?” 

“Uhh, spending time with my best friend?” You straighten and raise a brow, stifling a grin.

She rolls her eyes playfully, “We’ve known each other since middle school. I’m sure I can survive a night without you if it means you getting with your mystery man. He’s apparently the love of your life judging by the amount of smiling you’ve done since we started talking about him. Who is it anyway?”

From her tone, you can hear she tries to sound nonchalant about the question at the end. However, the relief of talking to her about your affair with someone off-limits makes you a little too bold, too nonchalant yourself.

“I am seriously putting my life on the line here, so you have to promise not to tell anyone,” you stress, leaning in as far as you can while still looking at her. Your heart races in your chest, your eyes locked onto her widened ones. 

“Of course, of course! Cross my heart and all that,” Hannah sits up a little, almost imitating the way a cat’s ears perk up, “Spill!”

“Joel Miller,” you confess to your sins but much to your surprise, you don’t burst into flames and there is no sound of a record scratch before everyone looks at you in horror. In fact, it feels surprisingly easy and light to tell her. 

Hannah processes the name for a moment before her eyes widen just the tiniest bit more, “Wait what?! Joel Miller as in your dad’s buddy?!”

“Keep it down,” you hiss and shush, “I think someone upstairs didn’t hear you.”

“Sorry,” she is flustered, lowering her voice theatrically, “But this is huge. I mean… Does your dad know?”

You furrow your brow, “Of course, he doesn’t. He’d murder Joel if he found out. Lifetime imprisonment because of manslaughter style.”

Hannah nods in understanding. However, she still seems deep in thought, “But how does that even happen? You’re like… seriously off-limits, aren’t you? That’s bro-code even for boomers.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur as you recall, your voice taking on a dreamy note, “Just kinda happened. I was having a really difficult time at college and he just— he told me all the right things, then one thing led to another… He makes me feel things that I didn’t even know I needed. I know it’s wrong but—“

“Wrong? You’re a grown woman,” Hannah tuts, “Go see him. What’s the worst thing that could happen? That you probably end up having mind-blowing sex with an experienced man?” 

“You’re really sure it’s okay?” You ask but you are already getting out of your seat next to her. You start absentmindedly fixing your clothes to make sure you look like something out of Joel’s deepest fantasy, straightening out a squashed fairy wing and curling your hair around a finger to make it bounce into place. 

“Jesus, look at you,” she laughs at the way you fuss, “It would be classified as torture if I didn’t let you go, so go! See your silver fox, but just text me when you’re there.”

“I will, thank you, Hannah,” you beam. 

You leave her with giddiness and make excuses to your other friends about a ‘family thing’ when they appear bummed out that you are heading home. The air outside in Texas is still hot in October but you can’t feel warm without Joel’s arms around you. 

You're so sure that your heart says his name as it beats in your chest when you leave for him. 

Joel, Joel, Joel.

—

You stand by his front door not half an hour later, having checked that your parents’ car is not parked in his driveway. The house is quiet except for the soft glow of the floor lamp in his living room and the TV’s light flickering through the curtains. You take it as evidence that he is still awake. 

Just before you knock, you shoot Hannah a text, telling her that you’re here with five exclamation points and she types a barely coherent message back at you. She also wishes you good luck which you know you won’t need because the man opening his front door is so whipped for you. 

Joel says your name in surprise, quickly checking to see if anyone is watching as you twirl on his doorstep in your little green dress. The booze in your blood is making you more courageous than normal even if you aren’t anywhere near plastered. You step inside his house without permission but he doesn’t seem bothered as you saunter into his living room, your heels clicking as you step over the doorstep. He has turned off the TV, almost as if he knew that it was you behind his front door and therefore there would be no more time for lounging. 

“How much has Tink had to drink tonight?” He asks when closing the door. You don’t give him much time to do anything else as you enter his personal space again, caging him hungrily against the door to kiss him with all the heat in your body. 

“Not nearly enough for you to stop touching her, Peter,” you let him know as you take a quick breath, too excited for what he can give you if he allows himself remember to inhale through your nose. You rush back into making out with him but he holds you just out of reach, fingers digging into your shoulders. 

“Peter? I don’t think so, Tink,” he grumbles, large hands sliding down the length of your arms until he can rest them on your hips. His touch makes your cunt clench, desire stirring even further inside of you as you make a mess in your panties. 

“But…” You press your thighs together without any shame. 

Joel holds your waist firmly but then goes further down to cup the tops of your thighs underneath the satin skirt. His hands squeeze obscenely, denting your jiggling skin while his eyes have gone dark to indicate his lust. His fingers are calloused and warm as they graze upon where your panties hug your ass, “Peter ain’t never had the guts to get his hands on Tinkerbell like this. Lemme show ya what a man does to his own, personal little fae.”

He then drags your body against himself to let you feel every inch of him, the outline of his already hardening cock underneath his usual jeans. There’s no way he fucked you silly just a few days ago because your pussy reacts like it’s been craving him for days. 

“This is what good fairies get stuffed with. If they can handle the stretch,” he chuckles darkly. You moan longingly, brows furrowing to make you look slightly dumb as you suddenly become aware of how empty you feel, how much you need him to fill you out and stretch you to the brim. You had marched over here to be alluring to the point of control over him but he touches you and your mind blanks. He won’t fuck you here, told you last time that he prefers his bed so he can take his time. 

“Bedroom. Now, please,” you whine pathetically and reluctantly take a step back. He nods, allowing you to lead him upstairs. You take his hand before it falls to his side from your hip, dragging him through the house and earning a smack to your ass with the hand you aren’t holding. You yelp a little, gush a little more.

By the time you reach his bed, your head is spinning with how horny you are and your belly is swirling with heat. You drop down onto it, bouncing slightly on the mattress and he stands between your legs with delicious authority. 

“Lay back and let Daddy take care of his baby,” he commands but his voice is somehow both soft, harsh, and dirty. He watches you lower yourself onto your back, the glittering wings of your costume spread out beneath you and fluttering slightly as you wiggle your hips when tugging up your dress. 

Joel smiles with pride. He lays a warm hand on your knee, slowly gliding it up until his palm rests against your core, and touches you carefully through the fabric. 

“You gotta tell me somethin’,” he whispers with his eyes focused on yours, not needing to see what he is doing because he knows your body so well. He feels how damp your underwear has become, the sensation pulling a low moan from the back of his throat. You nod, words embarrassingly failing you when you are so overcome by your body’s need to have him where you need him the most. However, he is expertly avoiding your clit for now, clearly wanting to get his sentence out before your attention is lost. 

“A little birdie told me that when a man keeps his fae excited and happy, she produces a little extra magic down there, sparklin’ so prettily for him,” he tightens his grip between your legs when your hips start moving on their own accord. He holds you down, rubbing you closer to properly now but it’s still not enough to build anything to a crescendo. However, there’s an urgency to the way he touches you, a mix of frustration and relief now that you’re back here with him, 

“Only for those who know how to bring it out of her,” you finally manage a coherent sentence, a teasing one even, but your breath stutters through it. Your clit pulses in time with your heartbeat by now and as if he has heard your prayers, his thumb finally presses down on the hard little nub before going in mind-altering circles. 

“Then I just gotta make sure I show ya that I am the only one who can make enough magic spill from you to light up this whole damn house,” he growls, using his fingers expertly until you are on the brink of coming, “And every bit of that magic, honey? It’s mine. I ain’t stoppin’ until you’re glowing, little fae.”

You come so hard that your mind blocks out all other senses for a split second, your pussy going off into spasms that have you arching your back like you might actually float off the bed. You whimper at the oversensitivity that he teases out of you with featherlight touches. 

He pushes your pelvis down when it lifts itself up and snaps without anger in his voice. Instead, his voice is laced with lust, an octave deeper and threatening, “No moving away or I’ll pluck your pretty little wings off.”

The threat makes you moan, eyes widening as you stare at his face like a trapped animal. You can see how much Joel’s eyes darken at your reaction, unable to understand how he hasn’t ripped your panties yet to screw your brains out. 

“Wouldn’t want that, would ya? Unable to fly away?” He smirks deviously and draws back to undo your golden stilettos, his hand that isn’t working the lock holding your calf firmly. He presses kisses to your ankle too and is so delicate with your shoes even as he drops them onto the floor. 

“No,” you whimper and shake your head. You can’t bear telling him the truth which is that you want nothing more than being a wingless little fae, completely at his mercy. You imagine being tied to the bed with nothing to keep him from using you how he pleases and your chest feels alight. 

Teasingly, you slide your foot up along his arm until you can rest it comfortably on his shoulder. He allows it and turns his head to kiss just below your ankle in response.

“Then be a good girl and stay right where Daddy put you,” he rasps, letting his strong hands glide up the length of your legs. He squeezes your thighs gently as he passes over them, a part of your body that he would categorize as his favorite if you asked him to choose. When he inches his fingertips up under your skirt, the anticipation in the air nearly makes your body want to crawl away because what you will get from him will be too much. You shiver when he starts tugging your panties down, the white lace impossibly damp right at where your pussy has sat. 

When he drags them all the way off, lifting the leg on his shoulder briefly, his eyes settle right between your thighs. You clench involuntarily at being watched, slick dripping onto his bed sheets as you pulse for his gaze. He lets out a low groan, his hands gripping your hips as he stares without shame, taking in every inch of you as you are laid bare for him. The sight of the heat he’ll slide into has his jaw tightening, his breathing growing irregular. When he is satisfied with his inspection, his eyes lift and he gives you a look that could melt you right into the bed. 

“Look at this little pussy. It’s glistenin’ f’me, the magic’s pouring from it,” he says while he slides his fingers through your folds with slow and tantalizing strokes, the leftovers of your last orgasm still lingering as he taps your clit and causes you to squeak. 

“Yeah? Does it look pretty for you?” You ask deliriously and catch your bottom lip between your teeth to whine, lifting your hips up despite the rules and basically presenting your cunt like a gift. 

“So goddamn pretty, little fae. Do you want me to touch it properly this time? Inside to make those wings flutter?“ Joel’s threat is apparently less serious now that he’s got a glimpse between your legs. He turns his wrist so he can hook his fingers upward, rubbing your cunt teasingly around where you want him to sink into. He enters you to the first knuckle, applying the slightest pressure inside of you, only to draw back and make you lose your mind. 

“You’re teasing me,” you state the obvious, breathless and squirming underneath his ministrations. You push your hips to meet his hand, “Please, Daddy, I need it so badly. Don’t you wanna slip inside and feel how tight I am?”

“Then spread those legs for me,” he orders you in a gruff voice, clearly affected by your words. He reaches with his free hand to lift your leg off his shoulder and plants your foot firmly on the bed. You mirror it with your other leg until you can let both of them fall out to the sides. 

“You want me to get a towel, baby? We haven’t done that in a while,” he smirks at you knowingly, a certain glint in his eye as he asks. You know exactly what he is referring to and he chuckles when you answer by nodding eagerly with wide eyes, looking like a kid in a candy store being offered their favorite sweet. 

“That’s my girl, so eager to feel good,” he praises with a warm smile and rises from his position. He peels off his t-shirt, throwing it in your face - a fairly new habit of his - so you can drown in his smell before exiting the room to head for the bathroom, stepping out of his jeans on the way there. You curl your fingers into the fabric, bringing it to your nose to inhale deeply. Joel’s shirt smells of cotton and faded aftershave, mixed with something unmistakably him; a hint of sweat from being in the Texas sun, his wood-scented deodorant that still lingers. It’s enough to make you even wetter.

He comes back a moment later, towel in hand. He watches you clutching his shirt, having smeared the golden glitter on your face onto it, your pretty eyes nearly rolling back and your hips wiggling to no avail. 

“Ain’t you worked up, sweetheart? I’ve barely gotten started with you. Are all faes so greedy between their legs?” He taunts as he slides the towel beneath your hips, flattening it out neatly while you hold your breath in his proximity. He yanks the shirt out of your grip and stares down at you. Your costume is so messy by now, the green dress sitting around your hips to obscenely make you look like a thing used for shoving one’s dick in, and the translucent wings are slightly crumpled by your impatient wiggling around, your cunt’s search for pleasure. 

“Please, Daddy, need you to make me come,” you whimper and earn a look of pity. Joel moves to kneel on the floor by the bed, leaning over the edge of the bed until his upper body is between your thighs. He doesn’t hesitate to slip his ring- and middle finger into you, rewarding your desperation by curling his digits upward just in the right way.

“Oh,” you let out a slow, breathy moan when he finds the right spot inside you in just a few seconds, the one that has a direct line to your clit. Joel smiles at his immediate success, watching you with the pride of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing in his quest to undo you. 

“Right there, huh? God, you’re so sensitive, baby,” he murmurs lowly, his tone affectionate and aroused. He pushes his fingers deeper into you until his index finger and pinky brush your ass and then makes a come-hither motion inside of you. You can feel a lump form in your throat, the flesh of your ass and thighs jiggling from the effort he puts into fucking you with his thick digits.

“You’re so good at that, mmm… Daddy,” you only just manage to say before you choke on a whine as he creates electricity within you, your voice breaking and trembling with desperation. You are well aware of how pathetic you sound, how needy, but you don’t care because you can feel the tension building with each stroke inside of you. With his thumb, he reaches out and swirls it around your clit, and you know he can feel how hard it has gotten in its aroused state; a little bump underneath the tip of his finger. It is so sensitive now too, making you wetter with each little push against it. 

You throw your head back and draw in a desperate breath, wanting so badly to swear at the sensation of him fucking you open like he has been thinking about it all day. Yet it doesn’t feel worth it to break the rules of using foul language, resulting in having him halt his doings. Instead, you trap your bottom lip between your teeth and reach for your chest to relieve some of the tension in your body. 

You cup your breasts through your dress, squeezing them to add another dimension to the way Joel is touching you. He swears below you at the way you clench around his fingers when you catch your nipples between two fingers, tugging to intensify the sensation between your thighs. 

“You are so sexy like that, Tink,” Joel murmurs softly in praise. He leans down to kiss your belly, kiss your inner thigh, and all the way up to your knee too. He keeps the relentless rhythm of his fingers but then also rests his free hand on your stomach just below your belly button, knowing that this is how he made you squirt the first time. He pushes down on your belly to add that final touch, and it is almost too much, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. 

Your legs start to tremble in Joel’s peripheral vision, in need of being held down by Joel’s strong arm so he doesn’t lose his grip on the intense orgasm he has built up inside of you. Your eyes start to roll back and a high-pitched whimper escapes you as he has you teetering on the edge. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. You are so goddamn close, ain’t you? Glowin’ f’me so prettily. Come on, come for Daddy, baby. He put in so much work,” he talks you over the edge in the next moment, holding your cunt in an iron grip as you suddenly clamp down on his digits and start shuddering violently. He keeps his fingers inside of you, pressing them firmly against your g-spot while simultaneously rubbing your clit in taught little circles. It makes you gush all over his hand, soaking the towel beneath you as wave after wave comes crashing. 

You have been vocal throughout the whole thing, sure, but it is nothing compared to your cries right now as relieving pleasure wracks through your lower body and makes you sob. 

“God, you make Daddy so hard,” you hear Joel say but there’s a fog wrapped around your mind like a woolen blanket. When you feel yourself gushing again, it’s so intense that tears are spilling down your cheeks and the fabric of your dress clings to your sweat-slicked body. You feel slightly claustrophobic in the moment but you have no control of your body, so you let Joel’s soothing words guide you through an orgasm that’ll be worth bragging about to Hannah. 

When it finally ebbs out, Joel eases his fingers out and makes you mewl. He wipes his hand on the towel and then soothingly strokes along your thighs as you try to relish in your post-orgasmic bliss. 

However, you start tugging on your dress instead, desperately trying to escape its confines while you pant in the aftermath. You are still so fucked out that it doesn’t come off during your attempt, your hands shaking and a whine making Joel gently chuckle. 

“Stop, stop, lemme help you,” he says with a hint of amusement in his voice, taking your wrists in his hands to stop your desperate effort. You let out a soft plea for him, pouting for show as you follow orders and he guides you to sit, slow as he moves you in case your head is still woozy. He reaches behind you and up under the fairy wings to undo the zipper of the green dress, pausing for a moment before deciding to tug the fabric downward instead of up over your head. The garment slips down until it sits around your waist. He pushes you down onto your back again so he can ease it past your hips and off your legs. 

He stands there for a moment more before tugging his underwear down his legs, quickly kicking them to the side, and then he just stares. You feel cherished by him when he touches you but it’s different when he just looks; you feel sexy underneath his gaze. You know you’re a sight to behold when he swallows thickly, a disheveled little naked fae with her wings bent from how well she’s been fucked. 

Finally, he crawls on top of you. He presses close to you, pulling your leg over his waist as he catches your mouth in a long, drawn-out kiss that perfectly displays the affection and hunger within him. You kiss him back, sighing softly into his mouth and reaching up to run your hands over his broad shoulders, eventually settling them on the back of his head. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug him back to your mouth each time he needs a breath, whispering to him during the mere seconds you are without each other. 

“Need you, baby,” you pant softly, lips sensitive from kissing so feverishly until your body feels ready for more without the risk of combusting on the sheets. Joel’s cock is hard against your thigh, and he can’t stop murmuring half sentences as he crashes his crotch into your hip with a low moan while telling you just how good it will feel to be inside you. 

“Yeah? This little pussy needs to get fucked?” He cups your face and dives into your mouth anew. 

“Yeah,” you moan breathily with a nod, brushing your tongues together in the new filthy kiss, “Need you to make me your little fucktoy, Daddy. That’s all I’m good for.”

“That’s right, Tink,” he growls, his eyes having darkened at your obscene words. With a hint of reluctance, he pulls away from you so he can flip you onto your stomach. With a firm grip on your hips, he helps you up onto your hands and knees. 

It’s a struggle to hold yourself up but you stiffen, quickly finding your bearings, as Joel raises his hand a little in the air before giving you a firm smack on your ass. The sting makes you gasp, your fingers clutching the sheets below you. He soothes the pain, speaking as someone put together even if his ragged breathing gives him away, “Who do ya belong to, little fae?”

“Y-you,” you stammer, your voice wavering but still holding a tinge of eagerness. He smacks you again, this time harder so the sound bounces off the walls. 

“And who am I?” He demands, not satisfied with your simple answer. 

“Daddy,” you plead with a feeble cry, clenching around nothing and feeling a bead of slick drip from your clit. 

“That’s right,” he gruffs. Even though it is unnecessary with how soaked you are from your arousal and Joel’s impressive generosity tonight, he still spits into his hand and coats his thick length in it. He aligns with your dripping slit and breaches you with the tip of his cock. 

A whimper tumbles from your mouth and he shushes you gently. He is so big inside of you that everything hurts just enough to make you whine feebly but at the same time, he feels just right inside you as he slips in right to the hilt. There’s a looming yet exciting danger of him being in complete control in this position but he is so careful with you as he starts fucking you. Well, as careful as a man can be when he gets to be balls-deep in Tinkerbell. 

You groan at the feeling of him having his way with you. He has reached the point where he has little patience left from putting his own needs aside for too long, longing to use you to spill into. You are overstimulated by the two highs he has already pulled from you. It intensifies the sensation of him effortlessly slipping in and out of your slick cunt, so much so that you don’t last long in this position and end up with your face in the mattress.

“Ah–... ah,” you squeak each time he bottoms out, mercilessly letting you feel the depth of each stroke and keeping you panting under his weight, almost dizzy with how hard he is inside your soft heat.

“You like that?” He presses you down further into the mattress by planting his hand firmly on the back of your neck as a clear, dominant gesture that holds you in place for him to drive into you even harder.

"Yes, yes, thank you, Daddy," you manage to gasp out, your words muffled by the bedding as your body shudders under the force of his thrusts. Each of your words stutters along with your breathing, each movement of his harsh rhythm makes his hips crash into your ass.

Joel's grip on the back of your neck tightens just a little, his breaths coming out in shallow pants while a growl leaves him, “Just fuckin’ take it, baby. You can do it.”

“You feel so fu—“ you catch yourself in your delirious state of mind, yet again not about to be punished for breaking the rule of swearing. That’s only allowed by the real grownups, so you swallow around a little gasp and pretend like it almost didn't happen, “You feel so good, Daddy.”

Suddenly, he rakes his hand down your spine, through the sweat that is beading there and grabs your hips. He drags you onto your hands and knees, your tits bouncing as he knocks all wind out of you when he begins thrusting again. 

You make a noise in the very back of your throat, a sudden surge of pleasure through your body at the new angle making you realize how close you are again. You are sweating, you are crying with actual tears spilling down your cheeks, your heart nearly beating out of your chest, and God, you just need a little help getting there.

“Harder,” you plead pathetically, craving his cock right against the spot inside of you that he might as well label as his own, “Please, I can take it, Daddy.”

It is the truth; you’re practically molded into a sheath for his cock only from how many times he has fucked you since the beginning of the summer. However, at the same time, it feels like you can barely take anymore he has to give, so stuffed that you think you’re about to lose control. 

“Shh,” he soothes your sobs, voice softening in beautiful contrast to his relentless pace, “Daddy’s got ya. Daddy’s happy to give you - shit, baby - to give you whatcha need.”

“Ah!” You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to concentrate on the pleasure right around the corner. It makes you able to hear how the bed is squeaking, how the headboard is continuously slamming against the wall. 

“Fuck, I can feel you squeezin’ me. You gonna come on it?” You hear him behind you and in response, you nod frantically when no intelligible words come out. He splays a hand on your back and gives you his all to get you there, “God, I love to see you act like a cockdrunk little fae.”

“Mhm!” Your cries turn to high-pitched keens as your orgasm catches up with you and hits you like a bolt of lightning. You are done for, trembling through the strong pulses between your legs as you come hard enough to wipe your mind. Behind you, Joel groans as your walls try to trap his cock in a grip that has him faltering just for a moment. However, he quickly regains his momentum so he can fuck you through each overwhelming wave. 

“Well done, baby. Good girl comin’ on my cock,” he praises through gritted teeth and you can imagine the slightly angry face he has on as he feels his own climax speed towards him, “Daddy’s gonna fill you up right now.” 

“Really?” You ask dreamily with your eyes closed in the middle of your afterglow, a dazed smile on your face. Bliss is not the right word, too much mind-numbing and brain-quietening exhaustion following it. Behind you, Joel is still pounding into your squelching cunt but you can do nothing more than giggle happily in between sweet moans whenever he hits something just right. 

The giggles cause you to tighten around his girth, squeezing him just enough for him to swear loudly at the exquisite feeling your body wrapped around him. He lets go because he can’t hold back anymore, coming inside of your pussy with controlled, hard thrusts that wipe the little smile off your face because air gets knocked out of you. 

“Yes, please gimme your come, Daddy, please give it to me,” you urge him and furrow your brows, practically drooling down onto the sheets as he abuses your pussy in his blissful state. He is so deep inside of you as he spurts, coating your velvety walls in his thick and generous load. It feels so fucking good. Nothing like anything a good little fairy would ever do. You even start thanking him, panting as you say the words over and over again.

“Christ, baby,” he moans behind you, “So goddamn dirty for Daddy.”

You whimper when he leaves you empty a moment later, causing you to collapse onto your front with your hands resting underneath your cheek and your fingers curling into the sheets. You want to bite into the bed, your head swimming with how good and fucked out you feel. 

Joel moves to lie down next to you, his body halfway on its side so he can kiss your sweat-glistening shoulder. He moves upwards when you shiver at the first touch of his lips, dragging his mouth up to your warm cheek. He plants a kiss right by the corner of your mouth, and you absentmindedly reach out to stroke along his jaw. 

“That was so good,” you say with a tiny moan. 

“You are so perfect,” he praises lovingly. He moves to lie down on top of your limp body, crushing you so heavenly with his weight as his chest sticks to your back. The wings of your costume crumble, flattening from being squashed. His arms envelop you and a large hand brushes a bit of loose hair away from your neck. He dips down to kiss just below the base of your skull and you find yourself automatically stretching your neck for even more. He showers you in kisses, lips trailing up and down your throat until you feel a burning need to breathe him in further, to be even closer. 

You whine like a child, wiggling underneath the weight of him until he shifts to lie beside you again. He drags you close to his warm chest, planting a broad palm on your back and you respond by scooting forward to climb even further into his arms. Frustration bubbles up in your chest because it doesn’t feel like he is close enough, not even when you whimper and bury your face in the crook of his warm neck. He chuckles affectionately above you, cradling you like you are the most precious thing he owns, and rests his lips on your disheveled hair. 

“Joel…” You whisper and try to tug at him even more, your arms going under his so you can be flush against him and mold together with his much stronger embrace. You grab at his shoulders, had no idea that there could be such a loud and powerful yearning in your chest for someone you already have.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, clearly knowing the answer. You feel his hand move gently along your naked back, trying to soothe you as you continuously try to shift yourself even closer in his arms though you’re already as close as you can get. 

“It’s not close enough,” you complain feebly and shift once more, a bit of embarrassment flowing through you at how needy you come off. It’s rare that you feel like this but the conversation you had with Hannah earlier has your head in a lovesick spin. The need for Joel is unmatched by anything you have ever felt because this state of mind isn’t fuelled by desire anymore - you have already gotten that out of your system - but rather an all-consuming need for love. 

Joel shushes you gently when you whine once more and squeezes you tightly to relieve your discontent, coaxing your impatient and restless body to calm down. He talks gently and says your name, his voice reverberating through his chest, “Look at me.”

You tilt your head back to meet his gaze, and he smiles one of the smiles that he only reserves for you. He whispers, “I love you.”

And then he reaches up slowly to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. He dips down to kiss you softly on the lips, grounding you further and making your mind go quiet. It’s not rushed, not as passionate as the kisses you’ve shared just moments before but it’s sweeter than honey. 

As you let your guard down fully with a mind completely blank, a sentence slips from your mouth without a second thought. It’s not something you planned to say but you have no control over your actions when he kisses you like that.

“Guess what?” You giggle, lost in his eyes. 

“What, babydoll?” He smiles down at you.

“I told Hannah about us,” you confess, another wave of giddiness washing over you at the excitement. 

However, it quickly passes over you as Joel’s face shifts to an expression of something concerned, tingeing on angry but mostly just unpleasant. Immediately, his jaw tightens, “You did what?”

Your face drops along with your stomach. You try to find the words to calm him but when you open your mouth there are no words that fit. His stare is so intense, laced with frustration and paranoia that makes your throat start tingling with tears. 

“Joel—“ you croak when he pulls back a little, the distance between you feeling unnaturally cold. 

“Do you have any idea what could possibly happen if she lets this slip?” He doesn’t look at you, rolling onto his back to rest the back of his thumbs against his forehead, “You should have talked to me about this first.” 

“Joel, she would never— I trust her!“ You insist but you mostly just hear yourself sounding like a child. You want to defend your choice even further but he is already interrupting you with a dangerous chuckle.

“That’s not the damn point, honey. People talk, people slip up. You think we’re goin’ to be in the shadows for much longer now?” He sits up, hands on his bent knees. 

“You’re acting insane,” you say bitterly and sit up as well, anger bubbling up in your own chest at his condescending tone and suddenly, you find yourself fighting his lecture. You bite back, “It’s not that big a deal. It’s not fun for me to hide all the time because you’re scared.”

“No, don’t you dare twist this ‘round on me when you are out there runnin' your mouth,” he growls, making you flinch when his voice is louder than you have ever heard it before, “I - opposed to you - am tryna protect what we have.”

You can hear your pulse in your ears, “You know what? Stop pretending like this is for my own good when it feels like you are just protecting yourself. Actually, maybe you should ask yourself if this is what you really want.”

Joel scoffs, suddenly hauntingly calm in his tone once more and you miss the warm tinge that his voice always has when he speaks to you, “Maybe I am some kind of fool for thinkin’ we could ever work. Maybe if we were closer in age, it’d be easier. Maybe if I didn’t have a past with your family, and I hadn’t known you since you were a kid then this wouldn’t feel so goddamn wrong.”

The words hit like a punch. Your anger mingles with hurt. It doesn’t feel fair to attack your age like he is because you cannot change it, and that’s the worst part of it. In a feeble attempt to defend yourself, you go for the killing blow. 

“You think you’re the fool here? I let myself fall in love with you,” you falter with a tremble in your voice but then get a hold of yourself, pulling your knees to your chest, “I laughed at your jokes and I let you fuck me because I thought you weren’t going to run the second things got hard. Well congratulations; you got to play self-righteous to make yourself feel better. You are the biggest fucking coward, Miller.”

The second you see the glimpse of hurt in his eye, you regret every syllable yet your stupid pride makes you hold onto the image that you meant every one. You realize your wording, that you have talked about him as if you and him are in the past, and you flex the muscles in your throat to stop yourself from bursting into tears even if your face burns.

“I’ll make it real easy for ya then, sweetheart,” he says coolly, and suddenly, his weight is gone from the mattress and your heart is screaming for him to stay. You watch him move to pick up his clothes and dress quickly, not bothering to fix the way his shirt sits askew on his torso because the determination on his face tells you that he is desperate to leave. 

You clutch around your knees when he bolts from the room, listen to the sound of his feet on the stairs as he descends them, and then finally flinch when the front door slams hard enough to make the whole house rattle. You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding, the air leaving you shakily.

A single tear rolls down your face, followed by another but you swallow down the grief that comes with how final this interaction seems. Something about it tells you that you won’t see him for a while now, and not just because you are going back to school soon. 

With shame, you slowly rise off the bed. Your body is sore, sensitive, and aching between your thighs, and you are still covered in evidence from having sex with him. Feeling him on you despite his absence is usually a thing you relish in but in this moment, it just feels like a cruel reminder of what you might not get to have in the future.

You sit down on the toilet to pee, your knees falling inwards and your body sagging from the exhaustion of what you have just been through. The heartache is so raw, sitting tightly in your throat as a lump that you can barely swallow around while you do your business and afterward mechanically take a shower and clean yourself up in front of the sink. 

When you reenter the bedroom, it feels like you are an intruder and this is your crime scene. You scan the room for your things but cruelly, your eyes fall on one of Joel’s shirts hanging on the back of the chair at the desk. It is already worn, hasn’t been thrown in the laundry basket yet. Ideally, you shouldn’t walk home in the skimpy outfit you arrived in and so, you’re tempted to put it on - if not only to let his familiar scent envelop you - but you cannot risk it. The last thing you need is to walk into your parents’ house wearing his clothes, walk in with the smell of him lingering on you. 

So instead, you slip back into your Tinkerbell costume in the emptiness of Joel’s bedroom, not even the ghost of him lingering, trying not to think about how excited you had been about dressing up for him just a few hours ago. 

—

Your father is in the living room when you quietly enter the house again. You try to sneak past him, hoping that the low hum of the TV will distract him from your footsteps, but as you move past the doorway, he catches you off guard. 

“You’re home early?” He says but it is a question as well as a statement. He reaches for the remote to turn down the volume but when he sees your face, he furrows his brows and turns off the television altogether. 

You force a little smile, “Yeah, just wasn’t feeling it.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, pushing himself to stand in the soft glow of the reading light, “C’mere for a second.”

Reluctantly, you make your way to stand in front of him, your heels clicking on the floorboards. Your shoulders sag as you stop in front of his tall frame, and he studies you for a moment before nudging you with the warmth of his voice, “Did something happen tonight, honey?” 

“No,” you say shakily, avoiding his gaze as your throat feels tight, “No, it was a great party but I was just too tired.”

“Hey, look at me,” he says softly, reaching out to lay his hands on your shoulders. His palms are warm and you’re cold from walking home with a barely dried-off body and no jacket since you bolted out the door. You stare into his eyes, lip trembling as he continues, “I can see you’re not okay. Did something happen?”

You wish that you could say that it is nothing because the reality of it is cruel, ten thousand miles between what he thinks he understands and the truth that you must keep painfully lodged in your chest, taking up too much space for your heart. However, the dam breaks at the gentleness he shows you, the love burning beneath his concern, and suddenly, a sob breaks free. 

Without a word, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close with his hand rubbing your back. You know you don’t deserve his reassurance as he coos in your ear, has no clue how complicated things are. 

You shake in his embrace, your tears wetting the shoulder of his soft shirt. He kisses your hair affectionately, squeezing you while his protective words rumble in his chest, “Listen to me. I need you to tell me if someone hurt you, okay? I won’t be mad. I just wanna help.”

“It’s not like that,” you reassure him and in response, you can feel him relax a little bit as he holds you, sighing in relief. You sniffle, resting your cheek against his chest, “I just got close to someone and it got complicated. He said some things that— I mean, I did too but it really hurt, Dad.”

“You’re allowed to make mistakes, to care for people who maybe don’t deserve it but don’t let anyone make you feel small,” he pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, pauses for a moment before continuing, “If this person don’t treat you right… maybe it’s time to reconsider how much space they take up in your life.”

“Yeah… maybe you’re right, thanks, Dad,” you reply with enough conviction that he gives you a smile, proud to have gotten through to you. You don’t have the heart to tell him that the person you are talking about is the only person that you cannot avoid either, the only person who can break both of your hearts.

.

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[lupinqs]

PROLOGUE ━━ Beginning of the End

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 3.8K

☆ ━ warnings: small mention of homophobia, underage drinking, think that’s all idrk

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: hi!!!!! this is the prologue to my new hopkins p fic and i’m so excited cause it’s taken me so fucking long to actually get this whole fic cooked up but now it’s here and the chapters shouldn’t take too long to come out. anyways you could lowkey probably read this as a one-shot but i have so much more planned for paige and dani so if you wanna keep reading, just be prepared for lots of angst 😊

DANI CALLAN sits at the desk, curling the last remaining pieces of her hair, her irritation simmering just beneath the surface. It’s late May, and the warmth of the Minnesota summer is just beginning to set in, but the night air outside does little to soothe the sheer annoyance that has gripped the girl all day. Tonight is the last night she has with Paige before her best friend is whisked away for the summer due to her thousands of basketball obligations. And guess where they’re going?

A party.

A party. Dani fights the urge to scoff at the thought, jaw clenching.

Paige is excited, though. She’s been excited ever since her basketball buddy told her about it earlier this week, buzzing with energy. “It’ll be fun,” she said, her blue eyes shining with that infectious enthusiasm that makes Dani melt every time. “One last hurrah before I’m off to camps and Thailand and everything else.”

Dani tried to muster some enthusiasm, tried to match Paige’s smile, but she could feel her own fading before it ever really took hold. Because she doesn’t want to go to a party tonight. She doesn’t want to waste the precious few hours she and Paige have left together surrounded by a bunch of people they hardly know, shouting over music, drinking cheap alcohol, pretending to have a good time. Dani wants to be alone with Paige, have her best friend all to herself. She wants to talk. To laugh. To maybe, just maybe, get the courage to tell her what’s been weighing her shoulders down for months now.

But instead, they’re going to a party.

Dani sighs, turning the curling iron off as she catches her reflection in the mirror. Her hair falls in long, loose waves down her back, light makeup coating her face. She wears a simple tank top and jeans—nothing special. She doesn’t feel special tonight. She feels like she’s being cheated out of something, and she can’t even put her finger on what it is.

“Dani! You ready?”

Paige’s voice rings out from the hallway as she opens the door to her bedroom. Dani grabs her phone and looks up and over at Paige, who stands in the doorway with a radiant smile on her face. She’s dressed in all black—black leggings and a black long sleeve—with her favorite pair of lavender dunks on her feet. Her blonde hair’s been done up in its usual ponytail, and she’s got a little bit of mascara coating her lashes. She looks effortlessly beautiful, like she always does, and for a moment, Dani forgets all of her frustrations.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Dani lies, forcing a smile.

“Great, c’mon,” Paige says, grinning as she takes Dani’s hand, the pair of them leaving Paige’s house through the front door.

As they walk down the street, Dani can’t help but feel a pang in her heart. She’s grown up next to Paige, and this street, this neighborhood, has been their playground for as long as she can remember. Every corner holds a memory, every crack in the sidewalk a story. And, now, with Paige leaving tomorrow, Dani feels like she’s about to lose a piece of herself. Sure, after the summer they still have the entirety of their senior year together. But after that? Nothing. Because Paige will have summer sessions and be at UConn and become a basketball star and Dani will still be here. Of course, there’s been short, hopeful conversations about Dani going to Connecticut, too, so that they can spend their college years together. But Dani knows it’s unrealistic—her dad wants her to stay in Minnesota so she’ll stay in Minnesota. And Paige will be a thousand miles away, starting a new life that doesn’t involve her childhood best friend.

“Who’s all gonna be here tonight?” Dani asks as they walk along the sidewalk, trying to start conversation.

“Oh, everyone, I think,” Paige says, bobbing her head enthusiastically. “I mean, y’know probably like the same crowd from New Years. Maybe more, since some of Luca’s college friends are back. Ion know, prolly whoever’s in a five mile radius that’s wanting free booze. I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

Dani nods and bites her lip, trying to swallow down her disappointment. “Yeah, fun,” she echoes, trying to sound convincing.

They walk in comfortable silence for a little while, Paige sometimes purposefully walking into Dani and making her stumble a little. Dani watches the blonde out of the corner of her eye, heart banging against her chest as if it’s a jail cell, forced to hold inside everything it longs to say. She wants to tell Paige that she doesn’t want to go to this party, that instead she wants to spend their night together, really together. She wants to tell Paige that the idea of losing her for three months—and then, once they graduate, for forever—has been tearing her apart inside.

But most of all, she wants to tell Paige that she loves her.

The thought has been haunting Dani for months now. It crept up on her slowly, in quiet moments and stolen glances, until now it’s become all she’s able to think about. She’s tried to push it down, tried to convince herself that it’s just a phase, just confusion. But the more she tries to ignore it, the more it seems to consume her.

Dani’s never been in love before. Sure, she’s dated boys in the past, liked them enough. But it’s never felt real, not like it does with Paige. Because Paige makes her feel alive in ways that no one else ever has. And that? That fucking scares the shit out of Dani. It scares her because she knows exactly how her dad would react if he ever found out. It scares her because she has no idea if Paige feels the same way. But most of all, it scares her because it’s not right—her liking another girl like this is wrong and it’s bad.

(Sometimes, though, it feels so right.)

And yet, tonight, with Paige leaving in the morning, Dani feels like she’s running out of time. Maybe tonight she can find the courage to say something—anything. Maybe tonight she can find the words.

(She doubts it.)

The party is already in full swing when Paige and Dani arrive. The house is packed with people, the music blaring so loud that the Callan girl can feel the bass thumping in her chest. The air is thick with the smell of alcohol, weed, and sweat, and Dani fights the urge to turn around and walk right back out the door. But Paige is already pulling her inside, their hands linked, her excitement palpable.

The pair make their way through the crowd, Paige greeting people left and right, voice loud and grin never wavering. Dani tries to keep up, tries to match her best friend’s energy—but she feels like she’s drowning in a sea of noise and bodies and it’s making her anxious.

It’s at times like these that Dani realizes just how different her and Paige are. Paige is outgoing and extroverted, a ball of energy and enthusiasm and it’s hard to ever keep her in a single place at once. She talks and talks and talks and she’s so charming she could probably make anyone fall in love with her. Dani’s the exact opposite. She’s introverted, preferring a small circle over a large one. She’s more withdrawn and quiet, and likes to listen instead of speak. She’s reserved and she doesn’t mind it—except when she’s at places like these.

“Hey, I’m gonna grab us some drinks,” Paige shouts over the music, leaning close to Dani’s ear.

“Okay,” the Callan girl nods, watching as the blonde disappears through the crowd.

Left alone, Dani takes a deep breath, glancing around the room. She recognizes a few faces, people from school, but none of them are close friends. None of them are Paige. She briefly talks to the boy that was her Chemistry partner for the majority of last semester, before excusing herself and gravitating towards a corner of the room, away from the chaos, where she can at least try to collect her thoughts.

As she stands there, watching the party unfold around her, Dani’s mind begins to wander. She thinks about how different things are gonna be this summer, without Paige. She thinks about the way Paige smiled at her earlier, how her touch sent shivers down Dani’s spine. She thinks about what it would be like to kiss her.

“Dani?”

She blinks, snapping out of her reverie at the sound of her name. She glances up to see Paige standing in front of her, two red solo cups in hand and a concerned expression painting her face.

“You okay?” the blonde asks, handing Dani one of the cups.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” the girl replies, taking the cup and offering a weak smile. “Just… thinking.”

Paige’s concern doesn’t waver. “You sure? You seem kinda, like… Ion know, off tonight?”

Dani hesitates, the words on the tip of her tongue. She wants to tell Paige everything. She wants to pour out her heart right there, in the middle of this stupid party, and finally let her best friend know just how much she means to her. But the words don’t come, stuck in the back of the brunette’s throat. She can’t bring herself to say them.

Instead, Dani takes a sip of her drink—some sort of vodka lemonade, she thinks—and forces herself to smile. “I’m good. Just a little overwhelmed, I guess. Big party.”

Paige studies her for a moment longer, blue eyes searching her best friend’s face for answers. Then, she seems to accept it, her grin returning as she leans in closer.

“Okay,” she agrees. “But lemme know if you need a break, yeah? We can always go out back on the swings for a bit or somethin’—just you and me.”

Just you and me. Dani’s heart skips a beat at the words, and she feel the tips of her ears beginning to redden like they always do when she’s flushed. However, before she can respond, someone calls out Paige’s name from across the room. The blonde girl glances over her shoulder, her smile widening when she catches sight of who’s beckoning her.

“Hey, I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t go anywhere,” Paige says, giving Dani’s arm a reassuring squeeze before heading off to greet some tall boy that Dani can only assume is another basketball player.

The brunette watches her best friend go, feeling a pang of disappointment settle in her chest. She’d been so close to saying something, so close to telling Paige how she really feels. But now, the moment is gone, swept away along with Paige, leaving Dani alone once again—albeit, with a drink this time.

The night wears on, and Dani tries her best to keep up with Paige’s energy, but it only seems to be getting harder and harder. Paige comes and goes, sometimes bringing Dani with her, sometimes not. She moves through the whole party, laughing and talking with everyone, her charming smile never faltering. For a while, Dani follows along with her best friend, almost like a lost puppy. It then dawns on her just how pathetic she is as she endures Paige’s conversations with basketball bro after basketball bro. Eventually, Dani can’t take it, excusing herself. As she walks away, it feels like it’s Paige slipping from her grasp, even though it was Dani that left the blonde girl’s side.

Dani finds herself in the kitchen, making herself another drink to keep busy. And then she downs it. And repeats the process. It makes things easier, more bearable.

She keeps going for far too long before a voice calling her name interrupts the ongoing process. Dani turns to see Thaliah Sommers, and, when her eyes set on the girl, her shoulders automatically relax and she breathes out a sigh of utter relief.

“Oh, thank God,” Dani whines, leaning into Thaliah and resting a head on the girl’s shoulder.

Thaliah has known Dani and Paige since the fourth grade, when the trio had to share a table for half the school year. It sparked a long-lasting friendship, and Dani and Paige would both probably tell you that other than each other, Thaliah is their best friend. And Jalen Suggs, too. Even though he goes to a different school, Paige and his basketball connection ended up becoming more genuine and the blonde had introduced the boy to Dani and Thaliah, which basically became history. The four clicked almost instantly, and they’ve been great friends since. But Dani knows Jalen isn’t here tonight—he’s out-of-state, for basketball. He won’t be back til the end of July, she’s pretty sure.

“You having fun?” Thaliah asks as she wraps a friendly arm around Dani’s side, letting the drunker girl lean on her. Dani shakes her head, pouting childishly. Thaliah chuckles a little at the sight. “Anxious?” she adds, knowing the Callan girl well.

“And disgusted,” Dani nods, watching a boy chug from a keg across the room, beer spewing around him.

Both girls laugh at the sight, and then Dani’s had enough, eyes flitting away from the scene to a different one. She wishes she would’ve kept her gaze on the boy instead. Because this is much worse.

Over, near the back door, Dani sees Paige. Paige Bueckers, clear as day, in the flesh. And she’s kissing someone. A girl. A pretty blonde girl that Dani doesn’t recognize. The sight hits Dani like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of her.

She stares in disbelief, her heart pounding in her chest as she watches Paige pull the girl closer, their bodies pressed together, their lips moving in perfect sync. Dani digs her fingers into the side of her solo cup, crumbling it slightly; she feels like she’s going to be sick.

“Even more so now,” Dani mumbles, referencing her last comment.

Thaliah’s eyes widen, starting, “Dani—”

But Dani won’t hear it. She won’t hear anything. Without thinking, she turns and practically bolts from the house, her drink forgotten on the counter as she pushes her way through the crowd. She needs to get out of here. She needs to breathe. She needs to get as far away from that sight as possible.

The cool night air hits her like a splash of cold water as she stumbles out onto the front lawn, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Her mind races, a jumbled mess of emotions that she can’t untangle. She feels betrayed, hurt, angry, but most of all, she feels stupid.

So fucking stupid.

Stupid for thinking that Paige could ever feel the same about her. Stupid for believing she had a chance. Stupid for letting herself become enough of a mess to not only like another girl romantically—but for that girl to be her best friend.

“Dani! Danielle, wait!”

Paige’s voice calls out from behind the girl, and Dani feels her heart lurch. She doesn’t want to stop. She doesn’t want to face Paige right now, not after what she just saw. But her feet betray her, slowing to a halt as she reaches the sidewalk.

Paige catches up to her, slightly out of breath, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. “Dan, what the hell? Why’d you just run out like that?”

Dani turns to face the basketball player, and the anger she’s been holding back finally begins to boil over. “Why do you think, Paige?” she snaps, voice trembling slightly as she tries to keep her eyes from swimming.

Paige frowns, clearly taken aback by the venom in her best friend’s words. “I don’t know!” she replies, throwing her hands up. “That’s why I’m asking! What’s going on with you tonight?”

Dani lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “What’s going on with me? What’s going on with me? You seriously don’t fucking get it, do you?”

Paige’s confusion only deepens. “No, I don’t! Dani, please, just talk to me—what happened? What’s wrong?”

Dani clenches her fists at her sides, trying to keep her voice steady. “I just watched you make out with some random girl, Paige! That’s what happened! That’s what’s wrong!”

Paige’s eyes widen with realization, her baby blues flitting across Dani’s face in almost a panic. She takes a step closer to her best friend as she quickly says, “Oh… oh, shit, Dani, I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“Exactly!” the Callan girl cuts her off, her voice rising. “You didn’t think! You never think! You don’t think about anyone but yourself!”

Paige recoils as if she’s been slapped, her face falling. “Dani, that’s not fair…”

“Isn’t it?” Dani shoots back, anger spilling over once more. “You didn’t even care that this was our last night together! You didn’t care that I wanted to spend it with you, just the two of us! You only cared about going to this stupid party and kissing some random girl! Like I don’t even matter to you!”

Paige’s eyes fill with tears, and she reaches out to touch her best friend’s arm, but she jerks away. “Dani, please, that’s not true. I promise you it’s not. You matter to me more than anything. I just… I don’t know what to say.”

The brunette’s anger begins to wane, instead replaced by the overwhelming sadness that’s been building inside her all night. Her eyes swim and blur as her voice softens, shaking with emotion. “Then why does it feel like I’m losing you? Why does it feel like if I don’t hold onto you as tight as possible, you’ll slip away from me?”

Paige stares at her, eyes shining with unshed tears. For a long moment, neither of them say anything. The only sound is the distant hum of the party and the rustle of leaves with the breeze. Dani’s heart pounds in her chest, her pulse quickening with each second that passes.

Finally, Paige takes a deep breath and takes a step closer to Dani, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not losing me, Dan. I promise you, you’re not.”

Dani stares at her, vision blurred with tears, voice breaking. “Then why does it feel like I am?”

Paige stands still for a long moment, shutting her eyes tightly. When she opens them again, tears begin to spill down her cheeks. “Danielle,” she starts quietly, and Dani’s eyebrows furrow slightly at the usage of her full name. “Danielle, I have been in love with you since the sixth grade.” The statement makes the brunette’s eyes widen, jaw going slack, as her own tears finally begins to fall. “Remember when I got that concussion, at my game? You— you came to my house as soon as you found out, and you were crying at the thought of me being hurt. And I was the one that had to console you. And— and then you”—Paige sniffles and swipes a hand across her nose—“you kissed me on the head and told me that you would always take care of me. And that was when I knew. I knew that I loved you and that I could never ever really be with anyone that wasn’t my best friend, Danielle Lizzie Callan. I knew it then, and I—I know it now.”

Paige pauses, and then her voice breaks even more when she starts again, “But I’ve been so scared to tell you. I never thought you liked girls, I always thought you were straight. There was no way you could love me back, right? And I—I know how your dad feels about it all, and you know how long it took me to even tell you I liked girls because I was afraid that you felt the same way towards it that he did. And even when I found out you didn’t, I still thought that a girl being in love with you—that me being in love with you—would disgust you and you’d hate me for it. So I never said anything.”

Paige ducks her head as a sob cuts through her throat. Dani takes a step closer, reaching up to cup her best friend’s face in her hands.

“I don’t hate you, Paige. I could never hate you,” she tells the blonde sincerely, keeping her voice even. “And I could never hate you, because I’m in love with you, too.”

Before Paige can say anything, Dani leans in and presses her lips to the blonde’s. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if they’re both waiting for the other to pull away. Even if Dani feels her cross necklace begin to burn into her skin, she can’t stop. She won’t.

All the anger, all the hurt, all the confusion seems to melt away in that moment, leaving only the overwhelming relief of finally, finally knowing that Paige feels the same way. Dani keeps on kissing her, hands slipping from her cheeks to the nape of her neck as Paige’s hands find their way to Dani’s waist.

It isn’t perfect. It’s messy, and frantic, and a little sloppy, but it’s real. And it’s them.

When they finally pull apart, both of them are breathing hard, their foreheads resting together as they try to catch their breath. Dani feels like she’s floating, feels like she’s dreaming, and she doesn’t ever want to wake up.

“I love you,” Paige whispers. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

Dani feels her heart swell up with so much happiness it might just burst. “I love you, too, P. So much.”

They don’t go back to the party. Instead, they go to Dani’s house, where they planned to have a sleepover anyways. The walk is short, and they do it hand-in-hand, swaying a little and giggling a lot. When they get to Dani’s porch and the girl begins to shuffle for her keys, Paige takes the opportunity to peck her neck from behind over and over and over again, whispering in the girl’s ear, “I love you.”

It’s so refreshing to hear Paige say it that, for a moment, Dani forgets about her keys and pulls her best friend in for another kiss on the mouth, closing her eyes and savoring it.

Eventually, they do get inside and find their way up into Dani’s bedroom. They change, and shuffle their way under the covers, bodies close, skin touching. Dani tries not to think about her father in the room beside hers, or the bible on her bedside table.

“I don’t want to leave you tomorrow,” Paige murmurs against Dani’s collarbone, sighing.

Dani’s heart slows at the thought, a deep pang, but she knows that there isn’t another option. “I don’t want you to leave either. But we’ll be okay. We’ll miss each other, but we’ll be okay.”

Paige nods, looking up and letting her eyes flit across Dani’s face as if she’s trying to memorize every detail of it. “Yeah, we will.”

(They won’t.)

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

pretty fixation, wicked temptation | b. blake

masterlist

summary: season six - one-hundred-and-twenty-five years in cryosleep made both you and bellamy crave each other’s touch, but you need a place to satisfy your urges without disruption. perhaps a new planet would do the trick. and what better way to heighten the anticipation than with a little challenge?

warnings: porn with plot, sexual crying??, teasing/taunting, mild gore, mild exhibitionism, murphy being a cockblock, mild size kink, mild bdsm, begging

note: this is the first one-shot/smut I’ve ever written so I kinda went overboard, but I promise it’s worth it in the end. you can imagine a different season of bellamy if you want (fuck you) but I personally think he’s extremely hot in season 6.

word count: 16.7k

“…I hope your lives there will be as happy as mine has been,” an aged Monty spoke on the monitor. “Be the good guys. May we meet again.”

You stared out the window of Eligius IV in awe, arms crossed over your chest whilst taking in the view of the planet you would soon call home. Plant Alpha. A place where, hopefully, everyone could find redemption. For you, it would be a place where you would find peace with your friends and family. And your boyfriend, Bellamy Blake.

“I know this is a lot to process,” Bellamy’s deep voice spoke to the group. “Take an hour, and then meet in the mess. We need to game this out.”

A few people in the room had a short dispute, but you tuned out their bickering, gaze locked on the view outside. Everyone began to disperse, leaving the room to gather their thoughts about what the future held for the last remnants of humanity. Everyone but you and Bellamy.

Your vision shifted from focusing on Planet Alpha to watching Bellamy walk towards you in the window’s reflection. He had changed drastically since the day you and the other Ark prisoners were sent to the ground. His body was broader, and more muscular due to the unrelenting battles he fought on Earth. His arms were bigger, stronger, and probably capable of carrying the weight of two people at once. And his hands, god, his hands—they were your ultimate weakness. They were much bigger compared to your own; his fingers were thicker and longer as well, and the things he could do with them… indescribable.

He now had a short, dark beard that circled his mouth and sparsely covered the sides of his jaw. You always loved the way it tickled your face whenever he kissed you and when it rubbed against your inner thighs whilst he went down on you.

What had changed the most was his mentality, which somehow made you fall even deeper in love with him. Bellamy Blake may have been twenty-three when you first met him, but he was then still just a boy. Now, he was a man.

“You okay?” he asked, his arm snaking around your waist as his towering frame stood beside you.

Leaning into his body, you both soaked in the rays of the two suns shining through the ship’s window.

“Just hoping we don’t make the same mistakes we did back on Earth,” you spoke. “There are a lot of people on this ship in need of a second chance.”

Bellamy chuckled. “Yeah. More like a fifth chance.”

You smiled, humming in agreement.

“This time will be different,” he continued, eyes narrowed at the planet in front of them. “We can’t keep making the same mistakes without learning from them. We won’t have bombs, or missiles, or war. I’ll make sure of it; if not for the last of humanity, then for you.”

You turned your head to look at him. Such a softie.

“I ever tell you how much I love you?” You reached one of your crossed arms across your torso and rested it on his which was cupping your waist.

In response, Bellamy’s hold tightened just a little bit more, causing your heart to fumble from the affectionate gesture. “On a few occasions.”

However short the one-hundred-and-twenty-five years in cryosleep felt to your mind, your body could feel the effects of lacking physical touch for such a long time. Bellamy’s touch. Apparently, he felt the exact same way.

“I can’t believe I haven’t seen you in over a century.” His voice became soft. He turned your body to face him with his back now facing the window. Dark brown eyes gazed down at you with an intensity only he could create, sending a sudden desire to let him absolutely ravage you right where you stood. His free hand reached up to your face and gently stroked the side of your cheek, the other now caressing the exposed skin of your waist. “Or touched you.”

Closing your eyes, you focused on the areas in which his skin connected with yours. Having been in a relationship with him for a few years, his touch became a familiar sensation. Despite that, on a purely physical level, your body had forgotten the pleasure-filled heights to which he could take you. Everything seemed new again, like the very first time he touched you.

And no matter the fact that time in cryosleep seemed like it passed instantaneously, neither of you could deny the obvious pining your bodies felt for one another.

You stepped closer, hands moving to rest on his chest. The distance between your bodies closed and you whispered, “Or felt me.”

His hands stilled, realising what you had meant. He leaned backwards, enough to get a good view of the look in your eyes. It was something deep and hungry for release. Sure, you’ve both had sex plenty of times; you’ve fucked rough and fast, made love sweet and slow—however many other variations there were, you’d done it—but Bellamy had never seen your desire for him appear as powerful as this.

Your eyes were swirling with a dark passion, like rolling waves in desperate need of a crest. Your cheeks were flushed, pupils so dilated your irises were almost obscured, and lips reddened and becoming plump even despite having made no contact with his own yet. It was no doubt a mirror of what you were feeling inside.

He took in a long deep breath, eyebrows furrowed as he took in your appearance, trying to steady his heartbeat which was raging out of control. You looked so beautiful. All the blood in his body drained to the lower half of him, leaving him light-headed and fuzzy, lust being the only thing to fill the contents of his mind. Bellamy could never stop lusting after you, he had just learned to control it. A one-hundred-year wait seemed like a perfectly acceptable reason to let loose a little.

“Fuck,” was all he said before his lips came crashing down onto yours.

It didn’t start slow, but rather fast and desperate. So desperate. Even so, your mouth moved in sync with his, alternating between sucking in quick breaths of air, kissing his soft yet rough lips, and allowing him to run his tongue over your own. Your hands moved up into his pushed-back hair, fingers delving between his brown waves to give a small tug, pulling a groan from inside him that buzzed against your lips.

He pulled you closer to his body with strong arms wrapped around your back, the sensitivity between your thighs coming into contact with his hardness. The material of your pants rubbing against you only enhanced the shiver-inducing sensation.

You reigned your focus back onto his lips. His mouth was hot against yours, unrelenting, catching your lips with his between each frantic breath of air. His tongue rolled over your own, so intricate and possessive as it pushed into your mouth.

Before you knew it, his hands had moved to the backs of your thighs and lifted you into his arms; your lips never disconnected. This was a movement you had both performed many times, so it wasn’t done without skill. He took a few steps forward before placing you on the control bench behind you. You hoped there were no important buttons beneath you that would cause End of Humanity 4.0.

His mouth moved from yours and down to your jaw, cupping his hand on the side of your neck to keep your head steady. You couldn’t tell if it was a moan or a sigh that escaped you. Maybe it was a mix of both, but whatever it was, it egged him on further. He had moved down to your neck, sucking and nipping at the soft, delicate skin. This time you were sure it was a moan you let out.

He curled his hand around your neck just below your jaw, careful not to apply too much pressure, but just enough to remain in control. He loved to be in control; he also knew how much you enjoyed it too. You loved how small he made you feel compared to him, how he could dominate you without an ounce of effort.

Your legs and his were in between one another like two puzzle pieces fit together, his knee between your thighs and pressing against your clit without him even realising it. Grabbing onto his shoulders for support, you pushed yourself further onto his knee, beginning to grind yourself against him as he continued to press kisses to your neck.

“Eager, huh?” his voice vibrated against your skin.

Now he knew.

Having realised what you were doing, he pushed further onto you, heightening the pressure as you rolled your hips against him. Your head fell back. It had been so long since your body had experienced such pleasure; you knew it wouldn’t take much to reach climax. Not that it mattered. It always took you both a few rounds before you were too exhausted to move anymore. Sometimes, even fatigue couldn’t stop you two.

After deciding enough damage was done to your neck, he returned to your mouth, this time slower and more sensual.

You could have easily come undone the way you were going, grinding yourself against him but knew it would be nothing compared to the release given by his hands. Greedy as you were, you wanted—needed—more, and you knew he would never deny such a request. Your satisfaction was his own after all.

“Bellamy,” you breathed against his lips. “Touch me.”

His forehead came to rest against your own, he too breathless from the heat of the situation.

“Didn’t know you were into exhibitionism, princess,” he spoke lowly with a smirk.

“Who said I was?”

“Well, technically, we have a whole world watching us.”

You rolled your eyes, a playful grin stretching across your lips only to be intersected by a short gasp as you felt his hand slip through the waistband of your pants and press against your clit.

The second you felt his fingers apply pressure and begin to move, the door to the room burst open.

“Hey, you guys need… Jesus Christ!”

Bellamy’s hand left you quicker than it came, or quicker than you came to be more exact. The both of you jumped up from your positions and turned to see Murphy standing at the door, eyes squeezed shut.

“You ever heard of knocking, Murphy,” Bellamy grumbled.

“It’s the fucking comms room!” he complained. “Just–we need you guys out in the mess hall. Now. Oh my god.”

He made quick work of leaving the room, mumbling something about rather having a missile dropped on him than ever having to witness that again.

You looked at Bellamy who seemed to share the same flustered state as you.

He blew out a stabilising breath and placed a hand behind your back. “Come on, we should see what they want.”

Still slightly trembling, you nodded, allowing him to guide the both of you out of the room as you attempted to fix your dishevelled hair. After walking together down a few hallways in tense silence, you both reached the mess hall to see the group sitting around a table, discussing something quietly among themselves. Among them was Murphy, who overdramatically shuddered at the sight of you two.

Before you could walk over, Bellamy grabbed your upper arm, leaning down until his hair brushed against your temple and he whispered, “I’m not done with you.”

He slid past you and walked towards everyone else, acting casual as they all burst into conversation. A minute or two passed until you had regained enough composure to join the group.

**********

It had been about two hours since the incident in the comms room. A plan had been set in place regarding their journey to the ground. One minute, you were safe and sound on Eligius IV, and the next, you and a small group were descending into the atmosphere of Planet Alpha in a ship.

There was a giant, wall-length window on the front of the ship that revealed the outside surroundings once you dipped below the clouds. This world was… otherworldly. Literally. The largest sun bathed the world in a constant orange glow, and the surface was covered in an abundance of vibrant green trees that sat atop various hills and rocky snow-covered mountains. All the clouds were a light orange; the sky was more pink and orange than blue. It was like they had entered a landscape painting depicting heaven.

Everyone seemed to share the same look of astonishment.

Shaw turned in his seat to face everyone. “Boys and girls, meet Planet Alpha.”

With a shudder, the ship finally planted itself on the ground, the machine hum cutting off as the rockets stopped firing. Belt buckles clicked as everybody stood from their seats, moving in front of the door, awaiting its opening. You looked beside you to see Bellamy with that same tiny grin he had the first time they opened the dropship doors. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. Technically, it was well over a lifetime ago.

He pulled down the lever and the door began to fall open. A gust of breathable fresh air wafted in your face and you inhaled deeply. It was sweet and unpolluted. Everyone remained still as they took in the incredible scenery. There were no words to describe it.

“Anyone got anything better than ‘we’re back bitches’?” Miller jested.

“Yeah,” you spoke. “Let’s not bite the apple this time.”

There were a few chuckles, a few sentimental words exchanged, along with a few heated words spoken between Shaw and Clarke. Some people were still upset over her betrayal back on Earth. What they were yet to realise was that this was not Earth, this was someplace new, a place for second chances and new beginnings.

They were supposed to be looking for a beacon that depicted a safe place for them to take up residence. Shaw, along with his tracking device, began heading in the beacon’s direction and soon enough everyone else followed suit.

You took a few moments for yourself to take in the surroundings and silently thank Monty and Harper for their sacrifice. A bittersweet smile sat on your lips and a single tear slipped down your cheek. A Garden of Eden this was, and they’d be damned if they let another serpent in.

Without even realising it, Bellamy had stood beside you, his arm wrapping around your shoulder before pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head.

“We’ll do better this time,” he reassured as if he could read your mind.

You turned your head and pressed a quick kiss to his shoulder.

His eyes crinkled as a soft smile grew on his lips. “Come on, let's catch up to the others.”

And so, you did.

Following Bellamy until you caught up with the rest of the group, you began the journey to the beacon, trekking through the new and undisturbed forest. Though it was beautiful, you still had a lingering fear of what might lurking in the thick clusters of trees. Maybe there were Grounders here too. At least they were human beings with actual consciences. This was an entirely new planet in an entirely new solar system so there could be animals or beings they had never encountered before.

All you could do was pray you weren’t on the bottom of the food chain.

An hour or two passed before the forest began to thin out and give way to a lake of pristine blue water surrounded by overlooking mountains.

“Looks like we found a water source,” Bellamy spoke as they stepped onto the tan sand. “We’ll camp here tonight and continue on at first light.”

They were confronted wave after wave with the planet’s beauty without end. It almost seemed too perfect. As everyone was distracted by the new view, Murphy began walking towards the water, removing a piece of clothing with each step, completely disregarding the fact that he had healing bullet holes on his body.

You stepped forward to stop him just as the others did. “Murphy, wait, your­–”

He glanced back at you, cutting your sentence off. “Comms room!”

That shut you up, as well as causing your face to redden intensely.

Clarke stepped beside you, watching as Murphy took off his shirt and stepped into the water, diving beneath the surface. “What was that about?”

“Uh, nothing.” You side-eyed Bellamy who was shifting his weight, clearly uncomfortable.

Soon enough, Murphy had resurfaced, his wounds bleeding and turning the water around him a faint rust colour. Not that he cared.

“Come on in, the water’s fine!” he shouted.

Emori was next to enter the water, though not entirely at her own will. It was nice to see her and Murphy enjoying themselves, but who said they could have all the fun?

Without a second thought, you unclipped your backpack and dropped it to the ground, tying your hair into a low bun with the band on your wrist. You lifted your long-sleeve shirt over your head, leaving you only in your low-cut tank top. You had thought it would have been Bellamy who was first to notice, except it was Clarke whose eyes were now trained on your chest.

Brows raised, you motioned to your eyes with two fingers. “Eyes up here, Clarke.”

She cleared her throat and mumbled an apology, focusing back on Emori and Murphy.

You walked over to Bellamy, standing beside him as he watched the scene in front of him. His attention quickly shifted to you as your hip brushed against his hand.

“What d’you say, Blake?” You unbuttoned your jeans, pushing them down to your ankles and stepping out. “Up for a swim?”

His lips parted as he stared down at your half-naked figure. Before he had a chance to answer, you were making your way down to the water with a tantalising grin. You were nothing if not a tease and he knew that firsthand. A little extra sway in your hips was all it took for him to start removing his own backpack and undressing his upper body.

The water had reached up to your hips before a pair of hands abruptly grabbed onto your waist. A short shriek escaped your throat before you were tackled beneath the water. Resurfacing, you wiped the water from your eyes, coming face-to-face with an amused Bellamy.

“Asshole!” You attempted to push his chest, but he didn’t budge, instead, he wrapped his arms around your waist again and began dragging you both further out.

“So easily riled up,” he teased with a smirk.

Sighing defeatedly, you leaned into his grasp, allowing him to keep you both afloat. Bellamy could just touch the lake floor, so you knew if he let you go, you would be drowning. Swimming wasn’t exactly anyone’s strong suit, so you just hoped you hadn’t done anything previously to piss him off.

Your legs curled around his torso. At first, the action was innocent, but then you realised that the little performance you made on the beach had consequences. Hard consequences that he seemed to be very aware of. Eyes blown wide with surprise, you squeezed your legs around his hips, grounding yourself onto him.

He grunted softly, tightening his hold on you. “You do that again and I won’t care if everyone is watching.”

The deep sense of possession enveloped in his voice sent warm tingles running down your spine, replacing the coldness of the water surrounding your body. Knowing him, he probably wasn’t lying either, especially given both of your rising desires for each other. For a split second, you were ready to test the legitimacy of his threat, but rationality was quick to jump in.

As you loosened your hold around him, you were unsure whether the look he gave you was of praise or displeasure. If you couldn’t do that, then you would at least take advantage of the opportunity for another type of intimacy.

Placing a hand on either side of his jaw, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his which he was quick to reciprocate. Droplets of fresh water dripped from the wet strands across his forehead, mixing between your skin and his, and alleviating the heat of each other’s desire.

His hands ran up and down your back underneath your saturated tank top, leaving a trail of warmth in his wake. Over and over, you kissed him and then you’d take a split second to get some air. It quickly became a pattern yet each time your lips met became more and more exhilarating.

The moment was rapidly becoming more fervent with each passing second. Soon enough, you were clinging onto each other, the water rippling from your bodies moving ever-so-slightly against one another to create some kind of friction. You could hear Bellamy’s breathing become quick and uneven, just like your own. You could feel his tongue glide across your bottom lip as if to knock before entering. And just before you could let him in, you were pulled apart…

��Hey. Hey! None of that shit,” Murphy demanded from a distance.

Bellamy pulled away first, visibly frustrated as he turned his head to your interrupter.

You simply pinched the bridge of your nose and groaned, one hand still holding onto his shoulder.

“Shut up, Murphy!” you and Bellamy shouted in unison.

Even Emori was quick to come to your aid. “Come on, John, they were just kissing.”

“You haven’t seen the things I’ve seen,” you heard him murmur to her.

**********

The sky was blanketed in darkness long after the two suns dipped below the horizon. Insects were chirping, a small fire was crackling in the centre of the group, and tiny waves were cresting on the shore. You were leaning against a log of driftwood, legs extended in front of you as you gazed at the giant, ringed planet in the sky, its purple and pink hue reflecting on the lake’s surface.

Peace. Or so it would have been if not for the chaos running rampant in your mind.

Bellamy’s lips. Bellamy’s hands. Bellamy’s fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut. Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy–

A loud pop from the fire sounded which startled you from your thoughts.

Opening your eyes, you looked around the camp. Everybody else seemed to be in their own little worlds too, unable to shake the incredulity of knowing they were now on an alien planet. Clarke was on her back, gazing up at the foreign sky above; Jackson was enthusing about the unfamiliar wildlife. Echo simply admired the tall mountains that encompassed the lake, an expression of gratitude reflecting on her face. You would feel the same way too if your hormones weren’t raging like that of a teenage boy’s.

To add fuel to the fire—quite literally—Bellamy was bent over the flames, cyan blue sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and feeding more wood to the blaze. His dark curls were pushed back from his face apart from a few stray strands. His skin was shining from the humidity, sending your mind spiralling into a visualisation of the times he was on top of you, all sweaty and hitting that eye-rolling spot inside of you over and over.

You sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. This was ridiculous; he was your boyfriend and yet every time he was near, your body responded to him like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Something on your mind?”

He had sat down beside you, your shoulders now pushed up against one another.

More like ‘someone’, you thought.

“Nope.” You crossed your legs over one another, thighs squeezing together in the hopes of providing some kind of relief. You couldn’t even bear to look at him, afraid that your willpower would come crumbling to ruins. “No thoughts up here.”

Bellamy eyed your visibly flustered state, one cocky eyebrow raised.

His hand moved onto your leg. “Liar. I know your tells. And this,” he murmured whilst squeezing the inner plush of your thigh, “is one of them.”

Finally, your gaze met his, almost like you were in a standoff. He knew how much you were suffering. Mostly because he was too.

“Bellamy,” you warned.

He turned back to the fire, slowly kneading your inner thigh. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Uh oh.”

The flickering flames reflecting in his dark brown irises turned them a blazing orange but did nothing to alleviate the darkness that was sitting just behind his eyes. Taunting him probably wasn’t the brightest idea at that moment.

Then again, it also held the potential to be a fantastic idea. You knew how he got when pushed to his limits.

“Seems like we can’t go five minutes without being interrupted,” he began, curling his hand around your thigh. “So, I figured we may as well turn it into a challenge.”

“A challenge?” you asked, moving your hand on top of his and taking control.

He nodded.

Slowly, you began to guide his hand further up your thigh, inch by inch. As expected, he showed no resistance. You could even see the imprint on the front of his pants which were now tight for the third time that day. “And what exactly does this challenge involve?”

As you got closer to the destination you craved most, your movements became slower, and more delayed, contrasting to the increasing pace of your chest rising and falling. Your shoulders pushed back against the driftwood, your body reclining just a tiny bit further as you stared up at him, lips parted.

Bellamy watched his hand travel beneath your own, completely transfixed. “We, uh, see who can last longer without…” he trailed off as your thighs clamped tighter around him.

The side of his hand brushed against your clit through the material of your pants and your breath hitched. Thank god everyone else was too distracted to notice the situation unfolding before them. The fire was probably doing you both some favours as well.

“Without…?” you coaxed him on.

You pressed him firmer against you, rolling your hips in small circles to create the sensation you’d been longing for. He didn’t move, only allowing you to use him for your own pleasure. The muscles in your stomach flexed as tingles quickly spread across the lower half of your body, from your toes to beneath Bellamy’s hand. You’d give anything to let him give you your release then and there, but you knew an audience wasn’t exactly favourable.

That didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the build-up.

God, Bellamy was right. You really were into exhibitionism.

By the way his brows were pulled together and his eyes looked almost pained, you swore he was about to come undone just at the sight of you.

He clenched his jaw and managed to ground out, “Without touching each other.”

Your eyes flickered between his, showing no sign of stopping your movements even when he finally managed to get out his explanation. You slightly bucked your hips forward, pulling him in further to which he inhaled sharply. Truth be told, Bellamy was the most stubborn person you had ever met, excluding his sister, Octavia. But there was one thing that could overrule Bellamy’s unwavering resolve, and that was you. Hell, on multiple occasions all you had to do was ask and he would be on his knees, mouth between your thighs in the blink of an eye, so he should have known the minute he announced his little game, you had already won.

“Okay,” you whispered with an innocent smile.

Within seconds, you had shot up onto your feet, now hovering over him.

Instinctively, he too moved into a standing position as if under threat. He stood so close that your torso was nearly touching his.

“What are you doing?” He leaned in close, voice low to prevent attracting any attention from the others.

“Um, winning?”

He scoffed. “Yeah, right. I’ve gone over a century without you; I can last a little longer.”

You took one step closer until you were flush against him. How could you not? It’s not like he’d expect you to make it easy on him.

“Only a little? Oh, come on Blake, have a bit of faith in yourself. You can last longer than that.” You looked him up and down. “I would know.”

He peered down at you, eyes half-lidded, and hummed a chuckle, one that was meant to say, ‘You are in way over your head, princess’. Maybe you were or maybe he was. What you both knew for sure was how the game was going to end, and despite your determination to win, that moment couldn’t come soon enough.

His body left yours and he backed away, a smug smirk resting on his face. He retreated over to Murphy and Emori, sitting on the log beside them and began engaging in their conversation.

You turned to face the fire, letting out a shaky breath you were hoping he couldn’t hear. It had become quiet now, the surrounding area seemed different compared to just a few minutes prior, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. The small waves were still rolling onto the shore; the campfire was still crackling.

Something was missing.

You scanned the area for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing.

“Ow!”

Your eyes snapped to the sudden voice. Clarke was sitting on a plank of wood, rubbing the back of her neck with her brows furrowed together.

Walking over, you sat on a log adjacent to her. “What happened?”

“Oh, just got bit by a bug.” She gestured to the dead insect lying on the wood beside her.

It had big, round eyes, and wings like a fly. Wouldn’t have been a cause for concern if it weren’t the size of your palm and had a tail like a scorpion.

“Some bug.”

That’s when you realised—all the insects had stopped chirping.

Almost on command, Jackson and Miller stumbled over to the campfire, gaining everyone’s attention as Jackson rambled on about how he had captured the same bug in a glass jar and its behaviour had randomly become erratic. People began rising from their seats and crowding to watch the insect smash itself against the glass. Clarke and you shared a concerned look.

The air, which once was silent and peaceful, began to buzz like you were all surrounded by a cluster of beehives. Reality was much worse.

“What the hell is that?” Emori spoke.

As if to answer her question, the sky suddenly filled with hundreds, no, thousands of winged insects, which seemed to follow each other in groups that formed large patterns in the air. You were willing to bet your life on them being the same as the one that bit Clarke. Great—man-eating bugs.

“Swarm.”

“Everybody cover up! We’re heading to the beacon now!” Bellamy commanded.

You snatched your backpack from the ground, pulling out a black cotton scarf before slinging the bag straps over your shoulders. Not long passed before the others did the same and you were all running for your lives through the dense thicket of trees. Branches snagged on your clothes, shredding them to bits as you struggled not to run face-first into a tree. You wouldn’t be the first to do it, though…. Murphy.

Your breathing was becoming irregular as your body pushed to its limits. As awful as it sounded, when Emori tripped over a fallen branch and the group had to stop and help her, you praised the lord. Everyone huddled together, the bugs now surrounding the group, flying past and leaving bite marks on your bodies. Luckily, Clarke had the idea to light a flare.

“They hate fire! Light the flares!” she shouted.

Someone came running toward you from where Emori had tripped, placing a hand on each of your upper arms. Upon seeing their eyes, you knew it was Bellamy. He wordlessly scanned your features for any wounds, his gaze a mixture of concentration and worry. You nodded as if to tell him you were alright, and he did the same.

After the ten seconds you were provided to catch your breath passed, you were on the move again, the flares now protecting the group from the swarm. The trees were becoming less and less, and the ground under your feet had turned into a wide gravel path that ended at a large field of crops surrounded by metal rod towers.

You continued running forward, following the others as the field grew closer. In front was Shaw, who was multi-tasking between tracking the beacon on his device and leading the group to safety.

“Here! The beacon’s here!” he shouted.

Just as he passed through the towers that bordered the crop field, a bolt of what looked like lightning struck him. He was sent flying back into the group with a yell, landing at your feet.

“Shaw!” You crouched down, observing the minor burns that were littered across his cheeks and forehead.

He groaned, pulling himself back onto his feet with your assistance. “I’m alright.”

Jackson rushed to his side, immediately pulling out his med pack and assessing his wounds. The damage wasn’t lethal but if they couldn’t find a way to get through to the other side, they would have more to be worried about than burnt flesh.

Clarke was already searching for an answer to their escape and once again, she found it.

“It’s radiation.” She looked around as the bugs began to circle them, blocking their long-distance view. “We need to get through. It won’t affect me.”

Before anyone could stop her, she was running through the shield-like fence.

“Clarke, wait!”

“Get back here!”

To everyone’s surprise, she made it out the other side without a scratch. But how was everyone else supposed to get through without Nightblood?

You felt a warm hand slip into your own, offering a small amount of comfort. You didn’t need to look to know whose it belonged.

“Clarke, the tower—its Eligius tech. You need the failsafe code to turn off the shield!” Shaw yelled out. “Four-seven-eight-one-five!”

Exhaling a sigh of relief, you squeezed Bellamy’s hand. There’s a failsafe code.

Clarke rushed to one of the metal towers, opened the control panel and punched in the code. The energy sources atop each tower dissipated, signalling the shield's termination.

“It’s down! Come on!”

Murphy was the first to pass through, dragging Emori behind him. Copying his actions, Bellamy tugged you forward, the both of you passing through the towers together. Once everyone made it through, Clarke powered up the defence again, causing the swarm of insects to disintegrate upon meeting the shield’s radiation bolts.

No one said a word. Instead, they used the time to catch their breaths, some laying on the ground and others dropping to their knees. You tugged the covering off your head and placed your hands on your thighs for support. Multiple strands of hair fell around your face as you bent over, trying to replace the air your lungs lost, a few strings of curses spilling out in between.

Bellamy, who was so inconceivably fit that his breathing was already slow and even, placed a hand on your shoulder. “You okay?”

Lifting a shaky arm from your leg, you gave him the thumbs up.

He tenderly massaged your shoulder and scanned the group to make sure everyone else was alright.

“What the hell was that?” Echo huffed.

**********

Night cycles on Planet Alpha operated very differently compared to Earth—darkness held the sky for a good five hours before the two suns rose again, much unlike the twelve hours everyone was accustomed to back on Earth. That and this planet sent man-eating swarms of insects whenever night fell. Or so you assumed.

The suns peaked through the distant treetops; orange beams of light were spread across the fields you had walked. A few hours had gone by since you first stepped through the radiation shields. A few hours of walking got you and the others atop a small mountain that seemed to be centred within the large circle of towers, providing a good bird's eye view of the fields of crops below.

You continued trekking up the well-trodden path on the hill, Bellamy and Clarke on either side of you. The last time you interacted with Bellamy was when you entered the protected area, but since then, you had avoided eye contact, physical touch, and conversation. You knew yourself; one wrong move and you would lose his game. Despite almost being eaten alive, you were still determined to stick to the rules, and even though innocent affection and conversation were allowed, you didn’t want to risk it.

Plus, total avoidance would only make him crave you more—the basic rule of men, unfortunately.

Emori walked a few steps in front of the group, her movements quickening as they reached a rounded corner. “Guys, look. Stairs.”

Orange-brick stairs came into view and you watched as Emori began ascending them, everyone else following behind her. You climbed up the stairs, Bellamy ahead of you by a step or two. Not for long though. Your pace increased until you were shoulder-to-shoulder, but only for a split second before you placed a hand on his bicep, dragging your palm across as you moved a few steps ahead of him. You could hear his breath hitch and a small smirk teased the corner of your lips. Now he was the one behind you—how he usually liked it.

If you weren’t going to interact with him, the least you could do was give him a good view.

Once you reached the top of the stairs, everyone stood side-by-side, taking in the view in front of them. It was incredible. It was like all the beauty on that planet had been condensed, thrown into a single area and turned into a village. That was what it was—a village. Plus, a castle?

“They have a castle,” Murphy said in wonder.

It looked like something from medieval times crossed with The Hobbit. The windows were circular and made of multi-coloured glass panes. The structure was made of bricks and rounded towers with various intricate patterns decorating different areas, and two round staircases curving up to a second-level balcony. It was so striking it had to have belonged to some divine being because no one else could have deserved such a beautiful palace. Well, there was one exception.

You glanced at Bellamy whose face was lit up with the brightest grin you had ever seen as he too let the beauty sink in. Your heart skipped a beat and you had to turn away. So, you turned to Murphy.

“Perfect for you, Murphy,” you jested. “King of the cockroaches.”

“Careful. Roaches bite, you know,” he retorted

You raised your hands in faux fear.

Clarke stepped forward. “Come on. Let’s see if anyone’s home.”

Most of the buildings looked modern and were made of glass and coloured wood or shipping containers, surrounded and covered by different types of flora. Flowers were not in short supply there, that was for sure; every garden held a new and exotic type. Even the pond in the middle of the village had flowers in it. There were coloured banners everywhere as well—some that hung from each building, and some that were standalone's. The suns’ light just made everything seem so much more vibrant and enchanting.

You and the others were going door-to-door, knocking on each one to see if anyone was there. So far, you had no luck, if that’s even what it was. Almost every home had been checked, but there was no one. The last house to be checked came by and apparently Murphy ran out of patience for simple pleasantries. He kicked the front doors open.

“Well, look at that.” He turned to the group. “This one’s unlocked.”

He stepped inside and began rummaging through the owner’s belongings, not that it surprised anyone very much. You watched as he bent over and picked up something that looked like a neck cuff connected to chains on a wall.

“Hm. Kinky.” He turned back to the group with a devious grin on his face. His eyes flickered between you and Bellamy. “Any takers?”

He gestured between the two of you with the chains as if he were offering them. Oh, you were so tempted to pull a knife on him.

Your eyes went wide, and Bellamy almost choked on his own breath. All eyes were now on you and him.

You took off in the opposite direction before anyone could say a word. “I’m–I’m gonna find a change of clothes.”

It was a perfectly reasonable excuse to leave anyway. Your clothes were practically threadbare from the rough escape through the forest. Thankfully, you could hear the group begin talking about something completely unrelated before you were out of hearing distance. You weren’t sure where you were headed in particular. Anywhere that wasn’t near Murphy or Bellamy would suffice.

You didn’t want to be apart from Bellamy at all. Quite the opposite. You wanted him. You wanted his hands to roam all over your body, to feel his arms tight around your waist as he thrust deep inside you from beneath, and to have his name dripping from your tongue as he made it impossible for you to distinguish the meaning between the words ‘love’ and ‘lust’.

(If only you knew that he was suffering the exact same way.)

However, his ego was much too inflated for you to let him win. It was a sacrifice for the greater good. The greater good being not having to constantly listen to him tease you for losing in the future. But as time went on and your body started physically reacting to the separation, losing started to seem like not such a terrible idea. You were conflicted. Give in, or push on? The decision was painfully frustrating and also just downright painful.

While amidst your thoughts, your feet had carried you to the opposite side of the village until you were standing outside a dark red-wooded house. Covering the poles that held up the structure’s second story were apple blossoms. “Let’s not bite the apple this time.” That was the first thing you had said after stepping onto the ground—a reference to the story of Adam and Eve. Now here you were, contemplating handing yourself over to desire. A literal bite of the apple.

You shook your head, pulling down the door handle to the red house and it opened. Locks didn’t exist in this place it seemed. Stepping inside, you noticed several cardboard boxes on the ground both opened and unopened. There was furnishing such as couches, bookcases, a round glass dining table, and leather seats, but they were all scattered across the room and half had white sheets covering them. It looked like the owner had just been moving in.

As you assessed the room, you noticed a floor-length mirror attached to one of the walls, so naturally, you moved yourself in front of it. The reflection did not match the person you were before leaving Eligius IV. Your bun wasn’t even a bun anymore; half of it had fallen out whilst the other struggled to stay within the hair band. Your clothes had more holes than you could count and were covered in a thick layer of dirt and insect blood. A grimace fell across your face. Gross.

At your feet was another cardboard box; it was opened with a variety of fabrics spilling out. Crouching down, you pulled out the black material at the top to find that it was a long-sleeve off-the-shoulder shirt. It wasn’t exactly practical, but it beat wearing insect organs. You exchanged your two previous shirts for the black shirt; the material stretched around your curves, clinging to your body like a second skin.

Next was a change of pants. You kicked off your shoes and peeled off your jeans, leaving you only in your black underwear and socks. And so, the search began. A good ten minutes went by and you found nothing but long skirts and dresses. You were not about to walk outside dressed up like some grounder princess. Not now at least. Maybe there were more boxes upstairs?

After locating the staircase to the second story, you began to climb. Just like the first level, there were boxes and furnishings. There was a large thigh-high mattress against the back wall with two glass doors on either side leading to a balcony. The mattress was covered in several different blankets consisting of shades between white and purple with a mountain of matching pillows at the head of the bed. On the wall facing the mattress was another floor-length mirror. These people had a vanity problem.

Much to your displeasure, none of the boxes upstairs contained any pants either, so there you stood in the middle of the room wearing only a tight shirt and underwear. You sighed in frustration, tugging your hair band from the bun and letting your locks cascade over your shoulders and down your back. With nothing else to do, you decided you might as well go outside and see what the others were doing. You stepped out onto the balcony; the house’s architect had the right idea by designing it with a concrete fence that covered your lower half.

The others were still lingering on the other side of the village. You rested your forearms on the balcony fence, watching as Murphy signalled for Shaw and Bellamy’s assistance with pulling a heavy wooden crate from inside one of the houses. Knowing Murphy, it was probably full of stuff he was going to take for himself, which would have explained Bellamy’s reluctant stance. There was also something else that seemed to be troubling him. He looked distracted, almost torn between choices, his eyes occasionally wandering to the opposite side of the village where you had previously walked off to. Nevertheless, he eventually did give in to helping Murphy.

And then suddenly time all around you began to slow down. You were in a trance and it was no one but Bellamy’s fault.

He shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, exposing his tanned and veiny arms beneath. He placed his hands underneath the crate and lifted in time with Murphy and Shaw. Even from such a distance, you could see his muscles tense and flex under the weight, the size of his biceps nearly doubling and bursting through the seams of his shirt. His face carried a strained expression, something you had seen many times before but in very different circumstances.

Your skin flushed with heat, and your bottom lip curled between your teeth as you struggled to keep your breathing under control. Blood was buzzing in your ears; you felt fucking intoxicated. You were aware of how feral your behaviour had become but it was inevitable. In a game like this, it had to be.

Once the crate was outside, he and Murphy placed it on the ground. Bellamy ran a hand through his hair, his gaze already beginning to wander once again. As if he could feel your stare burning straight through him, his eyes found your distant ones up on the balcony. The feeling of a hole being burnt through him was understandable because your eyes were ablaze with sin. That had to have been the tenth time you’d made him hard now and it was becoming painful.

You weren’t embarrassed to be caught staring, instead, you were intrigued as to what his next movements would be. But he made none. He simply stared at you over his shoulder, eyes stern and calculating. Who was going to win wasn’t the question anymore. The question was: How could either of you prepare for what was coming? A century’s worth of abstinence was also a century’s worth of build-up, meaning the release would be messy, and Bellamy wasn’t one to hold back.

Finally, he broke the eye contact, but only for a few seconds. His eyes moved to the building beside him and then back to you as if he were trying to get you to follow his gaze. So, you did. What he had gestured to was another pair of chains and handcuffs connected to a wall. Instinctively, you gasped, feeling a pulse in your stomach which you knew was his exact objective. You looked back at him, seeing the self-satisfied grin plastered on his face before he turned back to the group.

That son of a bitch.

Your back slid down the concrete fence until your ass hit the cold marble floor. He was driving you to sex-crazed insanity and you didn’t know how to fight against it. You needed something. Anything to relieve the torment. But you knew if you started, your hands would never stop, not until they were replaced with his.

Maybe the cuffs weren’t such a bad idea.

“No!” you had to verbally reprimand yourself.

Your head fell in your hands. This was all getting too much for you. One-hundred-and-twenty-five years… and a day! You wouldn’t call yourself a nymphomaniac but holy fuck. It was getting to the point that even his name had you aching, tearing yourself to shreds. You couldn’t take it any longer.

Moving onto your hands and knees, you began crawling—yes, crawling—back inside. You managed to pull yourself up onto the mattress with trembling arms and fell back against the quilt and cushions in the middle of the bed. A shaky breath left your lips. If Bellamy couldn’t be there to take care of you, then you would finish the job yourself.

You slipped a hand beneath the thin fabric covering your heat, fingers racing to meet the spot you needed. Back arching into the bed and stomach tightening—that is what you expected to happen when your fingers began circling your clit, but it was nothing of the sort. All you felt was skin on skin and the slightest of sensations. Even when you pressed harder, and moved faster, there was nothing.

Letting out a quiet, distressed cry, you readjusted your position and switched hands. You began rubbing back and forth, side-to-side, every way that had gotten the job done in the past. You moved one hand under your shirt and began massaging your breast, pinching and grazing your nipple, trying to replicate all the moves Bellamy had pulled on you before.

Still, there was no relief from the ache you felt. You needed to go further. Your hand moved lower, fingers hovering over your slick opening before sliding one in. This was never your forte; it was Bellamy’s. Whenever you needed to pleasure yourself, you would stick with outside stimulation, so all you knew was what he had done to you. After sliding your finger in and out a few times, you added another, but it still didn’t feel right. There was something you were missing that he usually did.

He took over your thoughts and you tried to imagine it was his hands instead of your own, but you were just fooling yourself. They were your fingers, not his. You were alone and you were desperate. No one could make you feel as close to heaven as him, not even yourself. Somehow, he knew the workings of your body even better than you did. Without him there in your desperate time of need, it was useless…

So, you started crying—like, actual tears-running-down-cheeks-and-sniffling crying. You felt utterly pathetic and that was all you felt. There was nothing you could do to help yourself. Bellamy was outside with the others, and it wasn’t like you could just waltz out there without pants on and ask him to fuck you incoherent.

Your fingers slipped out from inside you, wet and splayed across your bare stomach as you stared up at the ceiling, condemned to the unshakable longing within. Too distracted by your inability to satisfy yourself and your attempts to stop the tears from flowing, you didn’t hear the door downstairs open and closd. You sniffled, continuing to feel sorry for yourself.

Footsteps were coming up the staircase, but you didn’t hear them either. Nor did you notice the familiar figure that was now leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, feeling that same terrible longing that had led him to you. Only when he cleared his throat did you shoot up into a sitting position. 

Bellamy.

“Bellamy,” you whispered, eyes wide and full of new-found hope.

He didn’t say anything, just simply observed you. First, he noticed the sparse clothing on the bottom half of your body; his pants became the tiniest bit tighter. Then he saw your eager expression—even tighter. And then, his eyes found the fingers lying in your lap, coated in a shine that had his entire body pulsing.

The drying tears on your cheeks were a dead giveaway of the desperation you had for him. He tilted his head, insincere pity washing across his features that you knew was only meant to taunt you. “What did you do?”

Your mouth opened to speak but you couldn’t find the words. “I–I–”

He pushed off the doorway and slowly walked over to you, each step measured in regard to prolonging the time it took for the distance between you and him to close.

You moved onto your knees as he got closer.

Once he finally stopped beside the mattress where you were sitting, he peered down at you. “Just couldn’t wait, could you?”

His arms were doing that thing again where they bulged beneath his shirt. He was right in front of you, all you had to do was reach out and touch. So, you did. You reached for his arm, but he was quick to intercept, catching your wrist in his hand. He looked like he was holding back a smirk, but his scheming eyes revealed how he felt. Smug.

For a moment, he moved his attention to your hand, turning it side-to-side to watch the light catch on the wetness. His eyes returned to yours and it was suddenly impossible to guess what he was thinking. He gently began to pull you forward, guiding you off the bed and you let him, oblivious as to where he was taking you.

When your feet hit the ground, he led you towards the wall. What you had failed to notice when you first entered the room was that there was another pair of chains connected to a handcuff. Scratch what you had thought before—these people had a bigger kink problem than vanity. Before you even had a chance to think, the leather cuff was bound around both your wrists.

You looked up at Bellamy. “Wait, wha–what are you doing?”

He sat back on the edge of the mattress. “Giving you another chance to win.”

The game. You had almost forgotten.

Winning and losing were a foreign concept to your mind now. All you wanted was Bellamy and he knew it which was why he found teasing you so entertaining. You tugged on the chains, trying to reach out to him even though you knew it was useless.

“Don’t think that will work, princess.”

You stared at him, exhaling sharply. Frustration was quickly building, and you wondered how long it would take until you were in tears again.

He looked around the room as though he hadn’t a worry in the world.

“It’s kinda hot in here, don’t you think?” he asked, brows furrowed.

Then he was pulling his shirt over his head and you were sinking to your knees. That was just cruel. His entire torso was exposed now, from his well-defined abs and chest to his broad and muscular shoulders. So cruel.

Your head fell back against the wall. “Bell–”

“What were you thinking about?” he interrupted, arms crossed over his chest again. There was no material preventing you from watching his muscles expand, from seeing the crafted curves of his toned arms. “Before I came in.”

I was pretending it was you who was touching me, you thought of saying, but your voice failed you.

He leaned forward, forearms resting on his spread knees. Staring at you expectantly, he was quick to realise he wasn’t getting an explanation. He nodded as if to say, ‘I see how it is’.

“Was it my fingers…?” He began cracking his knuckles one finger at a time, gaining all of your attention. “Or was I inside you?”

Your walls spasmed at the thought and you sighed softly.

“Were you imagining what it would feel like to have me between your legs after so long?” You closed your eyes, listening to him put the images in your mind. “How good I can make you feel? How fast?”

Goosebumps spread all over your body, your skin tingling with anticipation. You heard the bedsheets ruffling. He had moved off the mattress, now crouched in front of you, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about it too.” His voice was a low murmur now. “I can’t stop.”

He watched your eyes screw shut even tighter as he got closer. You looked like you were hurting, and he almost gave in, with heavy emphasis on the ‘almost’. Instead, he ghosted a finger across your collarbone. “I think about kissing you here.” He trailed up your neck. “Here.”

You could feel the air flexing between your lips and his finger, and you shivered. “And here.”

Your eyes slowly peeled open to see his face in front of yours. His dark eyes flickered between your own, peering deep into your soul which was entwined with him. He was already inside you without even touching you; he was inside your mind and under your skin. Your body was his and his body was yours. You loved him so intensely that whenever he fucked you, you forgot you were two different people instead of one.

To Hell with the challenge. To Hell with losing. He was your Heaven, and such torturous deterrents wouldn’t keep you away from the rapture he gave.

In a single move, you leaned forward and crashed your lips to his. Your body curved into him and he caught you with both arms, holding you upright against him. There was a split second before Bellamy responded as realised you finally gave in which meant he could too, and his lips began moving against yours. Just like the first kiss you shared on Eligius IV after waking up, this one was hungry, but that word sounded inadequate compared to what it really was. ‘Ravenous’ was more accurate.

You moaned into his mouth, your body feeling like it was coming alive.

His movements were intoxicating and so were the small sounds he made when he tried to fill his lungs with air. There was a rumbling in his chest, and he sounded almost primal. He brought a hand to the side of your head, fingers buried beneath your hair as he deepened the kiss, merging your lips with his.

Your bodies rocked backwards and forwards, your cuffed hands pressed against his chest meanwhile his were around your back and the other was in your hair. Bellamy’s hand moved to squeeze your waist and your mouth opened, giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue inside and meet your own.

He rolled his tongue over yours during one kiss, and the next, yours had asserted dominance. You swirled around him, tasting him, mixing with him. During the time you took to explore the inside of his mouth, the floor beneath you had disappeared and was replaced with his arms. Your back was against the wall and if he wanted to, he could have dropped you at his feet; you had no way of holding on except for your legs which were wrapped around his hips.

You returned the power to him for a few seconds only to then lightly bite down on his bottom lip. He let out a quiet groan and slowly drew back to press his forehead to yours. For a while, you both stayed like this, breathing in each other’s breaths with your eyes closed.

Everything around you began to spin, and your head felt euphoric as you used his air as your own. The sensation spread through your body, it coursed through your veins and you needed to move, to feel it come to life. Your hips bucked forward but he was quick to push back, pinning you against the wall with a small grunt. His erection pressed between your legs, but he didn’t move. Eyes snapping open, you sent him a pleading look. How much longer was he going to make you wait? You tried to move your cuffed hands between your bodies, but he held them to his chest with one hand.

You wiggled against him, but it was futile.

“Bell,” you almost sobbed. “Bellamy, please.”

He lifted a finger beneath your chin, watching your reddened lips whisper the word ‘please’. He watched your eyes water, tears threatening to spill over the edge. You begged him over and over, and he allowed you to. He let you humiliate yourself in the hopes that he would give you what you wanted. You had completely fallen apart, and now he was going to piece you back together.

“What do you want?” His thumb brushed across your lips.

“Just touch me,” you pleaded.

A few more moments passed of you both just staring at each other, and then it was like something finally snapped in his eyes. He set you down on your feet. At first, you thought he was going to sit back on the bed, and you nearly choked out an objection. That isn’t what happened.

Instead, he pressed another tender kiss to your lips, then to your jaw, your neck, and down your clothed chest. His hands moved down either side of your body as he sunk to his knees in front of you and trailed kisses across your exposed stomach.

Your breaths started coming out in shorter, shallower intervals as he moved further down.

His hands squeezed your hips as he kissed the skin below your navel, causing your eyes to nearly roll back then and there. Finally, he made it to just above the waistband of your underwear. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly now. So close. His hands moved onto your thighs and he leaned in, briefly pressing his warm lips to your thinly covered heat. A jolt of pleasure moved up your body and you gasped. You could feel it—him.

He glanced up at your impatient expression before pulling the underwear down your legs, lifting each foot until it was completely discarded. He eyed the soaking mess that you already were and licked his bottom lip. This was all because of him. His eyes found yours once more, this time wordlessly asking for access despite your obvious enthusiasm.

All you managed to get out was a frantic, “Please”.

And when his mouth finally found your clit, a tear fell from your eye.

Your bound hands fell on top of his head, tugging at the soft waves as his tongue delved between your folds and flicked across your clit. His warm hands moved to the backs of your thighs, burying his face even deeper, exploring you even further. He moved down to your opening, spreading his tongue flat against it and dragging up to collect the mess that you were already becoming. Once he had returned to your clit, his mouth suctioned, sucking with pressure that caused you to let out a cry.

It wasn’t long before you felt the ghost of your orgasm begin to slowly step into the white light. The muscles in your stomach were tensing and rubbing together, preparing for a release that they were guaranteed to have.

Your back arched off the wall as you felt Bellamy’s teeth softly graze against the most sensitive part of your clit. He circled the surrounding area, the nerves beneath your skin setting alight with pleasure under his tongue, burning you from the inside out. When he mumbled something against you, you could feel the vibrations of his voice bury itself deep inside you, and you couldn’t hold back the filthy moan that had been begging to escape.

He pulled back an inch, your hips unconsciously following him as he said, “You lose.”

His mouth returned to your heat, focusing his attention on your throbbing clit, switching between flicking it with his tongue and sucking it into his mouth.

“No,” you managed to breathe out. There was no way something like this could be called ‘losing’. You were the one who got to feel Bellamy’s mouth between your thighs, bringing you to an extreme state of ecstasy. You were the one who had him on his knees before you. “I win.”

He groaned at the sound of your voice and you felt the pleasure move up another level. Your legs buckled beneath you as you tried to grind on his tongue. He took that as a hint to haul one of your legs over his broad shoulder. Now you were another level higher. Your hips bucked against him, feeling almost like you were vibrating as he continued his movements.

Just when you thought the sensation couldn’t get any better, you felt his thick finger suddenly slide deep into your opening and curl. Another tear ran down your cheek and you gripped onto his hair as your head fell back against the wall. You couldn’t even moan; there was only a chorus of strangled noises leaving your throat. He pushed upwards into the soft fleshy wall inside you over and over at a fast and steady pace, and suddenly, you were on the edge of pure bliss, ready to dive into the consuming waters.

His mouth sucked on your clit, tongue circling its peak, meanwhile, he added another finger to pump inside of you.

“Fuck, Bellamy!” Your voice had risen an octave, all breathy and needy.

Like a heartbeat, you could feel yourself throbbing, pleasure building more intensely with each pulse. The muscles in your stomach were so tight it felt like they were being burned with a white-hot flame. Your insides were twisting and coiling and with every curl of his fingers, the feeling only intensified.

Bellamy glanced up at you from below, your eyes meeting in a short exchange.

It all happened so fast.

“I’m–” Before you could finish your sentence, you were shot back up into space, seeing stars.

Your legs tensed up, heel digging into his back as your body began to shake. The coil inside your stomach unravelled, exiting through your opening but not before aggressively rubbing at your insides on the way out. For a moment, you forgot where you were. All you knew was the release, the buzzing in your ears and the way your vision swayed through half-lidded eyes.

Bellamy’s name flowed past your lips like a mantra. He didn’t stop; he kept pumping, kept sucking, prolonging the sensation for as long as he could. Everything was pulsing—the air, his fingers, your pussy. Everything. You would’ve thought you had ascended to a higher dimension if it weren’t for the man beneath you.

You felt his mouth disconnect from your body, fingers still moving inside, although, his pace was beginning to slow and so was your orgasm. The feeling was fading away, leaving you with an overwhelming feeling of weakness in the lower half of your body. Bellamy could feel your legs shaking, so he slid his fingers out. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore and the next thing you knew, your legs buckled, and you were collapsing to the ground

Bellamy caught you in his arms, pulling you into his lap. He watched your thighs tremble as aftershocks washed over you, creamy liquid dripping down your skin. Your furrowed brows, half-closed eyes, and parted lips were a sight to see; he’d never witnessed anything more beautiful in his life.

You peered up at him through your lashes, cuffed hands resting on your stomach, and you smiled. Then you laughed, and then he was laughing too. His chest vibrated against your skin. Your hands reached up to push back a strand of his hair from his face and suddenly you were kissing again.

He placed a hand on your back and guided you until you were sitting sideways on his lap. Your taste was on his tongue and you loved it. You felt it seep into your own tastebuds as you rewound back to when you came on his fingers. You used his chest as support to help swing your legs on either side of his folded thighs so that you were now facing him.

His hands ran down your sides, stopping at the hem of your shirt before pulling it up over your head, exposing your naked breasts to the warm air. Bras were impractical when you were Bellamy Blake’s girlfriend; he’d always find some way of removing them anyway. Hell, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he had burned all the ones you used to wear.

He lowered his head to your chest, hair tickling your neck as he began making it his mission to cover your breasts in bruises that marked you as his. Despite feeling like your ability to walk was eradicated, you could feel yourself craving more of him, more of his sex. As previously disclaimed, sometimes fatigue didn’t stop you two from going multiple rounds and this time wasn’t an exception.

If only your hands weren’t bound. You wanted to touch him the way he did you. You wanted him to feel the world disappear and be replaced with a mind-numbing sense of sinful pleasure. You wanted to give that to him, but you couldn’t. Your hands were cuffed, and he had the key.

“Uncuff me, Blake,” you whispered.

His head lifted from your breasts, reluctant eyes meeting your own. “Why should I?”

You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness and turned your head away from him, but he was quick to pull you back with two fingers on the side of your jaw.

“You still lost, remember?” he added.

As if you didn’t already know that. “That was not my definition of losing.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes and even though you were supposed to be in a minor disagreement, you couldn’t help but think about how fucking sexy he looked. You leaned forward, lips ghosting over his. “Uncuff me, Blake.”

His jaw clenched and he leaned in, but you quickly pulled away. His eyes narrowed at you and the smirk you were biting back. He had played the ‘humiliation game’ with you and now it was time for payback. Bellamy may have been the one with the keys, but it was you who now had the control.

“C’mon, we both know you’ll give in before me,” he said, arrogantly.

Always count on Bellamy to be egotistical, even in bed. Well, ‘on the floor’ would be more accurate.

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

You hummed, placing your restrained hands on his chest and slowly grazing them down his torso. When you reached his stomach, you made sure to slow down and drag your nails across his skin.

He inhaled sharply when your nails scratched the area above his pants’ waistband. “Very conceited for a boy who can’t even handle being touched.”

His chuckle came out as a harsh exhale. “‘Boy’?”

“A man would take these chains off me.”

“You think taunting me will get me to break?”

Provoking words wasn’t what was going to break him; you knew that. It was underestimation that was going to be his fall. When it came down to it, men were very simple creatures. They chased after pleasure like it was the one thing that kept them alive, and you knew each and every weakness this man had. He thought just because he won the game, he also won the war. Well, guess again. You were going to knock him right off his high horse.

Your fingers dipped into his waistband. His hand quickly clamped over one of your wrists, pulling it away from his pants. Not that it mattered; you didn’t need your hands. He held your hands in the space between your bodies, his chest rising a little more irregularly than before.

You leaned forward, tantalisingly slow. This time he made sure not to move a muscle, allowing you to do exactly what you wanted. Your mouth hovered in front of his and you could feel his warm breath fan across your lips. Softly, almost as if the moment had become sugary and sweet, you pressed a kiss to his lips, a tender closed-mouth moan buzzing in your throat upon contact. He responded with the same energy.

And then the mood abruptly shifted as you glided your tongue across his bottom lip.

You could feel his cock twitch beneath you, and you knew you were headed in the right direction. Grinding down on his lap, you managed to slip your tongue into his mouth as he grunted. One weakness down; four to go. Your tongue swirled around his with each open-mouth kiss, and he had no choice—you both knew he was having the time of his life—but to reciprocate since he had already given up that area of defence.

Your hips continued to rock back and forth across his lap, occasionally applying a bit more pressure in the hopes he would be triggered to move. He wasn’t. Yet. So, you left his lips and moved down to his neck, sucking and nipping at the skin. His head tilted to the side with a sigh, allowing you easier access. This spot was not your main target, though. Your kisses trailed up to his jaw, running along the sides and the curve of his jawline before dipping just beneath the area where his jaw and neck connected. That was one of his weak spots.

His next exhale was shaky, paired with the quietest of groans. Two down. Then you moved on to the next target: just below his ear. Your tongue grazed the area before you left your mark by sucking on his soft skin. He was louder this time and your confidence soared higher. Three; two to go.

He had let go of your wrists now, resting his hands on the curves of your hips with his eyes closed. So much for the whole my-willpower-is-stronger-than-yours dispute. You watched his face as you dragged yourself back and forth over his erection. His eyes screwed shut, brows pulling together, and his fingers pressing hard into the soft plush of your hips.

Come on. Come on, you thought.

“Let go, Bell,” you purred into his ear. Your entire body weight shifted onto his lap and you almost revealed the same weakness you were trying to pull from him. He was so incredibly hard now that it probably wasn’t even healthy. He would have to unchain you soon. And just to pour gasoline on an already roaring fire, you added, “I want to feel you inside me.”

That was it. He couldn’t deny himself the heaven you were giving anymore. His hips bucked up into you, creating a pseudo-sensation of sliding between your folds—an action that erupted a full-fledged moan from his lips, causing your inner walls to flutter and your stomach to drop.

Weak point four—check.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath before suddenly snatching the knife from the holster on his belt and splitting the leather cuffs around your wrists.

And five. Check yes Juliet.

Wow. he couldn’t even manage to grab the keys.

Your hands were free at last, and you wasted no time in using them. They rushed down to unbuckle his belt and tossed it on the floor with a clink. Before you could continue any further, Bellamy rolled you over so that you were now lying caged beneath him. His lips came down on yours in a flurry of passion.

Now that you had full-body autonomy, you couldn’t help but explore every inch of him that you were once denied of touching. Your fingertips ran over his back, over the ridges of his shoulder blades, and around his large biceps. You wove your fingers into the roots of his hair and tugged just because you could.

He reached under the curve on your back, pulling your body up into his, your pelvis’ meeting in a rough collision. He was a mess of grunts and groans and you were quickly inhaling more air than you needed.

You moved a hand to his cheek to deepen the kiss as your touch explored his body further, slipping between your bodies and settling on unbuttoning his pants. Unzipping his flier with one-handed skill, your warm, soft hand slipped into his boxers, finally coming into contact with his hard cock.

His head fell to your chest with a broken moan.

Your fingers curled around him, beginning to stroke up and down his length. Bellamy had taken many of your firsts, including your first time so you had no one to compare him to. However, you were well aware that he was bigger than average. Even if he hadn’t been, you were certain he would satisfy you the same; he was just that good.

He managed to lift his head back up and return to your lips as your arm pumped up and down. His hips lurched forward as your grip increased. All he could think about was how good you were going to feel when it was your heat that was engulfing him, how wet and warm you always were.

Your hand reached the head of his cock, thumb rubbing circles over his tip as you felt drops of precum coat your fingertip. He was usually able to last a long time, just like you, but this was different. Everything inside him was built up for a century, and it would not take much until he was coming in your hand. You wanted him to reach that point as soon as possible.

You left pecks trailing from his mouth, across his cheek, and to the side of his jaw. The bone of his jaw fell victim to your grazing tongue as your pace increased along with the pressure of your grip. He was breathing heavily now, every second breath mixed with a low, breathy moan or grunt. You were throbbing just listening to the sounds he made.

A few curses left his mouth, revealing how close he was—that and the way his cock was practically pulsating in your hand. You twisted your hand with each stroke, effortlessly gliding your palm down his large veiny length. Your thumb grazed over the sensitive band of skin beneath the head of his cock, and his entire body flinched.

He was almost over the edge; all you had to do was give him a little push. Wanting to see his face one last time before you did, you leaned back, cradling his jaw in one hand whilst the other continued below. His eyes were shut, inner brows pulled upwards in a painfully blissful expression and strands of dishevelled dark hair had fallen across his forehead. God, he was gorgeous. What you wouldn’t give to…

No. You had your pleasure; now it was his turn. With each jerk and twist of your hand, your fingers ran over his tip then moved back down to lightly squeeze and repeat. You pressed one last peck to his lips before travelling to that spot below his ear, running your tongue over the skin and then sucked.

His cock twitched in your hand, stomach tensing against your forearm before he finally let go. He let out a loud guttural moan of your name, almost a cry, as he released onto both your hand and the inside of his pants. His head fell forward into the space between your neck and shoulder, groaning into your heated skin which sent vibrations down to your breast.

He remained in that spot for a few moments as you continued to slowly pump him up and down whilst pressing kisses to his shoulder. As he attempted to get his breath back, you removed your hand from his pants and moved both onto his back, lightly dragging your nails over his skin.

Now you were both even, but it was clear this was far from over.

Warm pants fanned across your face after he recovered enough to hover over your body. You were about to tease him for coming quicker than you did, but his tongue was suddenly in your mouth, rolling around your own. And then you felt it—he was already hard again.

That’s a lot of stamina for a hundred-and-fifty-one-year-old man.

He left your lips again and rose to his knees. His carnally intense eyes never left yours as he pulled both his pants and boxers down to his lower thighs. You watched as his cock sprang from his boxers and bounced off his toned stomach. Still looking good for a hundred-and-fifty-one-year-old man too. Extremely good. Like, actually drool-worthy good.

And it seemed he was thinking the very same thing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he spoke, almost like he couldn’t believe the fact himself before he descended back down to you, mouth hot on yours.

His hands were on the floor on either side of your shoulders, essentially trapping you beneath him. You loved how small he made you feel compared to him; almost like he could hold you in the palm of his hand like a little china doll. The treatment he gave you was also like that of a china doll—such a delicate and treasured touch. Though, there were times when he would practically throw you around like a rag doll, mostly when you were both deep in an intense fuck session.

The length of his cock glided over your stomach as he moved his body into each kiss. It was so close to where you needed it, yet still so far. Your legs curled around his hips in an attempt to guide him to your entrance, but he showed slight resistance. His tip was just pushing through your folds, sliding across with each movement he made. It was torture.

You pulled back from his lips, hands almost clawing at the sides of his chest. “Please, Bell, just–”

A gasp escaped you both as Bellamy finally pushed inside you in one fluid movement, his hips almost meeting yours as he filled you as much as your previously abstinent body allowed. Your walls welcomed him and the long-awaited feeling of his cock brushing against that back-arching spot deep within you. He hadn’t even moved yet, but your eyes were fluttering, and your throat was already tightening as you struggled to let out a moan.

Neither of you could do anything but struggle to keep your composure, waiting for the overwhelming heat of pleasure to subdue just the tiniest bit so your bodies could start moving without the world crashing down around you. After moments of stillness passed, Bellamy finally began to move, his pace slow but so, so deep. His gaze was intense as he found his rhythm, sliding almost completely out and then pushing himself back inside you. Fuck, the way your warmth consumed him was hypnotic.

It was kind of like the first time you had slept together those many years ago, minus the nearly unbearable pain when he first entered you, of course. It was intense yet still so full of adoration.

Your body soon grew accustomed to the feeling of his cock stretching you open, making room for him to bury even deeper, to feel your walls completely swallow him whole. That is when his pace started to increase. Your arms hooked around his biceps, bringing him closer as he continued his thrusts.

Not long passed before his hips were snapping against yours; he wasn’t just sliding in and out of you anymore—he was fucking you, pounding into you. Each time he buried himself deep, the area above his cock ground against your clit, stimulating you from the inside and out, so much that it was impossible to hold back a moan.

He moved a strand of hair away from your face, nodding his head as if to praise your vocalisation. The sight of him praising you for simply enjoying yourself as he fucked you was something that turned you on beyond belief. Not that you needed any more turning on at that point, but still, the reaction stood firm.

You wanted him deeper, in any way that was still physically possible.

And then, a sudden, lust-bound thought entered your mind and before you could even ponder it, you had used all your strength to roll yourself on top of his body. Now, his hands were on your hips, head thrown back on the floor and mouth hung open as you rode his cock.

“Oh, fuck!” Bellamy groaned.

Your hands were on his thighs as to hold up your half-reclined position and you were bouncing up and down, rolling your hips so you could feel him everywhere inside you.

A shudder ran down your body, peaking the nipples of your bouncing breasts. You swore you could almost feel him in your stomach. You shifted your body weight into your arms and pushed yourself upwards, sliding his cock nearly all the way out, circling your entrance around his tip before sinking back down to his base.

The both of you let out a synced noise of satisfaction.

His eyes followed each roll of your breasts in a trance, and then he cupped one in his hand, circling his thumb around your sensitive nipple. You gave Bellamy a smile, one that was so sweet and unintentionally seductive. He let out a half chuckle, half groan.

Your legs began to burn, a reminder of the experience you had with Bellamy’s tongue just before this. The way your clit was slapping against his pelvis each time you dropped mimicked the way his tongue had previously flicked and rolled around it. Your pace was beginning to slow, and your rhythm faltered, but you didn’t want the sensation to stop. Instead, you let yourself sink fully down on his cock, and your eyes rolled back. Ok, now he had to be in your stomach because there was no other explanation for the deepness you felt.

He was permanently in that spot that had blood rushing to your head, and with your hips rocking back and forth the way they were, your gut was throbbing with a build-up of ecstasy.

“I–” you panted. “I can’t hold myself up much longer.”

You squeezed his thighs, surely leaving behind red marks as you tried to push yourself up and down a few more times, pleasure and pain fuelling each of your repetitions. It was no use; your arms were trembling, and muscles were burning.

Bellamy was quick to your aid. “I’ve got you, princess, don’t worry.”

His hands moved to your back, pulling you forward, and colliding your breasts into his chest. Next thing you knew, he was pounding hard up into your pussy, his movements so fast you couldn’t even count the number of thrusts he made every five seconds, but it felt so good. So good that you almost screamed.

Your clit was throbbing, inner walls clenching around his unrelenting cock. You were hot, your body slick with sweat, but it wasn’t just that; there was also a fire pooling at the bottom of your abdomen, spreading through your muscles, through every fibre of your being and you didn’t want it to stop.

Bellamy’s arms were wrapped around your waist, rendering you immobile to each of his insatiable thrusts but it made you feel all the more incredible. He was hitting that soft, fleshy spot inside you over and over again, and you felt like you were going to burst. Your stomach was fluttering, his cock was pulsing inside you, and you were a mess of whines and moans.

“You feel–” he couldn’t even speak without releasing a rough moan. His arms tightened around you, mouth moving against your shoulder to say, “Feel so good.”

You couldn’t help but cry out at his words; he sounded so drunk on pleasure.

He began pressing rough kisses to your neck and the noises leaving your throat were utterly impure. His knees bent inwards, allowing him to thrust even faster into you. You were both overcome with desire, hellbent on chasing your release that was taunting you from the shadows. Bellamy seemed almost animalistic, sucking and biting at the skin of your neck whilst pounding into you from below.

Like always, he had made it so that you didn’t have to lift a finger, and he liked it that way. He was making you feel like you had slipped into heaven, and only he could do that. One of his many sources of joy was that your body only knew his cock, and it would forever only know his because that was how long he planned to love you.

You placed a hand on the floor beside his head, hovering your face above his. His eyes were quick to find yours as you gazed down at him.

In between each of his thrusts, you breathed out, “I–love–you.”

He looked so flustered, so puffed out. He was unable to repeat the words back without them sounding like a laboured breath of air so instead, he jerked forward and latched his mouth on the bone of your jaw, turning your skin red and purple.

Your head turned to the side to give him easier access only to unexpectedly come face-to-face with yourself being absolutely destroyed in the mirror’s reflection.

Well… It sure wasn’t a vanity problem these people had, you knew that now.

“Bellamy, look,” you gasped.

His entire body stilled at the sound of your voice and he eyed you with a worried expression. “Did I do something?”

“No,” you tilted his head with your hand so that he was looking at the mirror too. “I just…”

He didn’t need to hear more; Bellamy knew exactly what you wanted—to watch. Watch as his cock plunged in and out of your pussy, watch it curve into your entrance, watch your body bounce on top of his with each thrust. Damn, he’d wished either of you had noticed the mirror before so he could have watched you ride him from two point-of-views.

His gaze returned to you. “Hop off.” You were about to protest, but he beat you to it by clamping a large hand over your mouth. “Trust me.”

You gave him a puzzled, hesitant look but eventually submitted to his command, sliding off him and onto the hard marble floor. His body had left yours entirely, leaving you feeling cold and empty, inside and out.

It wasn’t long before he positioned himself to face the mirror, kneeling in front of it. He curled an arm around your waist and slid you across the floor towards him. Like a rag doll. He pulled you backwards onto his lap so that your back was almost against his chest and your thighs were spread open on either side of his.

“Lean back,” he said, and you did.

Your back was flush against him, and you could feel his racing heart reverberating in your ribcage. His arms wrapped around the space beneath your breasts and he pulled you upwards, supporting your weight, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself up.

“Ready?” he whispered into your ear as you watched him in the reflection.

You nodded, reaching around to rest a hand on the side of his neck.

He kissed your cheek and your eyes closed at the sweet act of affection. One of his hands moved beneath you as he guided himself to your entrance, his tip pushing against your wet folds. Bellamy watched over your shoulder, his eyes focusing on the way his cock teased opening.

He finally slid inside, and you instantly fell further against him. Muscles were very handy in this kind of situation. You were captivated—his length disappeared into your body and then returned almost to the tip, covered in a thin layer of both your juices. His movements continued over and over, but you never found yourself bored or wanting to look away. Neither did he.

Your lips parted with a moan when he abruptly took one hard thrust up into you. You looked up at your reflection, seeing the expression on your face, seeing your dishevelled hair… your bouncing breasts. Not that you would say it aloud, but you looked sexy. For a split second, you found yourself finally understanding the attraction Bellamy had to you, and then your mind was torn apart once again.

His speed increased and he was hitting your insides harder and harder with each passing second. You saw your thighs slightly jiggling and weren’t insecure or afraid of Bellamy noticing, but instead found yourself feeling even more turned on.

The room was full of sex—the sounds were wet and harsh, the smell of your pheromones clung to the wall, and the visuals were etched into the mirror in front of your bodies. It was beautiful.

You moved your gaze up to Bellamy’s eyes, seeing him just as captivated as you were, alternating between watching himself slip in and out of your pussy and watching your breasts recoil from each bounce. He then met your gaze, talking to you through unspoken communication. Though you were unsure of the specifics, you were certain he was telling you how much he loved you, how beautiful you looked with his cock inside you, how no one else could ever compare.

His tip repeatedly curved into your G-spot, the rest of his length rubbing against your walls, causing the flames in your stomach to start rising. Bellamy could see the fire in your eyes, and he was ready to turn it into a blazing inferno. He shifted his hold on you into one arm, reaching around your body with the other. His fingers found your clit, instantly applying pressure as he rubbed fast circles around it. That was the gasoline.

Your orgasm was no longer creeping up inside you, but rather rocketing to the surface. You were pulsing around Bellamy’s cock, driving him even closer to his own high. His hips were slapping the skin of your ass as they kept snapping upwards. His abs were more defined as the muscles in his stomach tensed up, trying to keep you upright whilst fucking into you and controlling the orgasm that was threatening to release. You always came before him. Always.

His fingers pressed harder into you, moving side-to-side. Your G-spot was being hit without mercy, only intensifying the pleasure you felt as he rubbed your clit. You alternated between holding your breath and letting out shallow, laboured breaths, signalling how close you were.

You could feel it, Bellamy could feel it—you were pretty sure everyone outside could feel it too, feel the powerful energy leaking from the house you were in. That is what it felt like. Powerful. And now it was about to take over your entire body.

“Bell, I’m gonna–”

“I know,” he panted. “Me too.”

Your hand fell over his, pushing down on it, applying more force even though you weren’t sure he could even press any harder. His hand was almost blurring in the mirror, and his cock was pounding. He was breathing so heavily against your back and into your ear that it sounded like he couldn’t even control the grunts and moans leaving his mouth anymore.

He circled your clit a few more times before your hand moved further down to the place you both connected. Your fingers found the area between his cock and your pussy, feeling him slide over your fingertips as he moved in and out. That was what sent you over the edge.

The blaze in your stomach exploded, sending sparks throughout your body. Your moans were uncontrollable, rebounding off every corner of the room. Your ears were buzzing with overwhelming silence, your vision partially blacked out and you felt so, so good. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, but you hardly noticed, unable to think about anything except Bellamy’s cock. You had ascended to a higher dimension and he was right there with you, endlessly pounding up into you, prolonging your mind-numbing high.

Feeling your walls clenching around him was all it took for Bellamy to fill you up with his come. His cock twitched, and the warm liquid came rushing out in spurts, coating your insides with white—with him. The thick warmth of your mixed juices leaked from your opening and dripped down his length. Your inner thighs were drenched.

His thrusts were sloppy and rough, desperate to keep the feeling coursing through his body as long as possible. The sounds he made were so guttural and raw that you weren’t sure if they made you come again or if they just prolonged the orgasm you were already having.

Somehow, in the midst of both your highs, you had ended up on the floor, partially laying on each other whilst frantically gulping down air.

You couldn’t move. One of your legs was tangled between his, and one arm was thrown across his chest. Your breasts were pressed against the hard ground, head turned to the side facing Bellamy. Everything was shaking, or maybe it was just your entire body uncontrollably quivering. Even your pussy was still clenching, causing you to flinch with each fraction of a movement it made.

Bellamy had a forearm over his eyes, panting heavily; his other arm was still wrapped around your waist.

The both of you just lay there for a few minutes, not talking, not moving, just recovering. Eventually, Bellamy gained back enough strength to speak.

“We didn’t even make it to the bed,” he chuckled.

You then realised you were both literally lying naked on a stranger’s bedroom floor and laughed. “We would’ve ruined the sheets anyway.”

“Probably,” he sighed, contently. He pulled you further onto his chest, bringing your face to nuzzle into his neck. He pressed a kiss into your hair. “I love you too, princess.”

You smiled into his skin, remembering the declaration you previously made. Tilting your head up and resting your chin on his chest, you stared up at him, eyes full of reverence. He peered down at you with a grin, and then his lips were on yours again, soft and slow; so tender that you–

“Oh, come on!”

You both pulled apart at the sudden new voice. In the doorway stood a very irritated Murphy. He seemed too shocked—more like too horrified—to even look away.

Bellamy ripped a blanket from the edge of the mattress and pulled it over your body. “Murphy, I swear to god I’m gonna kill you! Get out!”

“Oh my god!” he shouted in response. “I can’t catch a fucking break around here!”

His voice echoed down the staircase as he fled the building. Someone probably needed to find him a shrink after the number of times he had walked in on you both. He had made it back outside, returning to the rest of the group, though not far enough away for you to miss his very loud complaints.

“Where are the damn carnivorous bugs when you need them?!”

“What’s wrong?” you heard someone ask him.

“What’s wrong? They’re fucking animals, that’s what’s wrong!”

You turned back to face Bellamy, grinning in a daze. “I’ll say.”

Bellamy smirked, humming in agreement as he rolled back on top of you.

It was hard to say how many more rounds you went. The only time you stopped was when your bodies were screaming for a break, and during that time, all you could think was thank god for contraceptive implants.

[pinchofhoney]

broken promises, part three

« part one | part two | part three (the last one)

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

warning: angst, we used to be close but people can go from people you know to people you don't, mention of helping in the rebellion

summary: In Snow's world, only one thing mattered more than his family's reputation—you. But that was before he met Lucy Gray.

a/n: so,, this is the end of this little story of a heartbreak. thank you for sticking with it<33 for more coriolanus content, feel free to drop by my inbox where you can leave your ideas for the next oneshots!!

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @metalarmsandmanbuns @mavkaorlova @strangegril002 @thathoefromcollage

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

You'd be lying if you pretended not to be invested in the 10th Hunger Games. With Academy students participating this year, you had no choice but to follow the competition's every twist and turn, but even if it had been different, you'd have still tuned in from your home's television screen.

Despite the heated exchanges and angry words directed at Coriolanus, your best wishes were always with him. You genuinely hoped for nothing but the best for him, believing he'd achieve the deserved success he'd strived for and reach his craved scholarship, a gateway to boundless opportunities. In your heart, you rooted for Lucy Gray Baird's victory, as that seemed to be the only path leading to Coriolanus's dreams coming true.

Seeing Coriolanus each day in his perfectly fitted Academy uniform, hiding behind a facade of indifference that he never pull off around anyone outside his inner circle, playing the part of the model student, brought you pain. He gave off the impression that your past relationship had left no mark on him, leaving you in the dark about his true emotions and what was going on within his mind for the first time.

You were aware that everyone in your class had picked up on the shift between you and Coriolanus, though they tactfully avoided discussing it openly. You appreciated their silent understanding; no one was prying, and it allowed you to avoid discussing the painful change that had taken place. You didn't owe anyone an explanation, but it was easier to bear the weight of the situation when it remained unspoken. It stung to know that some girl from the District now held a more important place in your boyfriend's heart than you, someone he had known since childhood and shared the darkest moments of his life with.

The breakup with Coriolanus hit you like someone’s death. When you returned to the family penthouse, tears flowed endlessly from your eyes, and you couldn't seem to stop them. The persistent crying left you dehydrated, lying on your bed, cocooned in a blanket, your eyes red and swollen, and a pounding headache. The idea of consuming even a morsel of food felt impossible, and every inch of your room was a constant reminder of the moments you had shared with Coriolanus.

At times, you really wanted to approach him, to take the blame, to apologize for reacting hastily and to tell him that you should have let him handle things. But he treated you as if you were transparent. He had to feel your gaze on him, yet he chose to act as if you didn't exist, focusing all his attention on the Arena's broadcast screens, eagerly awaiting Lucy Gray's appearance.

As soon as the victory of the tribute from the Twelfth District became evident, you leaped to your feet, a genuine smile lighting up your face. Joining in the cheers and applause of your friends, you felt an urge to rush towards Coriolanus, but the memory of his distant gaze held you back. You knew you were no longer part of his happiness, no longer someone he wanted to share joy with.

With a lump in your throat, you discreetly cleared it, glancing around at other students. They seemed too absorbed in their own celebrations to notice your abrupt outburst. And so, you continued clapping, though the enthusiasm had waned, and the smile on your lips had dimmed.

You watched as Festus and a few other students hoisted Coriolanus onto a chair and paraded him around the podium and when they eventually placed him back on the ground, he turned his gaze toward you for the first time since your break up.

It was a brief look, lacking the joy in his eyes from seconds ago, but tinged with sense of satisfaction. It was a satisfaction born from the unexpected outcome, a result opposite to your wish for him to lose.

Afterward, all the students were directed into the dining hall to celebrate Coriolanus's victory with cake and posca.

And no longer after, the boy simply disappeared, slipping away from the festivities.

As the final echoes of the Games' noisy cheers faded away, an unsettling silence descended upon the Capitol, and your mind was left in a whirlwind of questions and concern. The explanation provided by the Academy for Coriolanus's sudden departure to one of the districts, where he was enlisting for as a Peacekeeper, seemed like an ill-fitting puzzle piece in his life.

You knew Coriolanus better than most, his ambitions, his dreams, his unrelenting pursuit of victory. This decision, so out of character, scratched at the corners of your consciousness like an itch you couldn't quite reach. The nagging sense that something was amiss and missing from the narrative was an ever-present companion, casting a shadow over your thoughts.

But the mystery didn't end with his sudden departure. The day following the Games' conclusion, it was as if someone had meticulously wiped away any trace of the event's existence. Records, footage, and even the very name Lucy Gray Baird were methodically excised from history's pages. The thoroughness of this situation left you in a state of bewildered disbelief. The memories and echoes of the Games, once so vivid, now seemed to have been cast into a gap of forgotten time.

Your mind was a whirlwind of questions, each one clamoring for answers, but you knew that the truth was hidden beyond your reach. In all of these Capitol secrets, you had no choice but to accept the narrative spun by Doctor Gaul and Dean Highbottom, even if it left you feeling like a mere puppet, dancing to their tune.

You just clung to the belief that Coriolanus was out there, safe, and somehow untouched by the Capitol's ominous machinations. You didn't know the real reason for his leaving, but thoughts of his comfort were your only solace.

You longed to see him again, not only because of the warmth of his presence, but also because of the secrets he could hold. Yet, deep down, you knew that even if he were to find his way back to the heart of Panem, you would likely be the last person on his list to seek out.

On a day that was just like any other, as the Capitol went about its business, you found yourself outside your penthouse. It was just another moment in your everyday routine, all you wanted was to go for a walk, enjoying the last few days before university starts, unaware of things that were about to happen.

You were lost in thought, just looking around the familiar place when suddenly, someone stepped into view and your heart stopped for what seemed like a split second. It was Coriolanus, no doubt about it, but he had changed more than you could have imagined. He used to have those distinctive curls, but now, his hair was much shorter. His whole presence felt more reserved. Even the way he carried himself seemed different from what you were used to. Something about his aura had shifted, and it was not the same energy you once knew, not even the one he usually projected to others. It was a subtle change, but it was there.

Upon realizing that he was heading towards your shared building, a mix of emotions surged within you. Surprise and happiness due to the sight of the person you had missed so intensely warred with the memories of his abrupt departure, and the months of estrangement.

As he drew closer, you couldn't help but hope for a friendly reunion. You wanted to forget the past and bridge the distance that had grown between the two of you, but the Coriolanus who now stood before you was colder, more distant than ever before.

His eyes, which once held warmth and familiarity when they met yours, now seemed to pass right through you, leaving you with an unsettling sense that the Coriolanus you once knew had changed into a stranger.

“Coryo?” you cautiously greeted him as he drew closer, employing the affectionate diminutive form of his name. “I didn't expect to meet you here.”

Your friendly approach fell upon a wall of silence, an awkward pause hanging heavily between you. The air seemed thick with unresolved tension, and you questioned whether you should have simply pretended not to notice him.

“Dean Highbottom mentioned that you departed for Twelve to join the Peacekeepers,” you continued, attempting to engage him in conversation. Your gaze remained intent on his, even as his bored expression showed little sign of interest. This was undoubtedly one of the most awkward moments of your life, and the hope of a warm reunion was fading with each passing second.

You couldn't help but inquire further, “Was it because of Lucy Gray?”

Upon the mention of the tribute girl's name, a subtle shift occurred in Coriolanus's demeanor. He raised his head slightly, his gaze narrowing and his jaw clenching. The unexpected reaction baffled you, and a crease of confusion formed between your brows as you tried to comprehend his change in demeanor.

“Lucy Gray is gone,” he stated, his words dripping with coldness and arrogance, once again underscoring the transformation in his character. The warmth and compassion that had once defined your interactions now felt like distant memories, leaving you in the stark shadow of your shared past.

“Gone?” you repeated. His statement was quite confusing, and you struggled to grasp its meaning.

Without offering any clarification, he continued his stride towards the building's entrance, as if your presence had become irrelevant to him. Desperate for answers that had slipped away form you for far too long, you reached out and gently grasped the sleeve of his shirt to stop him.

“Coryo, wait,” you begged, looking into his eyes for a flicker of the person you used to know. The frigid stare he returned sent a chill through your spine, but your curiosity pushed you forward. “What happened? After... well, after you disappeared.”

His gaze dipped to where your fingers held on to his shirt, and the tension between you grew palpable. When you finally let go, his eyes met yours once more, and he spoke in a voice that held a hint of gentleness. “Do you really want to know what happened?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. He maintained his distance, standing tall and appearing to gaze down at you.

You didn't particularly like this version of Coriolanus, but at the same time you couldn't back down now; you had yearned for this moment for months.

In response to his question, you offered a simple nod, a silent invitation for him to share. The silence hung between you, heavy and full of unspoken emotions. Coriolanus glanced around, checking for any unwelcome listeners nearby, before answering.

“I've been through a living hell,” he responded curtly, leaving a trail of unresolved questions lingering in the air, but before you could voice these unspoken thoughts, he continued.

“I was forced to follow relentless orders each day, enduring the scorching sun that left burns on my skin, and the agony of taking three lives,” he recounted, as if each experience weighed equally on his conscience. “And those damn songbirds... they're a nightmare. They can drive you to the brink of insanity.”

You sought answers in his eyes, searching for any glimmer of the person you had known, but what you found was far from the warmth and compassion you remembered. It was as if something within him had been replaced by a hint of disdain.

“She betrayed me,” he continued, his voice carrying the weight of bitter disappointment, before you had time to sort out the chaos in your head. “Just when I thought I could escape it all and start a new life without constantly looking over my shoulder, she chose to abandon me.”

“What do you mean, Coryo?” you questioned, your forehead creased with worry as you gazed into his eyes.

“I killed Sejanus Plinth,” he confessed. Your lips parted in shock, and without realizing it, you instinctively moved a step away, creating a physical gap between you and someone who had once been an open book. Now, it felt as though you knew nothing about him.

You had heard rumors of Sejanus Plinth's death, but the details were murky. The nature of Coriolanus and Sejanus's relationship had always been a subject of speculation, leaving people to wonder whether they were genuine friends or just collagues. Coriolanus had occasionally expressed his frustration with Sejanus to you, but you had never imagined he would go as far as to take such a drastic step.

Coriolanus seemed oblivious to your reaction, his words continuing in a torrent of frustration. “But he deserved it. He could have listened to me and followed the rules for once. Instead, he chose to be a rebel, wanting to play the savior of the districts. That's how rebels end up,” his words were like shards of ice, driven by a wrath you had never seen in him before.

“I killed people who threatened her. I killed those who could be dangerous to Lucy Gray,” Coriolanus murmured. You gazed into his empty eyes as he continued and a sense of dread creeped over you. “And in return, she betrayed me, willing to see me suffer the same fate as Sejanus,” he said with a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't risk being caught when I was mere hours away from leaving this wretched district.”

Your world seemed to crumble under the weight of his shocking confession. The inhumanity of his actions left you speechless, but Coriolanus appeared unaffected by your stunned silence.

He took a step closer, diminishing the gap between you, and you fought the urge to move back or look away from his piercing eyes.

“I'll make them all pay for it,” he declared with a small, unsettling smirk tugging at his lips. There was something in that expression that scared you, and now you were sure the boy standing in front of you was not the Coriolanus you had grown up with. “Every last one of them,” he added, presumably referring to the district residents with disdain.

With those words hanging in the air, he turned and disappeared behind the door of the apartment building, leaving you in a state of confusion and fear.

Many times, as you lay in bed at night, you often found yourself imagining the chance to see Coriolanus again. You wished that somehow, things could go back to the way they used to be, and that the warmth you once shared might return. But, the version of the man you just had a chance to look in the eyes filled you with nothing but fear now.

He seemed colder than his very name.

64 YEARS LATER

The underground room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a single overhead bulb casting elongated shadows on the faces gathered around the table. Maps, documents, and a tactical board cluttered the space, a visual representation of the Rebellion's intricate plans. The tension in the room was palpable, and when you walked in with a woman who bore a striking resemblance to a tiger in her appearance, the rebels shared uncertain, questioning looks.

Katniss, her unmistakable braided hair and fierce gaze, was the first to break the silence. Her voice cut through the tension like a blade, “Why are you doing this?”

Her eyes bore into yours with a mix of curiosity and concern, and you felt a dozen pairs of eyes in the room fixate on you. “Risking your life to help us take down Snow?”

You inhaled a quivering breath when the memories and thoughts weighing heavily upon your chest. In your mind, a series of images flashed – a time when Snow had been had been a very different person. You paused for a moment, your thoughts returning to the Coriolanus you had once been so familiar with. The recollection painted a vivid picture of Coryo as you remembered him: his charming smile, which he had once reserved solely for you, and his distinctive, curly hair.

“I'm doing this,” you began, your voice tinged with pain and longing, “because I used to know him very well.” You deliberately used the diminutive form of his name that had once been so familiar to you, “Coryo. We were close, once.”

The room fell silent, and a myriad of emotions passed over the faces of those assembled. Your words seemed to have caught them off guard, and you could sense their curiosity and concern.

“We were in a relationship, but he's not the person I once loved anymore. This Snow, the one we're fighting against now, is a monster. He's not the Coryo I knew. He deserves the worst.”

Peeta, who sat beside Katniss, let out a sigh, and his eyes held a profound understanding. His gaze, a clear blue in the dim light, softened as he looked at you.

“Sometimes people change,” Peeta said, his voice gentle. “I've seen it happen before.”

Katniss's expression hardened with resolve, her determination unwavering. “He's going to regret everything he has done in his life,” she said.

As Katniss's words hung in the air, you felt a wave of knotty emotions churning within you. Your gaze drifted downward to the shelter's dirt floor, where the tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to overflow. For years, you had yearned for justice to be served to Coriolanus, for him to face the consequences of his oppressive rule over Panem. It had been a sincere desire, one that had simmered in your heart, yet now, with the Rebellion's cause so close to success, you found yourself grappling with a bewildering conflict.

Coriolanus had long disregarded you, deeming you unworthy of his attention and companionship. He had tear your connection, but it didn't mean that you had forgotten the feelings you had once for him.

It was his treatment of those who still loved him, the suffering of his cousin Tigris, who had been a close friend of yours, that weighed on your heart. She had selflessly helped Coriolanus throughout the war, supported him during his first mentorship and long after, but his attitude toward her changed with each passing year, and you couldn't understand why.

Over the years, Coriolanus had allowed the Hunger Games to evolve into something even more grotesque and brutal, making even bigger spectacle out of the tributes' deaths. It had been a source of disgust, a reflection of his growing cruelty. You were repulsed by the Capitol, sickened by Snow's insatiable thirst for power and the desire to see him removed from his seat of authority had been a driving force.

Yet, something within you was blocking your resolve, sowing seeds of doubt and uncertainty. The conflict within your heart was a huge storm, with one part pulling you toward the rebellion and the other tethered to a past that still held the remains of the Coriolanus you had once known, loved, and miss.

But that boy from your youth was a distant memory, swallowed by the Coriolanus who had emerged over the years, especially during his time in the Twelfth District shortly after his victory in the Games.

You raised your eyes to meet Katniss's, and in that moment, your mind drifted to Lucy Gray Baird, an ironic twist of fate that wasn't lost on you.

As Katniss observed your internal struggle, her sharp instincts sensed that there was more to your hesitancy than met the eye. She furrowed her brows, her gaze unwavering, and asked, “Is there something else you would like to share?”

Peeta, who had been observing you quietly, echoed her concern with a compassionate look in his eyes. His gentle tone conveyed understanding as he said, “You can talk to us, you know. We've all had our reasons for joining this fight.”

Your throat felt constricted, and you struggled to find your voice amidst the chaos of emotions. With a hurried swallow and a deep breath to steady yourself, you cleared your throat and shook your head. You offered a smile, though it felt forced and inadequate for the gravity of the moment, as you moved closer to the table filled with scattered papers.

“So what’s the plan?” you asked, attempting to shift the focus away from you. Your eyes darted around the faces of those gathered around the tabletop, eager to immerse yourself in the cause, to be part of the solution to the crisis at hand.

[oceaneyesinla]

This idea appeared in my brain in the shower and I think it's ADORABLE. Shoto just brings out the cuteness aggression in me

Shoto x gn!Reader

A knock at your dorm room door distracts you from your book, but when you open it, you're met with beige walls and blue carpet, neither of which are known for their ability to knock on wood. This has happened a fair few times in the last month , and that knowledge prompts you to look down.

You can't help your pleased little smile when your hunch is proven correct. Sitting neatly in the doorway is a bunch of pretty flowers wrapped up in blue plastic. They're your favourite, just like always, and they've arrived just in time - like clockwork, just as the old ones are beginning to wilt, a new bouquet appears. There's differences every time, but whatever extras have been added, your favourite flower is always there.

There's a distinctive amateur feel to the way the bouquet is wrapped up, and it endears you to your secret gifter even more. It's clear how much time and effort is going into this gesture, in more ways than one. Someone listened to you, when you rambled about the flower patch in your childhood garden, the one you tended alone while your brother trained with your parents to become a hero. Someone remembered you fondly reminisce about pretty leaves and bright petals, and decided to make you smile.

You crouch down to pick up the flowers, and there's a note tucked amongst the blooms, just like every other time. It's never signed, and it's always so blunt and honest that it circles right back round to being charming. Whether it's complementing your sunshine smile or praising you for your latest training success, it never fails to make your cheeks heat up. You keep them all, tucked away in the drawer underneath where you display your flowers.

Your admirer is making a valiant effort to keep their identity hidden, and you find it adorable - mostly because you figured it out as soon as you saw that first note. He forgot that you know him as well as he knows you. The way he writes his characters is ever so slightly clumsy; he spent a lot of time teaching himself to write - Endeavour more interested in teaching him to fight than to live - and there's a couple of little details that make his handwriting distinctive. Plus, you're shared a class with him for three years; you've seen his writing more times than you can count.

There's a flash of red out of the corner of your eye, and you press your lips together to hold back a giggle. He may be a nearly graduated Hero course student, but he's not very sneaky. He doesn't usually stick around to see your reaction to his creation, instead listening intently from his desk as you gush about them to Momo.

Your eyes widen as your eyes scan over familiar script, and now you know why he's loitering - Todoroki Shoto is asking you on a date. You read the words three times, and pinch yourself for good measure. Part of you is surprised - he knows all your darkest moments and he's choosing you anyway? - but a bigger part of you knows this was inevitable. You've been gravitating towards each other since first year, and honestly, you've been driving your classmates mad.

An almost painful grin stretches across your face as you straighten up, "Sho? Come here."

He obeys almost immediately, emerging from around the corner to stand in front of you. The cautious hope glittering in his eyes makes you want to squish his cheeks and boop his nose and you feel giddy when you remember that yes, you'll be able to do just that. No more hiding the urge to hold his hand or kiss his cheek when he remembers your favourite snack or brings an extra hoodie to movie night just in case you get cold.

Maybe you're getting ahead of yourself. You still haven't actually given him an answer, and he's starting to worry, his bottom lip pushing out into a little pout. You can't take his sad face any longer - you reach out and grab his hand, infinitely entertained by the immediate red flush that spreads across his cheeks.

"Of course I'll go on a date with you. How about this weekend?"

"Okay." His smile is reflecting yours like the moon reflects the sun, and oh, he might be the prettiest person you've ever met.

He lifts your hand and shyly drops a kiss to your knuckles, looking up at you through unfairly long lashes. Now you're blushing as well, heat pooling in your cheeks as he lets your hands fall back between you. Neither of you let go, and you make an impulsive decision - after all, Shoto was brave enough to take the first step; the least you can do is meet him where he is.

"Actually, I'm free right now. We could go and get dinner?"

Your bravery is instantly rewarded with another devastatingly beautiful smile, "Yeah, I'd like that."

[patchato]

You should have told me.

(Sanemi x Reader)

TW: Cheating, Angst

I'll be home late.

This was the nth note Sanemi left, just a phrase, nothing else.

As his fiance, it's normal to feel sulky when not told 'I love you' every time he leaves. He always did it back then. Now just feels, different. Somehow.

Hours passed and dinner became cold. I sighed and decided to go to sleep first, he did say he'll be home late. It's been like this for the past 3 months. I ignored it at first since I know he's a hard working man and marriage isn't something to take easy.

We've been engaged for a year. The ring has always brought a smile to my face, especially when I feel down or alone. I sighed and looked at it, I should probably go out tomorrow to have it cleaned. I'll ask for Sanemi's as well.

I looked at the clock while washing the dishes, '10:07' it says.

I pouted, I missed him. Maybe we should go out this saturday. My head thought of the things we can do, I smiled to myself feeling proud. I finished a few more chores and went to bed. The plushie he gave me on our very first date sat on my spot, I held it while slowly drifting to sleep.

My eyes opened and it was still dark. The urge to use the toilet forced me to sit up. I rubbed my eyes and groaned. The time read 5:51 AM, I chuckled. It's like my body knows when to wake up so I can make my future husband his breakfast and lunch.

I turned to look at Sanemi, he was sleeping peacefully. I gave him a light kiss on the cheek, my face scrunched at the smell of alcohol. His colleagues must have dragged him to drink again.

I cooked him eggs, pancakes and made his favourite protein shake. Extra red bean. The shower was already on so I know he's up and getting ready. I sat down waiting for him. His lunch consisted of fresh pickled vegetables, sweet and sour pork along with a pack of chocolates. He may not look like it but he is a big fan of sweets.

Sanemi entered the kitchen and sat down, I perked up watching him eat. He didn't even look at me, it made me feel a little sad. He always compliments my cooking but, he hasn't been doing that these days.

I picked up my fork and started eating myself, I ate slowly as it was still a little early. Going to work earlier and getting home later, it's a little weird if I do think about it. I cleared my head and smiled at him.

"Ah, I have to go." He says looking at his watch. He patted me on the head and proceeded to rush out. I pouted but suddenly remembered I needed his for cleaning.

"Sanemi!" I caught up to him snatching his hand where his ring was. "I'm in a r-", I cut him off by telling him I just needed his ring for cleaning, I looked at his ring finger but it wasn't there. We both stood there, I felt his hand tense and he pulled his hand from mine.

Before I can ask him where it was he pulled the ring out from his bag and handed it to me, "Sorry, I forgot to put it back on last night. I didn't want it to get lost." He smiled and patted my head again. Before I can even say goodbye he was already out.

It feels weird. Why is that?

I shrugged it off and began to get ready to go out after finishing house chores. I texted him that I'll be meeting with some friends for lunch and won't be home for a few hours.

Sure he didn't say he'll be working late but It's better to tell him where I am in case he comes home earlier. I took the rings for cleaning, after that I met my friends and we settled on a cafe near the sea.

We talked about my engagement and what has already been planned. I already picked the bridesmaids and the maid of honor. Everyone was excited until we talked about how I've been lately.

They gave me weird looks and they looked worried. "We don't want you to over think darling but, maybe you should ask his colleagues how he's been at the office." Kanae suggests, the other girls agreed sighing. "Why? I'm sure he's working hard for the wedding." I giggled, "Oh sweet (Y/N)." Shinobu brushes my hair, "You're, too kind for this." She adds. 'Are they saying that he might be out with some other woman?' I thought.

I understood what they're worried about but, I trust Sanemi and I know he loves me. "Thank you for your concern, maybe I'll talk to him soon about it." I answer, I have been thinking about it too but I didn't want to think that way about him. I love him, and with love comes patience and trust.

The meeting ended once their husbands contacted them that they were home. I admit I'm a little jealous, I don't exactly get what they do from their relationship but again, Sanemi is working hard for our future. We all bid our goodbyes and went home.

To my surprise, Sanemi's car is already parked outside the house. I felt excited as it will give me time to tell him that I want to go out this weekend. I unlocked the front house. His shoes were placed messily on the floor. It was weird as he is normally a well organized person. I didn't think any of it and just placed his shoes where it belongs.

I took off mine and began walking upstairs, I felt happy. I can spend time with him. These thoughts instantly vanished when I saw maroon, stiletto shoes which were peeking from inside our bedroom. I don't wear stilettos. 'Maybe it's a gift from him' I thought to myself. I walked closer to the door and that's when it was clear. He brought another woman into our bedroom.

I didn't want to look inside but I stood there looking down while listening to the moans that came from inside our room. I can hear them, making love on the bed we shared. My head was starting to hurt. A tear fell from my eye, then one after the other. I stopped myself from sobbing by covering my mouth. It hurts. It really hurts.

Is this what my mother felt back then? I tried my best not to end up like that. But here I am. I feel stupid, I shouldn't have turned a blind eye to the late nights. Him not wearing his ring. The strong smell of floral perfume on his clothes. He hates floral perfume, he said he loved that I wore vanilla perfume rather than floral. Was he lying? He probably did.

I stepped out and walked to the nearest park and sat down on the bench. I just sat there, thinking of what'll happen now. My face was dry with tears and the headache was still there. The sky began to turn dark but I didn't want to go back to that house. I sent Mitsuri a text that I wanted to talk to her. She responded immediately.

I began my journey to her house, my heart heavy. I don't know what else to think. I played with the ring on my finger, It's slowly starting to look ugly on me. I, don't want it. I took it off and shoved it inside my bag and sighed. The cab arrived at Mitsuri's house. I knocked and Iguro (my brother) greeted me with their daughter, Hana. I greeted them back and kissed the child on her forehead.

'I could've had a family with him', my head was starting to fill up with thoughts again. He invited me in and to my surprise, Giyuu, Genya, Shinobu, Kanae and Kyojuro was also there. I sat down in between Shinobu and Kanae. They stared at me, as if waiting for me to say something. I tried to talk but my tears talked for me. Kanae hugged me and I cried on her shoulder. Small sobs turned to big ones, it felt like I was fighting to breath properly. Shinobu was running my back and the others just watched.

"What's wrong (Y/N)?" Shinobu asks taking my face in her hands, It was hard to talk I stumbled with my words but she knew exactly what I was crying about when she heard 'another woman' from my mouth. They let me cry it out, they comforted me. I can hear my brother cursing in the background.

An hour went by and I began to calm down Mitsuri began to prepare their dinner and it felt like it was best for me to go back home - to that house. "Hey, you can rest here." Mitsuri says, Iguro agreed. "Rest here for the night." He urges me, I smiled and nodded. Grateful that I have such good friends. It made me feel better.

I stared at the sky, thinking of how I'll confront Sanemi tomorrow. I spent another hour crying inside the bedroom once they left me to rest. I'm not sure how to rest with such a stressful thing to think about. Should I think about it? I don't even know anymore.

Before they left, Genya went up to talk to me. His words comforted me, he has always been softer than his older brother.

What's going to happen now? I haven't been working for 1 year due to Sanemi insisting that he work for the both of us, I'm unsure when to live after breaking up with him. I'll make it work. I'm, tired. I fell asleep on the warm bed, this time my body didn't wake up to make breakfast for someone. I slept throughout the night until noon.

I ate breakfast with Iguro and his family, we talked about what to do next after my talk with Sanemi. They offered to live in one of their condominiums that they rent out from up town. I accepted the offer, I'm thankful.

I felt nervous, I feel like throwing up. Iguro dropped me off in front of the house. Sanemi's car was nowhere to be found, God knows where he is. I signed as the anxiety left my body. Iguro said he'll pick me up before sunset so I have enough time to pack my things.

I took out my bags and stuffed them all with my clothes, I didn't touch the dresses Sanemi bought me back then from our anniversary. The jewelry he said looked beautiful on my skin. The plushies, the music box that had the tune of our prom dance. The very night he promised to marry me. It was such a beautiful night, all the memories. The kisses, the night we spent together. All thrown away. I felt like crying again, but I stopped myself. I didn't want to get sick, I need to find a job after this is over.

I heard the front door open, his footsteps echoed through the house. His presence that once brought warmth and comfort now made me feel uncomfortable, it made me want to get away from him.

The bedroom door opened, I turned to him. Our eyes met, he looked tired from who knows what. "You're back." I say, he smelled of that strong perfume again. "Yeah." He replied not looking at me. My chest started to feel tight again and I can feel the tears build up. Did he even wonder where I was last night? Did he try to look for me? Probably not, he didn't even send me a text nor ask my friends if they knew where I was.

"I stayed at Mitsuri's last night." I told him with a sigh, I began to play with my ring once again. I really want to take it off now. "Why?" He asks while he takes off his necktie. The very tie that I used to always do for him. Sadly, I won't be doing anything for him anymore. My eyes wandered to his finger, no ring again. I chuckled to myself which Sanemi seemed to notice. "What's wrong with you?" He asks in an annoyed tone, how dare he? I didn't answer and just stared outside. "You've been real weird lately." He adds, "Am I?" I asked him before looking back down.

I heard him sigh and groan, "Not right now (Y/N). I'm tired." He ruffled his hair and went into the bathroom. The sound of the open shower filled my ear. How should I go about this? Do I just tell him right away? Maybe that would be better. He stayed in the shower for some time, probably clearing his head. What does he have to think of anyway? He's got two women swooning over him. One slaving away and the other squeezed herself in the relationship. I didn't see the woman he was with but I bet she was beautiful. The bathroom door opened revealing a fully clothed Sanemi.

"Sanemi." I called him before he left the bedroom. I can tell he didn't want to be in the room by the way he turned around to face me. It hurt me. He used to look at me in such a loving way, now it's just this. Whatever this is. "Your ring, it's missing again.", that one sentence made his eyes widen and he immediately started to look for it. He grabbed his bag and went through all the pockets. He forgot. He forgot I took it out for cleaning yesterday. I left it on the kitchen counter before I left for Mitsuri's. So he really didn't look for me. How funny. The face he made, the panic in his eyes. It made me laugh a little bit. "What are you laughing about?" He yells. I stopped and stared at him, "It's on the kitchen counter." I answered sighing, I should probably send Iguro a text now. "Why is it there?" He asks confused, "I had it cleaned yesterday. I left it on the kitchen counter when I dropped by yesterday." I answered, "Dropped by?" He looked even more confused. We stared at each other, he really is clueless.

"Shinazugawa, I don't want to be with you anymore."

Sanemi's face softened, he still looks confused. He looked stupid. "Wha-," I cut him off before he can ask, "I know." That one phrase sent him stumbling over the bags on the floor over to me. Seems like he didn't notice it. "(Y/N), please, I'm not..." He tried to form his excuses. "Please don't stop me, I don't have any intentions on hearing your excuses." I sighed. I wanted to cry, but that'll only make me stay with him longer. God knows I'll give in to his pleas if I stay longer.

"No please. I'm sorry. (Y/N)." He pulled me in a hug. I didn't say anything, I let him scramble with his words. His touch made my skin crawl. I began to struggle out of his grasp. It took me a minute to push him away, he's as strong as always. "You already chose your other woman." I say, "You brought her to our bed." I shifted my attention to the bed. Shinazugawa began to caress my face, spouting things that I'm not paying attention to.

"You did such a disgusting thing, Shinazugawa." More pleas and apologies fell from his lying lips. I laughed a little, suddenly remembering the first time I've seen him cry. It was over their family dog. The one their mother left him to take care of. "Why are you laughing..." It was more of him asking himself than me. "I, no longer feel anything towards you." His tears fell faster as he began apologizing again.

"Makes me wonder if I really did love you."

The tears flowing from his eyes didn't stop, he was at the floor now. On his knees, begging me to stay. "Did you even think about me when you brought someone else over." I mumbled, of course he didn't. The image of the man I once loved made my eyes sore. I took off the engagement ring, took his hand stopping him from crying and began to walk out the room. Shinazugawa began to run after me but I didn't give him a chance to pull me back as I opened the door of Iguro's car and locked it. I was finally able to breathe, then the tears came in. My heart hurt seeing him cry. Of course I loved him, I still do even if he did such a horrible thing. I wanted to hurt him too in a way.

He should have told me. We could have talked about it, whether he still felt something for me or if he fell out of love. We could have saved us.

Shinaguzawa was starting to make a scene outside, banging on the car crying all while trying to stop Iguro from taking my things from the house. All my bags we're finally in the car and it was time to leave. Leave everything behind. "Hey.", Iguro calls. He gave me a smile, "You'll be alright."

Yeah, I'll be okay. I smiled back and we drove off. I saw Shinazugawa run after the car. I couldn't help but cry. I wanted to get out of the car and hug him. I don't want him hurting too. But this is for the best. I sent him a text, one last time. Then I blocked him on everything. I wiped my tears and steadied my breathing.

'You should have told me.' Shinazugawa read the text. He couldn't call her anymore. He cried all the way back to his now empty house. He stared at the ring on his hand while cursing at himself. He knew this will be the last time he'll see her.

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

Hey everyone! I missed tumblr so I'm back haha! Sorry I've been gone for some time. What do you think of this? Send your votes! I also take requests now so please don't be shy to send me a message! lotsoflove♡

[bunnylovesani]

Daddy Issues

(This is what I imagine him looking like in this fic)

Content warnings: MDNI, reader has daddy issues, 20 year age gap, Anakin is your best friend’s dad, drinking, fingering, dirty talk, general smut with a bit of fluff

WC: 2.6k

You and Leia met in your first year of college and your friendship quickly blossomed. Despite being from the same town, you’d never bumped into each other. If you had, you’re sure you would’ve remembered him. The first time you’d met him was Christmas, 4 years ago; it was your first time coming round to the Skywalker residence and all you knew was that Leia was raised by a single dad, who was now in his 40s. The moment you laid eyes on him, you were fascinated. He had dark blonde hair which curled into golden ringlets at the ends and a mysterious quality about him you were sure made the women weak at the knees- how he’d managed to stay single for most of his life was beyond you.

Despite your fervent initial attraction to him, you tried your best to put all of it aside. Besides the obvious reasons to restrain yourself, he was also the first positive male figure you’d had in your life. He was a damn good father; always present in Leia’s life and, since you two were joined at the hip, by extension yours too. You ignored every sign, every impulse, every sizzling moment of tension that came between you two- tension you naturally assumed was one sided- he’s a decent, respectable man after all.

You had it all under control- until you received a call confirming the graduate program you’d applied for months ago had been accepted. The subsequent week was spent getting daydrunk while hesitantly packing your entire life into a van full of brown boxes- or rather, directing Leia to do it for you since you were too inebriated. It all boiled down to your final night; one last night in the suburbs you’d felt suffocated by your entire life before you moved to the big city to start your shiny new life.

So why did you feel sad? You suspected you knew the reason but spent the better half of an evening denying it and battling the growing urge to pay him a visit. Eventually, when the reality that you were about to leave him forever sunk in, you found your feet taking you out the door of their own volition. Preparing to ambush him with the help of some liquid courage you’d choked down prior to leaving, you rung the doorbell of his house for what you thought may be the last time.

“Oh, hey honey. Leia just left to spend the night at her boyfriend’s house, you just missed her. I thought you’d already said your goodbyes?”. He innocently questions as he opens the door and lets you in.

“I know, it’s you I came to say goodbye to.” You say anxiously, staring at him intensely through your lashes.

“I see, I’m honoured.” He smiles and approaches you, pulling you into a hug. “Good luck with everything sweetheart, stay safe and above all- remember to have fun! Life passes you by in an instant and one day you’ll wake up as old as I am and kick yourself for not grabbing every opportunity you had.”

“Funny you say that, Sir. That’s the exact mantra I’ve adopted recently. Fuck it, right?” You help yourself to the glass of whiskey he was holding out of his hand and take a sip.

“Can I sit with you for a little while?” You plop onto his cushioned couch before he can reply.

“Erm, yeah of course, make yourself at home.” He says welcomingly, though with a perplexed expression on his slightly wrinkled face. “Are you okay?” He wonders if there’s a reason you’re acting so strange. You don’t usually drink.

“I’m great, thank you Sir.” You bat your lashes. “Just feeling sentimental with the circumstances and all.”

“How many times have I said, call me Anakin. I know I’m old but after so many years I’d say we’re on a first name basis.” He chuckles, taking a seat beside you on the sofa, keeping a respectable distance. “I know I’m nothing much to you but I really do think of you and Leia as my girls. I’m so proud of everything you’ve accomplished.” He says endearingly, smiling at you kindly.

That’s when you’re reminded of the reason you came here tonight. You had every intention of telling him how you truly felt, how you’d had a raging crush on him from the moment you met him- and now that you might never see him again, you saw no reason why you shouldn’t act on those feelings.

But hearing him compare you to his daughter filled a hole you felt inside you ever since your father abandoned you- while simultaneously making you feel sick to your stomach.

You stared into his warm eyes, encased with crows feet and accompanied by two prominent creases on his forehead. You shouldn’t find a man of his age so attractive but you do.

“You know, I don’t think you’re old.” You state simply.

“What?” He asks somewhat confused by your meaning.

“You said one day I’ll wake up as old as you. I don’t think you’re old at all. If anything, you’re in your prime.” You look away. “You’re not nothing to me either.”

He looks visibly stunned, though he tries to mask it by refilling a glass of whiskey, the brown liquid almost spilling everywhere.

“Right back at you, kid. Well I’m sure you’ve got a lot of packing to do so I won’t keep you. You need a ride?” He shuffles in his seat.

“No. Not the kind of ride you’re thinking of anyway.” A wave of boldness overcomes you and you feel the alcohol burning through your veins as you shuffle closer to him.

“Uh, I think that whiskey’s gone straight to your head. Why don’t I get you some water?” He’s about to get up but you grab him by the hand and force him to stay seated, holding onto it longer than necessary.

“You know how I feel about you Anakin. I know you know.” You stare deep into his mature blue eyes as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down with an apprehensive gulp.

“Now that’s enough young lady. You absolutely should not be thinking about me in that way. I’m almost twice your age.” He sternly warns you and you can’t help but wince. The way he’s scolding you is triggering some deep rooted daddy issues. You knew you always had them to some extent but you never knew just how bad they were until you met Anakin.

“I dont mean to make you uncomfortable, I just couldn’t hold it back anymore. I’ll leave right now if you want me to, you’ll never see me again. Just tell me you don’t feel anything towards me and I’ll be on my way.” You’re huddled over him with your legs on the sofa, hand slowly inching its way towards his thigh.

A flash of conflicting emotions run through his eyes- he’s obviously embarrassed, perhaps shocked - though you find it hard to believe he had no clue at all- but there’s something else. He’s debating with himself, you can see the cogs whirring in his mind.

“I can’t say that.” He meets your gaze. “I care about you a lot, you know that. Which is why you need to leave. You’re not in the right state of mind.” He gets up again but you pull him down and climb onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I have been in love with you for 4 years, Anakin. You are my every waking thought. I know it’s wrong and you’d never be with me but I can’t control myself. If I can’t have you forever, let me have just this one night- please.” You wait for him to object to the way you’re sitting on him but to your surprise, he doesn’t.

“Alright, honey.” He grumbles softly after a little while, looking at you with a subdued expression that conveyed both concern and understanding. “Alright, if that’s what you want, I’ll give you what you want. I’m yours for the night.”

You sit there, stunned. You were fully expecting him to kick you out of the house and tell Leia everything. You were expecting anything other than him giving in. Is he just taking pity on you and thinks this will help you get over your daddy issues? He knows you have them. Or is he as sick and twisted as you are?

“Can…can I…” You lean in, pressing your fingertips against his lips.

“Leave it all to me sweetheart. Daddy will make it all better.” He wastes no time taking your hands into his own and kissing your fingertips softly, before pressing his lips against yours.

You’re too stunned to react so you allow him to kiss your motionless lips, your eyes still wide open in disbelief. You’d never been so grateful to someone for taking the lead.

“Close those pretty eyes for me baby, you’re safe now.” He kisses your eyelids softly and his gentle caresses awaken a deep urge within you.

You grab at his collared shirt, loosening his tie and unbuttoning it. “Been working more late nights at the office?” You mumble into his lips as you push the crisp white shirt off his shoulders, leaving his muscles exposed.

“That’s because I have two women in my life who bleed me dry.” He chuckles and you smile at the memory; he’s shelled out for you on more than one occasion- from plane tickets and birthday gifts to a new MacBook for college because your one broke and you couldn’t afford another since you’d been fired from your waitressing job- he even agreed that that guy deserved to get a drink thrown in his face for grabbing you. He said that if he were there, he would’ve done worse.

Before you freefall into a psychoanalytical hole, Anakin rips your skirt off - it’s as if he can hear your mind working overtime. You gasp a little as he kneads the fat of your ass cheeks roughly, guiding you until you’re grinding against him. You can feel him getting hard, and oh did it feel big. You’d stolen subtle glances at his crotch on numerous occasions, contemplating what it might look like, what colour the tip might be, what it might taste like. You couldn’t bare to be left in the dark any longer so you reached for his belt and impatiently started undoing it- but you were stopped by his large hands cupping yours.

“Not just yet princess. I wanna take my time with you.” He whispered coarsely and the feeling of his warm breath on your neck sent shivers down your spine. Before you knew it, he had spun you around so that you were sitting on his lap with your back facing his front. He traced his tongue in big open kisses along your neck while his hands trailed up and down your thighs, before he hooked his fingers around your panties.

“Lets get these off shall we?” He purred and his words sent sparks straight down to your core. He lowered your underwear only down to your knees, before spreading your legs a little, his hand placed under one of your thighs to keep it up. You felt the cold air hit you and knew instantly that you were soaked.

You breathing was reduced to short little pants as his fingers reached the inner folds of your pussy, and it felt like every caress touched your soul. You started squirming about in his lap as two of his fingers slid into you.

“Goddamn… oh baby, I didnt even mean for that to happen but you’re just so wet they slipped right in.” You mewled at his lustful words as he curled his fingers inside you, rubbing your clit with the base of his thumb.

“Oh Ani…ah fuck!.” You cried. “Anakin!”

“Yes sweetheart, what is it?” Gaining speed, he grabbed your cheeks with his free hand and turned your head to force you to look at him but you were too stimulated to respond.

“Do you hear how wet you are? And here I thought you were a good girl.” He maintains eye contact and your cheeks flush at the lewd sounds coming from your core. You take a glance and see his hand is glistening with your arousal, wetness squelching as it pours down to the Rolex on his wrist.

“Aah…I, I’m sorry daddy! Mm can’t help it” You manage to squeal out, embarassed by how wet and helpless he made you.

“Don’t you dare apologise sweetheart. Daddy loves how wet this pussy gets. Is this all for me?”

“Yes, yes Sir it’s all for you- mm all yours!” You moan as you feel your climax fast approaching. “Please can I cum? Pleasee daddy!”

“Yes princess, cum for me.” He pumps his fingers in and out of you at such a tempo you have to hold onto his arms for stability.

As if someone opened a dam, your orgasm washes over you and you let out a stupified scream- you wanted to say his name but your brain is so scrambled all you can manage is a mumbled moan of incoherent syllables.

“Such a good girl baby, well done honey.” He plants kisses all over your cheek and neck as your heart rate climbs down.

As you come down from your high, the realisation of what you’re doing dawns on you. As if he could read your mind, he takes your face into his hands.

“What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours? If you think you’ll regret it, tell me now. I don’t think I could handle it if we made love and you woke up regretting it.” He speaks softly, as if being too harsh might scare you away.

“No, no it’s not you.” You quickly respond. “I just feel a little cheap. I don’t ever have one night stands so I’m kinda out of my depth here… and the guilty thoughts about Leia creeping up on me don’t help either.”

“Hey, you’re not cheap.” You scoff at his attempt to reassure you. “Stop that, I mean it. I have nothing but the utmost respect for you regardless of the outcome of this. But…I mean I’m out of my depth here too. If we’re being honest, I haven’t had sex in years.” Anakin admits and your jaw drops. How could a man this damn fine not get laid for that long?

“It’s a personal choice.” He corrects before you jump to any conclusions about what might be wrong with him. “I don’t like one night stands either and if I’m not in love, I have no real interest in sex.” Your heart leaps at the insinuation- if he’s willing to sleep with you, that must mean…right?

“So let’s not have a one night stand then.” He continues and your heart drops. I guess you thought wrong.

“Let’s keep seeing each other. I ache all over at the thought of this being the last time I see you. I need you in my life. I don’t care if it’s wrong, I don’t care what people say. Leia will come round to the idea eventually, she has to.”

“I love you.” You reply a little too quickly, staring at him with so much admiration you think your heart might burst.

“I love you too, my sweet girl.”

Part 2

[sorcerersseestars]

synopsis: Gojo blames you for the first-years' disaster that the higher-ups caused.

pairing: Gojo Satoru x gn! reader

genre: hurt/comfort, angst to fluff

warnings: mention of death/a corpse, yelling, heavy feelings of self-blame, stuttering (it makes sense here tho I promise), emotionally constipated Gojo, mention of not eating for an extended period of time/being hungry (due to the situation), manga spoilers!! (star plasma vessel arc), indirect confessions

word count: 5.2k

notes: There are some slightly non-canon details. I’m pretty sure that Nanami and Yuji don’t know each other at this point, but let’s pretend they do. Also, I’m insinuating a more seasoned bond between Gojo and Yuji/reader and Yuji - let’s also pretend that they’ve been teaching Yuji for longer at this point, for more angst potential. :) LAST THING - you used to be a very mediocre child/adolescent actor in a few small/bad films. Only relevant for one detail.

Also, Gojo may be a bit ooc here - possibly overdramatic in his wordings - but I really wanted to write a Gojo that loses control of his emotions, since I think it'd be difficult to elicit such a reaction from him. I hope it suits him okay!!

GOJO HAS ALWAYS had a soft spot for you. In high school, he would regularly volunteer himself to take your blame, even though you never asked him to do it and would practically begged him not to. But, he was frustratingly persistent and would do it despite your many protests. If you ever cheated on an assignment, Gojo would claim he copied yours. If you fumbled during a mission, Gojo would lie in the report. If you both snuck out and got caught, Gojo would say he dragged you out with force. Whenever you would have an argument with someone, Gojo would comfort you afterwards, insisting the other person was in the wrong even when they obviously weren’t.

Although he has eventually ramped down this ridiculous treatment over the years, you will never forget this boyish idiosyncrasy from your younger days.

Today, however, it’s like those days never even existed. You don't recognize the person standing in front of you. You can’t blame him for his reaction – it's wholly natural – but it still jars you.

Today, you fucked up. You fucked up so badly that there's a very permanent, unchangeable consequence to your actions – or rather, your lack thereof. The consequence of your stupidity, the result of your thoughtlessness, lies unmoving in this room. The body of Itadori Yuji, separated from reality only by the thin plastic covering of a body bag, rests on a table only feet from where you stand.

His mentor, one sworn to protecting his students, sworn to delaying his impending execution as much as possible, stands before you. His signature blindfold obscures his eyes, and you can only imagine the wild, swirling gaze you would be faced with in its absence.

Yuji’s mentor – your long time close friend, who has never blamed you in any great capacity for anything through the entirety of your friendship – now looks at you scathingly.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He spits, tone icy.

He's not looking at you as he rigidly hovers over the operating table, but you can feel the intensity of his emotions despite the distance. Words fall out of your brain, and you struggle to string together a cohesive thought.

“I-" You try to swallow the lump in your throat. “The higher-ups told me not to go with them, I don’t know wh–"

He barks out a harsh laugh, cutting off your pathetic excuse. His head is in his hands, fingers roughly carding through his disheveled hair. He pauses in his ministrations to face you: he is suddenly towering over you, broad frame filling even the corners of your vision.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” He growls. “Did you stop to think for even a second? Why would they ever ask a teacher to stay behind?”

Tears begin to slide down you cheeks. You quickly wipe them away and will your building urge to break down to go away.

He sighs, his breath leaving him loudly and aggressively. “I don’t understand how this happened. You know how this works, (Y/N)! You know how the higher-ups are!”

“I’m sorry,” You choke out quietly, voice stretched and thin. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t bring him back, (Y/N)!” Gojo shouts.

Shoko and Ijichi are silent. Shoko is looking at the ground, her stony expression difficult to determine. Shoko, your friend who always sticks up for you no matter what, especially when dealing with Gojo. Shoko, who hasn’t spoken a single word to you since you arrived. For once, she agrees with him.

Your eyes land on the black body bag laying on the operating table, and you can’t hold it back any longer. Your legs weaken underneath you and you begin to shake. The sobs you’ve been suppressing rip out of your throat. Ugly, choking sobs.

Nobody moves to comfort you. If anything, Gojo’s scowl deepens, and Shoko turns away at your display of emotion.

“I know,” You sob. “I know it doesn’t. I know it's my fault.”

You take a few shaky breaths. “I didn’t know- I didn’t mean for it to happen- I- it’s my fault.”

He slides his blindfold down, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. You are about to blurt something else out, but before the words can leave your tongue, you catch his gaze and you’re immediately frozen. His boiling blue irises steal your breath and leave you rooted to the spot. Never in your life have you seen him this angry or even display this much emotion.

“If you keep standing there and crying, I think I’m going to kill something,” He says lowly.

“Gojo,” Shoko interjects in a warning tone.

Gojo bites back, “Why not? We all want the higher-ups gone. It’d be so easy. Shit like this wouldn’t happen anymore.”

Ijichi pales. Shoko roughly says, “Are you crazy?”

He doesn’t answer, and the determined look on his face isn’t necessarily comforting. It seems a storm is brewing – the most powerful sorcerer is being driven to a point.

You’re reaching a point, too – your breaking point. You feel like you can’t breathe. When you inhale, your lungs refuse to inflate past the shallowest of breaths. It’s all hitting you now, clear thoughts rising past the fog of adrenaline that overwhelmed your mind. The reality is that you fucked up, and it’s not fixable.

You fucked up, and there’s no going back in time to change your decision, to go against orders to stay with your students. There’s no way to bring Yuji back.

“Why are you still here?” Gojo says with an exasperated huff, addressing you directly. “Seeing you only adds to my anger.”

You say nothing, your mind occupied only with your regrets. He frowns and tries again.

"Unless you want to dive further into this preventable death," He says coldly. "Leave. There's still a job to be done.”

You barely hear his words. Your brain doesn’t have the energy to collect them, to interpret them, as it hyper-fixates on the horrible hole forming in your heart. Your eyes are wide, pupils enlarged, and you are visibly quivering.

“Didn’t you hear me? You need to leave!” Gojo growls, frustrated at your lack of reaction, believing it to be indifference.

“They must be in shock, Gojo,” Shoko murmurs. “They’re shutting down.”

Shoko’s diagnosis is indeed correct. You don’t hear a single word that comes out of their mouths; your shoulders and heart have grown heavy, leaden, from knowing the fate you led your students to. One deceased, two severely injured. All because of a risk you did not take, an order you did not disobey.

Yuji’s bright smile burns into the back of your eyes, a reminder of what you’ve lost, of the ultimate mistake.

One second, your eyes are on the black body bag, and the next second you can’t see anything, your vision blurred by tears and by speed. You’re running, you realize, legs pumping as fast as they can. Your lungs ache and your legs cramp up, but you can’t will yourself to stop. You can’t think. You can’t catch your breath.

When you inevitably collapse, you don’t know where you are or how much time has passed. It’s just a patch of grass damp with dew, a few maple trees dotting the banks of a small neighboring stream. You’re laying under one of these trees, your arms outstretched so your fingers can comb through the cool, wet blades of grass. You’re vaguely aware the the sun set at some point after you left. Maybe it’s been a hour, or a few more. You have no idea.

You want to scream, you want to cry, but you don’t. You can’t; it won’t come. When his grinning face and determined smile taunt you, reminding you of your sins, you can only screw your eyes shut, willing the torture to end.

Wetness finally runs down your face, and you taste salt. It is oddly comforting. Your hands repeatedly grab the gentle grass, numbing your mind until exhaustion eventually overtakes you.

There’s a buzzing filling your brain. You groan and roll over, reaching out to your bedside table to grab the offending object. You startle at the feeling of sharp gravel under your fingertips – it’s unpleasantly damp, as well, leaving muddy residue on your hands.

The buzzing starts again, and this time you clearly feel the vibrations through your leg. You sit up, scooting back until your back firmly hits the tree trunk behind you, and force your tired eyelids to part. You have to squint, as the sun has already risen and has crossed the sky a fair amount – it must be approaching noon already.

When the buzzing persists, you grumpily rip the phone out of your pocket. It’s not an alarm, as you had expected. In fact, you startle at the caller ID: Gojo Satoru.

You stare at your phone blankly, your brain buffering. You ultimately let it ring out, although your finger hovers over the answer button. Once the screen fades to your usual background, your throat goes dry. Missed calls from Shoko, Nanami, and Gojo fill your screen. You quickly skim the accompanying texts and wince.

Shoko <3: I know we’re all upset, but we shouldn’t have taken it out on you…just let me know you’re alright, okay? (10:43 pm)

‘Nanamin’: I heard what happened. It isn’t your fault, (Y/N), no matter what anyone says. Call me if you need anything. (6:26 am)

Satoru: Where are you? (11:34 pm)

Satoru: Pick up (11:59 pm)

Satoru: please (12:03 am)

Satoru: I fucked up. I need to talk to you, please let me (12:05 am)

Satoru: I understand if you don’t want to talk to me, but let someone, anyone, know you’re alright… (7:12 am)

Satoru: Megumi just told me he tried to visit you but you still weren’t home. (Y/N), please…say anything…I need to know that you’re okay (11:17 am)

It all rushes back to you: your lethal mistake, the deserved reaction you received from your two best friends, how you shamefully ran away. Fuck. There’s no way you can face any of them, especially not Megumi.

You wish this never happened. Hot tears burn your cheeks again; your eyes flood with regret. Shame quickly floods through you, making you feel hot all over. How can you feel sorry for yourself when it was your fault in the first place?

You roughly wipe your face with your sleeve and stick your phone back into your pocket. There’s no way you can respond right now. It’s bound to die soon, anyway, so there’s no point in trying.

You don’t want to move from where you sit. You want to sink into the ground and stay there until the horrible feeling inside you goes away. But…

“What if it doesn’t?” You whisper those words out into the universe, a sinking feeling in your gut telling you the answer.

You want to cry more, allow yourself to shed more tears, but you don’t. You wobbly stand up, and are surprised at how weak you are. When was the last time you ate – yesterday morning, before the disastrous mission?

You have to go home. You can’t stay here, in the middle of nowhere, neglecting yourself. It’s a thought that rings in your head and won’t leave you alone until you decide to listen. Okay. You will go home. You can manage that.

It takes a while, but you find your way back to your apartment. Last night, you had apparently meandered into an expanse of empty land neighboring the school, as you pass by Jujutsu Tech on your way back. It is a bit off the beaten path – you doubt anyone has ever intentionally gone where you ended up last night.

During your journey home, you have to reference your Google Maps app a few times, but you somehow successfully get back home, despite your directional challenges and weakened state.

Until you step into your apartment, you don’t realize how cold you are. Your feet are numb from being cold and wet, your toes icy when you peel the damp socks off. You cringe at how unaware you have been at your body for the past 24 hours: your mental state ignored all physical needs.

Your stumble to your bedroom, aching body screaming for a rest. You relent easily, collapsing on your bed face first. You’re so grimy and covered in remnants of the dirt bed you laid in last night, evidence of your outside stay covering your clothing. Bits of twigs and leaves invite themselves into your sheets – you couldn’t care less right now, though. You don’t even think about it.

On instinct, you plug your dead phone in without even looking. There’s silence for a minute or two before it whirs back to life, the screen flashing at your tired eyes.

There’s another message waiting to be opened.

Megumi: Come back soon, sensei. He’s getting unsufferable

Megumi:…more than usual

A hoarse chuckle leaves your throat, the first laugh that’s left you since the whole incident. You sigh immediately after though, as you begin to wonder how Megumi has been dealing with everything. If you hadn’t run away, then…

Your head is in your hands again. No matter what path your thinking strays down, you keep returning to your immense guilt over what happened.

You wish you were mad at someone. You wish that you felt angry at Gojo, but you aren’t – you can’t be. In your eyes, he wasn’t wrong; how could you be mad at him when you agree?

You’re not mad, but there’s this other unpleasant feeling. It feels like one of Nobara’s nails has been lodged in your chest, and every time you think about his reaction, the nail twists a little deeper into your heart. He’s never yelled at you before. That hurt.

It’s understandable, but it still hurts.

Gojo…You don’t think you can face him yet, but he may come to you if your radio silence continues. Maybe you should just get it over with and call him. You can just tell him you’re alive and hang up. That should suffice.

Without thinking further on it, you grab your phone and dial his number. Within two rings, the line connects.

“Yo, (Y/N)! Long time no hear!” His chirpy voice booms through your speakers. He’s back to his usual self – overly casual and full of mirth. He sounds way too cheerful; it throws you off guard.

A sharp inhale leaves you as you’re about to tell him that you’re fine and to not worry, so that you can hang up and avoid him. But, nothing comes out. Everything you thought of saying flies out of your brain. You’re left wordless, mouth hanging open.

“You there? (Y/N)?”

You shake your head, coming to your senses.

“Yes,” The single word that leaves you is weak and breathy.

“You good? Are you home now?”

“Yeah. Home now. I’m alive, so no need to bother checking in on me,” You say thoughtlessly.

God, that was lame. You can’t help but cringe at what you just said. It’s what you intended to convey, yes, but that’s not how you wanted to say it.

“Just alive? Sounds real peppy over there!” He chuckles. “I was going to come over anyway, but you’ve really pushed it over the edge.”

“Ah,” You say somewhat panicked, searching for a way out of this. “There’s really no need. I just need rest so there’s no need. I’ll see you later, then.”

“You mean soon!” He chirps before you can hang up. You groan into your pillow; this is exactly what you had been trying to avoid. How are you even going to look at him?

You’ve just put your phone back on your nightstand when there’s sudden footsteps approaching your bedroom. Before you can think further, the door is flung upon and a familiar figure appears before you.

“Ultimate best friend Gojo Satoru has arrived! Everyone applaud!”

A series of small claps ensues, while you just stare on in silence and disgruntlement. A wide smile stretches across his face at your displeased expression.

“C’mon angel, not even a single clap? That’s cold.”

You roll your eyes, but only half-heartedly. The gesture is so pathetically slight that Gojo’s smile falls a fraction. You don’t have much emotional energy to expend on humoring him, it seems. Because of him.

It’s then that he fully takes in your appearance. Tear stained cheeks, dirt caking your clothes and body, scraps of organic material matted in your hair and clinging to all parts of you. There’s even smudges of dirt around your eyes where you’ve attempted to wipe away tears.

He questions your appearance, trying to appear lighthearted, “Was the forest calling you? You really didn’t sleep here?”

You immediately feel self-conscious of your appearance and cross your arms. You manage out a quiet, “Something like that.”

“No, seriously…where did you sleep?” He probes, this time lacking the lightheaded tone.

A weak, sheepish smile appears on your lips, “Ah…the ground? You were right, I guess.”

He blinks. You rub the back of your head and avoid eye contact, softly laughing an awkward little chuckle.

“Seriously?” He asks, but it lacks any judgment. He is truly just in disbelief.

You just nod.

“Hey, are you…are you sure you’re okay?”

You weren’t expecting that. You wish he would stay in his childish mindset – these real questions are worse.

You breathe out slowly, “I mean…yeah. I’m fine.”

It’s not a very convincing delivery, but it was the best you could manage. The corners of his lips turn down slightly, almost unnoticeably, but he doesn’t comment on your answer. He knows he should question you further, dig a little deeper, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he excuses himself, “I’ll be right back. Just stay put! I’ll know if you move, so you better not move an inch.”

He raises two fingers to his eyes, then directs them to you, clearly saying ‘I have my eyes on you!’

It’s amusing - he’s always amusing - but when you try to smile, your lips just flatline. You can’t tell if he notices, since he has already turned away and walked into the bathroom, but you hope he couldn’t tell.

When he returns, he’s holding a dampened washcloth.

“Bath time!” He says, shaking the cloth excitedly in front of you. You flinch a little as a few stray drops of water unexpectedly land on you, which he lightly laughs at.

And then he begins swiping away the dirt that has accumulated on your body. He starts with your face. He’s on his knees, one elbow resting on the space neighboring your right thigh, leaning in to have more control with the cloth. You close your eyes when his face comes within inches of yours - too close. Even when you feel as horrible as you do now, your heart won’t stop thumping quickly against your ribs, as if it cannot deny those deeply hidden feelings you harbor.

He hums while he works, gently dabbing all the places where you have visible dirt. It’s comforting, or at least it should be. You heart begins to clench tightly, and you so badly want a hole to appear in the ground to swallow you up.

“Gojo, why are you being so nice now?” You ask, voice small. “I don’t really deserve it. I’d…prefer the alternative. This feels wrong right now.”

He sets down the cloth, wincing at your pitiful words. Is that how you really feel?

He pauses. He’s not good at this sort of thing – acknowledging other people’s vulnerability, lowering his own walls to empathize with others, any of it. He hates it. He hates how emotionally he acted yesterday, he hates how it has affected you.

“No,” He sighs. He speaks slowly as he carefully chooses his words, “I…shouldn’t have acted like that yesterday. It wasn’t fair to you.”

Your bottom lip trembles, but you force yourself not to cry, “It’s okay. I don’t blame you for it. Everyone was thinking it.”

He tries to catch your eye, but your gaze is downcast. He ducks, lowering himself to the ground even more, to enter your field of vision.

“Hey,” He says softly. “Do you trust me?”

Your brow furrows; you don’t understand why he’s asking you that. You feel yourself nodding, though.

“Everything I said yesterday,” He starts, but then shakes his head at himself. “No, everything I yelled at you yesterday – it was misdirected. What happened wasn’t your fault. There was no way of knowing what was about to happen.”

“But now, it’s obvious,” You mumble. “I should have known.”

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty. You were following orders. The ones assigning the orders are at fault, not you.”

You grab your sheets with tight fists. You turn your head to the side, away from his invisible gaze, “Orders that were obviously suspect. It’s still my fault as an experienced sorcerer.”

Gojo’s chest constricts. You sound exactly like he did yesterday; the consequences of his actions echo back to him from your mouth.

“I promise it’s not,” He insists, but it falls on deaf ears. “I’ve made mistakes too. I’ve made mistakes, but you never treated me like I treated you yesterday.”

Gojo clenches his teeth. This is hard. He hates bringing up this side of the past, but he’ll do it for you.

“You never judged me for what happened during the Star Plasma Vessel mission. Even though you wanted to leave that night, and I ignored you, you never blamed me.”

“You were seventeen,” You say quietly, shakily. “We were all kids. That was over a decade ago.”

“But you knew how to make it better,” He says breathlessly. “And you never even once insinuated that it was my fault.”

You smile sadly at him, and your next words are sure and immediate, “Because it wasn’t.”

Gojo’s mouth hangs open for a second, still amazed at the understanding and kindness that so easily shine through you even in the darkest moments.

He reaches out for your hands, unsure, and squeezes them when he finds them. “Can I…can I start over ? From yesterday?”

You blink blankly, not completely understanding, but give a hesitant nod anyway.

He exhales deeply and lowers his head to your hands until his forehead brushes your fingertips. It’s completely unexpected, and you freeze upon contact. His head is bowed to you – embarrassment and confusion flood you.

You are relieved when he raises his head to speak.

“What happened with our students isn’t your fault,” He says quietly but with conviction. “It’s the work of the higher ups - it’s their fault, nobody else’s. I’m…”

He pauses. Words he never says need to come out.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that this happened while you were here and I was away, I’m sorry that I blamed you for things out of your control. This was never your fault.”

You are silent. You say nothing. You don’t move. Your expression stays blank.

He panics. He takes your silence as a sign of not being forgiven – which is not what he fears, in fact he doesn’t want to be forgiven. But he doesn’t want to lose you, and that’s exactly what he thinks has happened. Did he completely sever the bond spanning more than a decade?

“I understand if you can’t forgive me, but,” He swallows thickly, the anxious feeling rising. “But I hope this doesn’t…”

He tries again, “I hope our friendship…I hope you- I don’t want to lose you after all we-”

“Satoru – it’s not that,” You say quickly. “You haven’t, I promise. I have already forgiven you. I forgave you from the moment it started.”

You close your eyes, clenching them shut. You don’t want to cry again. “It’s just that…even if I’m not directly at fault, Yuji is still dead. Our student is dead. Despite anything that can be said of the situation, that fact will not change.”

He really shouldn’t tell you this. He needs to, but he shouldn’t.

“Do you trust me?” He says again, voice only a whisper. He’s even closer now, only inches away. A hand raises to ease his blindfold down so that it rests loosely around his neck.

Your eyes on his are so clear, and reveal so much – surprised by his bare gaze, confusion clear in your beautiful eyes he finally can see so clearly up close.

“Of course,” You whisper breathlessly. “Always have.”

“Close your eyes, and hold on,” He says. “Don’t want you getting lost again, angel.”

You know what that means. Teleportation. But where could he be taking you that is so important right now? Maybe somewhere he knows you like to calm you down?

You’re taken aback by the rush of air around you even though you’ve traveled like this many times.

The few uncomfortable moments in the strange vortex allow you to question where be could be possibly be taking you. Before you can decide on an answer, however, the roar in your ears subsides, and you are steadied by his grip around your shoulders. He's so close again, wisps of his soft hair tickling your neck. One of his large hands drops down to clutch yours. You’re ashamed about now nice it all feels in such a situation.

Then all that slips away and you're immediately on guard - there's another cursed presence nearby.

“Gojo-sensei, you’re back? That movie was kind of weird and bad, but I swear that one character was (L/N)-sensei. Do they have a twin or something?”

Your eyes pop open. Your hand falls out of Gojo’s as your grip completely goes slack. That voice…Youthful, full of energy and a kind innocence. It could only be...

Gojo responds ecstatically, dramatically, “Ah, but of course not! I have brought an honored guest! An old time Hollywood star whose home was the red carpet! The famed, the budding talent, (Y/N)-”

He’s cut off by a shriek. He blinks twice, and you’re already far from his side, rushing to the secret he has to keep - the secret he couldn’t possibly keep from you.

You crash into Yuji, binding him in a crushing hug. He's open mouthed and spluttering in surprise, but you don't have it in you to be embarrassed right now. You have no idea how, but he is standing before you, living and breathing. As seemingly endless tears pour down your face, you miss now the confusion on his face morphs into a look of grim understanding. He doesn't know what you went through, but he can guess.

And then you're laughing. Crying and laughing. Heaving breaths to accommodate your almost hysterical laughter, standing back to wipe away your tears before hugging Yuji again.

The sight of you hugging your student so tightly, healing with just this action, coaxes a half smile out of Gojo. Only half because he is in danger of faltering himself, bottom lip wavering as a wave of emotion flows over him.

The abandoned blindfold is clenched tightly in his hand as he tries to hold back the emotions welling in his brilliant eyes. He almost wants to put it back on to hide the emotions underneath, but he can’t, not when the whole reason he took it off was to see this with his own eyes.

No words are exchanged for a long while. They don't need to be, and even Gojo can see that.

By the time he is taking you home, your dynamic has shifted back to something more normal. It's raining, but you insist on walking back, citing the fact that his teleportation makes you horribly dizzy. (Or maybe, just maybe, you want a little more time with him. But you'd never admit that to yourself.)

The constant overhead drizzle is a bit annoying, but is bearable despite Gojo's claims of it tainting his very existence. He’s clearly back to his overdramatics - it's comforting.

The streets are dark, with only muted warm yellow lights lining the sidewalks, creating only vague halos of light due to the misty air. Gojo walks close to your side, an arm wrapping protectively around your shoulders. At some point through your chatting, it slips down to your waist. You don't notice it right away, but once you do, all you can do is wonder if he's done that before - if it's normal for friends.

You notice something else strange. His blindfold is still loosely hanging from his body, his baby blues on display. It's hard to look at him like this - you feel too exposed - even though you desperately want to get lost in his eyes. Yes, your deep affection for him still rings true, even if he yelled at you, even if he did expose your horrible, cringey child acting.

“I can’t believe you put on that movie!” You exclaim, miming exasperation.

Gojo chuckles, “Scolding me again, that’s a good sign. Even if it’s for an illogical reason – c’mon, ‘Painters in Paris’ is a classic!”

You can’t hold back your wide, devious smile, “I guess you would think that since you literally look like a fucking paint brush!”

His jaw drops, and he looks at you faux-offended as you practically double over in laughter.

“Angel! No, I really should be calling you devil! You- get over here!”

Although you run from him, he quickly catches up to you and you’re in his grasp. He immediately overwhelms you with vicious tickles.

“Gojo!! Satoru, you– stop that!” You say between bouts of laughter. You’re off balance, and his relentless attack isn’t helping. “Hey, stop, I’m gonna–!”

You stumble and begin to topple to the cold cement, but you’re scooped up before you meet your demise.

A small gasp escapes you at your proximity, and at his eyes so clearly looking deeply into yours, yearning burning through them. He's never looked at you like this - has he?

“Woah! That was close, huh, angel?” He smiles, tone nonchalant and voice steady. He seems unaffected by your closeness, but his eyes tell a different story. You don't know what to trust - him or his eyes. But they say that the eyes are the windows into the soul – what answer does that leave you with?

And what answer do you have? Right now, with his strong arms around you, those beautiful eyes glittering as if they hold a sea of stars, that sweet smile that never fails to give you butterflies, those lips you can’t help but glance at for too long–

You know.

Without thinking, you give in to your instinct to keep leaning in, and your lips meet his. It's not a passionate crash, but more of a gentle whisper to the soul. A soft brush to his lips, all the sweetness he brings to you returned.

Then, you pull away slowly, almost in confusion. Did you just do that?

You’re horrified. What did you just do without a single thought behind your action?

A gentle chuckle brings you out of your momentary horror.

“So what, you’re a paint brush kisser now?” He chuckles softly, his thumb gently brushing against your lower lip.

You take in his expression - flushed cheeks, a soft smile, eyes full of a softness you've never imagined they could have.

"Yes,” You agree, your mouth stretching widely from the excitement and happiness you can’t hold back, “ l proudly am.”

He pulls you closer and kisses you deeply, again and again and again until you're both out of breath. You both stay in that moment, feelings that lay hidden for years finally spilling out, until you're completely engulfed by the rain.

note part 2: I have a tendency to be over-detailed about boring/fluff details, so I tried to do that less here. First one shot in a while !! I hope the flow is still okay…I also couldn't decide how to do the ending, so l hope this works?

Also wow I can’t stop writing hurt/comfort and Gojo being an ass! I have another story drafted that’s also Gojo x reader and hurt/comfort as well…

Here’s a hint about that one: 🌸🩸

If you’re looking for more hurt/comfort, here’s my gojo hurt/comfort series: here (more action-y than this though)

Thanks for reading !! :)

[bullet-prooflove]

The Maybe Girl: Colton Shaw x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @inlovewithcharmers @mckinleysbones @rex-the-dino @ahoodgirl

Companion piece to:

Stay (NSFW) - Colter can never ask for you to stay.

Sometimes Colter dreams about you. His hands running through your hair, his lips chasing all over your skin as your head tips back and you say his name. Those are the mornings he wakes up with a hard on he has to take care of in the shower because those dreams, they’re memories, ones that are scored upon the surface of his heart. He jerks off to the image of your mouth encircling him, that sinful look in your eyes when you know he’s close, so close he’s about to…

There’s the other dreams, of course, the ones he would never reveal to a living soul. A white dress and a cabin in the woods, a couple of dogs. You’re both too fucked up for a traditional relationship and children aren’t on the cards but it doesn’t stop Colter from hoping that maybe one day you’ll both settle down together. He can’t see it happening anytime soon but eventually, when you both get your shit together.

“I’m your Maybe Girl…” You had said one night when you were laying on your stomach in his bed. He was doodling patterns across your skin, connecting the constellations of scars when you’d finally spoke.

“Maybe Girl?” He’d questioned, his eyebrows furrowing as he tilted his head to read your features.

“You know…” You say, meeting his eyes. “The one you tell yourself you may have a future with so you can avoid any other commitments.”

“That’s not…” He trails off, pursing his lips together when you give him that knowing look. “I don’t think of it as a maybe.”

For Colter it’s an inevitability. He’s been in love with you for years at this point and he’s confident you’re in love with him. It’s why you tell him your secrets by the light of the campfire, the things you’ve never told anybody else

“Oh.” You say, looking troubled. “Colter, I can’t give you anything more than this…”

“I know.” He’d whispered, his thumb tracing lightly over the apple of your cheek. “But maybe someday you can.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, he knows that now. Sometimes he gets so caught up in you he can’t help but express his feelings but you, you’re like a skittish animal. You need to be approached carefully, with caution because for you commitment is entrapment.

It’s marrying a man your father chooses for you at the age of fifteen, one three times your age and an elder of the cult he joined because your mother died and he can’t cope with his teenage daughter. It’s hunting in the woods for survival to feed children that aren’t your own, ones that you can never have because that first time was so violent that  it ruined you.

You don’t even bother to slip out when he’s asleep that night. You just get up, gather up your clothes and go.

He doesn’t follow because he understands that urge to escape, especially when you feel overwhelmed. That’s why his father called him The Restless One.

When you appear outside his airstream tonight he doesn’t expect it. It’s been six months since he last laid eyes on you and he’s parked in the middle of nowhere, waiting for the next reward to come through.

“I can’t be your Maybe Girl,” is the first thing you say to him, the rain pouring down as you stand outside, soaking wet.

“How about you be the girl that comes in to get dry?” He suggests as he steps out of the way revealing the warm glow of the airstream. “The girl I make tea for because there’s a chill in the air and I’m terrified of her catching hypothermia.”

You step inside, leaving a trail of wet clothes that leads directly to his shower. He sighs as he picks them up, hanging them up to dry over the cupboard doors in the kitchen before he goes through his slender wardrobe and picks out the shirt you like to wear. It’s a soft faded grey, one he’s had since long before he bought airstream. The only reason he hasn’t thrown it out yet is because he knows how much you like it.

“Are you going to join me?” You call from the bathroom and he envisions you naked underneath the water, the droplets trailing over your skin. He lays the t-shirt down on the bed and he wonders if you’ll stay tonight or if he’ll find that it neatly folded on the table were he eats as if it had never been worn.

“Yea.” He calls through, pulling off his own shirt and tossing it in the hamper. “Just give me a sec and I’ll be right there.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[strawberry-lemonade-kisses]

Empty Nester's (M)

Tags - manga spoilers, new manga ending because it's mine, Fem Reader, Reader is called mama, mom, etc. Cunnilingus, squirting, idk

"With the children away for the weekend, what do you guys have planned?” Makio was swaddled with your baby, 11 months old and so big already, she could easily be mistaken for much older than she is. She was like her daddy, big, smart, and sweet. Harumi had been visiting the Uzui’s on the weekends for the past month giving you and Gyomei a break but also preparing them for the arrival of their own bundle of joy in the coming months. Of course, you had spent weekends as a family with them but then it was suggested that she stay by herself. You compromised with all three of the kids staying with the Uzui’s that way at least Muichiro and Genya knew their sister and could help.

“I don’t think we are doing anything special, a night in, maybe we will get a full night of sleep” Gyomei laughed from the doorway where he was talking with Tengen, the boys crowding him as he talked of their weekend plans. Makio squinted, rolling her eyes before turning back to you. “How is Hinatsuru? Has the tea been helping ease her stomach? It was heaven sent for me, Shinobu had trained Aoi so well” Makio nodded, bouncing slightly as Harumi stirred from where she rested.

“She is doing much better, eating a lot more which we are grateful for. She had us all worried. But she is well, excited to see Harumi, I think the maternal instincts are already kicked in because she hasn’t stopped talking about Harumi since she left last weekend” You nodded, understanding the feeling, throughout your pregnancy just seeing babies made you want to cry from happiness, some mothers would even come chat when they noticed your heavy stomach, letting you gush over their baby.

“Yeah, but Harumi is also the sweetest girl, so patient and she loves her brothers so she’s happy when they are around” Harumi’s head lifted at the mention of her brothers. “You should head home before she falls asleep, she sleeps like her father at night and Hinatsuru may not get to play with her” You urged the Uzui wife back towards the door, Tengen noticing the movement moved to let Makio pass.

“That’s our cue then, we will see you all in 3 days, have a good night, and try not to have too much fun!” Tengen winked before turning to follow his wife, your sons leaving with a wave and a few air kisses before following as well, a row of little ducklings.

As the door slid shut your husband turned to you.

“Come on, I have something for you” He was rocky, still settling into the prosthetic leg, it made him sway a lot when he walked but he no longer had to hold onto your shoulder, he could walk just by holding your hand which was an improvement. He was still hesitant about holding Harumi while standing but that would happen with time, just had to be patient.

“You’ve been so patient with us, every single one of us, from the boys to Harumi, and to me. Since the fall of the demons almost 2 years ago you’ve been so attentive and working nonstop, making sure everyone is comfortable and happy, you’ve kept everyone fed and bathed. You even changed our bandages and helped us bathe, which is no small feat. You did so much and I just wanted you to know how grateful I am, and how grateful the boys are to have you, to call you my wife, to call you a mother. I am so happy to be here with you, to have been given the chance to stay on this planet with you and live happily.” He paused his speech as you got to the backyard, lit with lanterns and decorated with flowers. There was a large blanket in the middle of the yard, filled with pillows to create what looked like the coziest bed ever. Sitting next to the bed was a tray lined with snacks and wine alongside 2 glasses.

“What is all this? When did you do all this?” You turned towards your husband of 5 years someone who you had watched grow into the beast of a man before you today, so gentle and loving and at the same time he held power you couldn’t even imagine carrying after knowing him for 8 years he still gave you butterflies.

“Had some help, you are quite oblivious when you are with Harumi so it was easy, she loves her mama just as much as I do. You are an amazing woman and I’m so honored and blessed to call you my wife.” Your eyes watered at the thought behind this surprise and his sweet words, you hadn’t put thought into the things you did, there was a house to run and a family to take care of after they literally saved the world, the least you could do is take care and help them, it was almost natural, you had been taking care of Gyomei’s injuries since you had first met in the wisteria house your family-owned, although it was closed now, once again it was just a home but more than welcome to those who were former corps members.

“I don’t know what to say” his hands moved to your back, gently guiding you towards the bed, the warmth from the overwhelming amount of candles provided such comfort that it didn’t take long for your muscles to relax as you sunk into the cushions and pillows.

“you don’t need to say anything, just relax, enjoy your night” There was a soft smile on Gyomeis face as he sat down, stretching his legs. “c’mere let me hold you” his words were quiet, like a whisper to draw you into his space, you didn’t hesitate before moving between his legs, letting your back rest against his chest while he wrapped you in his arms, letting his hands rest on your thighs. You both sat in silence, enjoying the clear night with the stars shining so bright you could probably see without the candles, but they provided extra comfort to your night. It was nice having a night with just the two of you, it was something that you hadn’t experienced in years. Between them fighting Muzan and having to relearn how to live normally, to giving birth to your daughter there was always a full house. Now they were able to leave, more than ready to get out of the house and spend time with their friends and family. It was something you weren’t quite ready for. Large hands were wiping away tears before you could realize you were crying.

“What ails you? What can I do?” Gyomei was soft as he addressed you, still holding your cheek as you relaxed back into him.

“They are all leaving, they can leave us now” you sniffled, turning around to face your husband, sitting on your knees. “Gyomei, the boys are gonna get married and leave” Deep down you knew it was ridiculous to think that they would suddenly leave, they were only 17 but you were dating Gyomei at 19 and he was 22, they could leave at any age. Gyomei smiled, his clouded eyes flickering about.

“Let’s slow down, no one is going anywhere. They are spending the weekend with the Uzui’s, and no one is getting married anytime soon unless we marry them off. Lay back, listen to that quiet, no kids, no screaming or fighting, no crying. Tranquility. S nice isn’t it?” You sat back, taking Gyomei’s advice and listening to the world around you. “What do you hear?” you listened close, relaxing into the embrace of your beloved and closing your eyes to truly listen.

“I hear the trees as they shake.”

“Mhm”

“I hear The birds sing their young to sleep. It sounds like they are getting tired” You were focusing, you swear you were, but his hands were distracting, wandering from your hips. His touch started slow, just rubbing your sides like he did when you wanted to relax, but then they started to move inwards, resting on your stomach and moving up.

“What else do you hear” His voice was low like he was telling you something you were allowed to hear, trying to hide it from the world.

“um…” You couldn’t focus on the sounds, not when he cupped one of your breasts, applying pressure as he leaned into your neck, wet kisses trailing from your jaw to your collarbone.

“focus, what’s going on?” The tone of his voice was a warning, a baritone hum as he continued his ministrations, biting into the skin of your neck as you leaned to the side, giving him more access.

“Frogs” is all you got out, moaning as one hand undid the ties to your clothing and the other continued to fondle you.

“good girl, what else” He paused, leaning back to watch each inch of your kimono fall off your shoulders and reveal your skin.

“I-“ a moan interrupted you as both his hands went to work, pinching the nipple of one breast while massaging the other. His lips still danced along your skin, slowly compared to his rough hands. “The river” He hummed into your skin, encouragement to continue as he worked like he was tuning a violin, plucking the strings of your pleasure until he had it just right. “You” Your answer was met with his hands removing themselves from your body, his mouth detaching itself from your skin. You sat up, turning to look at your husband.

“Yeah? What do I sound like?” His disheveled hair and lack of prayer beads had him looking almost feral, his hooded gaze staring down at you as he crawled over you, moving you until your back hit the ground, looking up at him. Your answer never came as he engulfed you in a kiss, claiming your lips as his own. You couldn’t stop the moan that erupted as one of his hands found purchase on your hip, pulling the band of your panties until they snapped back at your skin. Your tongue grazed his lip, asking for more, and was met with a hasty reply. Your mouths danced so familiarly with one another, like every movement of the other's tongue was rehearsed, practiced an infinite number of times over, each clash of teeth and head tilt a piece of intricate choreography. Gyomei pulled back gasping, head tilting towards your ear.

“You know what I want?” He hummed pressing a kiss to your collar, lips wet with your shared saliva. You made a noise of acknowledgment, too high-strung by his constant touches everywhere but where you wanted. You're sure if you looked down you would see your panties soaked through, uncomfortably damp but you couldn’t care less. “I want to be the one to listen to the pretty noises you make when you cum on my tongue” Your breath hitched as he placed another kiss on the slope of your breast, moving his way down your body, with teasing touches and wet kisses. “Okay?” He continued his path down your body, nipping at your hip bone, tracing the soft skin of your stomach as he nosed at your panties.

“Yes sir”

“Good girl” His praise was accompanied by his tongue, licking at the wet patch that had stained your panties. He was never a patient man when it came to pleasure, you had grown used to it, he knew what he wanted and he wasn’t afraid to take it if you let him, and who were you to deny your husband of such pleasures? He pulled aside your panties, not bothering to slide them off your hips, just revealing the glistening beauty of your pussy. The groan he let out was pure sin like a predator warning its prey before it eats them. Which is what he planned on doing. Gyomei didn’t waste time, diving into the heat of your pussy. His tongue flicked at your throbbing clit, teasing and divine. He went from flicking to sucking, not wasting a breath between both, switching the rhythm to keep you on edge. You reached down, hoping to hold onto him as grounding, afraid you would float away in the thralls of pleasure.

“Mei, please don’t stop” You moaned a symphony for him, following the beat of his tongue. 2 fingers pushed their way into your heat, thick and practiced it was almost too natural for him to do it, like he was using the hand to tighten the ropes of your pleasure, cranking at them in hopes they would break. He hummed into you, enjoying his meal thoroughly, eyes closed like he was lost in his own heaven and that ad you clenching, teetering on the edge of orgasm thinking he was enjoying this as much as you. By the way you could make out the subtle shift of his hips against the ground, you had no doubts he was. His fingers curled upwards, thrusting in at a speed faster than his tongue. You fell, the pleasure quickly overwhelming your body jolted, trying to breathe through the pleasure. You saw stars, eyes rolling back for a few seconds as his ministrations continued, not wanting to slow and end his own pleasure. Another groan resonated through your core that had you yelping, an unfamiliar swirl in your stomach itching forward.

“C’mon baby” He moaned again, begging for your body, and his hand continued it work, mouth quickly attaching back to your overly sensitive bud. A second orgasm came crashing down on you, a litany of explants leaving your mouth as you released all pent-up energy, coating your husband's face in a stream of pleasure. He lapped eagerly at your sex, not wasting a drop of you, pulling his fingers out and licking them clean as well while you tried to come back to earth, breathing heavily and holding weakly to the and that still held your panties to the side. Gyomei sat on his heels, rubbing at your tighs while you tried to get ahold of yourself.

“You did so good mama’s, so good for me, huh?” His tone was encouraging. He was careful as he moved your legs together, giving him room to lay next to you, a space heater for your bare body, still recovering. You looked at him through lidded eyes, a sleepy smile gracing your lips.

“Gyomei,” You whispered, still breathless. He smiled, pulling you into his chest so you could snuggle in, using your kimono as a blanket to cover you and keep you warm.

“I’m here” He pressed a kiss to your head, damp, but you didn’t care.

“Thank you” He hummed, knowing that this was just the beginning of a long night.

[mandukkul]

TEENAGE ANGST — n. rk

synopsis: you’re suppose to spend yet another birthday alone wallowing in teenage angst, but someone steps in and breaks the cycle

tags: non!idol!riki x f!reader, comfort, angst (not too much i think), a bit of fluff, maybe coming of age

warnings: riki doesn’t appear until like 1/3 into the oneshot, NOT PROOFREAD!!! cursing, angst (i think), spelling and grammatical errors (i wrote tbis at 2am and finshed it at 3 leave me alone), lots and lots of mis-capitalisations, tense errors probably, teenage angst 😰 , let me know if there are any more

word count: 4.7k

published: 13 July

authors note: first writing piece on here, my birthday is on september 8th but i wrote this maybe back in may

You think as a teenager, the worst thing that could affect you was teenage angst. but for you, it would probably be the least of your problems. Instead wallowing like every other teenager before you, locked deep into their rooms never to see the sun until they were 20, you decide it’s better to fix your problem with a day out. 

you’re going to be better than what the stereotype says. I mean who’s better at swimming in your own self pity than yourself of course. Even if your parents had decided that travelling abroad for months on end as a job was better than staying at home in the giant house they bought to live as a family, or leave a teenager alone instead of bringing her along, you won’t let it bother you like it did the previous years. 

Although you couldn’t feel bad, your parents were dreaming big, even if you became merely a side thought in that dream. Any teenager would live blissfully with all the materials you had. It was truly a dream, but a dream can only become reality if you make it. 

You’re not going to think so negatively and say that people around you would rather see you burn than to see you happy, even though that’s exactly what you’re saying. 

You’re a kid with everything you want, but surrounded by other kids who are and have basically the same as you, only with parents in the picture, you’re at bare minimum on the grand scale of things. 

To live your life with no one by your side, unless you count the people who dislike you at school, is harder than you think. 

But you’ve lived your life like this far too long to complain, it’s been routine to be left alone. only now, the difference is that your birthday was today. 

spending what most would say a precious day, in a house so hollow you’d think it was abandoned isn’t exactly ideal.  Being alone could only add to your ever growing list of reasons to angst over. not even you, who seemed accustomed to this trend, would want to be reminded of how alone— lonely— you are. 

so to attempt to turn a new leaf, you urge yourself to spend it differently, you told yourself. straying from your normally secretive emo self, you decide that traveling to the next suburb ,since you heard about a new promotion of the manga you liked being released in a cafe in said suburb, was a good way to ignore your ever piling problems of self-destructive tendencies. 

but oh how the world is against you, even if it is your birthday. 

The bus suddenly needs to take a detour to a different area you’re not too familiar with, then declares that the route must be canceled due to complications leaving you stranded in the middle of butt fuck nowhere. When checking your phone to find where you are, you see that you are not only an hour walk away from your house, but your phone is standing on its last legs with a messily 20%. 

To test your limits further, the sky starts to cry the moment you’re just far enough from your house that running back would do more harm than good. 

you quickly scope your area, finding that there are no parks in the vicinity to offer mercy from the rain, and the closest shelter is either 20 minutes forward to the bus stop or the array of trees planted along the side wall as decorations. 

you way your options, and take the tree closest to you as refuge. you’re glad the area you’ve wandered to is littered with them, even better that they're thick enough to offer some kind of protection. 

minutes passed and the rain hasn’t let up, going at the same harsh rate it has been going at for the past 10 minutes. your clothes, so obviously drenched, weighs you down causing your minimal moves to become sluggish (or maybe it’s the premonition of sickness approaching). 

the trees hang low with despair, mimicking your very attitude. rain licks your face, and you can’t tell whether your tears finally made its greeting or it’s rain getting into your eyes.  

you start to ponder whether running to the back home would be a better idea than your lovely tree, the idea of escaping your rain soaked clothes seeming like a dream as of right now, a dream escaping you the longer you wait. 

you test your already bad luck, because god so obviously has a vendetta against you, deciding your next best option was to end your little escapade and head back home in the rain. 

Barely ten minutes in, with wet sneakers splashing into deep puddles and your clothes glued to you like second skin, the rain starts to roar, angered by your decision apparently. 

your vision can’t help but blur due to the heavy rain clouding your sight, and the hair that stubbornly sticks itself into your forehead and subsequently, your eyes. it’s hazy and you can barely make out the road in front of you, you’re glad the path ahead of you is empty and that you’ve arrived in a more familiar area. 

I guess not even you can escape the clutches of teenage angst, slowing your strides and accepting your fate. 

you think how stupid and cliche you look walking in the rain with a frown. Your feet dragging, now feeling the effects of almost an hour in the rain, and on your birthday of all days. The only thing to complete your look was loud sad emo music. 

stopping in your tracks, letting the rain do what it wants, you begin to think back to what you must’ve done to anger god so much. 

you shut your eyes for just a moment, to shield yourself from rain trying to attack your eyes, but the rain suddenly stops, or more accurately, something is blocking the rain from you. you begin to hear the pitter patter of rain against an umbrella and just for a moment, you think god has found pity in your wallow and granted you mercy. When opening your eyes, low and behold, a black umbrella meets your face. 

oh and there’s Riki, or what he likes to be called, Niki, standing in front of you, holding the umbrella over your head acting as your current saviour. 

so much for God's mercy. 

If your day wasn’t already so bad, you’d say that seeing niki would be the worst part of your day. Unfortunately for you though, it was the best. 

you and niki have never been on the same page, ever since he ‘accidentally’ bumped into you while you were in an empty hall. you had given him many chances to be nice to you, or atleast apologise, but as days passed from the first meeting, all you’ve received was strange stares you know all too well. When confronting him, all he could do is ignore you and or play dumb.  This interaction had left a massive rift between the two of you, and being a not so popular kid  in highschool compared to the ‘king of dance’ was not a good look. 

“why are you trying to be a main character” is the last voice you want to hear from, especially on this joke of a birthday. you crane your neck slightly, meeting face to face with the face you hate (and hate to say is extremely easy on the eyes). “why are you trying to stop my main character moment” you shoot back with equally as much snark, but it comes off weak as you underestimated the sound of rain. 

Niki looks down at you with the same glint in his eye you dislike, not because it was a judgmental one, but one of mystery because you can never guess what he’s thinking. “sorry sorry, should i let you get back to that” he removes the umbrella from above you but you make no attempt to stop him. 

the rain embraces you once again, as harsh it was moments ago. you state a niki again, his dry figure under the comfort of his darken umbrella, staring at you who seemed to be physically separated from him. 

talk about rift. 

you’ve never noticed how far you were from niki, in a metaphorical sense. Niki had everything you had, and more. He had people to talk to, hang out with, care about and care for. He too, probably went through his fair share of teenage angst, but you think to yourself that this is the first (and only) win.  

he sees this and halts his movement, examining your figure deeply. you seem tired. along with the wet suit you’re wearing, and unruly hair dripping at its tips, you look far different to how you present yourself at school. nonchalant and cool, an enigmatic girl who seems to always be out of everyone’s business but as of now, you look (in the nicest way possible) like a train wreck. 

“Are you taking joy out of watching me wallow?” you scoff, staring at him with a distasteful eye, “i’m not a sadist” he jokes but he’s the only one who’s smiling. 

he coughs to clear his throat, or maybe the awkward atmosphere, you’re too tired to care. you watch as he moves the umbrella back under you, “why are you standing in the rain anyways?” he questions. 

“m trying to get home” you whisper loud enough to beat the rain, looking at Niki who’s features seem to fuzz up the more you blink. 

“don’t you live 3 streets away?” he adds, you only nodding in response.

your movements are suddenly too sluggish to call lazy, the effects of an hour in the rain finally hitting you. 

“aren’t your parents worried?” 

probably

“my parents are overseas,” you mumble as he nods knowingly, having his fair shares of travelling parents, although he has his sisters to accompany him, “and i don’t feel like spending my day alone”

birthday 

you think how this is the first real conversation you’ve had with niki, ever since your first encounter. Normally you’d stray away from him, so much as  look in your direction, you’re off to avoid further conflict and instead plan a faux argument comeback for if the day ever arrives. 

you rub your eye to rid the haze that had gotten worse, along with the bodily ache and pounding head. 

niki notices, he always notices you. seeing you off in your own world from a distance. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, his tone laced with concern, or at least that's what you think. He moves his hand to wipe some hair out of your face, attempting to help with your irritable eyes. 

Despite the cold weather, you’re hot to the touch. 

“oh shit, you’re burning up” he goes into mother mode as he touches your forehead, seeing as that’s what his sister and mother do when he has his own fever. you mumble an incoherent response, you’re not sure what you said either. 

“I should get home then” you mumble, stepping away from safety and into the rain. He goes to stop you, but the moment you move you’re in shambles, collapsing into his arms like some damsel in distress. 

oh fuck

…

sometimes you think to yourself, what did you do to end up here? and when i mean here, i don’t mean the literal sense, i mean the place you are in life, because for you, all you seem to do is piss of whoever’s writing your story, because why else would you be living such a shitty (but not enough to outwardly complain) life. 

The second you wake up in bed was your first red flag. the sheets a bluish grey, far different from your own floral white ones. The bed is softer, and the quilt more warm, but that might just be from the sheer exhaustion you exhibited some time ago. 

The next flag was the scary tall silhouette you see entering the room, holding what looks like a black plastic bag filled with various things. 

riki looks much more intimidating when all you can make out is his outline. 

the moment he turns around from shutting the door, he sees your eyes staring at him and the previous blank expression he wore changes into a face of concern. 

“oh you’re awake” he scrambles words together as he stalks up to for bedside, placing the plastic bag beside him as he examines your condition like some kind of doctor. 

“clearly” you croak, and you find out that your voice is extremely hoarse (and sore). 

“try not to speak, i think you have a fever from standing under the rain” he deduces but you can’t help but scoff, “gee, who would’ve guessed”. 

the sick you are even snarky than normal you. 

Niki chuckles at your comment as he shuffles around the plastic bag for a bottle of water and what looks like painkillers. 

you shift your head to watch him as he assorts the medicine and water onto the bedside table, pulling out a small mandarin to complete the collection. 

“What's with the orange?” you whisper, trying to not use your voice too much, “vitamin c” he answers simply and you can’t help but laugh at him. 

you manoeuvre into a sitting position to take what he’s giving you, ignoring the pain striking your head as you do so. 

as you pop pills and chug water, you continue to scan the room. It's pretty boring, with a table with a few pieces of stationary, and a shelf with some personal touches. 

Niki sees you’re so obviously inspecting the room, and coughs up an answer. 

“oh umm- sorry. i didn’t know where you lived and you had passed out and i panicked and brought you to my house” he explains. that explains the strange surroundings. you’re in his room. 

you think about how different his room is to what you originally assumed. no trophies, or obnoxious posters. a very standard and boring room for someone so rich. 

his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, “i’ll leave you to rest” he starts to get up and you don’t know what has gotten over you, but the moment you see him shift away, you grasp his wrist urging his attention back on you. 

he stares at you intently, as if he’d listen to the hours of silence you’d make if you chose to. 

under his scrutinising gaze, you can’t help but avert your gaze. “I don't want to spend my birthday alone” you unconsciously mumble and you feel pathetic as you hear the words leave your mouth. 

a raging silence fills the room, and your own anxiety gets the best of you as you loosen your grip around his wrist. 

the moment he longer feels your fingers against him, he reaches for you back which surely catches your attention. 

you never had a real interaction with the boy, especially due to the circumstances you (or him) were put through but your distaste for him wasn't baseless, even if your heart felt different. 

Speaking about heart, it was pounding so loudly against your chest, you could’ve sworn Niki would dance to it. 

“It's your birthday?” he’s grip on your hand is gentle, almost delicate as if you’d crack under the pressure of his touch. you nod softly, not facing him but you can tell what he’s thinking. 

you probably seem more like a loser than you already are, you feel like that at least. 

Riki nods his head, gently as to let your eyes follow enough not to be bothered by such movements. He repositions himself beside his own bed, hand still attached to yours. 

you try everything in your power to ignore his riveting gaze, but the awkwardness is much louder than the silence itself. 

you ponder to yourself, if this birthday was one of your best ones or the worse. you silently compare back to when you were six, and everyone and their friends were there. your parents seemed less concerned with otherworldly matters and you focused on nothing but the people around you. 

That was the last time you felt noticed. 

teenage angst must’ve hit you really early, huh? 

then, back to just 14, where it was yet another year alone, with no one at school knowing who you are (yet because the moment you meet riki everything had a turn for the one worse), your parents at god knows where, living their best business lives, and this is your first time spending your birthday alone (first of a few). 

you think how empty your house was, how dark and voided it felt, feeding into your ever growing reasons to angst. 

and now you think of now, despite being ill with a rising fever, you don’t feel as bad as you did back then. you can’t tell if it’s just your delirious mind putting it’s fair share of delusional thoughts into you, or it’s just because you haven’t had company in so long. but the hand wrapped around yours, and the feeling of someone (even if it’s the ever so terrible niki) next you that made you smile. 

“What are you smiling about? Are you going through shock?” niki’s voice is a mixture of playfulness and concern, because even if the chances of you suddenly falling into a seizure is low, it isn’t zero. 

your eyes trail to him, but not to his eyes, you wouldn’t dare look straight at him. 

“I thought it was going to be another bad birthday” you shrug, and you can’t for the life of you, wipe off your smile, not now because Riki finds it in himself to squeeze your hand. 

you expect another remark, because that’s all your conversations seem to be (from the single one you’ve just had earlier) but nothing of the sort came, instead, from the corner of your eyes, you see him smile. 

the nicest type of smile, with his boxy edges, and eyes squeezing softly. 

if you weren’t looking at him before, you are now. 

“I'm glad” that’s all he says, and your heart clenches at something that isn’t depression and anxiety. 

The overwhelming feeling of awkwardness has long dissipated and has been replaced with something else. 

something new. 

you stare intently into his eyes, moreso, he does and you are compelled to look back. He's searching for something, in the darkness of the room it seems like. 

you can barely make out his features, soft eyes, and sharp jaw. his hair perfectly framing his face, to much of your distaste, and is slightly damp probably from just getting back from wherever he went. 

you wonder what’s going inside that head of his, while staring so intently at you, dissecting every little part of you. does he notice the droop of your eyes, how tired you look, how pale your skin has gotten from days locked in your room, how your cheeks never flushed with life yet was always plush to the touch (probably from all the instant food you’ve consumed)

does he notice the teenage angst you wallow in, him probably going through the same trivial problems as you. 

“Sorry you have to spend your weekend with me” you whisper, thinking about all the other things the “king of dance” could be doing instead of nurturing you back to health. 

He’d probably be out with heeseung or jake at the local gaming cafe, laughing and playing. He was probably on his way there if not for running into you. 

you don’t break eye contact so you see how his eyes double in size, quick to shake his head, your own aching from following his movements. “hey don’t say that” he scolds you, taking his other hand to caress yours. 

How intimate does he get?

your skin burns from his touch, and not because your fever is bordering on 39° C. Your eyes tear away, too much of your brains disliking because, even if you dislike him, he’s very nice to look at. 

“no one deserves to spend their birthday alone” and he may be right, but your own angsty self could beg to differ. 

because with the cards dealt to you, and the way you’ve treated the world (because how it treated you) there’s no doubt there’s a love hate (mostly hate) relationship going on between you and life. 

“Even more, now that you’re sick” he adds on, rubbing circles to the back of your hand and you feel comfort for the first time in a while. 

“i guess even someone who hates me can be nice, huh?” you didn't mean to say that out loud, but your quiet voice is too intertwined with your head voice, mixed with the fact that you’re terribly sick, couldn’t tell the difference. 

he stares at you quizzingly, as if you’ve said something so utterly absurd it’s left him speechless. 

“i don’t hate you” 

those words catch you off guard. because the words “don't” and “hate” have never been uttered on the same line with “you” following after it. 

you stay silent. it’s your birthday so of course he wouldn’t uprightly say it to your face. 

“Do you hate me?”

he asks and you take a moment to ponder, about the strange stairs he’s given you, and the amount of times he’s ignored you piled with how everyone at school seems to stray away from you. 

you only hate him because he hates you 

“i only hated you because you hate me”

niki is left truly speechless (in a metaphorical sense), and his jaw is literally cracked wide. 

“what?!? I don't hate you! god! i could never hate you”

like a cringey teenage cliche, you bite your lip holding back an unwanted grin. 

“don’t say the lord's name in vain” you mutter to make light of the situation. 

not having friends didn't mean you weren’t socially inept. 

Your dry chuckle is the only sound left in the room, other than the pattering of rain. riki can’t help but frown at the news he just heard. 

“i’ve never hated you, not for a second”  he looks at you as if he’s trying to convince you, telling you that all your internalised monologues were for nothing, “i just thought… since you were so stand-off-ish, that you just didn't like me” you shrug, averting from his gaze. 

words pour out of you like vomit and you can no longer keep up your enigmatic cool girl facade, not now that you’re sick. 

“not many people like me, so i assume you hate me jusy as much, and well, if you hated me, i figured i should hate you back” 

and you did, well you tried to at least. but in moments like these; where niki holds your hand as if you’re the only thing keeping him alive, where his eyes never leave your lips because he’s so set on remembering every little detail you say, afraid your words will be lost to tone. you can’t help but not hate him at all, noy one bit. 

“how could i hate you when you’re just so perfect” he whispers, almost like a confession. 

actually he did confess. to you. right now. 

you owlishly blink, and suddenly think that your beating heart is more serious than your fever. 

you try to snatch your hand away from him, in embarrassment of him feeling how hot you feel, with the tips of your ears flaming red. 

with your averted gaze, it’s not like you can see that his neck has a creeping speck of hot red as well as his cheeks, ears, and everything on him. 

He's so glad it’s dark right now. 

“you can’t just say that, riki” it’s the first time you’ve said his name. 

his name out of your mouth, your tongue, your lips. 

He wants to hear it again. 

“Why not?” he eggs, leaning closer despite the strange territory they’ve suddenly entered. 

“Some people might get the wrong idea” and by some, you mean yourself because even with the minimal things you know about the boy next to you, your heart is fluttering like crazy it makes you want to vomit.

“But I'm not lying, you’re so perfect” Riki reiterates, “you’re so perfect, i’m afraid to even talk to you, or look at you, even be around you” he rambled at the amount of failed attempts to talk to you, caused by his shyness. 

so… everytime you tried to talk to him, walked near him, caught him staring, it was all because of some silly crush?

and now you feel stupid, ontop of your crippling angst, you’ve failed at teenage romance. 

letting out a frustrating sigh, so heavy you might even blow the poor boy away, you drop down ontop your back and whine. 

he’s shocked for a moment, watching you wail with your hands covering your face. 

he finds you so cute, his stomach might because an olympic gymnast at this point. 

riki crawls closer to you, kneeling onto his knees as he gently pries your hand away from your face. “I feel so stupid” you can’t help but utter, eyes shut to avoid his eyes. 

riki grins, leaning closer (not that you could see), “the smartest girl at school? Feeling stupid? That's a first” he jokes and you unintentionally snort out a laugh, “i’m not the smartest” you instantly shoot back, slowly opening your eyes. 

“oh but you are, you’re smart, and beautiful, and mysterious and witty and-“  you rip your hand from his grip to cover his mouth, any more and your ego will start to inflate and be as big as Sunghoon’s. “aish, stop that 

'' You laugh, and you can hear him giggling along. 

“But why? can’t i tell the girl i like how amazingly perfect she is?”

the girl he likes…

the. 

girl

he

likes

IS YOU?

“you like me…” you gape, maybe you are socially inept, or at least, romantically. 

riki laughs, and a hearty one at that. the type of laugh that comes straight from the stomach. “how could anyone not?” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

like the teenage girl you are, you can’t help but feel bubbly and giddy, like the princess in some lame disney movie being swept off her feet by a guy who’s probably way too old for her (funny seeing that riki’s younger than you). 

Then guilt hits you. as much as you want to revel in this blissful joy, you know nothing about riki, and you spent so long hating on him in your head to suddenly switch up. 

“I know nothing about you though…” you break the news to him, “i mean, we technically just had our first real conversation”. 

riki can’t help but smile, even if he’s just been indirectly rejected, your gentleness in letting him down makes him swoon even more. 

“we can get to know each other then” he declares, smiling down at you. 

“But are you willing to wait?” your eyes fill with anticipation, hoping for the best (it is your birthday after all), and wonder for the first time in forever, smiling from ear to ear.

“for you, i’d wait a thousand years” 

if what he said before wasn't swoon worthy, this definitely was. 

you feel like one of his silly fangirls that wait outside of class, giggling at his stupid smile but this time, you know you’re the cause of it. 

“Are you going to start singing Christina Aguilera now?” you joke, giggling quietly to yourself. “I mean you should, since it’s my birthday after all” oh what a good birthday it was. 

“anything for my birthday girl” Seeing your smile stretch for the first time, he hopes he’d be seeing that everyday in the near future.

Riki looks at you, for what feels like the millionth time. He really looks at you, like he did at school, like he did on the street in the rain, and like he does now. 

and he thinks to himself:

yeah, I can definitely wait.

authors note pt.2: as you can see i write a lot for riki (my bias) mostly because i have so many wips that i s decided to release 🤭 might accept request who knows. also if you have any tips on how to write or do a layout please pm!!!!

[gimme-a-man-after-midnight]

my royal roomie (part 2)

Fandom: Aquaman

Pairing: Orm Marius x Reader

part 1:

https://www.tumblr.com/gimme-a-man-after-midnight/693273500438429696/my-royal-roomie-pt-1?source=share

Summary: After a few days of living under your roof, Orm gets to know the little surface dweller he's been stuck with. With time, a stormy night, and a bottle of wine, the prince learns that he has more in common with you than he may think.

Word Count: 4,000+

Warnings: female reader, slow burn, light cursing, mentions of past emotional abuse, divorced parents!reader, dead parent, comic lore inaccuracies, floral inaccuracies??

Author's Note:

hi y'all! here's the full part 2 i've been working on for some time! thanks for the support on the last one and again, so sorry for the late continuation :/ i hope this story is to your liking! happy reading!

After the first one-on-one conversation you had in the living room, Orm didn't come out of the guest bedroom for days. You’d see flashes of platinum blonde out of the corner of your eye, just barely missing him by a few seconds whenever you’d be in the kitchen or outside of his door. You had made many offers through the red painted oak of his room to go grocery shopping together or take him on a tour of the town, but all of your efforts were met with a stern "No thank you." You had lost any hope you had of forming some kind of connection with the Atlantean for a while, cutting your losses by quietly resigning to a parallel existence. What you didn’t expect was the mutual understanding you two would come to on one fateful stormy Friday night, much like the one that brought him to your doorstep.

***

 Heavy traffic from the drive home, a full message inbox on your telephone, and the burnt attempt at roast chicken sitting on your oven rack had you nursing a glass bottle of wine by the living room window. Bad days were normal for anybody, but it didn’t make them easier to deal with on your own - the added stress of the stranger living in your space didn’t help either. You had been living a quiet life ever since you moved back to the sleepy town some years ago, taking up very little space and leaving minimal traces of yourself. Whether it was out of caution or cowardice, you weren’t sure yet. Either way, that silence had brought you comfort at a time where your thoughts were too loud, but now with another person occupying your space the quiet was becoming suffocating. 

Orm wasn’t by any means a bad roommate - he kept to himself, he didn’t make much noise, and he even managed to wash his dishes whenever he knew you weren’t in the kitchen - but he was a man.The last time you had lived with a man, the end of its course felt similar to how you two were living now, and maybe that’s why it was bothering you so much. Tip-toeing around the Atlantean made you feel uneasy in your own home, a situation you were all too familiar with. Typically at this time in the night you would be cooking up some plan to urge the man out of his guest room, but after the day you had, you didn’t have the heart to try. 

Once you took your final gulp of wine, wiping at the sides of your mouth with the back of your hand, you trudged away from the raging display outside of your window. The dishes could be a tomorrow problem, you thought to yourself as you were leaving your kitchen counter behind. You had only made it a few paces out of the living room before your body was overcome with chills, making you draw your blanket tighter around you. The draft through the house was unmistakable, confusing you thoroughly due to you always making sure the doors and windows were shut before bed. As you stepped deeper into the house, you realized the distinct breeze was coming from the direction of the guest bedroom. You had made it a point to allow Orm his space, but your brain was stirring with reasons for what he could possibly be doing in there  - most of them unsavory. 

With a deep breath and a tight fist holding your blanket, you gently rapped at the door. 

“Hey, Orm?”

No response. You knock again.

“I don’t mean to bother, but I’m feeling a bit of a breeze through the house and I can tell it’s coming from here, so I just want to see if everything is alri-”

The door suddenly opened a crack, revealing half of Orm’s face which was already more than you had seen in days. 

“If you don’t mean to bother, then don’t.”

The curt response, although expected, has you taken aback. Already seeing the Atlantean retreat from the spot again, you hold the door in its place in effort to keep his attention.

“Look, I know you wanna be alone, but I can’t help wondering why a cold ass breeze is coming from your room, so I just want to see what’s going on. Please, it’s freezing right now.” You do your best to keep control of your tone, not wanting to let on just how much the cold was getting to you - giving the prince another reason to look down on humans wasn’t on your agenda for the night.

 Almost as if he commanded the storm, the lightning cracked loudly outside as Orm swung his door open, revealing his full disheveled state to you. You jolted in place, practically leaping a step back in defense at the swift move.

“What’s going on is the stench of your burnt dinner was practically singeing my nostrils. I opened a window in hopes that I could find some relief, because clearly you surface dwellers have no trouble polluting not only the ocean, but your precious breathing air as well! I have little care for how cold your fragile body may get, so I suggest you retire to your room at once and leave me be.”  

There was a gap in the yelling match conversation, almost as if the blond was waiting for you to bite back at his harsh words, but the glazed look in your eyes and parted lips made it evident to the Atlantean that your mind was elsewhere. Orm followed your gaze, noticing that it was locked onto the maroon sweater he was adorning, looking at it with equal parts surprise and melancholy. His enhanced hearing picked up on a hitch in your breath and chattering of your teeth, confirming to him that you were clearly shaken.

After the long silence, you mousily spoke.

“I didn’t leave that sweater out for you.” 

 The arbitrary words silenced Orm, his expression turning to one of confusion as he looked down at the knit fabric on his chest.

“...where did you find it?” 

Your voice didn’t change in volume when you made your inquiry, but your tone was somber. The candid emotion made the Atlantean clear his throat awkwardly, unsure of how to handle such vulnerability from his host. You couldn’t even fully appreciate how much messier Orm looked in comparison to when he first arrived - looking like a 90s wet dream with his ungelled hair, clenched jaw, and broad shoulders peeking out of his loose fitting clothes. No, it was the clothes that were holding your attention hostage.

“It was deep in the wooden wardrobe of my room…the garb you set out for me wasn’t suitable for the storm,” Orm says, arms crossed in a defensive manner as he anticipates your response.

A part of you wanted to laugh at his retort, the corner of your lips quirking up for a millisecond before melting back into the numb expression you had prior. 

“Are you going to ask me to change? Because I don’t see why I should relent,” the blond goads, pulling a haughty expression that comes all too naturally.

Orm wasn’t sure himself why he wanted to urge a response from you - why he wanted to learn more about this sweater that was clearly jumbling up your thoughts enough to render you so silent. He tried to chalk it up to plain boredom, tried to reason with himself that all his time in self-isolation was making him yearn for more. Still, even with those excuses lined up to justify his actions, he couldn’t explain why seeing the down-turned expression on your lips felt so unnerving. This woman in front of him now was like a shell in comparison to the buoyant, eccentric character he had been previously introduced to - and for some bizarre reason he didn’t like it. 

Your thought process, on the other hand, was going in a completely different route. The glaringly red knit in your line of sight brought back too many memories that you had made efforts to bury. The cursed sweater in combination with the Atlantean prince’s snark makes your breath quicken and your mind wander to the whisper of a past life that still takes up space in your home. You couldn’t decipher if your shivering was coming from Orm’s open window or from your body trying to eject all of the feelings evoked from seeing that damn sweater.

“I-I…you…you shouldn’t-” you shakily exhale, your eyes surveying around your surroundings to try and focus on literally anything else. You backstep, hoping that physically running away from the situation will do you good, but your eyes lining up with the red-clad chest and the sound of the booming thunder makes you falter. Your hand clutches at your chest, the white knuckled grip on your blanket alerting your roommate.

The prince's body calls to action, making Orm take an instinctive step forward, reaching out as if to try and steady you. 

“What is happening with you? Why are you so high-strung? Do humans go into cardiac arrest so easily?” 

You couldn’t hear his stern questioning, your mind flitting to images of firm fists slammed against tables and nights spent alone, buried deep under your covers in the hopes of being swallowed by the sheets. It was like the space in your lungs was being taken up by a vice grip, and your ability to think - to form a simple thought that didn’t make your heart hurt - was completely ripped away from you. Even after four years, the memories of him still have so much power over you in a way that’s paralyzing.

“I-I just - I need - I need to breathe!”

With that final exclamation, you scurried away from the Atlantean, quickly making it back to your room before slamming the door shut behind you. Orm was left stunned outside of his door, his eyes trained in the direction of your room down the hall. 

What the hell just happened?

***

Arthur was done - so done.

The newly crowned Atlantean king had so much on his plate already, what with his upcoming engagement underway and him having an entire kingdom to look after. While he did appreciate his little brother feeling comfortable enough to call him at such an ungodly hour, the words the blond uttered made him want to pull his hair out. 

“I think I broke her - your human.”

“Bro, what?”

It was too fucking early for this. 

“Don’t call me - agh, nevermind - something’s wrong with your human and I’m not sure how to approach the situation. Is this really an environment you believe me to find enrichment from? My host is clearly on the brink of some sort of breakdown and I-”

“Wow, I never took you for someone that was so easily shaken, brother.”

Arthur’s poorly timed quip makes Orm stare back at the projection call with a blank face.

“First off, she’s not my human, she’s her own person. Second, what did you even do? She’s not one to just collapse on her own - although she is a serial overthinker and could definitely talk herself to an early grave...”

Orm, frustrated with his half-brother’s lack of support, rolls his eyes over the call.

“Okay, okay, but seriously. Something must’ve set her off or triggered her to react in a way. You sure you didn’t do anything?” 

“All I did was answer the door when she knocked. When she saw me at the entrance, she saw the sweater I was wearing and was overcome with emotion. That’s hardly my fault.”

Orm can see Arthur’s brows furrow in thought at the information, almost as if he’s assessing whether he’s been given the whole story or not.

“Well…where’d you get the sweater?”

“I hardly think that matters-”

“Just answer the question, bro-”

An exasperated grunt leaves Orm as he grips at the sheets beneath him in an attempt to contain himself. A part of him regretted bringing up the matter at all, communication with his half-brother being much too awkward to bear. 

“I got it from the wooden wardrobe inside of my chambers! It was much more practical to wear than the flimsy garb-”

“Shit,” Arthur cuts him off, the hologram shifting as the man rubs at his eyes. “The wooden wardrobe with vines on the sides?”

It was Orm’s turn to be taken aback, unsure of how he knew the detail from off the top of his head.

“Yes, that’s the one.”

A muffled sigh comes from Arthur’s end, the image changing again as the king shuffles out of bed quietly to not disturb a sleeping Mera.

“Listen, dude. It’s not my place to speak on her business like this, but all I can say is that the wardrobe - that room - holds a lot of memories that are painful for her. I know you didn’t mean to bring them up, but that wardrobe is off limits. Just try and apologize for now, but don’t pry.”

“But why should I-”

“Orm, seriously! I get it, you don’t like being there - that you’ve spent every day in your room ever since I dropped you off, but she’s been trying. She’s been doing everything she can to get you out of your shell and you’re not giving back anything. There has to be some give here, and that can start with you saying sorry.” 

Orm was surprised by the fact that Arthur knew of his daily whereabouts already, undoubtedly asking you for updates on him. However, what surprised him the most was that even though you have seemingly complained to his half brother, you never once suggested kicking him out - never demanded he leave your house and have Atlantis deal with him. You truly were a peculiar little thing. 

“...fine. But don’t expect me to continue such niceties with her.”

A belly laugh could be heard from over the call, surely out of amusement for the prince's unwavering coldness.

“Good. Now hang up, you disrupted my beauty sleep.”

With a scoff, Orm presses on the green gem of his wristlet and heads off to the direction of your room.

***

When Orm knocks on your door, he expects a big fuss - bouts of yelling, arguing, or cursing that’ll leave his highly sensitive ears ringing. What he doesn’t expect is everyone of his knocks being met with silence - deafening silence now that the storm has subsided. 

“Hello?”

The prince feels weirdly small waiting by your door for your answer, having no clue what he’ll be met with on the other side of him. (It also gives him some insight on how you must feel every time you knock on his door to chat, although he’d never admit to having similarities with you,)

“Are you ignoring me?” 

More silence. 

“Oh, enough of this childishness.”

With a deep breath in, Orm turns the knob of your door and lets himself into your room. He’s met with colorful tapestries embellishing the walls, big rugs covering the hardwood floor, and twinkling lights surrounding the bed frame. The scene that you set for yourself in your room makes Orm think about his home - the way that the colorful bioluminescence would sparkle throughout his kingdom. 

When the initial first impression of your room wears off, he notices there is no one in the bed. No squirming presence under the sheets or anyone sitting on top of the bed to give him a stern talking to. Where did you go?

The blond takes a tentative step inside, stepping over the fuzzy carpets to keep from disturbing their arrangement. When he walks past the bed frame and closer to the window, he sees a lump of a human wearing a large blanket over their shoulders and some type of bulky headgear that covers your ears and emits sound. You were completely enthralled by the scene outside of the window that you hardly notice Orm stepping up next to you. 

A sudden hand on your shoulder has you jolting upward with a yelp, your hand instinctively slapping away at the intruder before you turn to look at where they came from.

“Jesus fucking christ!”

Orm gets into his own defensive position as you scramble to press your back against the wall, looking at you as if you were a trembling animal.

“My god, woman!”

“What are you doing in here you scared me half to-”

“I knocked but there was no answer so I-”

“Oh, so you decided to just welcome yourself in?”

Orm purses his lips in frustration, not thrilled at being met with the uproar he had originally expected. You sigh to yourself in disbelief, willing yourself to be quiet since there would be no productive conversation if you two kept yelling at each other.

“Next time just take the hint that I’m busy if I don’t answer, okay? You can’t just barge in here when you want, it’s not cool…”

The Atlantean has some sense to feel a shred of shame when you speak, although your words are hardly convincing when your eyes don’t turn in his direction for even a second. You look so timid standing there in your corner with the blanket consuming you completely - not at all like the spitfire that called him an “asshole” and warned him not to “test her.” (He secretly felt some relief in your loud exchange mere moments ago, because it meant that version of you was still there.) 

“I…I apologize for intruding.” 

Your head whips up to finally meet the man’s piercing blues, your mouth left slightly agape at an actual apology leaving the arrogant Atlantean’s lips.

“Uh…it’s okay...although, try not to do it again.”

Another moment of awkward silence passes.

“So…why’d you come in here?”

You ask this question as you take a seat back on the floor, resuming your position of staring out of the window only this time without your headphones. You pat the spot next to you on the floor, urging Orm to sit next to you. With a small eye roll, the blond begrudgingly joins you on your multi-colored carpet, opting to rest his arms against his knees as means to shield himself from you.

“I came here to apologize, not just for barging in, but for what happened earlier. I shouldn’t have gone through the wardrobe without your permission even if I needed different clothes. I should’ve asked you instead of rifling through your belongings on my own accord.”  

His apology, although rehearsed, seems genuine enough for your shoulders to relax. Your eyes follow the droplets of rain slowly trickling down the glass of your window, racking your brain for the right thing to say. 

“It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong, I just…I haven’t revisited the memories that room brings in a long time. You putting on that sweater unearthed them today, and it got me bad. See, I was having a shit day already what with keeping up with the shop, and then an accident causing traffic on the way home, and the wine that I usually like being out of stock-” 

Your rambling gets cut off by a soft chuckle coming from the man next to you, a sound that seems so uncharacteristically happy for his usual demeanor. The corners of your mouth perk up in disbelief, the expression making Orm quickly look away from you. 

“Huh. So that’s what your laugh sounds like. It’s nice…”

Orm didn’t understand why he reacted in such a way, you weren’t saying anything particularly funny…

…It’s just the way your eyes became so animated as you spoke more, your hands gesturing stronger as you explained further - it was amusing to him. So different from the usual company he keeps, always firmly placed brows and crossed arms from the high council members he consulted. Even the Atlantean women, although much more pleasant company, were more regal in comparison to his surface dweller host.  However, what you did have in common with those women was your tenacity. Even with his cold attitude towards you, your kindness was unwavering - a few times a day, without fail, you’d knock on his door with the promise of food and semi-entertaining company. He’s starting to regret only agreeing to the food.

God, he must be going stir crazy.

“What is it about the sweater that made you react in such a way?”

This was when you noticed that Orm was no longer wearing the offending material, choosing to wear the simping cotton T shirt you had given him. It may have been nothing - a simple delusion on your part - but the weight on your chest felt lighter at the idea that the Atlantean took it off to bring you comfort. 

“It - uh,” you stuttered, “it belonged to my ex-boyfriend. All of the stuff in that wardrobe did, actually. We painted the vines on the side of it together…” 

Orm’s arms flexed tighter around his knees at your words. He didn’t know how to respond, feeling significantly awkward due to adorning your ex lover’s clothing, so he decided to just shut up and let you continue.

“When I was 14 my parents got divorced. My mom wanted so badly to make it work, but my dad didn’t like his life here in Amnesty Bay - a part of me felt like he also didn’t like his life with us in general. I mean, he never had a problem making his grievances known, so…” 

Now, this was something the blond was familiar with - uncomfortable family dynamics. The realities of his parents’ marriage were never shielded from him growing up - he often witnessed the brutality of his father whenever his mother, Atlanna, would make her opposing opinions known. He often felt conflicted about which side to take - the one of least resistance that prioritized the well-being of his people or the one that looked out for the well-being of everyone, Atlanteans and surface dwellers alike. Hearing you now, speak your piece on your own upbringing, comforted him in a way he didn’t expect.

“The divorce was messy. Lots of nights spent being pulled in every direction, but with no real place to find peace. After everything settled, my dad ended up moving to New York while my mom remained here. They agreed that for the school year I’d stay with my mom, so she’d have some help at the flower shop, but I’d visit him on major holidays…”

The blanket around you suddenly feels too thin, a chill running over you as you recount your tale. You take a sneaky glance over your shoulder to check if the blond was still listening, and you were surprised (and delighted) to find that his steadfast gaze was at the side of your face. 

“...At some point during my years at university, my mom stopped asking me to visit - demanded that I only live with my dad when I was out of school. You can imagine Arthur had his qualms about that…”

You chuckled to yourself at the memory of a young Arthur blowing up your home phone upon hearing the news. 

“It would only be for the same visiting time as before, so there wasn’t much fuss on my dad’s end, but my relationship with him had become so different after the divorce that it wasn’t ideal. It…It hurt to hear my mom reject me like that.” 

Orm’s mind flashes back to the rain soaked figure of his mother, presenting herself to be siding with his half-brother after his defeat. The sting of her counteraction still lingers in his chest.

“When I had started dating my ex during my third year, I found out the reason my mom was keeping me from home - she got sick…cancer. All of the overworking to pay the bills, lack of support, and the hereditary traits…she got really sick. I guess she didn’t want me to see her in so much pain…” 

Orm watches as you turn away to stubbornly wipe at your face, a sniffle coming from your direction. He hadn’t expected you to willingly speak on your background when he asked about the sweater, but a part of him felt guilty for being the cause of your current distress.

“When she died, I moved back here to look after the house and take over the shop…but my ex had moved in with me. Darren.” 

More tears fell from your cheeks at the same speed as the rain running down your window.

“Darren offered to help me with the business, help me get on my feet. A part of me knew that he was going to hate the life we were starting together based on talks we had about the future, but I ignored it all when my grief became the only thing I felt for a long time. He always wanted more - more than our little town, more than the flower shop…so when an opportunity presented itself to have a life on his own, he took it. Just like my dad did…” 

 Orm’s heart drops at the end of your retelling, knowing the feeling of rejection and abandonment all too well. His father would be rolling in his grave if he knew what feelings this little surface dweller was stirring in him. The gap between the Atlanteans and the humans was closing in his mind, and Orm wasn’t sure if he cared to stop it. All he wanted at this moment was to stop you from crying. 

“I’m sorry for putting on the sweater…and for being an ungracious guest these past few days. I’ve been a real dick.” 

You can’t help but guffaw at his choice of words, using your fist to mask the unsightly sound as a cough. 

“That’s not a very princely thing to say…” 

Orm’s head tilts back as he snickers, feeling slightly proud of himself for inciting a better mood in you.

Ah, that laugh again, you think as you admire how ethereal the man looks in his relaxed state. 

“Perhaps my brother is to blame for my much more…colorful vernacular.” 

“Perhaps,” you hum in agreement, “or you’re just not as much of a dick as I previously thought…sorry for coming on so strong that first day.” 

Orm’s blue eyes shine at you with something unfamiliar - different to the cold, distant stare you were first met with. You find yourself wishing to always be at the receiving end of his kind eyes. 

Orm clears his throat before uttering, “No need to be…I was the one that misjudged you before ever seeing you.” 

A silence falls over you two, a comforting one built between new comrades. Your (e/c) gaze meets his as the storm calms outside of your window, signaling the start of a new chapter for you and your royal roommate. 

[steddieas-shegoes]

just make the tik tok

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'behind the scenes'

rated t | 880 words | no cw | tags: famous corroded coffin, modern au, frankie is anti-tik tok

📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱

Joining Tik Tok was a mistake.

"I cannot believe you thought having a band Tik Tok would be a good idea," Frankie said to Jeff as they watched Eddie and Gareth doing some stupid dance. "Look at them. They're stupid. You made them more stupid."

"I just thought it was a good way for people to see behind the scenes of the tour. Everyone agreed!" Jeff shook his head as he saw Gareth lose his balance and grab onto Eddie's shoulder to stabilize himself.

"The last one got 300,000 likes. We gained followers who never listened to our stuff before. They may be stupid, but my plan isn't."

Frankie sighed, but didn't argue further. Jeff was right. He just hoped he never had to do any ridiculous dances or trends to keep people interested in their music.

****

"You guys have gained thousands of followers on all platforms since you started being active on Tik Tok. It may be wise for all of you to be on camera," one of the producers of their album suggested.

"Not happening." Frankie shook his head. "They get what they want from those two idiots."

"Hey!" Gareth and Eddie yelled in unison.

Jeff waved them off. "If Frankie doesn't wanna do them, he doesn't have to. We agreed that this was a voluntary thing."

"Yes, we did. But we're seeing growth and there's been a trend of comments asking where he is in some of the videos."

"I'm in some videos," Frankie crossed his arms. "That stage tour one. I was setting up my bass."

"But people wanna see you. They wanna get to know you, feel connected. That's the beauty of this era. We can make fans feel like they're truly a part of the band, which leads them to sharing and buying." One of the managers of the PR team said. "It's good for your brand if you're just as involved as they are."

"I didn't know we needed to have a brand beyond metal band." Frankie rolled his eyes and stood up from the couch he was sitting on. "I'm gonna head to the studio and work on music. Which is our job."

No one tried to stop him.

****

"There's a woman who keeps asking where you are." Eddie shakes his phone in front of Frankie's face. "She thinks you're leaving the band and is begging you to stay."

"Tell her I'm not leaving the band." Frankie sat down at the table on the tour bus with his bottle of beer and the shrimp leftover from catering at their show. "Though the urge is strong when Gareth keeps drinking my beers."

"She's hot," Eddie continued, seemingly ignoring Frankie's words. "You should make a video so she knows you're not going anywhere."

Frankie rolled his eyes. "I'm not doing a fuckin' Tik Tok."

Eddie held the phone out to him, showing him the woman's profile.

She was hot.

And apparently only ever really concerned with where Frankie was. She'd even sent a DM asking if he was okay.

"Fine. How do I make one?" Frankie asked with a sigh.

"Seriously? We beg you for two months to make one and it's a hard no, but one hot girl wants you to be in one and you're ready to become a social media influencer?" Eddie teased.

"As if you didn't make an entire series of videos rating new pop songs because Steve asked you to."

Frankie grabbed Eddie's phone, ignoring his flailing to try to grab it back.

The app was already open, and he found it surprisingly easy to start recording a video.

"Hey everyone. I'm not leaving the band. I just hate social media shit. I'm fine. I'm not mad at anyone. Except Gareth who owes me 83 beers from stealing mine over the last six years. Yes, I've counted." Frankie sees a timer counting down and decides to give an awkward wave with his other hand before stopping the video. "That should be fine, right?"

He didn't wait for Eddie's response before saving and posting it.

"Uh. Usually they look at them before we post." Eddie explained as he took his phone back.

"They can take it down later if they want."

'That's...not really how this shit works, dude."

Frankie shrugged and continued eating his shrimp for a few minutes until Jeff came to sit next to him, calm as ever.

"You made a video." He yawned, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Yeah."

"It's got 54,000 likes already."

"Can't help that I'm charming."

"It hasn't been that many beers!" Gareth yells from his bunk, half-asleep.

"Your girl messaged," Eddie handed Frankie the phone with a smirk.

Glad you're not going anywhere 💗

"You better get her number, dude." Jeff nudged his arm. "She wants you so bad."

****

Nearly a year later, and more Tik Toks than he ever hoped to be a part of, Frankie smiled down at the VIP section for their sold out show at Madison Square Garden.

Sasha stood there smiling back at him, singing along to all their songs.

After the show, he'd probably be pulled into a stupid video with Eddie or Gareth, but he didn't really complain anymore. Not when those stupid videos were responsible for bringing him his future wife.

[defectivevillain]

where the blackbird sighs

pairing: M. Rasmodius (the Wizard)/Reader

reader's gender is unspecified and race is ambiguous; no physical descriptors are used.

summary: The farmer doesn’t see the wizard, Rasmodius, as a viable option for romance. Rasmodius is fine with that. Really, he is.

word count: 2.3k | ao3 version

Rasmodius doesn’t quite care about Pelican Town, nor does he have any strong feelings for Stardew Valley. He isn’t the same as the mortals that inhabit the quaint town, and that is painfully apparent within the first few moments of his relocation. They are suspicious of him—cautious at best and entirely avoidant or fearful at worst. Rasmodius wants to be annoyed, but he can’t find it in himself to care what a few flimsy mortals think of him. He is different from them, after all. And humans have always feared what they can’t understand. 

A farmer comes by at some point. Rasmodius doesn’t know how long it’s been since he first moved to the tower—time is hard for him. All he knows is that the man takes one look at him and promptly runs away. Rasmodius doesn’t see him again. He forgets after what must be only a few minutes.

The wizard doesn’t remember this interaction until he is struck with an intense déjà vu years later. There’s another farmer standing on his doorstep. You look different than the other one, but there’s a determined look in your eyes that reminds Rasmodius of the man that came before you. The wizard can’t help but be skeptical. 

“What do you want?” He asks, half-expecting you to take one look at him and run in the opposite direction. 

“I just wanted to introduce myself,” you respond, before doing just that. You offer a hand for him to shake and Rasmodius stares at it for several moments. It takes him a moment to remember the mortal custom, and another to remember to extend his hand and shake yours. “You may have met my grandfather. I’m taking over his farm now.” 

“Ah,” the wizard responds, feeling somewhat at a loss for words. Rasmodius finds himself waiting for you to leave. You don’t seem intent to do so, and are instead surveying his home with interest. He wants to scold you for snooping, but you just seem curious. Admittedly, the curiosity is a welcome difference from the typical skepticism or unfounded fear that the other villagers show him. Perhaps that is why he finds himself entertaining the conversation. “You have your work cut out for you.” He can see your farm from the top of his tower, and the last time he looked, it was filled with weeds, rocks, and fallen branches. There’s going to be a lot of clean-up required for you to make the farm even somewhat usable.

“Yeah, definitely,” you say with a heavy sigh. You seem overwhelmed at the reminder of just how much work you’re going to have to do, and Rasmodius is suddenly filled with the inexplicable and foreign urge to comfort you. He manages to suppress it. “Anyway, I just wanted to stop by and say hello. It was nice to meet you. See you later.”

“Goodbye,” Rasmodius finds himself answering. Indeed, it will most likely be goodbye. He doesn’t expect to see you again. By now, he’s caught onto the typical pattern. Villagers who try to speak to him will only stop by a few times, before abandoning him altogether. He’s used to it, and he certainly doesn’t find himself relying on any of them. Even so, it’s… disappointing. Is he really so off-putting? 

Rasmodius shakes it off. It doesn’t matter. It’s not important; you’re not important. Time will pass, and he will never see you again. That is how things always happen. Why would he want them to be different? This solitary lifestyle suits him well. He enjoys living away from people, and enjoys the freedom his tower gives him. So what’s this swooping feeling in his chest? 

Eventually, the feeling goes away and he forgets about it. But Rasmodius doesn’t forget about you. He can’t forget about your glimmering eyes, the smile on your face as you conversed with him so naturally. He could never forget the way you commanded his attention, his eyes finding you as a moth finds a flame-

Rather than dwell on these thoughts, he immerses himself in the arcane. It’s a suitable distraction, and the thoughts are momentarily kept at bay. At least, until he hears someone knocking on his door some time later. 

The wizard growls and walks over to the door, fully intent on shooing the visitor away. When he opens the door, the cryptic insult he means to say falls back in his throat. You’re standing on his doorstep, and a lighthearted smile rises on your face once you see him. 

“Hey!” You greet him brightly.

“...Hello,” Rasmodius responds, after a moment of hesitation. 

“Mind if I ask you something?” You ask. Ever so polite, he thinks to himself. Who would he be to refuse?

“Go ahead,” the wizard says. 

“I was poking around in the Community Center… and I found a scroll with some writing on it,” you begin. Immediately, Rasmodius thinks he knows what writing it must’ve been. “I couldn’t read what it said, but I figured you might know…” You trail off, looking hesitant and embarrassed all of a sudden. The wizard watches as you pull a scrap of paper out of your pocket and hand it to him. It seems you transcribed the message on the scroll. Sure enough, the message was written in the language of the Juminos—as he suspected. 

Rasmodius could give you the translation. However, he gets the feeling this won’t be the only time you’ll have a use for knowing the language. “I have an easier solution to this dilemma,” the wizard remarks, beckoning you in. You step into the tower behind him and Rasmodius looks around his shelves until he finds what he’s looking for. He turns back to you and extends the vial of potion towards you. You take the vial immediately, but you seem hesitant to drink the potion. “It’s the essence of the forest.” 

For a moment, he thinks you won’t drink it. You tip your head and he lets the substance fall through your lips. For a moment, you’re entirely silent as you swallow the potion. Then, suddenly, you’re blinking and rubbing your eyes roughly.

“What was that?” You ask, tears running down your face. 

“The essence of the forest,” Rasmodius maintains. “As I said.” He was starting to get the sense that you trusted him. He must’ve been wrong. 

“My vision is spinning,” you remark casually, rubbing tears from your eyes. “It’s so bright.” 

“Ah, yes,” Rasmodius recalls. “It tends to have that effect.”  “Could’ve used a warning next time,” you mutter, just loud enough for him to hear. It is difficult for Rasmodius to suppress a chuckle at that. Who knew mortals could be so amusing? You then turn to him with renewed vigor. “But thank you. Seriously, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” You place a hand on his shoulder for a moment, before bidding him farewell and leaving. Rasmodius remains frozen in place for some time after your departure. He can’t remember the last time another mortal was so willing to converse with him—and touch him, no less. 

The next seasons come and go without warning. Summer morphs into fall in the blink of an eye, and before long, there is snow on the ground. Rasmodius doesn’t place much importance on time, yet even he feels somewhat helpless to its flow. Winter transitions into spring. The wizard continues on, the same as always. Nothing is different.

Until you’re knocking on his door again.

You haven’t visited since your last conversation about the Juminos, yet you’ve never left Rasmodius’s mind. Now, as you stand in the doorway once more, he finds that time has treated you well. There’s less visible tension in your shoulders, and a lighter air about you. Perhaps springtime has something to do with that. 

“Hello,” you remark. 

“Hello,” Rasmodius responds cautiously. Old habits die hard, and he continues to be distrustful of humans. By now, he should know that you’re different. Indeed, although he hasn’t had the chance to have a full conversation with you, he’s seen you wandering in the woods near his tower. Sometimes, you’ll catch him staring and send him a wave. Other times, you seem too preoccupied to notice the tower in the distance. 

“Are you going to the Flower Dance?” You ask, breaking him out of his thoughts. The wizard regards you for a moment. 

“‘The Flower Dance’?” He repeats, confusion coloring his tone. This must be another mortal custom he is unfamiliar with. 

“It’s the festival on the 24th,” you elaborate. 

“I wasn’t planning to,” Rasmodius remarks honestly. He isn’t very interested in the human celebrations around Pelican Town. 

“Oh,” you respond. He must be imagining the disappointment tugging your lips into a slight frown. For a moment, there’s nothing but an awkward silence. “Well, I’d like to see you there.” You say. 

You’re gone before he can process the gravity of your statement. Why do you want to see him at the festival? What purpose would it serve you?

Rasmodius doesn’t plan on giving the foolish celebration even a moment of his attention. He goes back to his studies and resolutely ignores any thoughts of your hopeful expression. Yet, when the 24th arrives, he finds himself standing at the edge of the thick woods as the spring breeze gently rustles his hair. Everyone at the festival is mingling on the grassy plain, and the local shopkeeper is selling small souvenirs. There seems to be a sense of anticipation lingering in the air. Rasmodius overhears that there will be some sort of dance between the villagers. The wizard thinks the idea of a dance is rather foolish and performative, but the villagers seem to be looking forward to it. Rasmodius lets his gaze wander. He can feel the wary gazes of the townsfolk. Why is he here, again? 

Then, you appear, wearing crisp clothing and a hesitant smile. You flit about the area, speaking to nearly everyone. Whatever the mayor says is enough for you to get flustered, your body language minutely shifting to reflect… hesitation? Nerves? The mayor laughs then, clapping a hand on your shoulder. Rasmodius feels his brows furrow at the display. 

Rasmodius watches from afar as you continue walking around the field. The entire town’s eyes seem to be on you, as a restless anticipation settles in the air. All the potential suitors seem enamored with you, and why wouldn’t they be? You’re the beloved farmer—the one who is actively improving the town and supporting the economy. You’re the hero of Pelican Town. Rasmodius is just the wizard that lives in the faraway tower. He feels somewhat akin to the princess in those foolish fairy tales—locked away behind walls of stone and cascading ivy, forced to spectate as time passes. 

You’re about to choose a dance partner. He can’t watch for much longer. An ugly feeling prickles along his skin and Rasmodius feels himself turning his back, walking away from the foolish celebration. He leaves the festival with an ugly feeling prickling along his skin. (If the wizard had stayed a few moments longer, perhaps he would’ve seen the troubled look on your face as you looked around for him.)

For a while after that, Rasmodius is bitter. He knows the feeling isn’t fair—knows that you probably didn’t even know he was at the Flower Dance, couldn’t see his position deep in the shaded trees and far enough away for people not to stare. But emotion never bends to rationality. 

Life goes on. The seasons change once more. The farmer visits him every so often, bringing him gifts of void essence, super cucumber, and purple mushroom. He wonders how you know exactly what will be useful to his studies. Somehow, you always seem to know when he needs company. The moment Rasmodius starts to feel isolated and alone, you’re suddenly standing on his doorstep with a smile on your face and a gift in your hands. 

For a second, Rasmodius is fooled into thinking you’re treating him differently than the other villagers. It doesn’t take him long to notice that nearly everyone has received a gift from you at one point or another—that you’re almost constantly walking around to speak with everyone. Rasmodius isn’t special. 

One particular visit, you bring him void essence and ask him a question. It’s one he’s heard before. “Are you going to the Flower Dance?”

Rasmodius doesn’t have any reason to hesitate, but he does anyway. A small part of him thinks of being forced to watch you dance with someone, someone else. He takes a deep breath. “Perhaps,” he responds. 

“Alright,” you respond, a slightly quizzical look on your face. Rasmodius walks away, conflict rising within him. He doesn’t want to see you dance with someone else. But if there were a chance, however small, that you’d dance with him… 

It’s a calculated risk, Rasmodius thinks to himself as he stands in the very far corner of the field. He’s within view this year, for reasons he can’t quite explain. That air of apprehension is back, and it’s affecting him, too. Rasmodius is waiting for a moment that he is almost positive will never come. 

Suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder. Rasmodius nearly jumps out of his skin, before realizing it’s you. 

“Hello,” you remark, an easy smile on your face. You’re wearing the same sharp style you wore last year, and Rasmodius can’t help but think it suits you. 

“Hello,” he repeats, once he’s gotten a rein on his thoughts. For a second, there’s silence as he stares at you. 

“…May I have this dance?” You ask. Rasmodius’s eyes widen. You’re staring at him like he holds the entire universe in his hands, like he has the power to freeze time just for the two of you to share this single moment. Your hand remains extended toward him, an open invitation. 

Rasmodius quells a smile and takes your hand.

taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall

[the-witch-of-one-piece]

Secrets Kept From Him 18+ Ch 4: A friend from the past Ran x F!Reader x Draken WC: 4k+ Resident: @enchantedforest-network TW: Suggestive themes, temptation, divorced Draken, smoking, and drinking (unedited) Synopsis: The risky phone call sets the mood for Ran knowing you were fighting that urge to give in. He makes it very well aware of how deprived you've been he knows how to care for your needs. Running into an old friend that you have known since your childhood, you both had a lot of catching up to do, his life hasn't been as perfect as you expected since you've been gone. The feelings Draken suppressed for years would start to show more, and Ran wouldn't be the only one showing interest in you.

Ran contemplated showing up unannounced to your home at this hour. He couldn’t get his mind off what you might be doing to yourself. The memories of how his name spilled from your lips made him ache to hear it again. Like a drug he couldn't get enough.

You shouldn’t have picked up the call… You didn’t want to make it look like that at all to him. Giving him that satisfaction of you missing him in that way. Ran coming over anytime he wants, and knowing yourself once you get that taste of him you won’t stop. All these different scenes were popping into your mind of what if. What if I allowed him to come over would he just come and go? Would he want to stay and do the whole family thing? He was different seeing how you left him in the beginning affected him. You began to think about your daughter and seeing him interact with her was one of the best moments you have ever witnessed. Yet you wanted to make sure you protected her she may find on Ran and the line of business he may do on the side other than running the club.

You tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep as you were still wrapped up in your thoughts. You felt restless not getting any sleep for another night. Your body felt exhausted as you got up in the morning slowly moving around your home getting dressed and your daughter dressed for the day. The market was about a block away from your home so you decided you may need a walk instead of driving there. Holding onto your daughter's hand you both began walking down the street. It took about a 10min walk to the market. Grabbing a small shopping basket you both began to go down the aisle grabbing the items you needed. Looking at the basket checking everything off the list. There was something you hadn’t made in a while “how about we make a cake today?” looking down at your daughter.

Her eyes brighten up at the idea “yes!” Just that smile alone made you forget how tired you were.

Both of you began making your way towards the next aisle. When turning the corner you bumped into someone. “Oh I’m sorry.”

“Sor--_______?” a voice that you hadn’t in a long time.

Taking a double look at the tall man you met with his dark colored eyes. “Ken?”

“Yeah it's me.” He let a small smirk. You noticed his hair was darker but the signature dragon tattoo on the side of his head “It's been a while.”

“Yeah it has been.” He responded. He noticed your daughter who was holding onto your leg. “You're a mom now.”

“Yeah, this is D/n” you rubbed the top of her daughter. “D/n this is mommy’s friend, Ken.”

Draken crouched down a bit to greet D/n “hey there.”

She buried her face in your legas you both could hear her say “hello”

He let a low hmph out as he stood up “she is just like you when you were a kid. Is it just you two?” he asked, assuming to see someone else with you.

“It’s just us.”

“I see.” Draken wanted to catch up with you, wondering where you have been for the last 5 years. “If you're not busy right now there is a nearby park we can catch up for a bit while D/n plays for a bit.” he looked at his watch.

You were curious about what he was up to as well. After leaving the market, the three of you arrived at the park. Not a lot of kids were out. Your daughter ran as fast as she could to the jungle gym. Finding a bench closeted to the jungle gym you both took a seat. “How has life been treating you?” Asking him.

Opening his can of coffee “it could be better in some parts. How about you?”

“Same… just trying to move along.” Giving him a quick look then returning your attention to your daughter.

“Since you're back in town I assume you and Ran are together again.” He took a drink of his coffee. When he looked at your daughter the distinct features of Ran's appeared in your daughter.

“We aren’t together. He just found out about D/n recently and well....it’s just complicated…” you sighed.

“Dealing with him in general is complicated.” Draken spoked taking a shot at Ran. When you and Ran were dating years back, he knew Draken had feelings for you but he never acted on them. This gave Ran this opportunity to sweep you off your feet. He made it known when you both were dating you were his and only his, Draken was bothered by it but never spoke about it to you he ended up dating someone for a while. But still every now and then he thought about you. When you left there was a brief altercation between him and Ran. Ran must have thought Draken knew where you were but he was completely in the dark just like him. “But you were the one dating him.”

“Ken, it wasn't alway ls complicated.” turning your head towards him. “It’s just…”

“It must have been complicated to make you leave. Because if not, you wouldn’t have left.” Draken responded. He was right, there was a brief moment of silence between you both. He was straightforward as always. “You had your reasons for leaving _______,”

You heard the familiar laughter coming from your daughter who was coming down the slide. Both you and Draken looked at her coming down then running back to the stairs to the jungle gym. A soft smile fell on your lips “she was my reason, Ran is not a saint by any means but you know the line of work he does. When they say those motherly instincts kick it they do and you would do anything to protect them.”

He smirked, giving a small nod. “I see...Well from what I see being a mom suits you...But I get it...” he took a drink. The both of you talked for a little while long before he had to leave. “Listen I got to get going, take my number down, give me a call if you need to talk to anyone.”

Both of you exchanged numbers “Of course. It was good to see you Ken.” you gave him a smile.

“Good to see you too _____.” Draken smiled, putting his phone away. He looked towards your D/n “Oi d/n be good for you mom.” he called out waving to her. She nodded, giving him a wave.

Draken was glad to see you were doing well. A lot has happened in his own life he didn’t want to bring up. Seeing you smile was something he missed seeing. Knowing now that you are not dating anyone he may take his opportunity. He knew Ran would be also trying to win you back but he wasn’t going to give up that easily. When he arrived at the shop to start his work, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Suppressed feelings he kept were coming out.

~~~~

Ran and Rindou were signing the contracts with Ms. Yamaguchi. “Well now it's official.” Ran spoke. He leaned back on the chair.|

“Yes I believe it is.” Ms.Yamaguchi spoke. “You seem to be wanting to rush out quickly now, Ran. Hopefully that meeting you have to attend to won’t put too much stress on you.”

Rindou looked at his brother's when they mentioned a ‘meeting?’. By the word meeting it must have meant he was going to see you and d/n. After last night when Ran made that call last night at the club, his brother seemed to be more focused.

“Of course my dear,” Ran gave a charming smile.

“We still need to set up dinner plans, it would be a shame if we don’t have anything on the books right now.” She spoke looking over at Ran. Ms. Yamaguchi seemed to be more infatuated with Ran the passing days. She had in her mind she would be the one to capture the eldest Haitani brother's heart.

‘Shit…’ assuming he thought she would have forgotten and she didn’t “Your right. We can set something up.” he looked at his phone, “I can do something this coming friday.”

Getting the dinner plans set up. Ran wanted to leave anticipating seeing you both. As he and Rindou left, “Meeting huh?” Rindou spoke, closing the door. The care began to drive off.

“She tried to schedule something for dinner time today knowing what she would have wanted after… But I had plans to see ____ and D/n” Ran spoke, lighting a cigarette.

“I see… So what are you hoping for when spending this time with them? Do you want to be with _______? Or just be a father?”

“I want both.” Ran holding the cigarette between his fingers. “Besides I think _______ may have missed me more than she is wanting to show…”

“How could you tell?” Rindou asked.

He began to remember the desperation in your voice from last night. “I just know. _____ is very easy to read.”

Seeing his brother's ego a bit more bigger now just the mention of your name. “If you say so…”

Ran looked at his watch, it was getting close to the afternoon time. “That reminds me, you still want to meet her, correct?”

~~~~~

You were getting a bit more nervous as the time was getting closer and closer to him arriving. Wondering what was on his mind after last night's call. ‘You will not give into him that easily.’ you spoke to yourself preparing for the serpent charms coming from Ran. You took a quick glimpse of your daughter who was admiring the cake that was displayed on the counter top. “The cake sure does look good.” you smiled.

“Mhmm, I can’t wait to try it!” she spoke in a happy tone.

Hearing the doorbell ring made your heart race. He was here already. Cleaning your hands you began to walk to the front door. Opening the door to see Ran with a smile. “Hello _____.” Ran’s smooth voice sending chills down your spine.

“Hey Ran.” Letting him in the home.

The aroma coming from the kitchen filled his nostrils coming from the front door way “It does smell lovely in here.” his eye seeing his little one exiting out the kitchen. “Hello there princess.”

She gave a soft smile “Hello Mr. Ran.”

“D/n go wash your hands, we will be eating soon.” you smiled. She followed your instructions going to the bathroom washing her hands. You began to walk to the kitchen, as Ran followed you.

“So did you get any sleep last night?” he asked knowing it couldn’t be avoided.

“Not really… I couldn’t sleep.” you said facing the cabinet and reaching for something.

“I bet you couldn’t.” you felt Ran lightly press against your back. His head slightly dropped closer to your ear. His hands pressing against the counter caging you in. “Were you lonely?” softly cooing.

“Ran.” you softly spoke. You felt his hands tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“I would have come over right away if you told me too. I could have taken care of you.” his voice was lower and more seductive.

Your heart was beating so hard against your chest, you could feel the heat on your cheeks intensifying. You bit your lower lip, you were fighting that urge trying to calm down. The sexual tension, something you hadn’t felt in so long.

“Hadn’t I always taken care of you pretty girl?” you could feel a smile on his lips even if you couldn’t see it. The moment would be cut short when you both heard your daughter coming back to the kitchen. She noticed Ran close to you. Changing the tone of the mood “your mommy couldn’t reach the bowl I’m just getting it for her.” his hand reaching above you grabbing the bowl down.”

As you served the lunch you all sat down. You couldn’t make eye contact with Ran at the table. It was hard not to look at him without a blush hitting your cheeks. Ran missed the way you prepared food for him. Nothing seemed to taste right when he tried to make the dishes your way. “So princess, how was your day?” Ran asked.

“Good me and mommy went to the market and the park. She met another friend.”

“A friend you say?” Ran looked at her. He was curious which friend you saw today.

“Mhmm.” she was gonna speak before you told her.

“Sweetheart, don't talk with your mouth full.” you said to her. Your daughter continued to chew her food.

Ran looked at you “which friend?” he asked.

“We ran into Ken.” you responded.

“Draken well, that is interesting.” Ran spoke in an off tone. Out of all the people you would run into him he thought. The last time he heard about Draken was when Ran and him had a small altercation when you left.

“You know him too Mr. Ran?” d/n asked him.

“Oh yes, I hadn't seen him in years though.” Ran changed his tone when his daughter asked.

You decided to change the subject, “Ran, do you like the food?” you asked him.

“You still have a touch when cooking.” Ran smiled.

After eating you were taking the plates to the sink. Ran stood with D/n who went outside. You were looking out the window to see them by the flower bed. Your daughter looked at Ran wondering where the pretty lady he was with when she saw them at the hotel. “Mr. Ran, where is your girlfriend from the hotel?” she asked.

“Girlfriend?” he began to think. Ms. Yamaguchi. She did see him with her at the hotel when they were exiting out of the hotel elevator. “Oh she wasn’t my girlfriend. She was a friend.”

She tilted her head and blinked a few times “But you were holding her hand? Can you hold hands and not be boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Of course I was making sure she didn’t fall.” It was a horrible lie but it seemed to work. “You are very observant aren’t ya.” he chuckled.

She nodded at him before looking at the flowers looking for one to pick. “Mr. Ran, Do you know who my daddy is?” she asked.

His eyes widened a bit looking at the little girl who plucked a pink flower. “Yea why do you ask?”

“I was just asking… I just don’t know anything about him. Mommy said he lives here in Tokyo.” she plucked another flower that was purple.

“I see…” Ran wasn’t sure if he should just tell her or wait a bit longer. “Well your daddy…I know he loves your mother a lot. When she came into his life he wanted to give everything the world had to offer.” he smiled as his eyes met with his daughters.

“Really?” the small eyes lighting up a bit.

“Yeah… I know your daddy does love you very much too. He would do anything to see you smile.” Ran spoke as himself in the 3rd person. “I know he will look forward to being reunited with you and your mommy hopefully soon.”

Walking to the kitchen window to see them. Ran seemed to be telling D/n something that was making her smile. You could see him lifting his pinky up and hers as well. You couldn’t deny he would have been such a great father to her if she knew sooner. Walking outside you walked towards them. “You two seem to be having fun.”

“Mhmmm Mr. Ran was telling me he has a younger brother and you know him too.” D/n smiled

“Oh Rin.” you smirked “ You see Ran and Rin used to get into a lot of trouble when they were younger.”

“Really Mr. Ran?” she looked at him.

“Not a lot. Just small things.” he smiled trying to make what he did very small when they weren't

You looked at him raising your brow. “If you say so.”

“You know your mommy would scold us a lot when we got into trouble. She acted like a mom before she became one.”

You chuckled “like you listen to me anyways. I think Rin listens more to me than you did.”

Hearing you laugh did put a smile on his face. “How do I put it, it's like a kitten thinking it was a lion and trying to scold other lions. It was more cute than scary to me.”

As it started to get darker the three of you headed in. Your daughter was on the couch watching her show with Ran. As he was watching the kid show he was wondering what happened to the kid shows he used to watch that were different from what his daughter watched. She was becoming tired. You were in the kitchen putting the rest of the food up. Ran got up walking to the kitchen he saw you putting the items up. Catching your attention “Hey.“

“Do you need help? She asked

“No it's okay I got it. Is d/n falling asleep?” asking him.

“She is getting there…” his eyes followed you. Ran walking towards you, grabbing your hand. “_____” You looked up at him. “You know I would do anything for you and D/n right?”

You nodded at Ran “I know Ran…” your mind began to think of what Rin told you and just remember the hickey on his neck he was still covering up, you were still in your feelings about that. “She should be your main thing. just for right now...”

Ran giving you a sincere look, his heart was still aching from everything and it was weighing on him more. Taking it slow was painful to him to endure now that you were here. Both of you walk to the living room to find D/n asleep on the couch. “Let me take her.” Ran carefully picking up the sleeping child trying not to wake her. Going up the stairs she was in a deep slumber. Getting to her room he didn't put her down on the bed. You watched from the door frame as he cradled her in his arms. His eyes couldn’t pull away from her. “My baby.” he softly spoke. He pressed his lips softly against her forehead before tucking her into the bed. “Sweet dreams my little one.” Just the sight of him in the tender moment with D/n made your heart ache.

Ran walking out of the room he looked at the time “I promise Rin I would meet him at the club soon.” Ran began making his way to the front door.

“Thank you for coming over.” you saw him place his coat on.

“Thank you for having me. I know it would be up to you but when you're up to it I want you to come to the club with me as my guest one of these nights. You deserve to have a night out.” Ran smiled.

Giving him a smile “I will think about it.”

“I will call you in the morning unless you wanna make it a late night call.” he smirked

You rolled your eyes. “Morning is better,”

“Can you answer one question for me?” Ran asked.

“Were you thinking about me last night?” he asked

Your face heated up “Goodbye Ran.”

“I’d take it as a yes. Still my offer stands, let me know when you want me over.” Ran grabbed the nob.

“Mhmm okay. Well good night.” the door opened.

Before he exited out the door he reached for your hand “till we meet again” he responded placing a kiss on the back of your hand. Letting go of your hand you watched him get into your car.

When you closed the door, it was still a bit early. The house was quiet as you walked into the kitchen grabbing a wine glass along with a bottle of wine. As you were pouring the glass your phone began to vibrate on the counter looking at your phone to see Draken's number appear. Picking up your phone “Hey Ken.”

“Hey, did I catch you at a bad time?” He was cleaning his hands with a rag. “I can call you later.”

“No no it's fine. What's going on?” you asked him.

Adjusting the phone to his ear “Nothing I just finished up for the day. Is D/n up still?”

“She just fell asleep,” responding as you place the wine down on the counter.

“She fell asleep early, kids can’t hang nowadays.” he joked as he looked at the time when it barely hit 8pm. “I should have called sooner. I wanted to take you both out as a welcome back to Tokyo by going to the pier.”

You smiled slightly at the sweet gesture “She had a busy day and burned a lot of the energy at the park this morning. I appreciate the offer Ken'' decided to give him an offer “Why don’t you come over? I know you haven’t eaten. I made a lot of food. So you don’t have to worry about cooking tonight.”

“Are you sure about that?” he asked as he grabbed his bag.

“Yeah come over. I will send you the address. See you soon.”

“See ya soon.” He hung up the phone.

“Who will you see soon?” Inui asked as he was leaving the shop at the same time.

Draken looked over at him. “It was _____ , she is back in town.”

He raised his brow. “I would have thought it was Emma calling you.”

“we hadn’t spoken since the divorce went through…I know once she finds out _____ is back in town. You know how she can get.” Draken spoke. Emma did have a bit of jealousy towards you because of how close you and Draken were until you started to date Ran. Even married she felt like Draken wasn’t full hers because a part of him still cared for you. Even while still working in the garage, Shinichiro and Mikey knew it was none of their business to be involved with the divorce of Draken and Emma. They knew Draken before he started to date Emma. But a lot of people didn’t expect the pair to be divorced after two years of marriage. It sure didn’t work out for them.

“Good luck with that. See ya tomorrow.” Inui walked away.

When Draken got the text message of your address he began to make his way to your home. The drive to your home wasn’t too far from the shop. Knocking on the door he waited.

Opening the door you saw Draken. “Did you speed?” You joked with him.

“You know me too well.” He smirked walking into the home. Looking around “nice it’s pretty big just for the two of you,”

“I know but I like it, it feels more spacious. Have a seat let me get the plate.” walking to the kitchen.

He took a seat at the table. You brought the food to him, taking a seat next to him. “Thanks”

“Your welcome.”

You both began to catch up on things in one another’s life. It felt like the old times. Reminiscing about the past and fun memories. “So what happened with you and Emma? Are you both still dating? I would have thought I would have been married by now.” your fingers lightly touching the counter.

“We were married.” Draken letting a small sigh out.

“Wait were?” You spoke on a surprised tone.

“Yeah… it didn’t work out. The divorce went through a few months ago.” Draken gaze was fixated on the table.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I would have thought it would have lasted forever between you two. You both seemed so good for one another.”

“That’s how it looked on the outside but there were some issues that grew until I had enough.” He said drawing his attention to you. "Happiness was always displayed infront of people. Showing them nothing was wrong but in the end we were hurting on another more than making each other happy."

“I see… are you happy now?” Asking him.

“Yeah. I wish her the best and I will always have love for her..” Draken adjust himself in the seat “what about you?”

You looked down at the wine glass. "I'm happy..."

"In that tone it doesn't sound like it." He responded. "Draken I'm happy I really am. Confused on things but happy." making eye contact with him for a brief moment. "Confused on Ran?" he asked.

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Chapter Links to this storyline are below! chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3