#by the time this sees the light of day this will have been sitting in my drafts for 5 days lol

[silknspice]

BAD LIARS —

fake dating hockey! vi x reader | fluff, angst, fake dating trope, romcom-ish, smut (mdni 18+) wc 20.8k

synopsis: following the release of four outdated love letters, vi vanderson is more than willing to start fake dating the girl of her dreams as a way to get rid of your clingy ex (and her ex hookup): caitlyn kiramman. 

content: fake dating trope, some fake insta/snap stories/smau content!, language, betrayal, makeup smut (kissing, fingering, oral, mdni!), clingy ex!caitlyn, college au, lying, miscommunication

soundtrack: if you let me (alina baraz) | lowkey (niki) | lovers (anna of the north) | see through (amelia moore) | fetish (selena gomez) | kill bill (sza) | all of the girls you loved before (taylor swift) | two weeks (fka twigs) | everything happens for a reason (madison beer) | every summertime (niki)

Three-fourths of your favorite cereal is absolutely disgusting. 

The deep blue circles start off sweet, but leave a bitter aftertaste that stains your tongue. The auburn ones aren’t all that bad, but they get too soggy, disintegrating into grains that fade into the now colored milk. The chestnut brown discs are so scarce that their taste is completely forgettable; you swear there’s only three in each batch. 

Had these been the only flavors, you’d chuck the box in the trash and scold your best friend-roommate Mel for even bringing them into your shared apartment. But that one-fourth of strawberry pink circles make it worth it every time. They’re sweet on your tongue, sweet on your heart, swee—

“What’s with the look?” 

Mel’s concern-filled voice brings you back to the present, making you smile sheepishly like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. The girl slides her white puffer jacket on, keys jingling in her hand as she awaits an answer. 

“Nothin’, just ate a blue one.” Your mouth flattens, attempting to squeeze the bitter flavor from your tastebuds. 

The gold-eyed girl hums. She blinks as her arms cross and she takes two, then three cautious steps towards you. Her gaze flickers faster than light, attempting to read every inch of your body language. 

“You know,” she starts, sitting down to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “If you need to talk about it, I’m here. Don’t feel like you have to suffer in silence.” 

That makes you snort, soft reassuring laughter following as you shake your head with confidence.

“Suffer? Mel, I broke up with Caitlyn, not the other way around.” 

“Yeah, but transitioning from a relationship to a peace-abundant single life is hard nonetheless.. unless you’re ready to jump to the rebound stage?” Her full brows raise in persuasion as she finishes her sentence. In her mind, getting laid would solve any problems that the complex inner-workings of your mind could craft. 

The question catches you off guard once more. Not that it should. It’d be a big fat lie to claim the idea never crossed your mind. In fact, it planted itself inside your brain like a bug and dug all the way down to memories you’d attempted to forget. Down to highschool of all places (God forbid). Down to those four names that perfectly defined the word ‘desire’ for you. Ellie Williams, Caitlyn Kiramman, Sky Young, and Violet Vanderson. 

Ellie, a fellow camp counselor at Wildflower Haven your junior year, took hold of your heart on day one. Sneaking out of your cabins at night, skinny dipping in the camp lake, even making matching bracelets that you claimed you’d ‘wear forever’. Your crush blossomed at superluminal speed. But before you knew it, camp was coming to an end and you were saying goodbye forever. 

Caitlyn Kiramman. A classic senior-year-of-high-school crush that didn’t develop until the first semester of college sophomore year. Your now ex, who is the last person you want to think about. High five to your high school self for predicting that one, though. 

Sky Young, a skating instructor at your local ice rink: Polar Peaks. After you’d fallen on your face for the fourth time and were ready to give up, you saw chestnut brown curls above you, decorating one of the friendliest smiles you’d seen to date. She helped you rise to your feet and held your hand for a lap around the rink. Unfortunately, you were a sophomore when she was a senior, and a week later you returned to the rink to find out she’d officially left for college. Not that there was anything between you two. Still, you could dream. 

And last, but certainly not least, Violet Vanderson. The star athlete of your school’s hockey team then and now. Sculpted muscles, a singular tattoo that multiplied quickly after graduation, and a killer smile that could put a halt to the gears turning in any girl’s head.

It was a simple interaction. You were the first one to read your final poem in front of your literature class with clammy palms, a shaky voice, and a dream. As you finished, looking at attentive students like a deer in headlights, Vi was the first to clap. It was enthusiastic, loud, and genuine. And like always, other students followed suit. 

Vi didn’t know you. She knew of you, the bits and pieces she could gather. You were somewhat of a social butterfly, you smelled of strawberry and vanilla every time you passed her seat, you were mind-consumingly beautiful, and you could write. Unfortunately for the both of you, your paths didn’t seem to cross any further than that.

And so, you wrote a letter.

Four love letters, to be exact. Each one in the high point of your crushes, attempting to soothe the longing feeling in your gut that ached for you to do something. You wrapped them all the same, in either a dark blue, chestnut brown, auburn, or pink envelope with a bow on the seal, even going as far as addressing and stamping them. Of course, they were never meant to be sent, which led them to their hiding place in a rose-red cylindrical fabric box that was stashed away into the depths of your closet. 

“C’mon, you’re hot and single again. I have some good contestants–”

“I don’t know Mels,” you cut her off with a look too mixed to decipher. “But really, I’m good,” you reassure, taking another spoonful of cereal into your mouth. 

Yuck–  another blue one. 

“Sevika, what the fuck!”

Gert’s complaint was drowned out by skates shuffling against the abused ice. Players clad in blue and white practice jerseys messily fill the space, fighting to keep up with Sevika. The woman speeds past, guiding the puck along the ice and slamming it into the goal.

The sounds of hurried feet and grunts subside, leaving breathless panting and shared looks of confusion across the teammates’ faces. But one pair of skates never slows, coming up behind the buff figure and skidding to a stop.

“The hell are you doing?” Vi scolds the woman with a scrunched up face of judgement. This is the sixth time Sevika’s pissed her off this week and it’s starting to get on her last nerve. “You’re hogging the puck. You’re not the only person on this team, in a game this would’ve–” 

“Get the hell out of my face,” the burly woman throws back, shoulder checking Violet hard enough to make her break her cool, squaring her shoulders and raising her voice with a “Sevika,”. 

“Vanderson! Grove!” Coach Talis’s voice echos throughout the rink, making the hockey players stop in their tracks. 

“Unless you two want to run extra drills: cut it out. Now.” 

“Is it just me, or is she being more of a fucking pain than usual?” Vi asks the woman across the locker room rhetorically, slipping on a clean compression shirt and plopping down on the bench to knot her laces. 

“I told you dude, she wants to be you, or at least take your spot.” the blonde sighs, pulling her braided hair from under the pullover she just slipped on. “As long as she’s taking her anger our on you and not me..” She continues, and the pinkette throws her a scoff before the blonde continues. 

“You know if you need stress relief, you could always go back to Kiramman. Heard the pretty girl called things off with her.”

And although her teammate only muttered the words, they set off blaring alarms within Vi’s mind. Because she can’t go back to hooking up with Caitlyn, she lied to her friends saying the two of them were ‘too busy’ when in reality Vi called things off because she couldn’t stop thinking about the one girl she knew nothing about. You. And suddenly, you and Cait were dating. Suddenly, she sure as hell couldn’t tell anybody the real reason she stopped seeing her. 

“Nah Abby, not happening,” she simply replies, attempting to sound as bored with the topic as possible.

“Fine, stay dry. I’m just throwing things out there,” the blonde puts her hands up in defense, shutting her locker as she walks towards the exit. “Later!” she waves before slipping out of the door. 

A beat passes. Then two. Then three. Finally, she takes a deep breath, leans down to unzip her practice bag, and reaches in. 

And out Vi pulls a pink envelope, decorated with a bow perfectly placed on the front and her name adorned with hearts on the back. 

The force of cool air coats your face as you walk throughout campus, ranting on the phone to Mel about your latest hell of a group project. “And it’s not even.. even.. sorry, I’m getting a call. Talk at home!” 

You smile at the friendly contact photo covering your screen, rounding some greenery as the parking lot comes into view. With a click of the ‘accept’ button, you're greeted with the gentlest of voices. “Hey!” 

A soft chuckle leaves your lips.

“Hey little man, look I’m about to drive home so I can’t talk for long,” you blinked a few times, realizing you went further from your car and spinning on your heels. 

“No worries,” he starts, “I just wanted to let you know that last week I was helping clean your old room and I found some letters, looks like you forgot to send them out? They were stamped and addressed and everything, so I just sent them for you.”

Ekko continues, giving some speech about God knows what.

But you can’t hear any of it, because the ringing in your ears is deafening.

No. 

It takes a few beats of your pure, shocked silence before your brain powers back on. And once it does, every inch of your mind is racing.

Okay, you thought to yourself. Ellie’s letter was addressed to camp, so there’s no chance of it getting to her anytime soon, if at all. Sky’s been gone for years, but you can’t remember the address you put down for her letter. Violet– shit. She definitely has hers. 

Oh. No. No, no, no. 

Your body feels oh so fragile and suddenly the idea of fleeing the country doesn’t sound entirely heinous, because only a few feet away stands Caitlyn.

Her blue hair is in a messy ponytail and her outfit is less perfected than usual, urgently thrown on. She’s searching, a determined expression plastered on her face as her gaze flickers through crowds of students.

For a moment, you pray it’s a misunderstanding. You pray she’s in a rush to find someone else, because there’s absolutely no way your ex was mailed a love letter you wrote in highschool. 

But your eyes trail down to her hand wrapped around that beautifully decorated navy envelope, and your knees are seconds away from buckling.  

“Yeah, yeah uh huh that’s great and all Ekko but I’ve really gotta go. Call me another time, okay?” you hit the ‘end call’ button with more force than needed and dash to your car. 

As you swing open the car door and drop inside with a slam shut, you can feel it. The way your heart pounds against your chest as if it’s trying to escape. That achy feeling that crawls its way up the back of your throat and transforms into tears that prickle at the corners of your worried eyes.

You shake your head, putting the key in the ignition and immediately shifting to reverse, not tending to your clouded vision. 

“Woah!” 

The somewhat-familiar yelp has your foot slamming on the breaks. Your face scrunches in confusion, the sleeve of your coat wiping your eyes just enough to make out the empty space behind your car as you look in your rearview camera. You’re confused, ready to switch the car back into ‘reverse’ before a tap tap at your window makes you gasp. 

Violet stands there, looking relaxed as an almost smug smile coats her lips. 

Your face distorts, torn between speeding off and giving in to her request, but before you make a decision, your manicured hands are rolling the window down. Cool air flows inside, but it loses to the subtle warmth that fills your body from the way the pinkette is eyeing you. 

“You know you’re supposed to check behind you before pulling out, right?” she teases.

The question itself is mocking, but the glint in her eye and how she leans down to relax a forearm on the car tells you to let it slide. 

“Right,” you agree. “Right, sorry about that. I just really need to leave so–” 

“Think y’ can explain this before you do?”

With no time to brace yourself, she holds up that stupid decorated pink envelope, and all you want to do is faint. 

“I don’t..” you whisper, accepting there’s nothing you can say to make this go away. But that blue hair is nearing, and you’re going to have a heart attack. 

“Can you get in?” you ask, voice a soft plea. 

Vi’s expression falters. That was the last thing she expected.

“Please?” you try again. “I can’t talk about this here.”

Your foot’s going to fall asleep if you sit like this any longer.

The two of you stay perfectly still, worried that any form of movement will penetrate the bubble of silence that formed as soon as Vi sat in the plush passenger seat.

Her mind is racing, because the beautiful girl she’s had her eyes on for months sent her the most heartfelt confession she’s ever gotten, and now she’s sitting in her car in a secluded area of a park. For a moment, she wonders if she’s dreaming. But the sound of your seat belt unbuckling and you shifting to face her, sweet and cautious eyes looking into her soul, has her heart skipping beats. She concludes she’s wide awake.

“Interesting spot for our first date,” she hums after clearing her throat. “You’re not gonna kill me, right?” 

That has your expression faltering. 

“You’re..” you stammer, “you think this is funny?” 

“Listen I’m just a little confused, sunshine,” she doesn’t miss the way your body stills at the nickname. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered. But you and her majesty just broke up, and I think you should know that her and I—” 

“Just– let me see that.” you cut her off and reach out for the rosy packaging, but Vi’s quicker, pulling it back with a squint in her eyes.

“I’d like to know how mortified I should be,” you confess quietly after a beat of silence. “It’s been a while since I read yours.” 

Naturally, the athlete oozes confidence and cockiness, but the pure confusion that colonizes her expression makes all of that fade for the moment. Her guard is down, allowing you to reach over her lap and seize the envelope. 

“Wait wait wait,” she starts as you focus your attention on pulling the folded paper from the envelope. 

“What do you mean ‘yours’? Are you saying I’m not the only person who got one ‘f these?” she asks, voice laced with confusion and another emotion you can’t quite pinpoint. You ignore her, hands stilling as sour nostalgia hits you in the gut and knocks the wind out of you.

My dearest Violet,

Do you remember Ximena Talis’s creative writing class in junior year? You acted so uninterested in each lesson when your teammates were around, but when they were busy skipping class, you were sticking your nose in the next Shakespeare play or Edgar Allen Poe poem. You shared your own writings with the class, a bored look painting your face and an awkward laugh spilling from your throat (although, they really weren’t that bad). But when I stood in front of our peers and performed my spin on “Annabel Lee”, you rose to your feet in applause. I’ll always be grateful that it was you who gave me my first standing ovation. Because in that moment I knew, from my happily raised eyebrows down to the nervous shuffling of my feet, that I love you Violet Vanderson. I really, truly love you. 

You physically can’t read the rest of this.

The tense sensation in your stomach only tightens as you hastily fold the paper and toss it back to the athlete, who’s still examining you with a curious glint in her eye.

“Okay–  here’s the thing,” you begin after a deep breath. “I wrote four letters, and they’re all outdated, like– from sophomore through senior year. A family friend sent them out by accident.” 

The explanation has Violet blinking, because in one sentence you’ve managed to crush her plans that she confidently pranced over with. In one sentence, you’ve made her question what the hell she was thinking. In one sentence, you’ve washed away her suave persona and turned her to a questioning pile of mush, because– you’re not just trying to get into her pants?

“..Well who else got letters?” She cringes at her whiny tone, running a hand through her hair for comfort. 

“Uh,” you sigh and shift your position as you look anywhere but the girl, dread consuming your almost-annoyed face. “A girl from summer camp, some girl from the ice rink, and… Caitlyn.” The last word comes out as an embarrassed murmur that leaves Vi’s mouth agape in shock and pity. 

A few beats of silence pass before Vi’s eyes light up. 

It might be a crazy idea, and you might despise her after the suggestion leaves her lips, but she can’t pass up this opportunity.

“Things with Kiramman must be tense now, right?” she offers.

Your lips press together in silent agreement, gaze trailing to your shining phone screen.  35 new messages and 6 missed calls from Caitlyn, just in the past two hours. You’d texted Caitlyn an explanation as soon as you’d parked: that Ekko sent her an old letter and that was just that. But still, stubborn as always, the bluenette refuses to believe you. 

“You could say that,” you mumble reluctantly. “I just,” you whisper, “I don’t know what to do.”

Her gaze flickers up and down your frame once in final thought. Your bright eyes drooping with worry and once confident voice lacing with insecurity makes up her mind. She wants nothing more than to console you, to wrap her strong arms around your frame and make you beam. Vi’s not sure if it’s her or the seventeen year old in that creative writing class speaking, but words fall from her lips. 

“I could be your girlfriend.”

A wave of disbelief washes over you, leaving widened eyes and a pounding heart in its path. The panicked expression on your face is enough to have her next words sputtering out in consolation. 

“Fake girlfriend, of course.” The way your eyes soften in thought fuels her to continue. “Just for a little while y’know? To give Kiramman the hint.” Her words are spoken with more power as she sees the gears turning in your pretty little head.

The idea’s heinous, and the thought of your scheme being revealed makes your stomach turn in embarrassment for the both of you. It’s ridiculous, idiotic, and risky, but your phone lights up once again with a text from your navy-haired ex, and that’s enough to make you answer.

“Okay, let’s do it.” 

caitlyn: I know you didn’t mean what you said. Just come and talk to me, love.  caitlyn: Jesus, don’t be stubborn. 

The messages continue on like a flood, piling onto your guilty conscience until the notification ringing becomes all too much, making you flick the silence button on your phone. The quiet doesn’t last long as you near the doors of the practice rink. Five players burst through the doors, a cluster of chaos and yells surrounding them before one girl, hair tied back into a dark brown bun, notices you. 

“That her?” she whispers to her teammates, their backs facing you as they walk away, but they whip their heads around (noticeably at that) to get glances at you. 

“Damnn.” another draws out, earning a slap on her neck. 

“How’d Vi do that so fast?” you hear another quip before they take a turn down the hallway. 

You only smiled gently, rolling your eyes at the comments as your hand pushed open the door to the rink. At least you make a believable couple. 

“You know, my words were ‘you could always go back to Kiramman, the pretty girl dumped her’, not ‘you should go bag your ex-fling’s ex-girlfriend’. They’ve been broken up for, what, two weeks? Does she even know about you and Cait?” Abby’s raspy voice fills the ice, making Vi shush her in annoyance.

“Yes, of course she knows.” 

There’s a beat of silence, neither of the players move when the words of a lie fill the air.

“Fuck fine. No, she doesn’t know yet. I’m just waiting for a good time..” Vi confesses, aimlessly kicking the ice.

“You know this makes you messy, right?” the strong blonde grinned. 

“Oh fuck off. Messy is pounding half the swim team.” The pinkette sends an accusatory glance and Abby’s raising her hands up in innocence with a shrug and a smug smile. She rounds the ice and stops in her tracks when you enter the room, glistening skin and a patient waiting look on your face. 

She snickers, letting out a quick whistle as she skates towards the exit off the ice. “Violet,” she coos in a sing-songy voice, “look who’s here for you.” 

The blonde waves goodbye to her friend once and sends you a wink before exiting the room.

Your hands are clasped behind your back as you take your time walking up to where the carpet and ice of the rink are separated. Realizing your limit, you lean your side against the entrance, looking at the athlete whose eyes are grazing over your attire painfully slow.

“You want some skates?” she finally speaks, eyes meeting yours with a glint.

You laugh gently. “Hell no.” She snickers along with you, removing her helmet to run a hand through her hair. 

“So you’ve,” you slightly raise your hand to point your thumb in the direction Abby and the other players exited, “you’ve told people already?” 

Worry flickers over her face, because for some reason she just can’t read you right like she can read other girls and it drives her insane. 

“Yeah, something wrong with that?” she asks cooly, placing her helmet back on the pink fluff as she glides around.

You bite the inside of your cheek in thought, finally shaking your head. “No, no I mean that’s the whole point, for people to know.” you hum. 

“But I have to ask, why are you doing this?”

Vi stops in her tracks, body turning to face yours from feet away. 

She contemplates it, telling you the truth. That she’s infatuated with and intrigued by you. That you’ve completely ruined hookups and “crushes” for her because she can’t get you out of her head. And maybe she doesn’t know you too well just yet, but she’s going to. And yes, she used to fuck your ex girlfriend way before you were even girlfriends, but it has absolutely nothing to do with the bond she wants to have with you, and she prays it doesn’t affect deem her unreliable. 

Yet none of that can come out of her mouth. So, she settles on her practiced lie and prays whoever’s up there doesn’t look down on her for it.

“Coach doesn’t like my reputation for ‘getting around’. Says it just doesn’t look good. Being with you gives me some cover.” She talks smoothly, making sure there’s not a hint of guilt behind her voice, because it's a lie. Coach Talis couldn’t care less about what she’s doing in her free time as long as she shows out on the ice. 

You only hum and nod.

You don’t notice how close she’s gotten until she’s there, staring down at you. Her musk and amber scent is intoxicating, seeping into your nostrils while powder blue eyes catch yours through her helmet and– is it possible she looks better than you remember?

“The letter,” you sputter out, mentally cringing as the pinkette raises a brow. “Can I see the letter again?” 

She’s cheesing, reaching into the pocket of her pants to whip out the neatly folded paper and.. is she just keeping that on her? 

As if she can read your mind and wide eyes, she speaks. “Just knew you’d want it,” she explains, placing it between your waiting fingers. She watches as you unfold the paper and look up at her. Thick silence fills the air before the athlete gets the hint, blinking twice with a nod. “Right, sorry,” Vi apologizes simply before skating off. 

You take a deep breath, heart swelling the same way it did when you first wrote this sweet confession. 

My dearest Violet,

Do you remember Ximena Talis’s creative writing class in junior year? You acted so uninterested in each lesson when your teammates were around, but while they were busy skipping class, you were sticking your nose in the next Shakespeare play or Edgar Allen Poe poem. You shared your own writings with a bored look painting your face and an awkward laugh spilling from your throat (although, they really weren’t that bad). But when I stood in front of our peers and performed my spin on “Annabel Lee”, you rose to your feet in applause. I’ll always be grateful that it was you who gave me my first standing ovation. Because in that moment I knew, from my happily raised eyebrows down to the shuffling of my nervous feet, that I love you Violet Vanderson. I really, really love you. 

When I sat back down in my seat, you slipped a pink sticky note back onto my desk. Gentle handwriting and a sweet smiley face in the corner decorated the words “that was amazing, how do you write so well?”. I’d never had my heart pound harder, never felt my palms sweatier or my spirits higher. As each day passes, I hope you’ll look at me with the same rose colored glasses as you did that class. I dream each night with my lovestruck brain of you taking me by the hand and asking me to be forever yours. I’ll be waiting, no matter how long it takes.

- forever yours, ____

It doesn’t take long before you get that warm and fuzzy feeling, the same one that caressed your body while you wrote this very letter. It takes even less time for it to be replaced with soul eating shame that has you wanting to curl into a ball. 

“You’ve always been a good writer,” she calls out, nearing you. “I meant it when I said it.” 

“..I know,” you agree, a smile forming against your will. 

Vi’s grinning at your sass, and damn is the only word that fills her brain. “How are things with Kiramman?” she asks gently.

“She just doesn’t believe me. She’s texted a thousand times since yesterday and is totally convinced I want her back.” you roll your eyes in exhaustion.

“Do you?” 

You pause at her question, because underneath that carefree and playful persona hides a hint of worry behind Vi’s voice, and it’s fueling the curiosity within you. “Why are you asking?”

A beat passes. “Just wanna know how humiliated I’ll be after all of this,” the pinkette admits.

Her confession makes you laugh and shake your head. “I wouldn’t do that to you,” you hum. “I broke up with Caitlyn and that’s that. If it takes a fake relationship and a little pda for her to see that then so be it.” 

Vi nods, making sure not to let the smile she’s feeling creep onto her face. 

“So you like writing, you’re smart as hell, you dress real cute,” she points a finger up and down your outfit and you tilt your head. “Anything else I should know about you or our little.. ordeal?” 

You tongue your cheek in silent thought before replying. 

“You can’t kiss me.” 

That has Vi’s brain short circuiting, because the image you’ve set in her mind from those words alone is sparking a crimson glow across her face and– fuck she shouldn’t be thinking about this. But she had to admit (to herself, not out loud of course), she’d have no problem with running her lips across yours if you asked for it. 

“Did Kiramman not kiss you, angel?” ‘She’d have to be a fucking idiot not to’ is the next thing that wants to come out of her mouth, but she settles for a soft tease. “That’s a couples thing, if you didn’t know.” 

“We kissed, obviously.” You cross your arms as you speak. “You can– y’know, hold me, kiss my.. anywhere else.” Both you and Vi feel a shift. Damn, are ice rinks always this warm? “Just, no real kissing. It’s too personal.” 

Vi gently nods, slipping out a soft ‘alright’ because you have a good point. 

She moves forward to step off the ice, placing a firm hand on your waist to gently guide you out of the way as she passes. Your body tenses at the touch, whipping your head towards the girl in surprise.

The pinkette notices, and she knows she shouldn’t chuckle at it, but she does. “If it’s gonna take ‘a little pda’, you might wanna get rid of that before this weekend,” she’s speaking cockily as she nears her bag, her helmet coming off for good.

You clear your throat. “What’s this weekend?”

“Party ‘m takin’ you to. Think of it as our couples debut.” And Vi loves the surprised little look on your face as you ask her if that’s ‘really necessary’.

“You really think anyones gonna believe we’re together if I’m at a party all by myself? Who’s gonna fight off all the girls craving my attention, sunshine?” 

You wonder if the notorious smirk on her face is permanent as she slings her practice bag on a sculpted shoulder as she moves to tower over you, the cool air of the rink becoming very present.

“So you’re coming, yeah?” 

Your eyes travel from hers to the empty space beside her in thought. 

“Of course.”

“You’re sure it’s not too boob-y?” 

You tug at your low cut top, half yelling over the chaos of other students to your roommate who’s eyeing you like your one head has turned into five. 

“Wait, you didn’t want it to be ‘boob-y’? Practically wearing a bra,” she yells back with a knowing smile, sipping from the red cup that quickly found her hands. At the sight of your worry, her smugness turns to playful comfort. “Come on, you’re at a frat not a damn funeral. You look sexy.”

“She’s right.”

The raspy voice behind you is unfamiliar, sending a soft chill down your spine that turns you on your heels. 

You’re met with a tall, muscular, brownskin woman. Half of her hair is pulled back, and loose strands fall to decorate her face that holds piercing eyes which are completely directed on you. You’ve seen her before for sure, but her name is the last thing on your mind as her eyes trail over every inch of your exposed skin. 

“Sevika,” she tells lowly, placing a red cup between your manicured fingers to which you scoff under your breath. 

You give her the benefit of the doubt. 

“___,” you offer your name, looking for any hint of recognition on her face, and you get it when she smirks and tilts her head. 

“I know who you are, beautiful,” she purrs.

“Then you also know I’m Vi’s girlfriend?” you throw back. The words feel completely foreign on your tongue, but come out so awfully right. 

The raven’s eyebrows raise right before she huffs out a laugh of disbelief, sipping from whatever mixture graced the cup in her hand. “Girlfriend?” she repeats. “Shit, with the way she was talking about you, I thought you were just a hookup.” 

The air’s suddenly much thicker, tenser, and you don’t have much time to process what Sevika just laid upon you before pink hair makes its way through the crowd.

“There’s my girl,” Vi calls out as she nears you, her sweet words cutting the tension like a knife. “Been looking all over for you,” she speaks as gently as she can in the atmosphere, completely ignoring the presence of her teammate.

“Hi,” you simply let out. Your knees feel weak and you think maybe you’re not cut out for this, because the pinkette slides a warm hand around your waist and places a chaste kiss down on your bare shoulder. 

She’s pulling back from your skin when her eyes land on the cup in your hand, a confused glint in her eye as she squints. “Thought you drove?” The calloused fingers tracing meaningless patterns on your skin and soft breathy words hitting your face from just inches away make you feel like Melting. What’d she ask again?

“No,” is all you manage to stammer out, shifting in the girl’s arms until the right words form in your head. “No this isn’t mine.” you’re mentally facepalming.

Vi’s eyes flicker from you, to the cup, to Sevika, finally piecing together her part in this. The athlete stands a bit taller, gently taking the drink from your hands and shoving it against Sevika’s chest. Some of the liquid splashes over the cup, leaving droplets of a stain on the angry woman’s shirt.

Sevika’s slowly taking the cup without breaking eye contact. Her gaze is sharper than daggers as Violet huffs out a scoff, her grip on your waist more present as she guides you away from the brute and through the crowd of partygoers. 

“I’m sorry about her. One asshole of a teammate.” Vi’s words kiss your ear to avoid yelling as she walks. “You okay?” she asks slightly softer, which earns her a nod and quick ‘yeah’. The pinkette’s hand snakes from around your waist down to grab one of yours, holding you tightly as you worm your ways through the horde. 

As you exit the crowd your left arm finds its way to wrap around her right, placing your free hand lazily on her bicep, because if you had to feel her fingertips on your skin anymore you’d faint. The pair of you walk through the spacious backyard, decorated with a pool, groups of your classmates, and a cluster of hockey players lounging on some couches that circle a fire pit. 

“You ready?” She whispers softly.

“Ready,” you reply with a smile that turns into an “o” shaped mouth, big worried eyes capturing VI’s. “They won’t ask me about hockey, right?” 

The girl lets out a sweet, genuine laugh, and so cute is what she’s mentally replying. 

“There you are!” Abby calls out as soon as the two of you are in her vision. The rest of the team follows, greeting both you and Vi, throwing her smirks or nods of approval when you have your focus elsewhere. Vi sits, sprawling out against the couch with her legs perfectly spread for you. As if it were natural, her hands find their way around your hips and she guides you down into her lap. 

And you hate it. 

Not the feeling of her firm chest against your back, not her warm legs encasing your bare and crossed ones, not even the way she wraps her muscular arms around your torso and places her head so close to yours. 

You hate how normal she’s making all of this feel, how your brain is being fried with each touch, but your faux girlfriend doesn’t seem to be bothered one bit. And you’re starting to wonder if it’s a problem. 

“How’d you two even meet? Didn’t you and the chick from the basketball team just break up?” one of her teammates questions you with a raised brow. 

Fuck is all your brain renders, and you hope the shock didn’t show on your face because—

“I’ve had the hots for her since high school, thought it was time to do something about it,” Vi replies. A proud feeling washes over her when your body relaxes in her arms.

You’re gently squeezing her arm twice, thankful that she’s such a great actor. She’s running her thumb against your skin, thankful that you can’t read minds. 

A few sweet nods and noises of approval are let out before Abby speaks up. “‘The hots’? What are you, fifty?” She jokes, earning a grinning ‘fuck off’ from Vi. 

The teammates’ conversation continues both with and without you, leaving moments for you to think of something ‘girlfriendish’ to say or a new place on Vi’s skin to touch. And then, it starts. Against Vi’s rolling eyes and Elora’s complaint that this is “so middle school”, a game of truth or dare ensues. Ever the fun one, the blonde convinces everyone that it’ll be fun, that it’s good to be childish every once in a while. 

So far, Gert’s been dared to send an ‘i miss you’ voice note to her ex and is utterly ashamed, Abby’s mouth tastes both bitter and spicy from the liquor concoction the teammates dared her to drink, another girl has been stripped down to her shorts and wife pleaser and shooed away from the fire to ‘endure the cold’ for ten more minutes. 

When it comes to the other teammates, you don’t know how many “___ and i banged” truths and “take this many shots” dares you hear before it’s finally your turn. 

“Truth or dare?” Vi coos in your ear.

“Truth–” 

“Dare?” she cuts you off with a mean grin. “Alright, I dare you to jump into the pool. Right here, right now.” 

Your head whips towards the girl fast enough to send chills down the pinkette’s spine. The hockey team is whooping and cheering you on as Violet comes to a stand with your mid area still locked by her arms. 

“No– no– I said truth Vi!” you sputter out. Your body and mind are moving at an astronomically slow speed because before you know it, Vi’s scooping you off the ground and throwing you over her shoulder effortlessly. As she begins to walk, the hollering of the team growing in intensity, one of her warm hands lays at the back of your thigh, holding down the bottom of your already short skirt. The other trails its way down your leg and to your feet, slipping off your shoes and letting them fall with a plop. 

“Violet Vanderson.” you warn firmly, squirming in anticipation as you neared the icy blue water. You’re feeling five emotions at once, and at the same time evaluating how much Caitlyn’s perception on things truly matters, because you’re this close to firing your ‘girlfriend’. 

When she suggested this entire ordeal you imagined it’d be standing together for an hour and dancing, going out for drinks once or twice, maybe even an instagram story or two. 

You didn’t expect pool shenanigans, shoulder kisses, and powerful arms wrapped around your sides every two seconds. You didn’t expect to be having fun, let alone like it. 

“Put me down!” you yelp through rising giggles.

“A dare’s a dare, angel.” she speaks lowly over her shoulder to you, who’s dangling helplessly in her grasp. “C’mon, it looks good for us as a couple,” she whispers.

“Wait wait wait!–” 

Your last threat is drowned out as Vi jumps into the glowing blue.

“Wonder how many people have had sex in here tonight,” you joke through chattering teeth. You’re holding your soaked hair together to the best of your ability as to not drench everything in your path, but truthfully, water is the cleanest thing to grace those frat floors. Vi trails right in behind you, snorting out a laugh as she leans against the closed door. 

The pinkett’s pool stunt only had you upset for so long, mostly out of shock of her actually going through with it. However, once you rose to the surface of the water, the only things that could spill from your mouth were hearty giggles. 

What made it ten times better was that people saw, Vi’s teammates whooped while others just snickered at the ‘new couple’s’ playfulness. 

What made it a hundred times better was Abby informing you of how pissed Caitlyn looked, staring at you and Vi before storming back the way she came from. 

“Enough to start a new std?” She flashes her pearly whites at her own joke.

“Violet!” you cringe, making her chuckle. 

As cold as your water-soaked clothing, skin, and drenched hair makes you, the athlete’s soft gaze is a lighter igniting a blaze in the pit of your stomach. For the first time in a long time, protected by the walls of someone’s room, you’re able to explore her face. 

Perfect, full brows are intercepted by a slit with one to match down on the the left of her rosy lips. Sweet freckles dance on and around her nose, and gosh she’s pretty. It’s the same face you’d admired years ago, but you still look at her as if you’ve discovered her beauty all over again. You stand there attempting to pinpoint what shade of blue her eyes are when she finally speaks up. 

“Here,” the athlete steps closer, taking off her thick black coat and handing it over sheepishly. “Can’t do anything about your skirt, but I thought these would help.” A hint of blue and white fabric peeks out from underneath, and you unravel it to reveal a jersey. One of her jerseys. 

There’s a glint of suspicion in your eye, and Violet’s in fear. 

“You just.. keep this in your car? All the time?” You question with a perfectly raised eyebrow. 

Vi clears her throat. Because no, no she doesn’t. She just had to do something to get you in her clothes. 

A beat passes with no response, and finally the pinkette’s eyes are flickering around the room before she turns. “I’ll let you get changed.” 

The door’s opening and closing before you can protest, and it’s finally safe for that suppressed smile to grace your lips without shame.  

It doesn’t take long for you to strip out of your sopping clothes and into the oversized comfiness of Vi’s. You examine yourself in the full length mirror, fixing your wet hair to the best of your ability and running your hands over the warmth of the new clothing. It sMells just like Violet, and you convince yourself that you don’t care, but underneath that protective mask is the lovestruck teenage girl you once were.

Turning on your heels, you gather the wet bundles of fabric and head for the door when someone on the other side beats you to it. 

Correction, the last person you want to see beats you to it. 

Caitlyn’s quick to step inside the room, closing the door with an indecipherable expression plastered on her face. Her brows furrow with more distaste than usual, and her once perfect navy blue locks now have strands messily shaken out of place. Your tongue is strangled by the bite of your teeth. It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes to the back of your head. 

“Violet Vanderson?” She wastes no time, chary eyes examining your face with crossed arms. “Really?”

You’re done holding back, so you scoff.

“Yes, really. What, are you jealous?” you quip. “Y’know what, don’t answer that. I already know.” 

She ignores the sassy remark. “I’m surprised you chose her, considering everything.” 

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Considering, what exactly?” 

Caitlyn’s poker face had been drilled into her since she was a kid, but the bluenette physically had to suppress the amusement from taking over her face when she realized: you had no clue. 

“I just didn’t think she was your type, and that was awfully fast,” she saves. 

“I didn’t cheat on you, if that’s what you’re insinuating.” You spit the words like they burn on your tongue as impatient hands come up to rest on your hips. 

“I’m insinuating that I don’t believe whatever this is.” 

That has you pausing. Your face, demeanor, and attitude all stay the same, but you both notice the shift in the air. 

“I think you realize you messed up when you broke things off, and now you’re playing hard to get.” She continues, stepping forward as her toned arms fall to her sides. 

“There’s no need to play games with me, you know.” 

Cait’s look is condescending, and it only pisses you off more when her hand reaches out to caress yours. The perfect persuasion, an easy fix to all of her problems when the utter of her surname isn’t quite enough. But you’re not easy, and you didn’t mess anything up. So you quickly swat it away, sneering as you step around the tower of a girl and towards the door. 

“Get over yourself, Caitlyn.” 

You exit the room with blood red vision, a fury which follows you on your journey to find Mel in the drunken crowd and pull her to the front while Vi offers to walk both of you to your car. 

And in your red haze, you miss the eye contact Caitlyn and Sevika make from across the crowded room. 

Sweat is dripping from the athletes’ foreheads down to the stretch of their neck as Talis blows his whistle, allowing the players to catch their breaths.  

Normally, Vi would be more than willing to stay longer than the scheduled practice time. Running fun drills with Abby, racing Gert, whatever the matter may be. Hockey is her thing. 

But, at the moment, you’re also ‘her thing’. And right now you were patiently waiting in your apartment for Vi to make an appearance. A friendly one, of course. Away from watching eyes and overwhelming questions, where you could discuss your next moves in peace–as peaceful as you could get with the muscular tease looking at you as if you were a star to wish on at night. 

So she keeps her mouth shut and her eyes trained on Coach Talis (who’s giving some end-of-practice spiel) as Sevika glides up next to her.

She keeps her mouth shut as the brute lets out a soft scoff at how hard Vi’s trying to ignore her. 

She has to bite hard on her tongue when the woman mutters something about the pink-haired athlete needing to ‘give up while she’s still ahead’. 

And her mouth opens immediately when your name falls from Sevika’s lips. “___, she really is somethin’ huh–?” 

“Don’t fuck with me, Sevika,” she threatens, a tad louder than expected. Their stubborn gazes stay locked on one another, and Sevika’s letting out a scoff while squaring her firm shoulders.

“Or what?” the raven throws back, intimidation oozing from her presence.

“Hey! What did I say?” The bubble of their rivalry is popped as Coach Talis raises his voice. 

“That’s it. Bag skates.” 

[REDACTED]: you sure this’ll work? 

When Vi finally shows up at your sun-glistening apartment, her hair is wet from the quick shower she took, she’s a total blubbering mess about how she’s crazy sorry and feels terrible for making you wait an extra hour, and she’s holding one cup of coffee that looks exactly like the one you always order.

“Vi, seriously it’s okay,” you chuckle, and the girl deflates in soft relief. A smile sweet as honey graces your face and Vi finally figures it out: you’re just an angel in disguise.

You reach over from your seat on the couch to take the cup of coffee from her hand. It’s your order to a T, and the sip you take sends a cold trail of liquid down your throat and into the warmth of your stomach. 

“Mmm,” you hum, making Vi malfunction when you lick the remnants from your lips. “Did you chug yours on the way?” you ask.

Perfect blue eyes blink twice while Violet calculates the odds that you’ll say yes if she were to suggest you drop the whole act and venture off on a real date right now. 

“Oh– hell no. I can’t stand coffee. I just went to get you one,” she hums without thought. Fifty-five percent chance, not good enough. 

“Again, I’m sorry. Sevika’s been more of an asshole than usual. Made us run back and forth on the ice until we practically collapsed. Don’t know what the hell she was thinking though, almost missed her shift at that rink..” Violet continues on with conflicted brows furrowing and a hardened gaze. But just like waves washing away at imperfections in grainy sand, the awestruck glimmer in your eyes wipes the fury from her blood. 

“You went just for me?” the question comes out almost as a whisper.

Violet swears she can feel her heart Melting from your actions, and the feeling bubbles its way up as words in her throat. “Of course.”

It’s left at that. Of course, a declaration that it was common sense she’d be of service to you even behind the scenes. Neither of you dare to ask or explain why. For a moment, there’s no words. Just the soft sensation of little breaths, beating hearts, and wandering gazes, but only for a moment.

“Cait doesn’t believe us,” you spill.

Vi can only huff gently, shifting in her seat as her spread legs move a bit wider. 

“She’s smart, I’ll give her that.” Vi hums in thought. The cogs in her brain get distracted and come to a halt when she sees the glistening worry in your orbs, and without thought, her hand is coming up to hold your chin, guiding it to connect your gazes.

“Hey, we’ll fix it, alright?” She reassures, and a thumb glides over your cheek. The moment is tender, something deep and sweet, but it doesn’t take long for the both of you to pull back as your eyes flicker anywhere else. 

“We just need to… to up our game.” At the sight of your confused eyes, she continues. “Give me your phone,” Vi instructs softly, holding her hand out.

You simply obey, placing the device in her hand with a slight squint in your eyes. 

All uncertainty is replaced with giggles and content when Vi holds up the camera. Her left hand holds the phone while her right arm lifts into frame next to her face and flexes, revealing the entirety of her sculpted muscles. 

Jesus, your mind betrays you.

After the snap of the camera, the pinkette hands the device back to you. 

“Make it your lock screen,” she speaks so casually, like the idea behind these actions have no effect on her whatsoever. A black cased phone is then slid into your hands, and big powder-blue eyes are staring at you expectantly. 

“Oh, you want..” you internally cringe at the stammer. 

“Of course, needa see your face too.” she states with a grin.

You’re nodding at that, as if a swarm of what you think are butterflies aren’t rummaging around in your gut. Raising the camera in your manicured fingers, you snap a photo mocking Vi’s. More kissy face, less muscles. The athlete has the biggest grin as she takes the device back, and with a ‘there’, your face is  blessing her lockscreen. 

“So, should I book our room at Mt. Sky, or do you want to?” Her eyes are trained on your face as she drapes both swole arms across the back of the couch. 

You do nothing to hide the surprise on your face. With crisp frosty air, a winter wonderland of snow, and more unplanned pregnancies and sexual noise complaints than any of the campus’s frat parties, Mt. Sky was the unofficial University of Piltover ski trip of the year. Athletes, hookups of athletes, curious freshmen, and anyone who concerned themselves with campus drama banded together for a few days of thrillingly-messy paradise. 

“You wanna share a room?” you ask with raised brows, because ‘wait, we’re going?’ seems out of the question.

The pinkette’s lips curl into a smile, one that flashes the white of her teeth as blue orbs flicker down and up your frame once.

“Yeah, I do.” 

The short silence that follows is smothering, and you swear the room just got a hundred degrees hotter—because there’s the same tease you remember fantasizing over as your pink glitter pen graced the paper of her letter. 

“It’d be weird if we didn’t,” she explains. “Wouldn’t just be Cait questioning us, it’d be everybody,” she tilts her head, and you’re snapped back to the reality of your situation. Fake. 

You’re not looking at the freckled girl as you hum with a nod. 

That has the athlete’s suave persona faltering. A rough hand snakes up to gingerly move a piece of hair from your face. She’s barely touching you, as though you’re more fragile than glass in her grasp. 

“We don’t have to, if you wanna room with Mel that badly–” 

“–No, no I think we should,” you reassure with a smile, because you do want to, more than you probably should, but your brain’s having a very hard time deciphering fantasy from reality. 

It’s her turn to hum, and that tender hand doesn’t leave your face, it only stills as you turn your head completely towards her. 

“You don’t have to do that when we’re in private,” you refer to her wandering hands with a gentle tone. Vi’s eyes soften into something raw and real as she lulls out a response.

“Doesn’t hurt to get comfortable with each other. Right, sunshine?”

Wrong. 

Because it could hurt. It could wound the both of you and cause an ache like never before. Because—admittedly—you don’t know what you’re feeling right now. But more importantly, you don’t know what Violet’s feeling. You had her all figured out at seventeen, but now, you’re unsure of how gentle or reckless she’d be with your heart.

And still, against all the skepticism your brain concocts, you agree. 

“Right.” 

[REDACTED]: Of course I’m sure. Just do what I ask and we’ll both get what we want.

“Late again?” Finn coos, a teasing expression on the raven’s face. 

“Another run in with pinkie,” Sevika smirks, almost seeming proud. 

The man shakes his head with a smile before placing a handful of mail on the counter in front of the pair. “You mind?”

A groan falls from Sevika’s lips as her gaze flickers between him and the letters. “But I have—”

“Please?” the man asks, already inching away from the space. “I just have to deal with something.”

Before she can argue further, Finn thanks her and rushes off towards the rink. The woman’s left muttering swears and rolling her eyes as she rummages through the envelopes filling her space. 

To: Polar Peaks, To: Polar Peaks, To: Sky Young, To: Pola—

She blinks once and her firm hands come to a pause before her fingers are backtracking to a chestnut brown envelope, covered in hearts and kiss marks. 

Sevika’s huffing out a laugh of disbelief. Her eyes trail over every inch of the sickeningly sweet decor. The recipient address is the ice rink, just like the rest of the pile, and the woman’s intrigue only grows as her eyes trail to the top left corner. To the sender. To you. 

“My favorite energy drink?” Vi throws out.

“Berrybulls, specifically the yellow and amber ones.” you quip with confidence, smiling when Vi nods in content. 

A lightbulb flickers across the pink haired girl’s face, and she stops in her tracks, unintentionally pulling you back. You’re standing still now, and as the frigid air threatens to consume your body, the reminder that your hands are intertwined with one another spreads warmth throughout your core. You let yourself forget that it’s for show, and enjoy it. 

“Vi?” you question, stepping a bit closer. 

“This one’s important,” her tone is more serious, and her eyes meet yours as she takes a deep breath.

“What’s… my coffee order?” 

“Oh my gosh–” a joking scoff falls from your lips, and you’re gently shoving the laughing girl as you pull her to continue walking. The warmth of hand holding can only do so much to combat standing still in the chill of winter air. 

“C’mon sunshine, we’ve learned all there is to know. Besides, you really think anyone’s gonna come up and start quizzing us?” 

“No,” you admit as Vi holds you closer with a hand around your waist while more pedestrians enter and exit the sidewalks. “But I think it’s good to know just in case. Besides, I like learning about you.” 

“Oh yeah?” she coos. You hear a phone buzz once. 

“Yeah,” you let out with a giggle. Another buzz, and you’re reaching into your back pocket and tapping on the screen to reveal… nothing. 

kiramman: You have until the end of the trip. kiramman: If you don’t tell her, I will.

Is it possible to feel complete peace and soul-shredding anxiety simultaneously? 

On one hand, you’re having the most fun you’ve had in a long time. The drive to the resort with Mel—and her newfound friend Elora— was filled with guttural laughter. The three of you screamed songs at such a volume you’re surprised the windows didn’t burst. 

When you arrive, you’re trapped by the strong arms of Abby who’s lifting you into the air with her hug. Vi has to be the one to mutter “That’s enough, Abs..”, earning a laugh from the surrounding teammates, who are quick to tug you and your friends into conversation. 

There’s arms around your waist and a bulky body encasing yours while you sit around a fireplace, quiet giggles to each other when you’re bored of the group conversation, and a sweet goodbye kiss to your forehead when Vi and her peers leave to ski. The day progresses perfectly. 

On the other hand, you can feel as Caitlyn’s eyes follow you. A predator stalking its prey. And even though you’re not afraid of the girl, you wonder what it’s going to take for her to throw in the towel. 

“Was the sex that good?” Mel’s golden eyes are both teasing and genuinely questioning you. 

“You’re unbelievable,” you throw back with a laugh. 

“I’m serious, why is she so persistent? Does your tongue have a built in vibrator?—”

“Mel!” 

She’s giggling with you now, face falling into the plush of the king sized bed you’re both sprawled out on. 

“By the way, watch out. Your girlfriend’s biggest fan decided to show up this year,” she flips over onto her back, head tilted to look at you with a pitying–but still undeniably smug–expression.

“Sevika?” you whine and she nods. “She never comes to Mt. Sky. She’s just... anti-fun.” 

Mel hums. “A refined Kiramman has turned into a borderline stalker, Sevika Grove is coming on ski trips, what’s next? Aliens?”

“Surprised the aliens weren't first.” 

Your giggles are cut short as Elora knocks at your already open door, and Mel’s swiftly coming to a stand. 

“Talk to you later?” she offers, and you smile with a nod. 

The tranquility of an empty room only lasts so long, because within seconds, Vi is bursting into the space and hastily shutting the door. You hear the click of the lock and jolt up with confusion written across your face. 

“Vi? What’s—” 

“Cait’s on her way up here,” she speaks with haste.

“I could talk to her, if you want. Just say the word,” Vi offers, and there’s no time to overanalyze the tightness in your chest at the idea of the pinkette protecting you. 

Thousands of possibilities fly throughout your racing brain. Talking went in her ear and out the other (or, rather, around her head entirely), and going radio silent only amplified her stubbornness. The way you see it, the only thing left to do is play Caitlyn’s petty game, to make it clear that the two of you were done. 

Your brain is completely heated and fuzzy at the idea, but you have no time to waste as you hop off of the bed and over to the butch. 

“We’re gonna have sex,” you state. 

Vi’s completely stopped working. That’s it—she’s died. She’s died and gone to heaven. That’s the only plausible explanation for—

“Fake! Fake sex, I mean.”

Well that makes more sense. 

“Fake–what? You’ve gotta explain a little better than that,” she’s trying to suppress the color from showing in her cheeks, and a hand comes up to run through her hair. 

“Just—” you stammer, moving the girl by the arm so that you’re both a few feet away from the door, leaned up against the wall with Vi hovering over you. Your hand stays on her arm, which is gently placed on the side of your waist. The room’s air grows thicker by the second, and tension oozes from every movement made. 

“This doesn't feel very fake, sweetheart.” Her voice is lower, more sultry, and it sends a shiver straight up your spine. 

“We’re gonna…” gonna faint. The sound of footsteps power walking down the hallway throws your brain back into action. “Just follow my lead,” you breathe.

The athlete’s in a state of utter confusion. She’s squinting harder than ever as you bite your lip, seemingly in thought, before you send a wave of pure shock throughout her core. 

You moan. 

Not a whine, not a whimper, not even a wince, a raw moan that compels something in her to twitch. 

“Violet,” you’re singing, eyes closed, and your head thrown to the side. Out of embarrassment or getting into character, she’s not sure. She’s not sure of anything, quite frankly, because how on earth is she expected to think when you’re squealing her name like she owns you?

“Oh yes—please please,” you coo. As if someone flipped a switch, you’re opening your eyes to look up at the athlete. 

“Say something,” you snap in a whisper. 

There’s no wasted time, because Violet’s thoughts spill at your approval. 

“So fuckin’ pretty. Who knew your moans sounded so good, baby?” 

You’re about to lose it. All sense of good judgment—or what’s left—is flying out of the window and being replaced by the dirty haze of your mind. You can’t help the way your hand is gently trailing up Vi’s arm and sliding down to rest against her abs. You don’t miss the way her grip around you tightens.  

You expect her to be done, but Vi’s kept these thoughts tucked away for way too long. If they’d be of any service to you, she might as well let them out. 

“Bet she couldn’t fuck you like this, huh? No angel, she couldn’t.”  

A symphony of grunts, whimpers, and moans of passion decorate not only the room, but the ears of Caitlyn. Your navy haired ex lingers outside the door, seeing nothing but blood red as she listens to the noises you used to make for her. The noises Vi never made for her. The newfound passion that the pinkette pulled out of you, one that Cait never could. 

With clenched, clammy fists and gritted teeth, Caitlyn reluctantly drags herself away from the door and down the hallway. 

Like coming down from a high, shallow breaths fill yours and Vi’s ears before all sounds subside. Neither of you dare to move as the clack of Caitlyn’s feet storm down the hall and out of earshot. Colorful orbs stare down at the floor or up at the white ceiling, because they’re suddenly oh so intriguing. 

And maybe, just maybe, this is the moment you realize not everything is as imaginary as you thought. 

Meanwhile, Vi’s imagining what the hell she’d say in this situation if her brain were computing. Because the sight of you throwing your head back in fake pleasure and spilling noises straight from your core was entirely soul-shifting. 

And it’s different, to be seeing you this close. Granted, she’s been closer. Graced the skin of your forehead or cheeks with her soft and scar-decorated lips more than once. But here, hovering over your softened body, her hand connecting to your waist with the gentlest of touches, and her eyes firmly memorizing every angle of your face, it’s different. Everything’s softer, and Violet’s able to relish in your raw loving aura, rather than put on a performance for the skeptical eyes of others. 

And then you laugh. 

You laugh, and laugh, and laugh. So hard that you don’t notice the way Vi smiles, one that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

And definitely, oh definitely, this is the moment she realizes she’s undeniably smitten. 

“Think we’ll get the first noise complaint?” You joke while coming down from your fit of laughter. 

That pulls a laugh from Vi’s throat, one that has her leaning forward with a deep breath after it bubbles out. The soft of her forehead tenderly meets yours, and the room’s heart rate rises exponentially, but neither of you squirm out of your positions. Because this is exactly where you want to be.

You can’t see it as your eyelids flutter shut, but Vi’s left hand wraps around your waist to meet her right, cradling you in a way that’s so natural, so sweet, so real. A cradle that protects and shields you from forces you can’t handle alone. A shelter for disasters from tsunamis to the cold chill of winter. From pretending to be your girlfriend to replacing your wet party clothes, all the way back to being your first standing ovation. Vi is your refuge. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, worried you’ll crack the faultless atmosphere. “Can’t believe you’re putting up with this– with me.” 

Her grip lightly tightens. “I’d do it over and over again.” 

She would, and she will, if you let her. 

You feel the truth in her words, and your eyes flutter open to pull back, just enough to look into those perfect blue specks. 

The pair of you stay there for what feels like forever, examining the watercolor paintings that you call your eyes. And–although she could stare at you for the rest of her life–Vi physically can’t wait any longer. Like magnets, your lips are tugging her forward. Centimeter by centimeter. Inch by inch. Heads tilting, eyes half lidded, and breaths hitching. Vi can practically taste the plush of your feature when—

“Yo! You guys in there?”

Abby’s fist thumps on the door three times. And as fast as you connected, you’re drifting apart.

you don’t care whether she knows or not. you just want her crawling back to you. not happening.  kiramman: I’ll tell her.

“Would you rather go a month without sex, or a month without candy?” 

“What kind of stupid ass question is that?” Vi throws at Abby, who’s snobbishly leaning back in the heated water as if she’d given the ultimatum of the century. 

Her newest middle school party game is would you rather, and while Vi couldn’t care less about the event itself, she’s secretly over the moon at the effort her teammates and close friends are making to connect with you. 

“A month without candy,” you cooly state as you look down at the water. Making the relationship more believable. That’s all you were doing.

That enables a chain of raised eyebrows and looks to Vi, whereas others let out sly whistles and snickers, throwing out little quips like “you hear that, superstar?”. 

“Alright, alright,” she’s calming them with a tug at the corners of her lips and a roll of her eyes. You only snicker to yourself at the odds, as if you didn’t have sex— fake sex with the girl minutes prior.

Leaning closer against Vi’s skin, plush bodies warming each other in the bubbly heat of the hot tub, you’re almost completely relaxed. The outdoors is the perfect flaky winter wonderland you expected, cabins further out from the resort look like the coziest of all shelters, and the milky mountains in the distance tie the atmosphere together. 

And while you’re focused on the landscape, Violet’s eyes are completely trained on you. 

She examines the way you sit so properly in her lap, the way your legs squirmed as she slid her hands away from your thigh and around the small of your waist (so others could see your contact.. of course), how you get so comical and chattery once you’re finally comfortable in a group, and the angelic resting look on your face when you’re finally at ease. 

And neither of you know it, but when the conversation is one that allows you to listen instead of talk, you’re both daydreaming about the endless possibilities of this night. The potential of this moment, as well as that of the countless others you’ve had since this entire ordeal began. 

Neither of you know it, but you’re both considering the idea that life could be like this all the time. The two of you snuggled up, surrounded by those cherished, laughing until you just can’t breathe. 

A chin comes to rest gently on your right shoulder, and Vi’s breath sends a shiver throughout your body faster than the crisp winter air ever could. 

“Do you always sit with your legs crossed in pools?” she teases, voice low, like she’s sharing a secret with you. Only you. 

“No,” you simply hum. Your tongue is prodding the inside of your cheek in thought, and you go through with the lightbulb in your head. 

“It’s a great reminder of how dangerously close your hands are to my bikini though, isn’t it?” 

The pads of her fingers that were once tracing meaningless patterns on your waist come to a stop, and you can hear the smirk in Vi’s voice. 

“You want me to move them?” she breathes.

Your response is almost automatic.

“No.” 

The conversation of what would’ve happened if Abby hadn’t knocked on your door was yet to come, but the newfound tension and playfulness that spilled from both of your lips was undeniable. 

Vi grins at your confidence, but underneath the suave persona, she knows you’ll be the death of her. 

“Bold girl,” she hums.

You’re so trapped in your playful banter that you don’t notice the way the rest of your peers are leaving, running off towards a different attraction of the resort, only god knows what. 

“You were pretty convincing up there,” your sly lips are curivng up at the corners. “You have fake sex often?”

“Nothing fake about my sex.” 

You’re snickering at her confidence, relishing in the way her arm hardens around you as she chuckles. 

“Don’t get cocky. I’m sure someone’s had to fake-orgasm with you once.” Maybe the lying’s getting to you, because you know in your heart of hearts that’s the furthest thing from the truth. 

“You really believe that?” she speaks in a lower tone, head snaking around to make eye contact with you. 

Like a clock rewinding, you’re seventeen again. 

Not physically, nor mentally, but your full heart is pounding the same rhythm as when you first fell for the tough, pink haired beauty in your writing class. Your breaths are shallow, gazes locked, and the warmth between you is incomparable to any sensation you’ve ever experienced prior. 

“Thought so,” she brazenly states after your lack of words, and you’re smiling in thought before gently splashing water towards the smug girl, Melting her charming essence that has you by the throat. 

Vi gasps through a laugh. Soon, she’s threatening to splash you back while you laugh and squeal through your begs for mercy. 

And although your vision isn’t flawless through the squinted happiness of your eyes, you can recognize that swinging navy blue hair approaching you.

Fuck. 

“She doesn’t give up,” you think out loud, and Vi doesn’t need to waste energy on turning her head to register who you’re talking about. 

You don’t see it through your irritated gaze, but Vi feels a jolt of worry crawl up her spine. While you worried about Cait smothering you for the rest of eternity, Vi’s skin shivers at the idea of her place in your heart being twisted from one of love and trust to hatred.

She wants to tell you, wants you to make the conscious decision to love her despite any past affairs.

But she sure as hell wasn’t going to do it now, while you’re warming up on her water-covered body. And she sure as hell couldn’t let Caitlyn poison your mind with it.

So there she sits, staring into your soul with those loyal eyes that silently swear they’d do anything for you. And, understandably, Vi makes all sense of good judgement Melt from your brain until it’s a useless pile of mush. 

So when Cait nears, practically striding her way to your uneasy soul, you make a decision. 

You kiss Violet. 

It’s a quick shift in atmosphere. One moment, your heart is beating out of fear, and the next it’s being thrashed around your chest by the ascended butterflies from your stomach. You turn in her lap to have easier access to her mouth, and the connection of your plush mouths is anything but fragile. It’s messy, hungry, starved even. Your lips dance in unison, and Vi’s sculpted arm wraps around you and gently holds the back of your neck. The way she’s handling you coupled with the burning water is giving your body a fever. 

You don’t know when Caitlyn sees you, how long she glares at your wet mouths and pressed bodies in pure anger, or how long it takes for her to storm off in defeat, because every inch of your mind is focused on the pinkette holding you as if you’re all she has. 

And it’s this moment that you finally accept the truth that’s kept itself hidden in your gut, you want her. And those sparkly powder-blue eyes are telling you that she wants—needs you too. 

But when you slide your hand down to hers and shyly move her calloused fingers to what little fabric’s covering your chest, she’s pulling back. There’s resistance in the movement, but she forces herself to disconnect from your wanting lips nonetheless. 

“Can’t,” she whispers, breathless.

You freeze, big dazed eyes blinking in confusion and embarrassment. ”But..” is all you can muster before Vi opens her mouth.

“Angel–it’s not that I don’t want this, I’m just—” 

The athlete’s rubbing her temples. Her mind, body, and heart must be at war inside of her, because each is telling her a different path to take, and she looks so conflicted as she speaks. 

“You don’t want this,” she finally decides.

“What?” is all you manage to choke out. 

“You don’t want this.” she repeats, less convinced than the first time it left her lips. 

You can only scoff, attempting to hide the bullet to your heart and ego. 

“You don’t know what I want,” you counter, and the ache in your voice sends a crack through Vi’s heart. “Why are you denying this?” 

Because this is fake, a scheme to get your ex girlfriend off your back. Because I haven’t been completely honest with you, and for that I don’t deserve a sweet love like this. Not yet. 

But instead of that, or even coming clean to you altogether, Vi sighs. And for the first time, her eyes are disloyal, looking anywhere but yours. 

You’re huffing, shoving stiff arms off of you. You pull yourself from the hot tub into the freezing air of the night, a replica of your once blazing heart turning ice cold. 

“Whatever, Violet.” you spit out, and just like that, you’re gone. 

The debate over soul-shredding anxiety and complete peace has come to a halt, because the ache of a pummeled ego and a confused heart that’s afraid to beat outweighs both. 

You didn’t sleep in yours and Vi’s shared room that night. Instead, you grabbed a pillow and stormed over to Mel and Elora’s, who were happy to have you. Making up a lie about dying for a girls’ night, you gossiped and giggled, arguably with a stronger poker face than the Kirammans, before a yawn finally slipped from Mel’s mouth and exhaustion spread throughout the air. 

At last, in the silence of night, salt ridden tears noiselessly slide down the bridge of your nose and pile onto the cool fluff of your pillow. 

As if your lack of adequate sleep and racing mind didn’t have you at your wits end, the next day was twice as cruel on you. Ignoring one athlete was a walk in the park, but avoiding two, while trying not to raise suspicion, is just as hard as it sounds. 

Caitlyn’s in the hallway, so you rush to your room. Violet’s in the room, so you venture off to the spa with Mel and Elora. Caitlyn’s entering the spa right before you finish up, so you’re suggesting a lap of skiing to the girls, but Vi’s exiting the room in her snow gear when you near the door. 

You just couldn’t win. 

So when you hear the soft voice coming from the doorway, you don’t even bother to lift your body from the plush of your blanket. 

“Don’t go,” Vi pleads, gently shutting the wooden door and ridding herself of her puffy jacket. 

The pinkette’s still, waiting for you to move, to do or say something—anything, but you do nothing of the sort. When she concludes it’s safe she takes small, soft steps towards the edge of your bed and you feel the mattress dip under pure muscle. 

With still hands and a timid heart, Vi speaks the first words into the air. 

“Well, we broke our little rule set.”

Her playful smile is uneasy, one made when she examines your weary face too hard. And when she notices the lack of expression on your face, it flattens out into worried brows and soft lips. 

“I’m sorry,” slips from her lips, prompting you to turn your head towards the pinkette. 

“Stop. You don’t have to apologize for your feelings… or lack thereof,” you whisper the last part as if it’s shameful. 

With a sigh, you hoist yourself up to sit straight and lean against the decorative headboard. With fidgeting hands laid in your lap and eyes that travel anywhere but the anxious girl before you, you speak.

“I just thought that there was— something,” you start. “And.. and maybe it’s stupid, but I thought that maybe all of this means something. Maybe my letters getting out wasn’t the worst thing, because maybe things between us could be exactly how I wanted when I was writing them.” 

Vi feels terrible for giving you emotional whiplash, but she can’t stand to see you beating yourself up over something you want— something the both of you crave: eachother. 

Tender fingers snake their way up to your face and hook on your chin, tilting your head towards her alluring orbs. 

“You really believe that?” she asks, eyes squinted.

“Believe.. what?” 

“That I don’t feel things for you?” she asks like the answer is the most obvious thing in the world.

“I couldn’t tell you all the things you do to me. All the ways you make me feel,” she slides the hand that’s cupping your face to gently tap the side of your pretty little head. 

“Here, and.. here,” her finger grazes your skin as it skims down to tap once against your encaptured heart. “And….”

She cuts the sentence short, dropping her hand down to intertwine with one of yours, because you’re supposed to be having a serious conversation, so she needs to focus. 

“You do terribly good things to me, sweetheart.” 

“Then why did you push me away?” you whisper to combat the rapid speed of your heart as adrenaline rushes through your veins from Vi’s simple and sensual touches. 

She contemplates it, ripping the bandage off and telling you the truth, she really does. Would it be that big of a deal? Would you take it with ease and laugh at her anxiety, caressing her like she dreams and letting her finally place a guilt-free kiss upon your soft lips? Or would you crumble at the news, and let the trust you’ve built up shatter with it? 

“I didn’t know whether it was real or not,” she decides: a lie. “I know that the way my heart races for you is real, the realest thing there is. But I know it’s easy to get caught up in a fake high, and when you were kissing me I just—” she sighs at the ramble, but the gentle squeeze you give her hand guides her through it. 

“I just wanted to let you decide if this is really what you want. Not because of Cait or anyone else. Just you.”

She’ll tell you. Eventually. She silently swears it to herself. 

But right now, Vi’s looking at you the same way she did that day, and it’s suffocating. 

Big pretty eyes examine every inch of you with that awestruck gaze, a child watching a shooting star pass by. Except this time, she wouldn’t let you leave. 

This time, you, that creative girl with clammy palms and shy eyes, watching her bubblegum haired love give her a standing ovation— that shooting star would come crashing down and right into the warm arms in which she belongs. 

“The love I have for you.. it never went away, it just transformed,” you confess.

Violet’s once worried expression morphs. She’s still soft, still trapped in the beautiful moment, but there’s a newfound confidence behind her demeanor. 

“The love I have for you has stayed the same. Ever since that stupid writing class—” you giggle at her words, and she does the same, “I think I’ve loved you for years. It’s left such an ache in my heart, baby.” 

There’s a glitch somewhere in your brain, because the athlete’s words mixed with your newest nickname is causing a system overload. 

You’re suddenly very aware of the amber musk filling your nostrils, and Vi’s proximity has you squirming, soft hand gently squeezing at hers which carresses you so gingerly. You’re trapped between the headboard and her oh-so-close body, and it’d be a lie to say any part of you is complaining. 

“I can.. I can make that ache go away,” you whisper, shy head tilting as you wait for her approval. 

The suave, player-like girl is back in full force. With a notorious smirk in place, she’s leaning closer, tilting her head opposite of yours and lining up her plush lips with yours. 

“Yeah, you can.” 

That’s all it takes for your lips to come crashing together at full force. It’s messy, loving, and infuriatingly sexy all at once, and you don’t have any brain power left to think about it. All of your energy, every bit of your soul is being put into showing this girl how you really feel. 

The atmosphere feels heavier and lighter simultaneously in the best way possible. Vi’s kissing you like you’re the air she needs to breathe, and drinking you in like your mouth is water and the torturous years leading up to this have taken place in the desert. 

For the first time, the pair of you silently agree that this is real. Real touches, real passion, real tongues gliding against one another, and real desire for more. 

You hum into Vi’s mouth as she ravishes you, and your hands find their way to tangle in her fluffy scalp as she effortlessly switches places with you and lifts you into her lap while she relaxes back against the headboard. You can’t help but chuckle as her hands move to cup the fat of your ass, causing her to grin through kisses until you finally stop, because your lips are practically peppering her teeth. 

“What’s so funny?” you ask through a snicker. Vi shakes her head, sneaking kisses down your jaw and the stretch of your neck. 

“Nothin’, I just don’t want this to end,” she confesses, ending with a tender kiss to your collarbone. 

An uncontrollable smile fights its way onto your face. 

“Well I’m not going anywhere,” you assure.

She nods, wrapping strong arms around your torso to pull your body as close to hers as possible. 

“Neither am I, sunshine.” 

Violet’s learned three new things since you fell asleep in her arms. 

One, you’re a cuddler. Every inch of you has touched, skimmed, or wrapped around the butch since you laid upon the soft matter of the bed. Her favorite position is when you curl yourself up against her chest and slide a leg inbetween hers to let them intertwine.

Two, every inch of you still smells like that perfect mixture of cotton candy and strawberry she remembers from years ago. 

And three, she’s completely whipped for you. For your brain, your voice, the giggles you make between kisses, the way you give your all to her, and don’t get her started on your body. She’s got it bad. 

So, the struggle she faced when she had to snake out of your grasp was ultimately the hardest thing she’s done in her entire life. 

The love-hazed girl didn’t bother to do anything but slip on some shoes and run a hand through her hair, because within minutes she’d be right back next to you where she belongs. 

At least, that was the plan. 

She doesn’t know why the loud cacophony of cackles catches her attention, because she knows how obnoxious her teammates can be, but it does. She lazily turns her head once, letting it lull back before the alarm of confusion goes off in her brain, and she’s turning towards the sound once again. 

Sevika, a few members of the basketball team, and some others she doesn’t recognize, all sit against the couches and chairs in the lounging area. But there’s no relaxation in the way they rest against the furniture. Each is laced with anticipation, and their eyes all lay on the buff brownskin girl who’s smirks as if she’s discovered a pot of gold. 

“Your voice of honey soothes my soul, and the picture of delicate curls falling to frame your face as you lift me onto my feet will stay forever plastered in my mind,” the woman spits.

The words are so sensual, so raw, so genuine, filled with nothing but passion, but Sevika’s interpretation does it no justice. 

And Violet knows exactly who wrote those words of desire. 

Her feet move quicker than she’s ever felt the need to before. 

When she nears the group, a face of pure determination, she spots it. A brown envelope, decorated with a bow and pretty hearts accompanied by a single kiss mark. So similar to the one you made for Vi all those years ago. 

“There’s the woman of the hour,” Sevika taunts loudly, leaning back in her seat. Her fingers tap the letter in her hands against her own thigh, a reminder that your past words of hope and love still lie with her. “Or, would you be the second? No… no, that’d be this uh, Skye, huh?” 

Sevika’s smile is poisonous, infecting Violet with a rage she’s never experienced before. 

“What are you doing with that?” Vi’s practically seething, eyes trained on the brown paper between Sevika’s fingers.

“Found it on the ground, guess it slipped away from your girl before she could mail it off to her secret lover,” she lies, throwing her hands up in faux innocence. 

“I swear to God— fucking give it to me, and I’ll forget this happened.”

“And you’ll forget that she’s dreaming of someone else’s mouth?” The burly woman scoffs, coming to a stand directly infront of Violet. The space between them is thinning, disintegrated by rageful tension.

“Seriously, I don’t see why you’re going through all this trouble for a whore, pinkie.” 

Faster than anyone in the room can register, Vi’s fist comes up to smash into Sevika’s jaw. The slam is loud, echoing throughout the room until it creates a stunned silence.

Sevika’s hand comes up to hold her jaw, craning it as the metallic taste of blood sets itself on her tongue. 

Within seconds, she’s lunging right at Vi. Their fists look like skin colored blobs in the air from how fast they land punches to one another’s guts. They’re thrashing around in anger, threatening the space they reside in, before four onlookers break them apart.

Some whoop and holler, others laugh and speculate exactly who ‘won’, but neither of the girls care. Through their heavy panting and darkened gazes, they’re only focused on one thing: the brown envelope that now lies between Vi’s fingers. 

With a cocky, bruised grin and the satisfying drug of adrenaline, Violet turns on her heels and stumbles out of sight. 

[REDACTED]: listen, toots. i have a better plan.  … [REDACTED]: I’m listening. 

With the way neither of you dare to move, any third party would think the two of you are paralyzed; and you are, by love.

It’s been five minutes since you’ve woken up, and Vi’s sweet gaze keeps you in a warm, butterfly inducing trance. Neither of you move from your position in the bed, savouring deep synced breaths, snuggling under the blankets, and wrapping around one another. You’re sticking together like your feelings are superglue. 

Finally, one of the pinkette’s hands rubs at the small of your back, drawing sweet nothings on your dimples and the line that trails up your perfect torso. 

“I haven’t slept that long in ages,” you hum, making Violet pull you just a bit closer. 

“Maybe you should sleep with me every night,” she concludes, sending you a smile that has you giggling with a little ‘oh sure’. 

She sees your sweet bubble of happiness wobble when your eyes squint at the sight of her chin, now decorated with a blossomed bruise. A soft hand comes up to graze the purple mark as you ask, “When did that happen?” 

As fast as the pinkette opens her mouth to speak, it shuts. Because she definitely can’t tell you that Sevika’s tried to embarrass you by reading one of your old love letters to a group of your classmates. Why has she become more of a pain now than ever? Vi hasn’t figured that out yet. But she has come to one conclusion: worrying you wouldn’t do any good. What you didn’t have to know, you wouldn’t. 

She quickly takes your wandering hand in hers, intertwining fingers and giving them a little squeeze. 

“I’m fine, sunshine. Got up all hazy last night to turn the light off since we forgot. Completely ran into the wall, that’s all.” Although Vi isn’t a klutz, it seems like a perfectly plausible story, so you don’t push. 

You only chuckle, shaking your head. “Be more careful. I have to get you home in one piece.” 

A soft smile spreads across her face, and she’s kissing your knuckles while responding. “Of course, angel.” 

While you scolded Vi about her bruises, you were set up to get some of your own. 

“Vi I’m not sure if this is a great idea,” you worry, looking down at the girl who gets on her knees to lace up your skates. 

The freezing temperature kissed your nose a subtle hint of red, but the beautiful sunlight gently coating the flurry white wonderland that surrounded the city made up for it. All around you, classmates and city locals of all ages glide around the ice rink with glee. Sounds of love, joy, and the squeals or laughter of tripping inexperienced-skaters fill your ears. 

“Why not?” she asks, eyes flickering up to yours for just a second before moving on to the other foot. The picture of her is just all too much, and you have to look away to regather your thoughts. 

“I know that you’re a hockey player so this may come as a shock to you, but not everyone is good at ice skating,” she grins, rolling her eyes at your sarcasm. “I’m just gonna fall on my ass a bunch,” you whine.

“And I’ll be right there to pick you back up.” Vi’s confidence melts away your worries. Finally, as she finishes with your skates, you playfully roll your eyes and come to a stand (with the help of her strong hands). 

The thinning space between you two and your starry eyes which look up at Vi keep her in a trance as her arms mindlessly wrap around your waist, hands dangerously close to your ass. 

“Promise not to let me go?” you whisper through a grin.

“Shit. I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

And she doesn’t. Through your first steps and little slips on the ice, Vi stands right beside you, holding your hand with tender care. 

“This is pretty romantic, right?” she hums in your ear as you attempt to push your feet against the ice like she taught you. 

“As long as I don’t completely eat it.” you warn, eyes trained to the ice.

She snickers.

“Well, you look sexy when you’re focused, I’ll give you that.”

Butterflies erupt throughout your stomach, and a warmth is travelling up your body as you look at Violet with a faux sternness. 

“Quiet. You’re distracting me,” you tease.

Vi’s tongue pokes at the inside of her cheek in thought before she’s letting go of your hand and coming to stand right infront of you. Sculpted arms snake around your waist, and the lack of space between you two as Vi stares with a hungry gaze is making your body feel weak. 

“I’m distracting you, sweetheart?” 

You quietly suck in a breath of icy cold air, searching for a response in her pretty powder-blue eyes before she snickers once more, stepping back. At last, you feel like you can breathe.

She takes you around the ice, helping you reach a good foundation to feel comfortable skating on your own, and the ‘good job, baby’ she praises you with sends a sweet sensation throughout your body. As you’re gliding away from her, giggling in surprise as she pretends to chase you with her intimidating hockey stance, a group of her teammates call for her attention.

She pauses, breath kissing your ear as she lets go of your body. “I’ll just be a second, yeah?” 

You nod, sending her off to the group with a smile. 

And for a moment, everything’s perfect. Until it isn’t. 

The call of your name from her mouth freezes your body faster than the chill of the ice ever could. Effortlessly, Caitlyn’s gliding up to you with a calculated and calm expression. She knows you can’t get far in those skates. 

First, you’re praying that Vi will look over at you and race back just in time to save you. Then, anger’s bubbling in the pit of your stomach, and you whip around to make eye contact with the navy-haired girl. Finally—

“What, Caitlyn?” you snap without hesitation. 

The girl’s expression refuses to waver, and toned arms are crossing with the notorious sly smirk of a Kiramman. “Never thought I’d see you with blades on your feet.” 

“Never thought I’d see you begging for attention, but here we are,” you quip, placing your hands on your hips, completely distracted from the ice below you. 

Her arms uncross with an amused hum, and for a moment you think that maybe she’s getting off on the negative energy you throw her way. But then she begins to push her skates against the ice, slowly circling you. 

“I just thought I’d check in on you, sweetheart. You’ve forgotten to answer my calls and texts–”

“You know damn well I haven’t forgotten, Cait—”

“—And I wanted to applaud you in person for being so understanding about what happened with Violet and I.”

She comes to a stop, and so does your heart. The little red organ skips a beat before continuing, pace matching your weariness. 

“What are you talking about?” you question, brows furrowed so innocently that Caitlyn has to stop herself from laughing.

“She hasn’t told you?” The bluenette makes no attempt to act shocked. Your eyes lock, and her skates scrape against the ice until she’s hovering right over you. 

“Weren’t you wondering where she slept after you left her at the jacuzzi?” The visible air that blows from her mouth is just as harsh as her words, stabbing your heart with its icicles.  

“What are you..” you mutter, but the words die in your throat.

“Vi and I had a… rekindling.” Her head tilts with a cocky smile. “It was bound to happen I suppose. Once a hookup, always a—”

“I don’t believe you.” Your stern words contradict the uncertainty tainting your voice. 

Caitlyn doesn’t speak. She simply reaches into her back pocket, pulls out her phone, and scrolls to open her messages with Vi, gently placing the device into your quivering fingers.

Really? My ex girlfriend? You’re a class act. i’ll love her better than you ever could, caitlyn Is this to get back at me? You’re the one who ended our little affair. stop texting my number. Come to think of it, I never told her about us.  Does she even know?  fucking drop it cait You have until the end of the trip.  If you don’t tell her, I will. you don’t care whether she knows or not. you just want her crawling back to you. not happening.  I’ll tell her.

“You see it now? How easy it was for her to lie to you? She doesn’t love you, not like I do.” 

“Angel?” Vi’s voice calls out. The once sweet melody to your ears now erupts a symphony of confusion and anger inside of you. Did she plan out those nicknames?

Before you know it, Vi’s coming up behind you and placing an arm around your waist. Instead of feeling comfort, you’re suffocated. How can she fake it so easily?

“Can I help you?” the pink haired girl spits to the Kiramman with a voice of pure disgust. How could you have known?

“I was just leaving,” Caitlyn hums. With the fulfilling sight of your aghast eyes and Violet’s hidden panic, she skates off. 

The two of you are uncomfortably quiet for a moment. Your body’s still, save for the racing thoughts in your mind, but when Vi’s hand on you tightens you’re breaking from her grasp.

And then she sees it.

The broken gaze in your sorrowful eyes, the one look she desperately wanted to avoid. Her worst nightmare has become her reality. 

And you see it.

The way her gaze goes from calm and collected to a deer in headlights. It’s like a switch was flipped in her brain, and Violet’s mask comes off as she speaks. 

“I can explain—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your heartbroken voice drowns her out. 

“You don’t understand,” she pleas, but you’re pushing your weight into one foot in an attempt to turn yourself around on the ice.

“I understand perfectly fine you backstabbing–”

Your knees come slamming into the icy ground with a thud, and the newly proclaimed backstabber is at your side, attempting to lift you onto your feet. You shove her off with a huff, using one knee to come to a wobbly stand. 

“Just..” you start, ignoring the tears of frustration that bubble in the corners of your eyes, accompanied by the prickly curse in your throat. “Just stay away from me, Vi.” 

And you’re gone.

Vi obeys your wishes and leaves you alone like you asked.

But only for the next two hours, while she figures out what the hell she’s going to say to make up for the pain she’s caused you. Because she did hook up with Cait, but the last time was was months ago, before either of them had anything with you. Because she knows Cait did something to fuck with your head, and now her baby’s fretting and scared to trust anyone. Because she’s in love with you and only you, and she’s never going to forgive herself if she doesn’t get you back. 

So when she slips into your shared room and finds you packing your things, she braces herself for the yelling and cussing she expects to come.

But, it never happens. Instead, you look at her with a woeful expression, and turn back to your open luggage with a scoff. 

“I knew Caitlyn was fucked up, but I never imagined you’d have as many screws loose. You’ll be perfect for each other,” you spit, the words acid to Violet. Manicured hands move at a fast pace, roughly tossing in clothes and skin products like they mean nothing to you. “And I know we’re not actually dating, but to fuck the one person we’re trying to lie to? Then come to me the next day acting like you…” you trail off, discarding the sentence like trash, but she knows what you were trying to say: like you love me. 

Wait, what?

“Hold on, hold on. I haven’t fucked Kiramman.”

“..So you weren’t with her the night I slept in Mel’s room?” you squint.

“Fuck no. It’s been months since we’ve hooked up, angel. Like, before you and her were even a thing–”

“So you did fuck! Jesus, why didn’t you tell me?” you raise your voice in question, whipping around to face the girl with exhausted body language. When Vi’s mouth hangs open with no clue of a better response than ‘I was scared’, you shake your head, coming to conclusions yourself.

“That’s why you did this, right? I should’ve asked more about why you proposed this whole scheme,” you start, walking towards the nightstand. “Make me look like an idiot? Get back at Cait? Get with Cait? What was it?” 

“No– no. I was going to tell you angel, God I swear, I just didn’t know how to tell you without making it hurt. I don’t want anything with Caitlyn, cross my heart, her and I are history. Everything I said about you– everything I felt with you is real.” She’s speaking so tenderly, inching closer to your frame.

And you would’ve turned, would’ve calmed down enough to finish this conversation civilly, maybe believe her. 

But instead, you’re staring at the opened drawer of the bedside table, right at the chesnut brown envelope decorated with hearts. The same one you wrote for Skye all those years ago. 

You’re completely over this.

Violet’s close enough to see everything now. The envelope and letter, the way your face is morphing through thousands of different expressions, and the tears that finally begin to slide down your cheeks as you lift the paper into the air and choke out words.

“Why the hell do you have this? How much did you plan to humiliate me, huh?” you ask through sweet sobs.

Violet sighs, because everything she’s kept from you is hitting her. All of her mistakes are crashing down upon her at once. All she wants is to fix it for you. 

“That’s not– fuck this looks bad.” She’s cursing herself for everything she didn’t tell you, all the chances she had to come clean and never did out of fear. 

“Sevika had it and I took it from her. We fought over it and I hid it here because I didn’t want you to be embarrassed. That’s all. I swear.” 

She watches your glossy eyes flicker to her bruised jaw that you touched so lovingly that morning, to her eyes that beg you to forgive her, and to your bag as you walk towards it.

“Well you don’t have to worry about me anymore, Violet. This– us, whatever we are is done. ” You knuckle away your tears, sniffing and pulling at the handle of your suitcase.

The pinkette takes no action to hide the dread that fills her face, quickly following your motion around the room. 

“So we’re just breaking–” she stops. Her heart is racing at an ungodly speed, and the next words come out as a horrified mumble, “We’re just over? Like that?” 

There’s a pregnant pause, and for the last time, you look back at Vi, voice clear. 

“We were never together, Violet.” 

There’s nothing she can say to rebuttal, or stop you from walking out of that room, because despite both of your desires, it was true. 

For the next two days, your bed becomes your safe haven. You put your phone on ‘do not disturb’, wrap yourself in the thickest blanket your apartment has, and hide from the rest of the world. It’s only thanks to Mel, who’s worried to death, that you remember to eat every once in a while.

Safe to say, you’re a wreck. 

Three soft knocks on your bedroom door prompt you to roll over, and you’re pulling your head from the covers as the aforementioned beauty enters the room with a plated sandwich in hand. 

“I have something for that headache of yours,” she offers, setting the platter on your bedside table and sitting at the edge of the soft mattress. 

From your blanket-clad vision, you see her lips press together in thought before she finally decides on her carefully sculpted words. 

“I talked to Abby,” she starts. You groan, pulling yourself back under the blankets.

“Listen,” she scolds, and you bite your tongue. Hard. “I talked to Abby and she says Violet slept in her room that night. She was moping about you the entire time.” 

“She didn’t tell me about her and Caitlyn,” you seethe.  

“No, but she said she was going to, right?” She offers, tilting her head. “In the end, does it really change anything about how you two feel towards each other?” 

When you don’t respond, she sighs, patting your blanket and coming to a stand. 

“It’s your decision what you do, but I can tell Violet really cares about you. And I think you feel the same.”

With that, she’s stepping out of the room and gently closing your door with a click.  

Almost immediately, your head pokes out of the blanket, and your gaze travels to your now black lockscreen lighting up.

One message from Caitlyn.

caitlyn: Are you ready to apologize to me? I’ll still take you back. 

You block her number. Something you should’ve done a long time ago. 

Then, you check the three messages from Vi. 

superstar <3: i know you want me to leave you alone, and i’m trying my hardest to please let me talk to you angel whenever you’re ready to hear me out

You can only sigh. 

“I don’t know how else to get this through to both of you.”

Coach Talis’s sharp tongue scolds the winded athletes. Sweat is dripping down every inch of their skin under their heavy gear. While their teammates ended practice an hour ago, they were here running drills for the ‘stunt’ they pulled back at Mt. Sky. If it weren’t for the exhaustion capturing their bodies, they’d be pummeling each other this very second.

“I’m this close to benching both of you, and you know I don’t want to do that.” Both girls rapidly shake their heads.

“This better be the last time I hear of an incident regarding the both of you, do you understand?” The tanned man snaps, and both athletes are throwing out soft “yes coach”’s before he waves them off to the locker room. 

Throughout her entire shower, Violet’s brain is focused on two things. One, how much she loathes Sevika (fuck her), and two, how much she fucking misses you. 

Throughout her time spent drying herself off, getting redressed, and packing her backpack, she prays for a text, call, something from you. When she hears the buzz of a phone, she’s whipping her head around to face her lockscreen (with her favorite picture of you looking effortlessly beautiful and silly simultaneously). 

It’s not until the second buzz goes off that she realizes it’s not her phone that’s being blown up, but Sevika’s. 

Despite better judgement, she curiously walks over to the device, reaching down to pick it up with careless hands.

And it almost drops from her calloused fingers in shock. 

There’s three notifications from ‘C. Kiramman’.

c. kiramman: That worked better than I thought. You’re not as dumb as you look.  c. kiramman: I think our work together is done. C. Kiramman sent you $300!

You’re at war with yourself.

Your brain is clawing at you to block Violet, get yourself together, and move on with your life as if she was never a part of it.

Your heart and every inch of hope that fills you is begging for you to pick up your phone and give her a chance to prove that it was all a case of bad timing, misunderstandings, and that you truly mean something to her. Because you want her, you can finally admit it, but you’re deathly afraid of being made a fool of.

You’d skipped classes for the day, pulled yourself from your sheets, showered, and now sit on your black couch with a little sigh, sinking into the fluffy matter. The silence of the apartment is contrasting the swarm of loud thoughts inside your mind, and before it can drive you utterly insane, the doorbell rings. 

“Angel?” That sweet voice calls out.

You rise to your feet embarrassingly fast. Your brain waves a white flag and your heart dances in success. 

When you swing the door open, it takes everything in you to keep yourself from jumping into Violet’s arms. She’s worried out of her mind, but the surprise that you even opened the door is giving her a jolt of hope and encouragement. You take in her presence, musk amber scent, oversized jacket that once protected your arms, and all. 

“I’m so sorry,” spills from her lips, and you scan her expression before stepping to the side. 

“Come in.” 

You and Vi sit on opposite ends of your couch. You’re trying to show off your self control, but she’s just glad you’ll sit next to her at all. 

“I’m so sorry that I didn’t tell you about my past with Caitlyn. I was scared that you’d hate me, and shit it all just caught up with me before I could grow some balls and rip the bandaid off.” 

You’ve never seen her look so worried, so vulnerable. 

You take one scoot closer. 

“But I promise, I ended things with her a long time ago and that was the last time we ever did anything.”

She’s pulling out her phone, opening the photos app, and setting her phone down face up on the cushions for you to take. You do, picking it up with weary fingers, ones that still when you see the material she’s revealing.

“Caitlyn hired Sevika to fuck with us. That time at the party, all those times she got me in shit at practice, taking your letter, even giving Caitlyn the idea of lying that I did something with her. They’ve been trying to get inbetween us for a long time.” 

Your mouth is slightly agape as you scroll through monetary payments and texts from your ex. Ones about her getting you back (fuck that), and others about Sevika getting the spotlight once Vi’s burnt out and screwing up at hockey (again, fuck that). 

“I get why you’re pissed at me, and I understand if you want me out of your life forever.” It shakes her to even utter those words. “But I…” 

She’s biting her lip, and you watch as she pulls a neatly folded piece of loose leaf paper from her pocket. With embarrassment flushing her face, she sets it on the couch for you to take.

“What’s this?” you ask softly, taking it in your hands and gently unfolding.

“Please don’t read it out loud.” 

Your heart quickens at the suspense, and your fingers come to a stop as Violet’s handwriting fills your vision. 

Dear _____, 

Oh my god.

The words fill your mind and apparently show through your eyes, because when you look at Violet once more, she’s looking more sheepish than ever.

With a deep breath, you read. 

I’ve been in love with you for so long, longer than I ever realized, and I never knew how much it warmed my heart and brightened my days until I lost you. The way your eyes light up when you laugh, the loud laugh that takes over your body when we’re alone, the quiet moments we shared, where we didn’t need words, just the way our hands fit together so perfectly. How being near you made everything feel like it was right, even when nothing else made sense. All of the little things that make you, you, have become the moments I crave most. 

I know I’ve messed up. Been too wrapped up inside my head and covered in fear to tell you the entire truth, but I miss us. I miss your laugh, your smile, the way we would talk about everything and nothing all at once. I wrapping my arm around your waist or kissing your neck cheek nose forehead and feeling like everything was right in the world when we were together. And I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you. I’m not asking for everything to go back to normal right away, because I know things take time. But I want to try again, if you’ll let me.

You’re worth every second, every inch of love that exists throughout my blood, and I will spend the rest of my days trying to show you just how much you mean to me.

-With all my love, yours truly, Violet

In the eleventh grade, you thought you loved Violet more than humanely possible.

Now, you wonder how shocked your younger self would be to hear that amount has grown exponentially. 

"I know it's bad. I'm not a genius like you bu-"

Lips smashing into hers silence any worries that the letter didn’t do its job. Your plush mouthes press against one another’s with a passion so deep, so genuine, that it speaks louder than any words you’ve spoken; louder than any love letter either of you have written. 

You faintly pull back, giggling breathily as Vi chases your lips with a look sweet enough to give you a heart attack. With touching foreheads and closed, relaxed eyes, you use the same words as when you first fell in love with her. Except this time– you say them out loud. 

“From my happily raised eyebrows to my.. gosh however I worded it. Y’know that was so corny now that I think about it,” you begin to whisper, and giggles erupt from both of your mouthes. You hum, placing another chaste kiss on her swollen lips. “I love you, Violet Vanderson. I really, really love you.” 

The warmth radiating from your soul and the heat of your intertwined bodies is all too much. It does anything but help when Violet places soft kisses on your cheek, ones that trail down to your jaw and the base of your neck as she gently pulls you into her lap. 

“Do you–” she places a kiss, “forgive me?” The suck and lick she gives to your neck sends a shudder down your spine. Wait, what’d she ask again? 

“I don’t know,” you hum teasingly, feeling her smirk against your wet skin. “I think you should work for it.” 

“Whatever you want. Tell me what you want, baby.” 

Fuck. How can words make your eyes roll into the back of your head? 

“Want you to—” 

You gasp as she slides her tongue down your neck, coming to kiss at your collarbones.

“Use your words, sweet girl,” she whispers sensually. 

“Fuck. I want you.” 

That’s all she needs, and Violet’s sliding a cold hand up your shirt, inching it up slowly over your bra and refusing to break eye contact. The action has you whimpering into submission, and you huff.

“You’re such a tease.” You complain.

“You’ll take it,” she hums, finally pulling the shirt over your head and going straight for the clasp of your bra. 

You take the time to trail a hand under her own shirt, letting your finger tips trail over her abs, and you gasp as your already hard nipples twitch from the newfound cold air when Vi tosses your bra to the side. 

“God you’re beautiful,” is the last thing she says before diving head first into your chest. The room is filled with soft kissing sounds, wet licks and pop’s from Vi’s mouth on your nubs, and your moans of pleasure when she twists at whatever nipple isn’t getting her mouth’s attention.

“Vi– babe please. Need you now.” 

She groans against your sensitive skin, releasing you from her mouth. 

“Need me now, baby?” The girl mocks your neediness with a smirk.

“Yeah, yes please,” you whimper out, and she snickers at how you’re already too dazed to focus. 

She decides she’s played with your tits enough (for now), and pulls you right back into a messy, tongue infested kiss as she flips your position. You lean against the couch as she reluctantly separates your lips, sliding kisses down the middle of your torso as her strong hands work at pulling down your pants terribly slowly. 

Once they’re off, and you think you’re free as she runs a finger along the middle of your panties, right over your clothed heat. She hums at the way you buck forward. Her just graze along the seam as you speak. 

“I’m not– mmm, feeling very forgiving right now…” you scold, eyes so gone that Violet has to stop herself from apologizing. 

“Do you want my mouth or fingers to change that?” she asks, and she can’t hold back the laugh any longer when your eyes unknowingly light up. 

“Mouth– both– Vi anything, just give me it now.” 

She laughs, finally pulling your underwear down at a reasonable pace and scolding you gently.

“We’ll work on fixing your tone another time.” 

She leaves the tiny fabric hanging off one of your delicate ankles, mumbling something about how fuckable you look sprawled out for her like this. The girl’s quick to effortlessly spread your legs, and she gulps at how slick and glistening your cunt is all for her. 

“Fuck me, baby,” she mutters in awe.

“I’m trying to,” you whine, taking her back to the present where you and your body are completely at her mercy.

Finally, your prayers are answered, and she’s licking a clean line straight up your pussy, taking a river of juices with her pleasure-inducing tongue. 

As if the taste enchants her, Vi’s dropping her head down to your needy heat. Her tongue lulls out, swirling against your clit, your hole, anywhere she can make you feel good. It’s not long before two thick fingers plunge into you, and you’re throwing your head back. 

“Oh my god, please please– yes.”

“Please? Please what, sweetheart?” she mocks once more. Your moans motivate the muscle-flexing girl to go deeper, go faster, and she has to hold you still when you arch from how sweet her digits hit your g-spot. 

The way she’s drinking your cunt sucks away your thoughts as well, and it’s not until she hands a harsh slap to your ass that you’re blinking, babbling something about needing to cum. 

“You can do it baby, yeah good girl. Fuck.” 

Sweet praises decorated with the perfect mixture of her fingers, tongue, and the lust-laced eye contact send you over the edge, and your loud moans carry throughout the entire space as you finish. 

Vi’s tools don’t stop, not until you’ve completely come down from the best high of your life, not until your shaky hand is gently placing itself over hers in silent appreciation. 

When your heavy pants are all that’s left to be heard, she kisses your cunt goodbye and says hello to your lips. A strong hand on the back of your head keeps your mouth pressed against hers, and you love it. Because you’re sure you could twist lips with this girl until you pass out from forgetting to breathe. 

“Taste yourself?” she whispers once her tongue’s slid out of your mouth. You can only nod, relishing in the way her arms wrap around your body, a silent insinuation that you’re hers to protect.

With a hum, you’re kissing both of her cheeks, then her nose and forehead in thanks as her chin rests against your chest.

“I guess that was a good enough apology.” You fake dissatisfaction, completely ignoring the way your body presses even further into hers while you smooth a hand through her hair. 

She snickers in disbelief.

“Think you need another? Just to see how sorry I am, of course.” 

You hum, finally shrugging with an inconcealable smile.

“I guess that’d work.” 

Vi makes no complaint, because why on earth would she, and she’s kissing a line right back where she started.

“Is this too over the top? The number six was fine but the hand prints? Do I look like a high schooler? Be honest—” 

Mel cuts off your babbling with a laugh. “You didn’t want to look like a high schooler?” 

You’re whining from your position in the stands, and Mel’s apologizing for her joke as she confirms you look amazing. “Vi’s already seen you, and she seemed to love it,” she coos in your ear, bumping her hip against yours as you laugh. 

And the girl’s right. Throughout the game, Vi’s taken glances at you every second she gets. She’s grinning at the pink body paint handprints that travel up your legs, winking when you blow her kisses everytime your gazes lock, chuckling at how loud you get when you cheer ‘go Vi!’, and don’t get her started on how you’re body is clad in her big jersey. 

Yeah, she’s completely whipped. 

There’s only two minutes left in the game, and the Piltover Knights are winning 2-4. But you’re not entirely focused on the screaming atmosphere or Vi’s upcoming victory, because all you can think about is how hot and aggressive your girlfriend looks in her element.

There’s a jolt of joy that zips up your body, because: yeah, that’s your girlfriend. 

The horn chugs to signal the end of the match and the crowd’s roaring with glee, especially you and Mel, who jump up and down while screaming out for your respective players. 

Vi throws you a toothy smile from the ice, one that you see again after she exits the locker room and comes to find ‘her girl’ in the loitering crowd. 

She embraces and lifts you into the air, spinning you around as if you’re a feather in her grasp. Each giggle that spills from your lips is more joyous than the last, just like every moment you spend together. 

“You were so cool out there! Never seen you look so mad and focused,” you praise your pink-haired girl as she sets you down, placing a warm kiss to the top of your head.

“That’s because you bring out the good in me. I’m usually all rude and scary and—”

“With that hair?” you tease, ruffling your hand through her fluff. “You’re not fooling anybody, pinkie.” 

Vi’s jaw drops in shock. 

“Pinkie?” she repeats with a squinted gaze. 

A beat passes, and you’re turning to run away, but it’s too late. The athlete lunges forward, wrapping her arms around your core to trap you as you fake complain in protest, but giggles are soon falling from your mouth and breaking your character. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” her playful words kiss your ear.

“Oh whatever, you love me.” you grin through the claim, turning your head to have her beautiful face in your vision. 

Vi’s smile softens into something genuine as she scans over your pretty face. Your astonishing, stunning– fuck there are so many things she could say about your face, about your heart, about your brain, about you. 

“Yeah. I really, really do.” 

Sparkled blue eyes connect with yours, and they’re sending you into a trance as you’re lured into a tender kiss. 

With every kiss, the world around you is drowned out until it’s just you and Violet. Your minds, bodies, and hearts intertwine, and with each connection of your lips, you taste everything she feels.

It’s perfect, even better than you could’ve imagined from that creative writing class, and it gets better everyday that you live the reality.

From the grasp of your passionate kiss, as colors of blue, auburn, chestnut brown and more pass by you, you smile knowing that safe in your arms lies your perfect pink. 

©silknspice

[oceantornadoo]

tw: evil ex wife stereotypes it’s for the plot trust

sorry this is unedited

captain price, divorcee and extreme dilf.

after a soul crushing mission, the safe house is silent as the team waits for morning exfil. you go outside for a breath of fresh air and find your captain, smoking a cigar and looking at a polaroid photo. “hey, cap.” he sends you a nod, then focuses back to the picture in his hand. you let him have this privacy, closing your eyes and breathing slow.

"smoke?" you open your eyes to his hand in front of you, offering a cigar. funny, how soap's been trying to nab one of cap's cigars for months and here he is, offering it to you. you take it silently, reminding yourself how to use it as you exhale slow. a minor cough eeks out, sending you both chuckling. he takes it back and switches hands, his photograph now on the side you share. his show of trust instills you with enough confidence to ask: "is that them?" two dark-haired little girls smile at you through the photograph, cheesy grins cloaking you with warmth. he hums affirmatively, callused thumb stroking the photo. "forced me t' buy a polaroid so they could model their new dresses." you bet he bought them that camera with a smile on his face. the wedding band tanline on his hand, stark when you met him two years ago, has faded completely like it was never there. "they've got you wrapped around their fingers." he nods, tucking the photo back in his vest to focus on his cigar. you both watch the smoke curl into the midnight air.

"open." you do obidiently, both pairs of eyes zeroed in on how close his hands are to your mouth. they brush your lips (not necessary if he'd adjusted his grip), staying there for a few seconds while you inhale and retreating when you exhale. something grows there, in the space between his body and yours. only once the smoke dissipates do you decide to get some sleep. "goodnight, cap." you back away towards the door, eyes on his. "goodnight, lieutenant." his eyes drop in alarm and that's when you see the red light of a sniper gun on your torso. everything goes to shit after that.

-

your hospital stay comes in flashes. your captain, haggard yet handsome, in that uncomfortable-looking chair next to your bed. a blink and there's two angels instead, bickering at the height of the hospital bed. "daddy said not to wake her!" the taller one argues. the younger one shakes her head, an echo of her father, and pets your limp hand. "daddy also said she has a boo-boo and t' kiss it better!" she kisses your hand with a restrained gentleness you wouldn't expect from a little kid. they keeping arguing, anchoring you to the land of the living for a few minutes. "alrigh' rascals, lets let her sleep. what do we say?" they turn to you with toothy smiles, like the picture, and whisper-yell "feel better!" before getting scooped up by their father.

later, time slipping through your fingers like sand, the doctor explains what happened in practiced words. shot to the torso, passed out because of shock and blood loss. simon haunts the space behind her like the ghost he is and you have to laugh at the gall of your fellow lieutenant. once you hear "a month of recovery," you give in to the weight of your eyelids.

-

a month later.

you knock at his door, then let yourself in. it’s something he lets you get away with, no one else.

price is grumbling into his phone and while usually you wouldn’t care, it seems oddly personal. you try to inch back out, but his sharp blue eyes catch yours before you can. “i told ya i’d need this today. gave you a two day warnin’.” he’s frowning at whatever the other person says (high pitched voice, definitely female). “christ, i’ll figure somethin’ out.” he hangs up before they can get another word in.

“everything ok? i can leave if you need some space?” you ask. he shakes his head, dragging a hand through his beard and readjusting his hat (stupid, why does he wear it indoors) before sitting down in his desk chair. “need t’ pick the girls up but this goddamn report is killin’ me.” it’s an intelligence focused night and while you finally broke through to one of your contacts, the creation of reports and communications with higher ups takes forever. your captain is especially chained to his desk, where his bosses could call at any moment and demand a redo.

"oh." you're not sure what the lines are here. not sure what to say to the loving father of two who sat vigil at your hosptial bed for a week. "their mom's at a dinner an' can't drive 'cause she drank a glass of wine." he bites out, almost to himself. "so her boyfriend can drop her home, but simply can't make a stop on the way to pick up the girls from after school care." you think back to the finished reports on your desk and the lack of plans you have.

"i could pick them up?" you tick the end up as a question, easier for him to deny. he does, of course. "can't ask tha' of you, lieutenant. not in y'r job description." you shrug, moving closer to his desk until you're practically sitting on it. "i'm not medically cleared to the field yet but i can still drive. it's not like i'm getting deployed in the next hour. and i'd be glad to do it." he's still unsure, staring at the laptop in front of him. "i've got to thank the angels that kissed my boo-boos." you break the tension with a laugh and when he looks up, there's a small smile under his beard. "you sure you're good t' drive?" you nod, rounding the table so you're a bit closer. he leans back a bit until his eyes meet yours. "passed the driving requirements last week. can't run out a burning building but i can handle pickup." he lifts his hips, tantalizing and strong, to fish out the keys in his pocket. "little one still needs the booster seat. easier f' ya t' take my car." this show of trust is worse, worming its way into your heart.

he texts you the address and says he'll call them ahead of time since you're not on the list. before you leave, price fishes out a sweatshirt from somewhere under his desk. "so ya don't look like a soldier." you're wearing standard olive green wear, t-shirt and camo pants. the sweatshirt (black, has 'price' on the back, smells like him) dulls the look into something almost publicly acceptable. "i'll keep you updated, cap." you're almost out the door when he says it. "thank you, lieutenant."

-

"hello, lovelies." you squat to get on their level, noting how they're holding hands tightly. "i'm a friend of your daddy. he sent me to take you to your mum." the older one squints at you with suspicion. "are you the lady from the hosp- hosp- hospital?" you nod, telling them your name. "i'm all better now thanks to you two. your kisses really worked." that causes them both to blush, inching towards you. the aftercare supervisor nudges them forward, thanking you with a grateful smile when they finally get towards the car. the fact that it's their father's calms them, settling in easy to their seats as the older one shouts unhelpful instructions as to how to buckle the car seat. you text price an update, then head towards their mother's.

when you get there, though, something's off. john picks up on the first ring. "everything ok?" he pants, hard. "yeah, the girls are fine. i'm at their mom's but i don't think anyone's home? the lights are off." he barks out a curse, and shamefully, it sends a spark straight to your core. "if it's ok, i could take them to get dinner? maybe pizza and ice cream since they had a long day? they only had a snack at the after program." he sighs and you can practically see him nodding in agreement.

"yeah, love. get some food in them, their mom should be home in an hour." love. spoken warmly and fluidly, like it was meant to be there. you bid him goodbye and take a deep breath, locking yourself into babysitter mode with no thoughts of their father. "who wants ice cream?" you ask, and smile when they scream.

-

an hour later, you get back to the house with two sugared-up littles. for all the grief their mom has caused john, you don't particularly care. the lady herself is standing on driveway, arms crossed with a frown. when you let the girls out, they hug-attack their mother, and she earns a few points back with her whispered "hello, my darlings. go wash up, mummy will be in soon."

you're closing the doors when she appears next to you. "so you're john's girlfriend." you frown, shaking your head. "no ma'am, i'm one of his lieutenants." the determined expression on her face doesn't change. "exactly, you're the lieutenant." and then she says your name like it's been memorized, even though you didn't offer it to her. all you can do is nod numbly and make an excuse to get back to base, ruminating on her words the whole time.

-

back in price's office, it's like deja vu with how tired he looks. this time, he greets you at the door, only a singular lamp on in the background. "hi cap-" the words get cut off when you're pulled into a bone crushing hug. it takes you a second to readjust: his hands around your waist, head tucked into the cruck of your neck.

slowly, your own hands wrap around his neck, pulling him in deeper. your fingers thread through his hair, cringing when they knock off his hat. he doesn't seem to care, squeezing you tight before pulling back. "thank you." he murmurs, hands still on your waist. your own drop to your sides, floating. "you told her i'm your girlfriend?" you eek out, unable to hold it back. his relieved expression drops, hands unsure at your waist. "i- she asked who the girls were visitin' at the hospital. was easier that way." your face drops at his response. john has an opposite reaction, stepping closer with a rough grip to your hip.

"you wanted another answer?" there's nowhere to go under the force of his stare. "maybe." is what you finally spit out. bravely, your hand finds the rough hair of his beard, exploring. it's as simple as a yes.

his kiss is possessive and bruising, pushing you against the door. your other hand tangles in his hair, pulling him in further. one of your legs wraps around his waist and with some encouragement, he gets you to surrender your position fully, your legs in his hands. "christ, ya taste like sherbert." you giggle, folding yourself further into him. "it was, oh fuck." he licks a stripe up your neck before kissing your jaw. "it was mango." he hums appreciatively.

“such a good wife f’ me.” you freeze, pulling back. “i’m not your wife, john.” yet here you are, his face in your hands like it’s yours to hold. “my hoodie.” he kisses your forehead. “pickin’ up my girls.” your cheek. “usin’ my money.” the credit card you found in the hoodie pocket. he shakes you out of your reverie with a nip to the neck.

“tha’s wha’ i thought.” he murmurs when you don’t argue back. you shut him up with a kiss. “i can see why you got divorced, cave man.” and all he does is laugh, moving to set you down on his office table.

john tugs off your layers one by one until you’re in your bra, legs spread on his office. “john.” he hums, fingers exploring the lines of your bra. “can we talk?” he stops suddenly, eyes on yours. the force of it is too much, making you meek and weak-willed. “so…you like me?” he nods, tracing the lines of your skin until he gets to the wound, healing on your torso. “felt like i died too when ya got shot. right in front of me an’ i couldn’t protect you.” you shake your head, pulling him in by the belt buckle until he’s between your legs. “it wasn’t your fault. we cleared the area best we could.” he kisses the scar, soft and sweet. “let me make it up to you?” you nod.

john pulls down a cup of your bra, laving at your tit like he’s trying to draw milk. “right, love. lay back f’ me.” and like always, you do.

-

i wrote this in between classes and it’s unedited. perhaps will come back to edit. anyways.

[kikidoul]

── BREEDING KINK.

໒꒰ྀི ^ ⸝⸝ ^ ꒱ྀིა 이희승 x fem! reader content established+married relationship ᥫ᭡ warning not proofread explicit sexual content petnames used belly bulge breeding kink implied marathon sex squirting lmk if i miss anything else . . .!? 694 — mlist. req

note. LMAO i ran out of ideas for coming up with a title! wrote this in one sitting and i think this is ASS. taglist. @tfwbluu @heesimps

You weren’t sure how long you’ve been like this—pinned against the dirtied sheets of your bed. The bedframe kept hitting the wall at a steady interval. You were certain you would be getting a noise complaint the very next day, but the thought flew out of your mind the moment Heeseung’s cock hit the spot that made you see stars. Your eyes rolled up, breathless moans and whimpers fell from your lips. The room was filled with the lewd and obscene sound of skin against skin along with your pleasured sounds. 

“Ngh, H-Hee, to-too much, please,” you sobbed, gripping onto the pillow for dear life—as if it was your lifeline. The poor pillow was soaked with your tears and drool. 

Heeseung paid no mind to your words, focused on pushing you to your next orgasm. You didn’t know how many times you’ve cum. Was it two? Or three? But it didn’t matter in the first place, not when your husband was filled with the thought of pumping you full with his cum. He leaned down, his larger figure completely hiding yours from the ceiling light of your bedroom. He pulled you up slightly so he could rest his hand on the faint but evident bulge, poking out from your stomach. 

He gently pressed down, savoring the choked moan you let out. 

“You’re taking me so well and so deep, princess. It’s like you’re asking me to pump you full and make you carry my child. Do you want that, hm?” He coos, voice dripping honey as he whispers into your ears, as if he was telling you a secret that no one else can know. 

“P-Please,” you slurred, too dazed out to articulate your words properly. Seeing how you were reduced to a mess made your husband grinned. 

“Please what?” He teases. 

“Please.. give me m-more,” you begged, too far gone to think straight. 

And who was Heeseung to say no to his pretty girl? 

He pulled out without warning, ignoring the sound of protest you made as he flipped you around so you were now on your bed. This way, he could see and admire the expression you make. Heeseung shoved his cock back in, savoring the high-pitched moan you let out, wasting no time in pounding into you. He ducked his head, leaving kisses on your neck as he sucked and licked your skin, leaving hickeys behind. 

You raised your legs, spreading them wider so he could slide in deeper, mouth parted in a silent ‘O’ as you felt him practically kissing your cervix with the new angle. Heeseung on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about how pretty you’ll look carrying his child. He could see it in his mind—you lovingly looking down at the baby bump on your stomach, caressing it with a gentle, heartwarming smile on your face. Just the thought of that was enough to make him feral. 

“Fuck, gonna make you take it. Take, every, single, drop,” he groaned, punctuating his words with hard thrusts to your poor hole, eliciting whimpers from you. 

With your next orgasm coming, Heeseung’s hand snaked down, rubbing your overly-sensitive clit in frantic circles. You outright wailed, no longer having the energy to push him away. All you could do was lay there, taking what he was giving you. You were completely at his mercy—just the way he likes it. All it took was one final thrust and that was all it took for you to tip over the edge. Warm, transparent liquid was ejected from your clit. 

Some landed on the sheets while some landed on your bodies, joining in the already created mess from the previous multiple rounds. Your legs twitched from the intensity of your orgasm as you laid there, pliant and exhausted. 

“Heeseung!” You whined, flinching as you felt his fingers pushing his cum back into your greedy hole. You anxiously gulped when his eyes darkened, focused on how some were dripping out. 

“Think you can go for another round? We don’t want it to go to waste, do we?” He grinned and you knew you’ll be having trouble walking properly for the next few days, or weeks… 

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Slicked Back & Smitten

Rating: Mature Audiences

Warning: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, spicy, wlw smut, mirror sex, Paige's biceps, paige fucking you while having you in a headlock, !top paige, !bottom reader, light oral (fem reseving), !purple strap Paige, !slick back ponytail P (yes this deserves a warning), fluff

Paring: Paige Bueckers x fem reader

Fandom: Uconn's Women's basketbal

Summary: Slicked Back ponytail P... and she's swollen in the right places too... oh you're down bad baby

Tag: @elliesglock , @elalfywhore , @paxaz535

The morning of the UConn vs. Butler game was absolute chaos. With a 1 p.m. tip-off, I had been up at the ass crack of dawn, running errands before heading to the arena. Meanwhile, Paige was at home, usually getting her game day braids done by Kayla—her routine, her thing.

Except today, Kayla couldn’t do them she was getting over being sick, didn't wanna risk Paige getting sick.

And I? I was too busy being the responsible, errand-running girlfriend to even offer to do them myself.

So, Paige had to figure something out.

By the time I arrived at the arena, the team was already warming up. I greeted a few of the staff members before spotting Kayla on the sidelines, watching the girls get their final shots up before tip-off.

"Did you see what she did?" Kayla asked as I approached.

I was confused. "Who?"

Kayla gave me a look. "Your girlfriend."

I turned my head, scanning the court until my eyes landed on Paige in her love, Abby warm up. And, oh, did my jaw practically drop.

Instead of her signature game day braids, she had done a sleek middle-part ponytail. The gel, the clean parting, the way the ponytail laid so perfectly down her back—it was… different. It was… distracting.

I bit the inside of my cheek, shifting on my feet. "Yeah… I see her."

Kayla snickered, nudging me. "She look good, huh?"

I exhaled sharply, eyes still glued to Paige as she moved across the court, completely unaware of the effect she was having on me. The slick back? The way it emphasized her face, her jawline, her everything? Yeah, it was bad for me.

"Kayla," I started, voice low. "I don’t think you should do her braids next game either."

Kayla howled. "Oh, nah, you down bad!"

I rolled my eyes, pretending like I wasn’t already making plans to personally ensure Paige never wore braids again.

———

The first half of the game was a problem.

Paige was playing out of her mind. She was dropping dimes, hitting threes, getting to the basket with ease—and she looked damn good doing it.

I was trying to focus on the actual game, trying not to be the most obvious girlfriend ever, but every time she drove to the rim, her ponytail swung just right, her edges still perfectly laid despite how much she was sweating.

It was a crisis.

By halftime, I had reached my breaking point.

Sitting in the stands, I pulled my phone out, thumbs flying across the screen as I sent a text Paige wouldn’t see until later.

Me: You need to put me in a headlock when we get back home.

Me: And I need you to consider this slick back ponytail as your new game day hair. Like… permanently.

I hit send, exhaling as I locked my phone. Out of sight, out of mind. I just needed to get through the rest of the game without combusting.

———

Paige didn’t see the message until hours later.

After the game, she had her usual post-game press conference, with Kk and Azzii answering questions about UConn’s dominant win, her own performance, and how it felt playing without her signature braids.

Then came the locker room celebrations, the team hyping each other up, the post-game shower, and finally—finally—Paige was back at our shared off-campus apartment.

Freshly showered, she walked into the bedroom with a towel around her neck, only in her black Nike sports bra and grey boxers sitting perfectly on her waist line, scrolling through her phone finally checking all her notifications.

I was sitting on the bed, scrolling mindlessly myself, until I saw her pause.

Her head tilted. "What the hell?"

I tried to act innocent. "What?"

Paige turned her phone towards me, revealing my very suggestive text from earlier. "This," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Headlock? Really?"

I shrugged, unbothered. "You read it. You know what I said."

She huffed out a laugh, tossing her phone onto the nightstand before crawling onto the bed. She hovered over me, arms on either side of my head, that damn ponytail still sleek even after her shower.

"So," Paige mused, voice dropping slightly. "You liked the ponytail, huh?"

I reached up, running my fingers over the base of it where she had secured it with a black hair tie. "Liked? Understatement."

Paige smirked, dipping down to press a lingering kiss to my jaw. "Liked it enough to text me during halftime about puttin yo ass in a headlock?"

I exhaled sharply. "I was having a moment."

She kissed the corner of my mouth, teasing me. "Mhm. And what kind of headlock we talking about?"

I rolled my eyes, pushing her lightly. "Don’t play with me, Bueckers."

Paige chuckled, finally kissing me for real, slow and deep, before pulling back just enough to rest her forehead against mine. "So… ponytail again next game?"

I nodded immediately. "Absolutely, baby it’s your secret weapon."

She smirked, leaned closer, her lips brushing against my ear as she whispered, "Anything for you, baby. Especially when I get to have my way with you afterward."

I shivered at her words, my heart racing with anticipation. There was something intoxicating about the way she claimed me, the way she took charge. I loved every moment of it, even if it made me feel vulnerable.

Paige stood up suddenly, her playful demeanor shifting into something more commanding. “Come here,” she instructed, her voice firm yet sultry. I followed her, curiosity piqued, as she led me to the full-length mirror on the wall, right next to the bed.

“Look at yourself,” she murmured, her fingers brushing against my neck as she turned me to face the glass. I could see the reflection of us, a flush creeping across my cheeks. “You’re beautiful,” she said, her voice dropping to a low whisper. “But I want you to see what I see.”

Before I could respond, she slowly pulling my satan mini sleep dress, off revealing my body to herself as if she was claming a prize. My heart raced as I realized her intentions. “Paige…” I started, but her smirk silenced me.

“Shh,” she said, a playful glint in her eye. “Trust me, watch me the whole time, ma. ” She walked to the other bed side table to pull out the purple stap, taking the boxers off and expertly securing it around her waist.

I watched her through the Mirror not taking my eyes of her once.

“Now,” she said, walking back to me and now her breath warm against my neck, “I want you to look at yourself in the mirror and think about how good you can be for me.”

She wrapped her strong arms around me, pulling me back against her chest, and I found my breath catching in my throat as I felt her biceps flex around my head.

“Paige, I—”

“Good girls do what they’re told,” she interrupted playfully, flexing her biceps around my chin so I could look up see my own reflection. “Look at you. So pretty, so willing. You’re perfect just like this.”

I gazed into the mirror, my heart pounding as I saw the way she held me—her strength juxtaposed against my vulnerability. I felt a rush of heat surge through me.

“Tell me what you see,” Paige urged, her voice steady yet sultry. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I see…” I hesitated, caught between the thrill of her hold and the desire to please her. “I see… me. I see us.”

“Good girl,” she praised, her voice dripping with satisfaction. I could feel the tension in her body, the way she leaned into me, the heat radiating off her. “Now, tell me how much you want me.”

“I want you, Paige,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. The honesty of my desire sent a thrill through me, igniting a fire that burned deep within. “I want you to fuck me.”

“See? Was that so hard?” she teased, her lips brushing against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “You’re learning.”

Paige turned me slightly, enough that I could see her in the mirror too. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she gazed down at me, and I felt a rush of exhilaration at being at her mercy. “Now, I want you to remember this moment. How it feels to be my good girl.”

With that, she pressed her lips against mine, capturing me in a kiss that was both sweet and demanding. I melted against her, surrendering fully to the sensation of her body against mine. Each kiss deepened my desire, igniting a passion that coursed through my veins.

“Look at us,” she murmured between kisses, her voice low and seductive. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Together, we create magic.”

Once back on the bed she had me face down ass up, still facibg the mirror.

I gasped as she took her tongue and gave my much needy pussy attention, “You’re so beautiful like this,” she whispered, her breath warm against my thigh just before kissing and biting at it. “I want to make you feel everything.”

After a few mins of practically making out with my pussy, Paige, pulling me up by my hair before locking my head in her biceps again, her lips brushing against my ear as she trailed kisses along my jawline and neck. I could feel her warmth, her desire, and it sent waves of pleasure coursing through me. “Tell me how it feels, and don't be quiet about it either, baby” she instructed, her voice a tantalizing whisper.

“Good,” I breathed, my heart racing. “It feels so good.”

“Good girls deserve to be rewarded,” she replied, her lips curling into a smirk. “And you’ve been so very good, so keep watching in the mirror for me, yeah mamas”

She guided my gaze back to the mirror, forcing me to watch as she explored my body, her hands roaming, her kisses igniting every nerve. “Look at how much you crave this,” she teased, her voice a sultry melody. “You want to be my good girl, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I gasped, the thrill of her words sending me spiraling deeper into desire.

“Then let’s make this a night to remember,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief and passion.

Before I could fully process her movements, she had me pinned, face down ass up into the satan sheets, every inch of my body electrified by her touch. The strap slid deeper, an intoxicating sensation that made my heart race and my mind spin.

I could feel every pulse, every inch of her as she filled me, her confidence radiating through the air. Letting out a groan as if she could actually feel me clenching around her. “Fuck, baby you takin my dick so good. Pussy just swallowin me whole, shit.”

“Paige…” I managed to whisper, but the words were swallowed by the thick tension that hung between us. My body was responding, every nerve ending alive with the thrill of the moment. She held me captive, and I was more than willing to surrender.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, guiding me as she thrust deeper, the rhythm slow at first but building in intensity. I could hear her breathing, a mix of pleasure and desire, and it sent a shiver down my spine. “You’re so perfect for me,” she murmured, a sultry smile playing on her lips. “I could do this forever.”

With every thrust, she drew me closer to a precipice I had only ever dreamed of. The world outside faded away; there was nothing but the two of us, lost in our own universe. I could feel the heat pooling within me, a delicious tension building that threatened to consume us both.

“God, you feel so good,” she breathed, her voice thick with desire. “I want you to look in the mirror when you cum f'me. Watch yourself fall apart on my shit, ma.”

I surrendered completely, allowing myself to be swept up in the waves of pleasure she was creating. The way she moved, the way she filled me—it was intoxicating. I could feel every inch of her, the connection between us palpable, electric. It was as if we were two bodies entwined in a dance as old as time, a rhythm that only we could hear.

“Paige, I…” My words faltered as she hit a spot that made my entire body quiver. I could feel the tension building, spiraling higher and higher until it felt like I might burst.

“Shh, just look in the mirror and feel,” she whispered, her breath hot against my ear. “I’ve got you.”

Her words were like a spell, wrapping around me and pulling me deeper into the moment. I lost myself completely, every thought dissolving into a haze of pure ecstasy. Looking into the mirror watching with way she had my arms pinned behind my back, the determination on her face to make me feel so full. Watching the way my juices leaked on the bed, the way the base of the strap milky white from the way she was pounding me into the bed. The world outside ceased to exist; all that mattered was the connection between us, the way she moved, the way she touched me.

As she pushed deeper, I could feel the heat rising more and more, the pressure building within me. I was teetering on the edge, and I could sense that she was too. And as a last minute act she put me in a headlock again, hips still hitting all the right spot. “Yes, just like that, watch yourself f'me” she urged, her voice a low, sultry whisper. “Let go for me. Yeah ma, cum on my dick.”

With a final thrust, everything exploded, watching myself fall apart on the purple strap. I felt the world around me shatter into a million pieces, the sensation overwhelming and all-consuming. Waves of pleasure crashed over me, leaving me breathless and trembling.

“Just like that, baby. That’s it,” Paige encouraged, her voice a sultry murmur that was so encouraging that I could cum again. “You’re so beautiful when you cum, f'me baby.”

I could hardly respond, lost in the aftershocks of pleasure that coursed through me. I felt her slow down, her movements becoming gentle as she brought me back down from the high. My head resting back on her shoulder for a few seconds before I look at our sweat, cum dripping bodies, in awe

“Are you okay?” she asked, concern flickering in her eyes as they met mine through the mirror.

I nodded, still catching my breath. “More than okay,” I whispered, a smile breaking across my face. “That was incredible.”

Her lips curled into a playful grin, and I could see the satisfaction shining in her eyes. “I’m glad to hear that. But I’m not done with you yet.”

Before I could fully comprehend her words, she shifted her body, and mine her movements fluid and graceful. The strap was still there, a reminder of the connection we shared, and as she positioned herself above me, as I am now on my back, I felt the excitement build once more.

“Just relax and enjoy the ride,” she said, her voice low and enticing.

With that, she began to move again, her body rocking against mine in a way that sent shivers coursing through me. Every thrust was deliberate, every movement intentional, and I could feel myself responding, eager to meet her rhythm.

“God, you’re amazing,” she breathed, her eyes locked onto mine. The intensity of her gaze sent another wave of heat through me, igniting the fire that had only just begun to simmer.

“Paige, you have no idea…” I gasped, my hands finding their way to her hips, guiding her as I tried to keep up with her pace.

We were lost in each other, the world outside fading away once more. The tension built again, a delicious spiral that threatened to consume us both. I could feel the heat rising, the pressure coiling within me, and I knew we were nearing the edge once more.

“Just a little more,” she urged, her breath coming in quick gasps as she pushed herself closer, her voice laced with urgency. “I want to feel you again.”

With her words, I was gone, the tension breaking like a dam as the pleasure rushed over me once more. I could feel her reach her peak too, our bodies connected in a way that felt transcendent.

As we collapsed together, breathless and spent, I couldn’t help but smile. In that moment, everything felt right. We were two souls intertwined, lost in the heat of desire and the sweetness of connection.

“Wow,” I managed to say, a laugh escaping my lips. “What just happened?”

Paige chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. “Just a little magic,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And I think we should do it again.”

I grinned, my heart racing at the thought. “I’m all in.”

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[trivia-yandere]

survival

you apply to a dating-show in hopes of winning enough money so you and your sister can live comfortably. what you didn’t know that you would be competing to death for the heart of one man while those on the dark web watched.

word count: 12.569

warning: several character death, blood, dark web, yandere tendencies, kissing, voyeurism, manipulative tactics, cult-like behaviors, orgy (ft. jimin+taehyung+jungkook), oral sex (f), unprotected sex, fingering, public sex, nipple sucking, dirty talk, overstimulation, creampie, exhibitionism,

@sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @momnomnom @bangtans-momma @chimmy-licious @investedreader @chimmisbae @

valentine's day masterlist

“Let’s get something straight, ladies.”

Your eyes turn towards who is speaking. The woman is tall, her skin almond and seemingly shining beneath the golden lights of the mansion. Her hair is neatly slicked into a bun, not an out of place hair in sight. Her eyes are dark as they roam around the room at each one of the contestants. She raises a manicured hand, crimson nails going around to point at each of you - six women in total.

“This is a competition.” the woman says, lowering her hand. “You all are not friends.”

You don’t respond, opting to listen instead as the other women chatter amongst themselves. One thing for certain, you didn’t have to be told at all.

“For the past week, you along with hundreds of other women had fought diligently to be where you are standing now. This is your final challenge. Look to your left and your right, as you are now competing against your direct rivals.”

You glance around, the mansion surely was luxurious. It has the highest ceilings you’ve ever seen; not as if you’ve seen many. It’s bright with shining lights, a sparkling chandelier high on the ceiling that caught your attention upon having entered. The floors are marble and appear so clean that you could even see your reflection on it. 

“You each have rooms located up the staircase.” the woman waves her hand to the large staircase, its carpets are dark and looks as if it wouldn’t squeak beneath your feet like the stairs you’ve grown accustomed to. “Your names are located on the door. Here, you will change into what you see is fitting for today's challenges.”

The woman begins to stroll up the stairs, her heels not being a problem in the slightest as you six begin to follow her. 

The railings are a mahogany color and as you walk further up, you notice the walls are painted with a mural of a landscape. It appears to be a forest going through different stages of seasons, winter being the first and spanning all the way through spring, summer and fall. Your eyes marvel at the sight - how detailed the mural was and how long it must’ve taken to complete.

“I can’t believe we’re in such an amazing house.”

Your attention is caught when one girl speaks. You’re now at the top of the stairs and make your way towards the bedroom, your eyes skinning over the names until you see where yours is. The door is tall and has the same mahogany color as the stair railings. There’s carnings on the wooden door displaying an array of flowers. The handle is cold and shiny and it clicks as you open it.

The room is large - the largest room you’ve even encountered, even larger than your living room in your apartment.

As you enter, the lights turn on automatically, the same high ceilings as the rest of the mansion with a diamond chandelier right in the middle of the room, as well. Below it, a large queen sized bed that’s elevated sits, an array of pillows displayed neatly on it. 

The floors are the same marble as before, only this time there’s a white, fluffy rug by the bed.

You release a sigh, kicking off your shoes to then go towards the bed. You plop down onto it and it slightly bounces back. You have never been on a bed that was this comfortable before and it’s as if it embraces you entirely, your eyes already becoming heavy.

There’s a loud ringing nose that catches you by surprise and you spring up from the bed. Your heart is pounding and your head whips around to find where the ringing is coming from - it’s loud, almost as if it’s a speaker, but you cannot find from where.

“Welcome,”

The voice speaks and you’re now positive that it is a speaker - maybe on the walls or ceilings.

Your eyes cannot find anything.

“Anjali, Chan-Mi, Y/N,” your ears perk when the speaker - a man - says your name. “Zarish, Luisa, Siohban.”

You suppose these are the girls you will be competing against. You swallow the lump in your throat as the speaker continues to speak.

“I suppose you all know what you six are getting into being a part of this?”

“A dating show…?” your sister murmurs, her eyes cautiously watching you. “...out of everything? A dating show?”

“I’m not expecting anyone to understand.” you suppress a laugh. You tap your fingers against your thigh as you sit besides her on the small couch in your living area.

“You’re trying to find love in this economy?”

“Realistically? No.” you shrug your shoulders. You and she were watching something she had put on Youtube when you had decided to tell her your plans.  “But I read the terms and condition and the contract so-”

“You’re serious? About going on a dating show?”

Your sister doesn’t look amused in the slightest and honestly, you didn’t blame her. You and she would laugh at how ridiculous the girls looked pinning after one man and often fighting for his heart just for him to not choose any of them - and now you were going to be doing the same. 

“For love? No. I don’t even expect to be chosen.” you admit, turning towards her to give her a soft smile. “But, we do get paid for being on there. Exposure, too. It’s a start and whatever money we need I will surely take.”

Your sister sighs, nodding slightly. “How long will you be gone?”

“A week max. It’s live, apparently.” 

You were older than your sister by nearly five years, having taken her in a year after you left home yourself. While your sister remained in High School, you had to be the one to work for everything you and she both needed - two jobs weren’t ideal for you, but you made it work.

As time went on, bills increased, as did rent and the overall cost of living. Your sister needed necessities and as did you and your two job income wasn’t enough.

“How did you find out about this?”

“Job interview.” you snort, as if two jobs weren’t enough, you were thinking about picking up a third - just for a few hours you had free on your off days. “Said I…would fit the part. Whatever that means.”

“Would I be able to watch it live? What type of dating show is only a week?” your sister is asking all of the correct questions that you should - but you are only there for the money; you are sure everyone else is, as well. 

“I’m not even sure where it would be streaming. I’ll have to ask. I’m sure it’s very…variety show like? Maybe even a game show?” you shrug your shoulders, pondering if there would be an elimination every day of the week; how anyone would find love that way is beyond you. “Us competing for a man possibly none of us are attracted to.” you joke. “Having us do odd challenges to win his heart.”

“I bet he’s ugly and old.” you sister cringes. “What if you have to kiss him?”

You cackle, head leaning back to laugh. “For a few thousands, it’s what I have to do. Life isn’t cheap.” In the back of your head, you understand that this isn’t ideal - that your sister was right and this could be an older guy who’s not the most attractive looking man; as no one knows what he looks like. But if this is what you had to do then so be it.

You were taking a week off of work for this - luckily, paid time off has come through for both jobs. “Even if I’m not the winner, honestly, let’s hope for that. I’ll be back.” you promise her.

Your sister nods her head slightly, tilting her head to the side to look at you. 

You understood what you were getting into and doing this for - and you are positive your motive is similar to the other five women. None of which know who the man is, his beliefs, likes or dislikes - anything. You were all completely in it for the money; the promise of a lavish lifestyle. 

In the beginning, you told yourself that you didn’t need to win, you think, you just had to be here long enough to get any form of prize.

However, now, you’re certain that this was now or never. You came this far and even managed to be picked by the man himself along with the other five women; all rivals of yours.

“That being said, the competition starts immediately. I’m looking for a wife and I don’t have much time to find her.”

You want to scoff at how desperate the man sounds. You try to put a face to the voice, but are unable to. He sounds young, no older than 30, but with the way technology is now, you can never be certain. 

“The game starts now, you all.” the voice says. “If I cannot find a wife in you five, then that means I’ll have to do this all over again - and I’ll rather not.”

There’s a shiver that runs down your spine at his words and you’re unsure as to why. You take a deep breath.

“I need a wife that knows how to cook exactly what I want.” Your feet begin to move with impatience. “This mansion holds several kitchens. In about an hour, I expect you all to be downstairs and in your designated kitchen doing just that. I’m not a picky man,” there’s heartfelt laughter from him. “and I cannot wait to try what you all cook for me.” 

The room is quiet again, indicating that the man was done speaking. 

You swallow. You had an hour to get ready and to you, that was more than enough. You worked with as little as five minutes before, an hour was nothing to you.

You start by going to the closet - a large walk in one - that holds clothing that you were told would be in there. You would be cooking, so there isn’t a point to overdress, however, you understood that you can’t look as if you’re at home. Your usual oversized t-shirt and sweats wouldn’t be acceptable. 

You also weren’t going to force yourself into a tight dress to appeal to the eye of the man you’re supposed to be cooking for. It didn't make sense.

The next 30 minutes consisted of you showering and getting ready yourself. You weren’t positive if this was when the man would make his appearance to you all, and you had to be prepared in case he had. 

You stood out amongst the other five women who were all dressed to impress and you would only be a hater to say that they didn’t look nice. Even better than you.

You swallow, casting your eyes ahead of you to look at the women from early; the host.

“An hour to prepare a meal.” the woman states, her hands behind her back as she strolls towards you six. “In your designated kitchen, there would be food already laid out for you. What you do with it is all up to you. Follow me.”

The woman begins to stroll out of the large foyer and down into a hallway where each of you follow her. The mansion is huge indeed, having separate kitchens for each girl to go into. Yours was the third, and immediately you found yourself going to work. 

The kitchen is huge - of course - and has a chandelier right above you hanging from a tall ceiling. The floors are hardwood and pristine and don't creek beneath your feet. On the kitchen island located in the middle of the large kitchen, lay an apron that you proceed to tie around your body. 

You cooked for you and your sister whenever you had the chance to. It was enjoyable at times as you loved cooking for her. Cooking now, however, was a necessity to win. You needed to be the best, and if not, you needed to be damn close to it.

An hour flew past as though it was only five minutes. Your hair, once laid perfectly into a tidy bun, was sweated out a bit. You huffed at your reflection into the knife you were holding upon seeing yourself. 

“Time’s up. Bring your plates of food back to the foyer.” says a voice over the speakers, this time not the man, but the host.

You drop your knife into the sink and turn towards the island where your plate of food sat. You were given steak and did what you thought you could with it, stewing it along with vegetables. You cooked a simple white rice atop of lettuce - you’ve done what you thought you could with what little you had.

“Ladies.” the host says, nodding to you all. “Place your plates right here onto the table.” she says, motioning to the large, glass table behind her. There’s cards that sit about six inches from one another that have each of your names labeled onto them.

“Now, Kim Seokjin-ssi will test them all.” she proceeds to say as each of you gather back into a line.

Kim Seokjin.

Your eyes begin to widen as a man, tall and slender, begins to strut from up the staircase to where you all stood. Your eyes are fixed onto him - as are the other women. Your mouth parts a bit as he bows before all of you, a mop of dark hair bouncing.

“Hello to you all.” the man says, a familiar voice dancing through your ears. The same exact voice of earlier.

Kim Seokjin was not an older man, no. He was young; and maybe you should’ve guessed by his voice. However, he didn’t look a day over 25. His skin was clear of any blemishes and porcelain similar to a doll. His eyes are beady as he looks between the six of you. His lips, plump and pink, form a low smile.

Jin is sporting a solid, black dress shirt that he proceeds to cuff toward his elbows. His dress pants are baggy and brown, however not a wrinkle in sight. You ponder just how much his outfit is, as you were told that wealth such as him doesn’t talk, but whispers.

“Now, let’s see.” Jin says, clapping his hands as he turns away.

Jin eyes the array of food on the table, humming to himself softly. 

It takes 10 minutes for Jin to try it all. Ten long minutes of you all waiting in silence as he eats, nodding his head a few times and then whispering to the host, who would either snicker or respond.

“Siobhan.” Jin speaks, his back not turning to face either of you. The host does, stepping away from Jin. “Come closer, please.”

Siobhan does, her long locks bouncing onto her shoulders as she comes face to face with Jin. He’s a beauty of a man and instantly, your heart jolts. Jealousy, sure, yet you weren’t here for true love. This wasn’t the bachelor. You were here for money and that only.

“Chan-Mi…Luisa…you two, as well.”

Your blood runs cold, your palms beginning to sweat. You’re unsure what Jin is doing - if you’re about to be eliminated or not. Your eyes glance at the other two women left, Zarish and Anjali. You suck in a breath, turning your eyes back to Jin. It would be humiliating to be sent home so early.

“Your food is…”

You swallow as the man slowly turns, his arms now behind his back. The smile on his lips he sported 10 minutes prior had disappeared.

“Lackluster.” Jin murmurs, and instantly his right arm jerks, a dagger held tight into the palm of his hand. He slices Siohban’s throat as quickly as yall all seen it, the woman gasping and clenching onto her neck.

There’s shrieks that erupt around the room as Siohban falls to her knees in a pool of her own blood. Your eyes widen, a hand going to clasp onto your own mouth and the sudden sight before you.

Without much warning, the knife is japped right into Chan-Mi’s stomach, her scream haunting you. You’re frightened where you stand, your eyes wide. 

Luisa is next, but she knows what to expect. She turns to run away, but trips with how terrified she is. She falls onto the ground before she has the chance to go anywhere and Jin lets a hand grab her long, wavy hair. He yanks it back, the dagger slicing right against her throat. Blood squirts out of it, splashing a few feet away from yours. You feel your stomach churn, the sudden need to vomit.

“Do calm down.” Jin says, throwing the knife onto the ground by Siobhan, who’s body appears lifeless. “This is a competition. I know you all aren’t here for love.” Jin scoffs with a roll of his eyes. “You’re here for money. I have a lot of it. However…” Jin looks between the remaining three of you.

You were the calmest, however, maybe you were just hiding it. There’s great fear in your eyes that has you startled into silence, only a single tear falling from your eyes. Zarish had fallen to her knees, pushed the farthest away from you and Anjali, who was trembling at the sight.

“...you’re going to have to show me what you’re willing to do for it.”

“I know you three need some time.”

You had proceeded to vomit into the toilet as soon as you entered your bedroom. You thanked the shared bathroom, as you’re unsure how much longer you could last. The heinous sight of murder flashed before your eyes, no matter how hard you attempted to squeeze them shut. 

Your heart pumps with fear. Just an hour ago you stood before three dead bodies - this was real. This wasn’t a dream, nor a prank. The screams of fear coming from you all were real.

Jin had gone on for the next 10 minutes explaining the rules - rules you thought were already given to you. Of course they weren’t. You had gotten yourself into this mess, biting more than you could even chew. There was no “out” of this. Once witnessing bloody murder, Jin had told you three the truth. That there were only two ways out of this twisted game of his. You either had to win and become his wife, or lose and be dead.

There was no leaving alive unless you were the sole winner.

This was a life or death situation now; you were truly fighting for your life.

“But I am in need of a wife as you know. You’ll need to do more than just cook.”

Jin’s voice is taunting you through the speakers. He speaks coolly, as if he hadn’t killed anyone. You ponder just how long he’s done this - and if there is any way out of this at all. Or was this just a sick game where he would eventually kill all of you and repeat the game again.

You proceed to flush the toilet, falling besides it as Jin continues to speak.

“I need a wife that knows how to clean, as well. In an hour, meet in the foyer and await your next challenge.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, body trembling on the cold tile floor. You aren’t sure if you could do this anymore. You’re terrified that you’d be the next to go; it was only three left and it hasn’t even been a day.

Jin’s impatient and he doesn’t wish to wait any longer than he needs. He wants someone now; tonight preferably.

Your eyes snap open, staring straight ahead.

You couldn't afford to die. You weren’t here for just yourself. You had a sister you needed to take care of. 

You took a shower in case it happens to be your last, at least you would know a bit or peace. You are the first to be in the foyer, followed by Zarish. She doesn’t look at you when she arrives, and you cannot blame her. Neither of you wish to be here. The atmosphere has changed from one of lighthearted competition to dreadful act of survival.

Anjali is the last to arrive and the girl's brown eyes are red and puffy from her crying. She’s trembling when she arrives and even though you sympathize with her, you cannot bring yourself to care far too much into it. You had to care about the life of your sister and that was the will you needed to survive this.

“Ladies,” the host claps as she struts into the foyer. “follow me.”

The host makes no attempts in waiting for you all, nor does she stop to acknowledge you three. She takes you down a long hallway until you three stopped behind three separate doors. She proceeds to turn back towards you. Her eyes trail between your faces before she stops at Anjali and scoffs.

“You won’t survive if you keep trembling like that.” she says snarkily. “Behind these doors is your next challenge. As you know…” she stops dramatically to look between you once more. “...Kim Seokjin isn’t just any man. His line of work is different from normal men. That being said.”

The doors are automatic and they open before the host could finish her sentence. 

The sight behind the doors is traumatic. You instantly gag, clenching a hand to your mouth.

Behind your door lies the dead body of Chan-Mi. The room is covered in blood. It’s a single room, all white. White walls and tiled floors that’s stained crimson.

“Jin would like you three to clean the room and get rid of the body.”

Anjali instantly shrieks, her back hitting the wall behind you all. She shakes her head, her hands tugging her hair.

“Please, I-I-”

“You have an hour.” the host interrupts. “Do whatever you think you need to do.”

Inside the room, there’s a timer high onto the wall and close to the ceiling. It ticks down exactly one hour - a short time to clean a murder scene. 

Your mind tries to think back to the true crime shoes you’d watch with your sister on how you could possibly get rid of a body; you never thought you would be in this situation.

You spring into action, making your way down the hall.

“W-Where are you going?” Anjali calls for you, not moving from the wall. 

You don’t answer. You were told to do anything necessary to clean this mess up. For the first time you notice it - the cameras. It’s high and it follows you as you walk. You ponder just how many people are watching you here being forced to commit these criminal acts, now fully engrossed in it. 

You open doors until you find one with cleaning supplies. You take a deep breath, grabbing whatever your arms could hold. 

You work on autopilot, your mind completely blank as you work. You wrapped Chan-Mi’s body in one too many trash bags, refusing to look into her face. Her eyes were open but lifeless like the rest of her.

Dragging a body was harder than the movies made it, placing it right outside of the room and making your way back inside to clean it. You scrub onto your hands and knees, mind remaining blank as you focus on removing the crimson from your sight. 45 minutes, 30 minutes, 20 minutes.

Your heart is pumping outside your chest and your breath heaves as you drag the body down the hallway to the front door. You hadn't had any time to explore the mansion and today wasn’t going to be the day. You had 15 minutes until the challenge was done and you were told to get rid of the body by any means necessary. 

The mansion is quiet and you’re positive Jin, the host and who knows how many other people are watching you now. You open the main doors of the mansion, poking your head out. It’s evening now, the sky has different shades of purple hues. 

You drag Chan-Mi outside, down the stone stairs and towards the side of the house. You’re unsure how long you walked with the body until your legs gave out and you collapsed.

You breathe heavily, your mind regaining and you scream out. It echoes off of the trees, the eerily silence of the mansion adding more terror to your situation.

Focus - you tell yourself.

Remember what you’re doing this for.

Your knees tremble as you stand, fixing your hair. A few strands had fallen from your bun as you were cleaning vigorously. Your eyes scan the area, pondering where you were going to put this body.

Your eyes drag towards a pond and even if your moral compass was eating at you, you understand that this was life or death - for you and your sister.

“A better life…” you murmur to yourself, reaching the pond. “...for me. For us.”

You threw Chan-Mi’s body into the pond. It splashes loudly and all you can think is you hope you’re far enough for anyone to notice far too quickly. It isn’t a lake with running water, so the body would move anywhere. However, the the pond is surrounded by rocks and if far enough, the untrained eye would never notice-

“Are you okay?”

Your body stiffens at the words coming from behind you.

Slowly, you turn, eyes catching onto a man a few feet away. He’s strolling towards you. He’s tall and his cheeks are dimpled.

“I-I…” you’re unable to speak. You immediately get up from your knees and begin to walk towards the man. “...I was just going for a walk.” you speak, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I ended up falling and…made a mess of myself.”

The man reaches you and looks at your appearance. He nods his head with a chuckle. “I can see that. I have never seen you around here.”

“You live around here?” you ask. Where did this man come from and just how did he know you were here? Your palms were already sweaty and you didn’t have time to stay and chat. You had about five minutes until you had to be back at the mansion.

“I do. I hike in the woods all the time.” the man nods his head. “I’m Namjoon.” he raises a hand for you to grab.

You do hesitantly, nodding your head. “Y/N.” you murmur. “I have to get back. It’s nice to meet you, Namjoon.” you say. “Enjoy your hike. I hope you aren’t as clumsy as me.” you attempt to joke, making your way around the man before he can say anything else.

You enter the home quickly, slamming the door behind you. Jin is behind it, almost as if he’s waiting for you.

You stop in your tracks, unable to form words.

“You’re right on time.” Jin says. “The first to arrive.”

You’re exhausted, falling to your knees. You hang your head in defeat.

“I’ve watched you, Y/N.”

Your ears perk at Jin’s words. You hear footsteps coming closer to you.

“We all have.”

“What…how many people?”

“Thousands.” Jin chuckles. “Don’t worry. It’s only the dark web.”

Your blood runs cold once more. You don’t want to ask anymore questions, far too afraid to know anymore.

“You’re becoming a favorite, Y/N.” Jin kneels down to face you. He pats your head as if you’re a puppy, encouraging you to look at him. “The way you got rid of the body and managed to get away from Joon.”

“Joon…” you murmur, the dimpled-cheeked man flashing through your mind. “...you know Namjoon….?”

Of course Jin did. There wasn’t any home for miles. How else would you be caught in such a situation ? Maybe that was a part of their plan, to try and get you to confess what was truly going on in hopes that you would look for a way out.

You clench your eyes shut and release a shaky sob.

“You won this round, Y/N. Come,” Jin offers out his hand for you to take. “Let's get you ready for the final round. I hope you didn’t like Anjali as much.” Jin begins to laugh heartily. “You won’t be seeing her for the final challenge.”

You weren’t told by Jin how long you had until the final round. You were in the shower once more, this time sitting on the shower floor and allowing the water to run down your body. Your eyes are closed, and as much as you tried, you cannot get your mind to go blank. 

It was a lot for one person to handle in just one single day.

You wished you understood more about Jin and the dark web. You’ve heard about the dark web before and the last thing you ever desired was to be a part of it. It brought chills up your spine to just think about how many eyes are on you and what those eyes are involved in themselves.

You finally got out of the shower once the water began to run cold. You wrap a towel around you, your wet feet strolling towards the large, round mirror inside of the bathroom. Your eyes watch yourself, however not truly seeing yourself. It’s as though you’re witnessing a shell of yourself.

You take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. You want to laugh bitterly at the unfortunate circumstances that you are dealt with  - and just how much of a terrible person you were becoming because of them. Was this real life or a nefarious dream you fell into due to slumber?

There’s a knock that sounds at your bathroom door that causes you to flinch, startled. 

You take a few moments to answer, instead choosing to listen quietly, unsure who would be behind the door at such a vulnerable moment you were in now. 

“It’s me.”

Jin.

You feel goosebumps liter your arms at his voice. Still, your mind cannot embrace the fact that Kim Seokjin, someone so beautiful as him, is a part of this. Involved with not just this twisted game of survival, but the dark web, as well; which is an iceberg itself.

Your hand wraps around the cold doorknob and you slowly twist it open, cracking it open so you can peek out at the man. He offers a curt grin, his head slightly tilting. 

“It’s dawning on you, isn’t it?” Jin questions vaguely. “That this is real life and not some sort of nightmare?”

Your heart jolts and you swallow your words. It’s as if he took the thoughts right out of your mind.

“It’s far too late in wanting to drop out of the competition.” Jin murmurs. “I’m sure you know why.”

You wouldn’t be able to leave here alive - you’re well aware.

Slowly, you nod your head, slightly opening the door a little wider.

“I came to see how you were doing.” Jin takes a few steps back and it’s then you realize that he changed from his attire earlier, to a black suit. “This…can weigh heavy on people such as you.”

“What do you mean people such as me?” you question low. You proceed to open the door fully, your towel tightly around your frame.

Jin begins to stroll away from you and proceeds to take a seat onto your bed. A shame you haven’t truly had the time to lay in it, but he doesn’t wish to extend the games. For months, he had women come in and out - all failing. He wants this game to end tonight, and there’s only two opponents left. He surely hopes either you or Zarish would be the one to end his suffering in having to do this - and he can go home with a wife.

“It’s obvious you aren’t…part of this lifestyle.” Jin looks up at you now, brown eyes giving your undivided attention. “You and Zarish aren’t doing this for love, either.”

“Are you?” you’re bold enough to ask, your right hand holding the top of your towel tightly. “You do this…often?”

Jin snickers. “Unfortunately,” he nods. “no one has won as of yet. This is why it appears the challenges are a bit fast paced.”

You sit in the doorway of the bathroom awkwardly as you await for him to continue speaking.

“Why are you doing this?” Jin questions. “What made you want to come here?”

“I didn’t think I would have to hide a body.” you say truthfully, a bit of sadness in your voice. “I didn’t think I would be fighting for survival, either.”

“I do apologize.” Jin says, yet you don’t hear any sincerity in his words. “It wasn’t my idea of presenting the game as a bachelor type.”

You nod your head. Of course there were others involved, deeper than just Jin and Namjoon.

“What are you fighting for, Y/N?” Jin proceeds to dig deeper. “What do you have to live for?”

Jin’s eyes are intense as he awaits an answer from you. It causes you to look away, goosebumps growing even harder onto your skin. You nearly forgot that you were naked beneath this towel and semi-wet. 

“I have a sister.” you say truthfully. There isn’t a point of lying now. This could also be a test to see if you were going to be truthful or not. If Jin had ties to the dark web, who knows what else he’s apart. “And I needed money…”

“I see.” Jin hums. “Everyone has their reasonings.”

“Can I ask yours?”

Jin is intrigued. Zarish wasn’t much of a speaker, yet he couldn’t blame her. Her demeanor is colder than it once was when she arrived, yet he couldn’t bring himself to care. There were two contestants and a final round.

“You…there has to be a reason why you’re doing all of this, right?” you lean against the door frame. “You can’t have a hard time finding a wife.”

Jin’s lips twitch upward.

“Observant.” Jin nods. “I can get a wife anywhere. But…” Jin spreads his legs a bit. “Where’s the fun in that?”

There’s a sinister way in which Seokjin laughs.

“Sure, you didn’t come here for love. That doesn’t mean that you and I couldn’t grow to love one another, right?”

The question strikes you as odd, seeing as this was still a competition.

“If you win, of course.” Jin adds, as if reading your thoughts yet again. “You’re already a fan favorite, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

You exhale.

“Do you want it?”

Your attention is brought back to Jin.

“Do you want a better life?” Jin continues. “Do you want it enough to fight for it? There's only one more round left, Y/N.” Jin prods on, his eyes roaming your face for any emotion. “Show me you want to survive, Y/N.”

You find yourself in front of Jin now, who awaits for you to do something. Anything.

You wanted nothing more than to survive this - not for just your sake, but for your sister. Her life depended on yours, and maybe that was all the will you needed to survive this. 

“I do want this.” you murmur, unsure of what you’re now doing kneeling before him as he sits onto your bed. Your right cheek sit lightly against his knee. 

“I know.” Jin answers. “I can see it in your eyes. It’s easier to do the things you do if you tell yourself it’s for someone else.”

Maybe being an accomplice to a murder was easier if you told yourself you were doing this for your sister.

You hum.

“Get dressed.” Jin says, a soft hand laying on your left cheek. “The final round will be starting soon. Make yourself presentable.”

You remove your cheek from his knee just as Jin stands to his feet. He looks down upon your vulnerable figure but doesn’t say another word as he saunters out of the room. You watch his figure leave sullenly, a coldness running through you as you felt alone, but knew that you weren’t truly.

“This is crazy, don’t you think?” you murmur to Zarish. “That only one of us can survive this?”

Zarish offers a glance, the soft music playing in the background of the large ballroom. All surrounded by people who are associated with Kim Seokjin himself.

“We…can both survive this.” you say to her, taking a sip of your glass of champagne. You offer a few smiles to guests. “We can both escape before anyone notices us.”

After Jin had left your room, you continued to sit onto the ground by the large bed for what felt like hours until you finally got to your feet to get ready for the next challenge. You weren’t sure what presentable was, but you only had what was in the large closet to choose from. All dresses ranging from long to short.

You grabbed a short dress, stopping at your knees. You opted for this incase you were getting into something that involved you moving a body again - or running for your life. You only had heels to choose from, but you chose a pair that would be easy to get out of if needed be. 

You decided to fix your hair to the same bun as before, this time neater and allow a few strands of hair to be released, twirling your finger around it a few times to allow it to curl.

There’s another knock that sounds, this time on your bedroom door. You stand a bit straighter before strolling to the door and opening it.

“It’s time.” the host says, dressed differently. A wine colored floor dress that hugs her curves. On the right side is a slit that rides all the way up to her mid thigh. “You have five minutes to meet everyone downstairs in the main hall.”

“E-Everyone?” you speak up, eyebrows knitting.

“Yes.” the host nods. “The final round is to impress not only Kim Seokjin, but those who associates with. You’re attempting to be a wife, correct?”

You nod, a bit dumbfounded. 

“Okay then. Here is your moment.” the host turns to walk away. “Don’t let these people see you be frightened. They’ll eat you up and spit you out if so.”

The host’s footsteps get quieter as she descends down the carpeted hallway. You take a deep breath as you replay her advice - or warning - in your head. You take another deep breath before following her down the hallway.

You can hear faint music along with chattering voices. You suppose this was the final challenge, and maybe the most nerve wracking one of it all. You barely knew Seokjin, so being surrounded by people such as him was just as terrifying. 

You decide to follow the music down to the far right of the foyer and down a dim-lit hallway until you reach the large ballroom. It’s surrounded with people - all wearing masquerade-like masks. You felt anxious being surrounded by them, unsure how to truly handle it all.

The ballroom is designed just as elegant and expensive as the rest of the mansion. Its lights are lit dim just as the hallway, but the candles add a bit more flickering light to it all; a sinister type of feeling, however. There’s round tables with white tables clothed all throughout the ballroom, with four chairs each. Only a few people were seated as they chatted amongst each other, while the rest were standing.

There’s flowers, all white, on each table. As well as hanging from the ceiling besides large chandeliers that aren’t shining to their full potential.

“Y/N.”

Your head turns to the sound of your name. A masked figure stands tall besides you, his face fully covered by the gold mask. The candles surrounding the room dance off of his mask.

“I-I…”

The man raises a hand to his mask and lifts it, and instantly you recognize the man just by half of his face, dimples poking out. It’s Namjoon, and he speaks when he takes the mask off fully. 

“It’s nice to see you again.”

“You, as well.” you say shyly, glancing around the room. “You…are a part of this?”

Namjoon chuckles with a quick shoulder shrug. “Sure,” he responds. “You managed to be quite a fan favorite.” he says to change the subject.

You scoff to yourself. “Of the dark web?” you question. “I’m not sure how to handle that.”

“No one ever truly does.” Namjoon answers. “You have my vote.”

“Vote?” you ask, just as Namjoon puts his mask back over his face. “All of these people have to vote…?”

Namjoon nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“Thank you.” you murmur.

Namjoon’s vote is just one of hundreds.

“Follow me.” you tell Zarish, your eyes roaming around the large room to find no one you recognized. You find that those with gold masks were the ones who held higher importance. “Let’s get out of here while everyone is distracted.”

You grabbed Zarish’s hand in your own and tugged her along. You managed to get out of the large ballroom and into the quiet hallway. Your heels click along the marble floor, as does hers. 

“Where are we going?” Zarish  sputtered, her head turning back to the party for a moment before looking ahead at you.

The plan had hit you an hour in. You had met more people, all who spoke to you behind their respected masks. You were polite to them, even engaging in light conversations before you were onto the next; none of them being Jin. You suppose he was watching you from the shadows, awaiting for when the votes would be announced.

Zarish was a beautiful girl, tall with long black hair that she had tucked in a low ponytail. Her dress is floor length and lavender-colored. 

You go past the foyer to down the other side of the hall. It’s familiar to you both, where you had gone just hours before to clean the dead bodies of former contestants.

You drop Zarish’s hands when you reach one of the large kitchens. You turn to her. “Grab a weapon.” 

“A weapon?” Zarish whispers with wide eyes. “W-Why-”

“How long do you think it’ll be until they realize we’re both gone?” you say, your heels clanking against the tiled floors of the kitchen as you search the drawers for a knife.

Zarish doesn’t say anything, but she’s visibly nervous. She goes to the other side of the large kitchen to find a weapon.

Your reflections glare in one of the large cutting knives. You grasp your hand around the handle and lift it up.

“Why are you here?” you ask Zarish as she opens one drawer. “For money?”

Zarish nods her head, her hands clenching the sides of the drawer.

“My father is sick.” she responds, releasing a soft sop. “If I would’ve known I was coming to this…”

You sympathize with her. You take a few steps closer to her until you’re behind her, your free hand on the short of her back.

“My sister,” you speak, taking a deep breath. “I came for her. To give us both a better life.”

Zarish nods slowly.

“I don’t think any of us knew…” you don’t finish your sentence. Instead, you clench your eyes shut. 

“I…I just want to get out of here.”

Zarish’s voice cracks when she speaks. She doesn’t want to cry, especially not now. She sniffles and turns around to face you. “Y/N, I-”

It takes all the will in you to jab the knife right into her stomach. It was nothing personal to her. You held no ill intent towards her, and if there was truly a way out of here, surely you and she would’ve managed.

Maybe in a perfect world there was. You and she ran off into the arms of safety - yet this was reality. There were cameras watching your every move.

Zarish doesn’t put up a fight. Possibly death was easier than fighting her way out of here. The saddened look in her eyes does reach yours, yet she doesn’t say anything in protest.

You remove the knife from her stomach, her hands going to the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. 

“I’m going to help your father.” you murmur, driving the knife repeatedly back into her stomach several times. Each time is met with a gasp from the woman. “So in a way, you being here isn’t completely a loss.”

You’re completely covered in blood by the time you’re done, Zarish’s lifeless body on the pristine floors. Her blood soaks into your dress. You drop the knife and it clunks loudly on impact.

You make your way out of the kitchen and down the familiar hall towards the foyer and back to the ballroom. It’s as if no one has truly noticed you and Zarish are gone. 

You stop at the doorway of the ballroom, the blood staining your hands. Your eyes search for Jin and you’re sure you found him. His mask is the only mask that stands out, a silver color. It appears as if he’s watching you from the eyeholes of the mask.

You walk towards him, your mind focusing on him and only him. The people appear to be quiet now as you walk past them, allowing you to stroll without a problem.

You stop just a few short feet away from Jin, panting heavily now.

“You told me,” you begin, your eyes never wavering. “that if i wanted to win…if I wanted a better life…” you swallow. “...I’d have to show you.”

Jin’s right hand reaches up towards the silver mask. Slowly, he lifts it from his face. His expression is an emotionless one, but it’s easier to speak with him now that you can see his eyes. 

“What did you do?” Jin questions, though he’s positive he has an idea.

“I killed her.” you respond. “She…” 

Your thoughts speak at you all at once. You tilt your head a bit. 

“She was going to run away.” you mumble. “She…told me to go with her. I did.” you admit half of the truth, because did it truly matter now? “...then I killed her. There isn’t a way out of here, right?” you ask Jin. “We would have both been dead. I didn’t want to die. I wanted to win.”

Jin’s dark eyes watch you from where he stands. Slowly, your sanity was dripping away and in such a short amount of time. 

Rosy plump lips grin towards you and that alone causes your heart to leap. 

“Come,” Jin announces, his hand waving you over. 

Widening your eyes, you do as you’re told. You round the large table and come besides Jin, behind him a few bodies you were not aware of, all dawning gold masks.

Jin goes into his pocket and grasps a small, square box. “Congratulations, Y/N.” Jin speaks, opening the box to reveal a ring inside of it. It’s quite different from a ring you’d expect as a wedding ring, yet this whole situation alone was. It has a gold band that surrounds itself with diamonds while an oval emerald diamond sits right in the middle of it, smaller silver diamonds outlining the oval shape.

“We have no time to waste.” Jin removes the ring from the box and holds it up. “Give me your hand.”

You watch in slight awe as Jin slides the ring onto your finger. It’s a surreal feeling in knowing that you won this twisted game he has forced you into. A game that lasted only a few hours, but felt like weeks on end.

There’s clapping that sounds throughout the ballroom and for a moment, you nearly forgot that it wasn’t just you and Jin in the room. 

A man with a gold mask comes forward, papers in hand. It wasn’t Namjoon, you note, as the man wasn’t as tall.

“Come,” Jin wraps a hand around your waist. “let’s sign these documents.”

Jin doesn’t waste any time in handing you your own pen to sign a few documents that he doesn’t allow you to read. All of your signatures were right besides his, already pre-signed. 

You aren’t nervous about signing your life away. Afterall, it isn’t everyday that you go through such trials and tribulations to assure you live long enough to see yourself be married.

That, and murder someone for the first time. Maybe tomorrow when your reality dawns on you would you actually break down. As of now, your mind remains blank and you’re working on autopilot. 

There’s a hand that catches you out of your thoughts. It’s holding a clear champagne glass full of slightly bubbling liquid.

You grasp the glass from one of the men sporting a gold mask. He holds another one out for Jin who also takes it. Jin holds his glass up for you to clank against his in a toast.

“To Y/N and I,” Jin announces, his dark eyes reaching yours. “to death do us part.” he says, a more sinister meaning behind the words.

There’s more cheering as you lift the champagne to your lips and sip, as does Jin. His eyes never leave you. He finds that even if you’re possibly in shock now, the reality not fully sinking in yet and covered in blood, he finds you beautiful. 

Maybe it’s also because in a short amount of time, you’ve managed to succumb to a bit of madness, realizing that if you wanted to survive all of this meant that you had to do what you possibly didn’t want to.

“A lot to handle in just one day?” Jin murmurs your way, leaning down a bit. There’s chattering throughout the entirety of the ballroom.

“Yeah.” you nod your head in agreement. “I…became a killer?” you’re unsure how else to put it.

Jin chuckles at your cuteness. “In a way,” he responds. “the best has yet to come.”

You aren’t sure exactly what he meant, but you were going to find out.

Your body warms in a matter of minutes and slowly, you begin to relax. You were already eerily calm as if you hadn’t murdered an innocent woman. Yet, you felt even calmer - was that possible?

It was as if your body was shooting serotonin boosts throughout you and you were becoming relaxed.

Happy even.

“You,”

Seokjin’s voice sounded so close to you as you down the rest of the champagne. Your throat was throbbing for more, thirst growing throughout you.

“are in for a long ride.” Seokjin finishes as he places a hand on the low of your back. Dangerously low that it shooks electricity right up your spine.

“Am I?” you question, turning a bit to look at him. His lips are curled slightly and beady eyes are already watching you.

“Indeed you are.” Seokjin murmurs. He takes a curt sip of his bubbling champagne before he presses the glass to your lips. You open your mouth to drink the remaining of it, your eyes unblinking from Seokjin’ - almost as if in a trance.

“There’s things people like us do.” Seokjin’s fingers tap along your back. “The elites.”

“Elites?”

Seokjin begins to stroll and he keeps you close to him. The room is crowded as it has been for a while, yet you remain close to Seokjin as if it was just the two of you. The room is loud with chattering voices that you cannot make out in any conversation, but even then you only hear Seokjin as he speaks.

“Powerful people like me.” 

Jin steers you towards a tall door that opens upon arrival by another masked figure who waits right beside it. The masked man bows to Jin and you as the two of you stroll through the door and down the long, carpeted hallway.

“These…parties?” you question. You rock your head side to side a bit, your hand coming up to wipe your forehead of a light trail of sweat. “Is everyone here elites?”

Jin nods his head. “Everyone once in a while, we all come together.” he murmurs. For an odd reason, the carpeted hallway appears entirely too long. At the end of said hallway is a pair of double doors that match the ones you and he walked through. “It’s like a secret society.”

“Secret society…” you trail off. You blink a few times when you and Jin reach the end of the hallway, your mind thinking a million questions at once. “...what do you guys do…?”

You got your answer quicker than you realized. The door is opened by Jin and he pushes you in gently. Your eyes trail over the large room. The carpet is the same crimson red as the hallway, though this time there’s gold patterns. The tall walls appear to be stone and now you realize just how enclosed this room is.

Moans and squeals fill the room, naked bodies all over the place. You and Jin’s entrance goes unnoticed by the sea of people engaging in sexual activity. Right in the middle of the large room are a group of women engaging in oral sex, their manicured hands roaming one anothers naked bodies.

Jin notices the way you push yourself closer to him and his arm around you holds you a bit tighter. He leans down a bit to murmur to you. 

“Sometimes we come together and have a little fun.” Jin responds.

Within the sea of naked bodies, there’s still a few - men - that are covered. You noticed the gold masks that are similar to the ones Jin and Namjoon wore. Fully clothed and lingering in the area.

In the corner of the room, there’s a group of people fucking. A few naked bystanders watch, one woman's head on another's shoulders as if they were watching their favorite show. Your eyes watch the way the man fucks the woman with such earnest and need. 

As if they were the only two in the room.

“Takes a lot to get used to this world.” Jin’s voice sends shivers down your spine and it knocks you back into reality. “You are an elite now.”

You swallow, eyes slowly widening at the words before you shake your head a bit. You bite your lip as you continue to survey the area. Were all these people elites? Is this what the ultra wealthy did? Partake in sex parties?

It shouldn’t catch you by surprise. You recall Namjoon’s words from earlier on how he voted for you. This was another part of the world of the elite. A game. After watching you all engage in a sick game of survival, they come here and fuck one another brains out.

You take a deep breath. There wasn’t any turning back now. Your dress is still covered in Zarish’s blood, staining the expensive material. Your mind is swirling and your core is telling you that possibly you drank more than just champagne.

“You look tense, Y/N.” Jin rubs your back softly. “You should unwind.”

“Unwind…how?” you question low. You could guess how. The sea of people all surrounding you two, all engaging in different sexual positions. “Jin?”

“Hm?” Jin hums. His long fingers appear to tap along your back as he awaits for you to answer him.

“Zarish,” you begin, swallowing a bit. Your mind was swirling and you didn’t want to forget what you had promised her prior to what you’ve done. “I…I promised her…”

Jin blinks, perfect eyelashes fluttering. “That you’d help her sick father?”

You knit your brows. 

“I know everything about all my contestants.” Jin continues with a curt nod of his head. “You remain so noble, Y/N. My wife.” Jin’s fingers dance up your spine until they stop at the nape of your neck. “Whatever you set out to do, I will allow it. For now, let’s enjoy ourselves.”

Your head turns just in time to catch the figure that struts towards you. The gold mask comes to your line of vision and all you can think of was Jin and Namjoon. You do not move, even when the masked man stops directly in front of you and offers a bit of a head tilt. You cannot see his eyes and the eye holes of the golden mask appear like an endless dark hole.

“Y/N this is-”

“Jimin.”

The masked man speaks, his voice muffled a bit behind the golden mask. His hand lifts up to remove the mask, an act that appears taboo in a place such as this, but possibly he does it as an act of familiarity.

The man that comes from behind the golden mask has the same level of beauty as Jin and Namjoon, a pair of dark eyes staring back at you and a low grin that shows ulterior motives.

Jimin…

The man’s pearly white smile captivates you for a second too long that when he holds his hand out for you to take, you’re standing a bit dumbfounded.

“It’s nice to get the chance to meet you, Y/N.” Jimin’s voice sounds like honey - sweet and sugary. “My name is Jimin. Park,” Jimin, once you place your hand in his surprisingly soft and calloused-free ones, lifts it to his mouth. They’re a bit glossy, you note. “Jimin.” he says after he pecks your hand.

Your head slowly turns to Jin who’s already watching. He doesn’t say anything about Jimin’s actions and instead takes a step back, as if to allow you to do as you pleased.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” you murmur meekly. Your thighs pressed together firmly, the surrounding moans mixed with skin slapping was too much. How could they ignore the sex surrounding them?

They were elites, your mind tells you. They do this often.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Jimin allows your hand to drop, but he doesn’t step away.

“Yes…?” you glance around a bit. One girl is on her knees not too far away. Her mouth was occupied and so were her hands.

“Is that a question?” Jimin chuckles. He turns his head behind him to follow your gaze. “This must be a lot for you.”

All you can feel is your body burning up. You release a short huff. The room was stuffy and even this dress was feeling a bit too tight.

“I have never been a part of…”

“An Orgy.” Jimin chuckles, his laughter just as sweet as his voice that it causes you to melt a bit.

You proceed to glance towards Jin again. Just what was he doing standing and watching you for?

“Would you like to?”

Jin doesn’t answer for you, not even when your eyes meet his for any form of guidance.

You’re sure you don’t have a choice, you think. You were brought here for a reason. The blood on your dress was the reminder of the choice you made. The papers you’ve signed and the ring Jin put on your finger.

Slowly, you nod your head. 

You wanted this, you told yourself.

You’ve killed for this.

“Champagne?” 

There’s another voice this time. It’s as though you were hypnotized by Jimin that you had not realized another golden masked man stopped directly beside you. He holds out a single glass of bubbling champagne for you to take. You do, placing the glass against your lips and proceeding to downing the drink. You lick your lips as the masked man takes it from you.

“Turn around.”

That’s Jimin talking. You do, your heels falling silent against the carpeted floor. You’re now facing Jin. He’s leaning against the stone wall, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Jimin’s hands are on your back and you could feel it loosening. He begins to unzip the dress slowly, bringing up anticipation. Your head tilts a bit, your breathing increasing.

“Not participating today?” 

Jimin isn’t speaking with you. The masked man who brought you the champagne responds. 

“Maybe later. I just want to watch for now.”

Your dress  falls to your ankles. You don’t feel cold, even when the goosebumps erupt through your bare skin. Your body grows even hotter, especially with how close the unknown masked man and Jimin were to you.

“Congratulations on your engagement Y/N.” Jimin murmurs from behind you.

“And to Jin-hyung.”

Jin’s eyes blink away to look at the two men behind you. He offers a curt nod to them.

There’s hands onto your body now and a pair of lips on your neck. They move entirely too fast for you to process. Your eyes flutter and it’s becoming difficult to keep your eyes on Jin. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve sampled something new.”

You catch a glimpse of it from the corner of your eyes. The gold mask that falls to the floor. 

Jimin’s index finger hooks beneath your chin and pulls your face his way. His lips are centimeters away from you and before he could place his lips upon yours, you pull your face away.

Was this what Jin meant? Was he going to sit and watch you the entire time?

Jin’s eyes connect with yours for a moment and he only nods his head. His arms are crossed over his chest now.

Gradually, you begin to turn your head back towards Jimin. He hadn’t moved from his position and once he realized you were willing now, he placed his lips upon yours. They’re soft and have a faint taste of strawberries.

There’s a pair of large hands that grip at your skin as your lips dances with Jimin’s. Your body radiates more heat as if you’re a furnace and you cannot help the choked moan that dies down in your throat. Maybe it was because you knew Jin was watching you the entire time. Maybe it was because you’re just another body in a sea of people all doing the same.

Jimin releases your lips, but that doesn’t mean you are done. Your face is yanked to the left and you finally come face to face with the other man. He’s just as beautiful as Jimin and the rest of them. His eyes are dark and his lips are thin as the kiss along your jaw. The unknown man was rougher than Jimin, his large hand cupping your neck to pull you closer to him.

“Taehyung.” the man says, his voice deep and raspy that you clench around nothing upon hearing it. As if reading your mind, he introduces himself before his own lips are on yours. He forces your mouth open, his tongue exploring your mouth.

“Champagne, sir?”

Jin turns his eyes to the naked woman with a tray of champagne. She doesn’t look directly in his eyes as she awaits for him to dismiss her or take the champagne offered. He does, long fingers hooking around the glass and he nods his head to dismiss her. She strolls away, naked body swaying into the sea of people.

Jin brings the bubbling liquid to his lips, eyes darting back to you. You were a mess already, Taehyung and Jimin not being known to waste any time. You were already out of your bra and it lay discarded on the ground. Taehyung has a mouth full of your left nipple, large hands aggressively gripping and tugging on your breast as he suckles.

Jimin’s hand find their way between your legs that he shoves apart. He doesn't bother to tear your panties off just yet, his fingers working your clit as his tongue twirls over your right nipple.

Your moans do not go unnoticed by Jin, even in a room full of squeals, slapping skin and aggressive moaning. They’re like honey - sweet and curt and entirely new to his ears. He licks his lips, taking another sip of champagne.

It’s entirely too fast for you to process, you think. The way Taehyung was rough and dominant while Jimin was the exact opposite. He was more teasing, his fingers rubbing circles on your clit while his tongue flickers your nipple dangerously slow. 

You don’t attempt to contact your moans and even your body begins to feel heavy. You’re leaning entirely onto Jimin, but the man doesn’t appear to be bothered by it. 

“S-Slow down-”

Taehyung’s teeth graze your nipple as he pops it from his mouth. His eyes look upwards at you and he grunts. “No.” he says. “We’re preparing you for hyung.”

You gasp when Jimin’s finger skims across your hole, teasing you even more. He chuckles a bit, a cool laugh because he knows just how much you want his fingers in you.

“Get you nice and ready to be fucked.” Jimin sing-songs, his contrast compared to Taehyung a true eye opener. 

“Table.” Taehyung says, and before you have the chance to process, you feel yourself being lifted off your feet.

You yelp when your back slams against something cold and hard. Your eyes dance around the large table, already occupied with people, yet you were the center of it. To your right were women who were being watched by other masked men - not golden masks - as they performed several sex acts.

“Take these off.” Taehyung tugs at your panties, snatching them away from your wet core and down your legs. He doesn’t bother to toss them anywhere near you and instead discards them behind his shoulders. “Let’s see how wet you are, huh?”

“Pretty wet.” Jimin says from beside Taehyung, placing a few of his fingers in his mouth and sucks them.

Taehyung’s hand slaps against your inner thighs once he shoves them apart. You squeal, the action causing a jolt of pleasure right through you. 

“We’ll make you even wetter.”

It’s Taehyung that acts first, long fingers inching inside of you. Your back arches when he begins to pound them inside of you so roughly that you barely have time to react. Beside him Jimin holds your right leg while Taehyung your left, both eyes trained on the way your pussy clenches around his fingers.

Jin emerges right behind you on the table, another glass of champagne in his hand. He looks down at your face - fucked out expression with fluttering eyes and flushed skin. There’s a bit of drool in the corner of your mouth that trails down your jaw.

“You must want a cock in you, Y/N. You’re milking all over Tae’s palm!” Jimin chuckles, squeezing your thigh.

“No fair!”

Jin knows the voice of his dongsaeng. The whiny familiar voice of Jeon Jungkook as he appears, mask dangling from his shoulders. 

“You didn’t wait for me!”

Taehyung’s pump slows a bit as he turns to the younger man with a roll of his eyes. He releases a sigh. “You were late.”

“I was busy.”

Jungkook meets your glossy gaze and he grins. 

“Y/N,” Jungkook leans closer to you. “I’ve voted for you since the beginning.”

“You’re ruining the moment, Kook. Do something or go.” Jimin hisses, with a soft glare.

“I plan to.” Jungkook pushes Taehyung away. “You’re doing nothing but teasing her. I’ll be making her cum.”

The three of them together always caused competition - Jungkook being the most competitive of the trio. Jin doesn’t say anything and he’s a bit amused when you sigh meekly.

Jungkook takes Taehyung’s place between your legs, forcing your right leg into place so you cannot move away from him. He offers you a short wink before lowering himself to your clit. 

Your thighs jolt to close, but with Jimin and Jungkook, they don’t. Jungkook’s tongue is warm and it licks between your folds rather aggressively. 

Taehyung isn’t amused by being taken over by Jungkook, but he isn’t going to fight him. Not now, at least. Instead, he places his fingers inside your gasping mouth.

Tasting your arousal was something you’d never thought you do - yet, neither was being an “elite” and partaking in…orgies? Especially while your soon to be husband watched above you. 

However, it all appears to be a dream. You aren’t bothered being completely naked by three unknown men you all met today while one eats you out as if he has something to prove.

Your eyes roll as there’s another set of fingers pumping inside of you now all the while Jungkook’s warm tongue continues to suckle onto your clit. Your chest heaves as it was all too much now. You’re unsure who’s hand is gripping at your breast, their thumb flicking your nipple, but you’re sure it’s Jimin.

Jin can feel his cock twitching from his suit pants. He drops the empty glass onto the table and leans closer to you, cloudy eyes on the way your breast bounces as your hips jerk against Jungkook’s tongue, pussy squeezing around his fingers.

“She’s so fucked out.” Taehyung chuckles, removing his fingers from your mouth so he trails them down towards your breast. 

“I think she’s about to cum.” sing-song Jimin. 

“Are you ready for her, hyung?” asks Taehyung.

“I didn’t make her cum yet.” Jungkook groans, fingers pumping inside of you. Your juices coat his palm and he’s entirely enthralled by how sopping wet you are.

“We’re just warming her up.” 

Jungkook groans. There’s nothing more he hates than to leave a woman in such a manner. He removes his fingers and sighs with a shake of his head. “Maybe next time.” he says with a cute pout. It’s then you notice the piercing on his lip. “Hyung.”

You lay flat against the table now, chest heaving. Your thighs quiver and you can barely keep your eyes open now. Your high was slowly coming down, but even then did you feel the electricity through your veins.

“Time to consummate the marriage!” 

Jimin’s voice dances through your ears.

“Y/N,”

You open your eyes to see Jin right in front of you. His head is tilted and he appears to wait for you to be fully coherent before he speaks again.

“Welcome to the elites.” Jin says, taking a step closer between your legs.

You exhaled a shaky breath, unanswering.

Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook stand around, their own glasses of champagne in their hand and they down them one by one.

Your low eyes watch as Jin begins to loosen his belt from around his waist.

“Enjoy your night tonight, boys.” Jimin says, lifting his third glass of champagne. His eyes turn from Jungkook to Taehyung. “There’s a long work week ahead of us.”

They carry on their own conversation that goes on deaf ears when Jin places both hands onto your waist and pulls you closer towards him. 

“You aren’t going to remember this tomorrow.” Jin murmurs. “You’ve had a lot to drink.”

“I’ll manage.” you murmur back, a hand reaching out to grab at his suit. “Please fuck me.”

Jin chuckles at your filthy words but he was going to do exactly what you asked.

“I have a million on one match in Paris.” Taehyung says. “I have to leave tomorrow morning.”

Jin’s cock is leaking pre-cum when he releases it from his underwear, his suit pants dropping by his ankles. 

“Your pussy is pretty.” Jin comments. “I’m glad you won the game, Y/N. You fit into this world greatly.”

Jin enters you without much warning, but your pussy is so wet that it isn’t a problem. The stretch is good, a low groan deep in your throat.

Jin begins to pound into you, his aggressive thrusts only adding to the other around the large room. His eyes watch the way your breast bounces beneath him. He hooks your legs around his waist for a deeper entrance. 

Witnessing the way you submit fully to him and allowing yourself to be pleasured by his dongsaengs caused a deep desire to grow within him.  In all ways but one, you were the one he needed. The endless games he partaken in to assure he found the perfect wife had led him to you.

Your pussy grips Jin’s cock with such need. It’s as if it’s been waiting for him this entire time like a missing puzzle piece. He never wants to stop, he thinks. You’re beautiful underneath the dim lights of the room, eyes dark and clouded with temptation, lust and intoxication. 

“You’re gonna cum before I do.” Jin grumbles, his fingernails digging into the skin of your hips. He snaps his hips roughly, the table long moving erratically beneath the two of you. “Go ahead and let go, Y/N.”

You’re flipped, your front slammed against the cold table.You come face to face with Jungkook, who’s eyes sparkle a bit, but you don’t have the time to talk. Jin enters you once more, pounding so deep inside of you. Your hands reach out to hold anything on the table and find nothing - until Jimin takes your hand and allows you to squeeze.

“I have to go to Japan.” Jimin says, his thumb rubbing the top of your hand encouragingly as his hyung fucks you without a care in the world. “Meeting with politicians.”

“Ugh, boring.” Jungkook leans back, arms behind his head as he listens to Jimin speak.

“F-Fuck.” you shake your head, stomach churning with the familiar feeling from early - the one you lost when Jungkook was forced away from you.

“Let go,Y/N. Cum all over me.” Jin says darkly, his fingernails were going to leave bruises on your skin when he was done with you. 

Your ass slams against his abdomen, his pounds growing harder and harder by the second. 

“To the newlyweds.” Taehyung raises yet another glass of champagne, his words slurred a bit.

You’re seeing white this time, juices pooling out and down your thighs. You squeeze Jimin’s hand in your own, a spew of curse words leaving your lips.

Jin isn’t done - not yet. He continues fucking into you while you squirm underneath him. It was all too much to handle, the overstimulation beginning to hurt a bit. However, the pain felt good and even you found that you were going to cum once more.

“I’m going to take you to our home and fuck you even more.” Jin’s sloppy thrust indicates that he was just as wrecked as you were. A hand takes your hair and forces you back so he can place his plump lips besides your ear. “Y/N…my wife…” Jin groans, milky seeds erupting inside of you so deep. It’s just as hot as you feel, filling you to the brim entirely.

You drop back onto the table with an exhausted huff, eyes fluttering close. Jin remains inside of  you, his cum pooling out and filling you up at both a rabid and slow pace. Sweat pools the corner of your forehead and you are about done with the night.

“To the newlyweds.” Jungkook claps his hands together. “I can’t wait for the wedding.”

“To think it took this long for you to find the perfect one.” Jimin states. You are asleep now. Still naked and on top of the table, weariness taking over your body completely. “One manipulative little bitch she is for tricking that girl. I like her.”

Jin agrees. He pulls his pants up and tightens his belt just as before. “Whatever it takes to win.” he says, placing a hand onto your head and rubbing a bit. “She’ll fit right in.”

[pixiexdusts-world]

Trust me

Thanos x reader

Summary: A shy girl finds safety in Thanos, a reckless but protective survivor.

Word count: 770

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I never thought I’d end up here—with him.

Thanos wasn’t the kind of person I usually gravitated toward. He was loud, confident, and unpredictable, while I was… well, me. Shy. Awkward. The kind of person who second-guessed every word before speaking, who blushed at the slightest attention. He was the kind of guy people either admired or feared. And yet, somehow, he had chosen me.

I met him before Squid Game, before everything fell apart. Back when he was just a man with a reputation too big for any room he walked into. I had been working part-time at a record store, hiding behind the counter, quietly existing, when he walked in one night.

“You got any old-school hip-hop?” he had asked, tapping his fingers against the counter in an impatient rhythm.

I had barely managed to stammer out a response before he smirked. “Why you so nervous?”

I hadn’t known how to answer. But for some reason, he had kept coming back, every week, teasing me, pushing past my awkwardness until I had gotten used to him.

And then life happened. Bad decisions. Wrong people. The kind of trouble that swallowed you whole before you even realized you’d stepped into it. That’s how we ended up here.

The first night in the Squid Game, I kept to myself, hugging my knees in the corner while the others talked in hushed voices. Thanos, on the other hand, was already making himself known—loud, reckless, unbothered by the fear in the air. I should have been annoyed. Maybe even a little afraid. But when he found me sitting alone, his expression softened in a way I wasn’t used to seeing.

“You okay?” he asked, crouching in front of me.

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure if it was true.

“You don’t have to be scared,” he said, lowering his voice like it was meant just for me. “Not as long as I’m here.”

I wanted to believe him. But this wasn’t some rap battle, some night out where he could bluff his way through danger with a cocky grin. This was real. Life or death.

Still, when he sat beside me, closer than necessary, I didn’t move away.

The days blurred together, each game a crueler nightmare than the last. I wasn’t built for this. I was too quiet, too soft, too used to fading into the background. But Thanos never let me disappear.

He stood in front of me when tensions ran high, when fights broke out over food. He made sure I ate, even when he barely touched his own meal. And when I flinched at the sound of a gunshot, he grabbed my wrist, holding it just tight enough to ground me.

“Hey,” he murmured, “look at me.”

I did.

“You’re still here,” he reminded me. “And as long as you’re here, you fight.”

I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t like him, that I didn’t know how to be fearless. But when I looked into his eyes, I realized something—he wasn’t fearless either. He just knew how to hide it.

One night, when the lights flickered and the dormitory became a battlefield, I felt panic creeping in. The sounds of screams and fists colliding filled the air, and I knew I was too weak to fight.

But then there was him.

Thanos grabbed my hand, pulling me into the shadows before anyone could reach me. He pressed me against the wall, shielding me with his body as chaos unfolded around us.

“Stay behind me,” he ordered, his voice rough but steady.

I wanted to tell him I didn’t deserve his protection. That he should be watching out for himself, not wasting his time on me. But all I could do was nod, gripping the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline.

As he fought off anyone who got too close, I realized something.

He wasn’t the man people thought he was. He wasn’t just reckless. He wasn’t just trouble.

He was the only person in this place who made me feel safe.

“Why do you care so much?” I asked one night, when the world had quieted again.

He looked at me like the answer was obvious.

“Because you make me feel human.”

And in that moment, despite the nightmare surrounding us, I believed him.

[woso-story]

Alexia's Perfect Birthday

Alexia Putellas x Reader

The early morning light filters softly through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the bedroom. You stir awake, careful not to shift too much and wake the beauty lying beside you. Alexia’s face is relaxed, her long lashes resting against her skin, her breathing steady. She looks peaceful, and for a moment, you just watch her, overwhelmed with love for the woman who has been your everything for the past three years.

But today is special—her birthday. And you want it to be perfect.

Slowly, you slip out of bed, holding your breath as you carefully lift the covers and tiptoe towards the door. Once in the hallway, you let out a sigh of relief before heading straight to the kitchen. You had planned everything: fresh orange juice, croissants, eggs, and her favorite coffee, just the way she likes it. You hum softly as you work, making sure everything is perfect.

Just as you’re about to put the last thing on the tray, the bedroom door creaks open. Your heart jumps, and you curse under your breath. Of course, Alexia always has to wake up early.

You spin around, rushing towards her in the hallway. "No, no, no! Back to bed!" you tell her, placing your hands on her shoulders and gently pushing her back toward the bedroom.

She looks at you with sleepy, grumpy eyes. "What kind of birthday start is this? No kiss? Just orders?"

You sigh, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. "There. Happy now?"

She hums, clearly unimpressed but too tired to argue. With a small smirk, she turns and disappears back into the room. You shake your head, smiling as you return to the kitchen to finish preparing the tray.

Moments later, you walk back in, carefully balancing everything, and as you enter, you start singing, "Happy birthday to you…"

Alexia raises an amused eyebrow at your off-key performance but sits up, her expression softening when she sees the effort you’ve put in. You place the tray in front of her before leaning down to kiss her properly this time. She tries to deepen it, but you pull back with a pout.

"You ruined the surprise," you tease.

She grins. "Please, you’d have to wake up way earlier to surprise me properly." She pauses, looking at the breakfast. "But I love what you did for me."

You both settle in, eating together, laughing, and enjoying the peaceful morning. The sun streams through the windows, illuminating Alexia in a way that makes your heart clench. She looks effortlessly beautiful, and you can’t believe you’re lucky enough to call her yours.

After breakfast, you both get ready for training. You insist on driving today, telling her she deserves to be treated like a princess on her special day.

She laughs. "You driving? Now I’m scared. Are we even going to make it there in one piece?"

You gasp dramatically, pouting at her. But before you can fake your offense further, Alexia places her hand on your thigh and leans over, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

"I love you," she murmurs.

Your heart melts instantly, and you smile. "I love you too."

---

When you arrive at the training facility, you walk hand in hand into the locker room. But soon, Alexia is swept away, receiving birthday hugs and congratulations from teammates.

And then, there’s Mapi.

Her best friend has completely overdone it. The locker room is filled with balloons—so many that it looks like a birthday party for a five-year-old. Garlands hang from every available space, and in the center of it all sits an enormous cake with far too many candles.

Alexia stares at the cake, unimpressed. "You didn’t."

Mapi grins like an overexcited child. "Oh, I did. One candle for every year—thirty-one!"

Alexia sighs, shaking her head but smiling nonetheless. She may not love being reminded of her age, but she knows Mapi means well.

Training goes as usual, focused and intense, but the lightheartedness lingers. At lunch, the team gathers to eat cake and chat. The others ask Alexia what her plans are for the evening, and she tells them about the "reservation" you made.

What she doesn’t know is that it’s not just a reservation—it’s an entire surprise party.

Ingrid pulls you aside before you leave the facility. "Don’t worry," she whispers. "Everything is perfect. And I made sure Maria wasn’t in charge of decorations."

You exhale in relief. "Thank God."

---

Back home, you both get ready. You finish first and wait for Alexia in the living room. When she steps out of the bedroom, your breath catches.

She’s wearing a black dress, not too short, not too long, and the best part? It’s backless, showing off her muscles and tattoos.

"Is it too much?" she asks, a little unsure.

You shake your head, staring at her. "You look stunning."

She smiles, walking over to press a kiss to your lips. "So do you."

---

Later, as you arrive at the restaurant, Alexia frowns at the dark, seemingly closed place. "Are you sure this is the right place?"

You nod. "Positive."

"Happy Birthday!"

You open the door, guiding her inside, and suddenly the lights flick on.

Alexia jumps slightly, her eyes widening in surprise. Then, she turns to you, realization sinking in. You grin as she shakes her head, overwhelmed.

You gently push her toward her friends and family, watching as she hugs them all, her expression pure happiness. The night is perfect—laughter, dancing, drinking, playing games. She opens presents and thanks everyone, the warmth in her eyes never fading.

Then Mapi stands up. "I have a surprise for Alexia!"

Your stomach drops. Mapi hadn’t mentioned anything about this, and now you’re terrified. You glance at Ingrid, who looks equally clueless.

When Mapi leaves the restaurant, you brace yourself. What if she comes back with something insane—like an alpaca or a stripper? With Mapi, anything is possible.

Next to Mapi stands Jenni Hermoso.

The door swings open again, and you exhale in relief.

Alexia gasps, her hands flying to her mouth before rushing to hug her friend. Since Jenni moved to Mexico, they rarely see each other, and with everything that happened after the World Cup, their bond has only grown stronger.

You smile as you watch them catch up, knowing this was the best surprise for Alexia.

---

Around 2 AM, Alexia finds you, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. "I’m tired," she admits softly.

You nod, saying goodbye to everyone before taking her home. She heads straight to the bathroom to get ready for bed. When you later join her, she’s already lying down, fighting sleep.

She turns to you, her voice filled with love. "Thank you for today. It was perfect."

You brush a strand of hair behind her ear. "You don’t have to thank me. You deserve it."

She smirks. "Didn’t know you could be so sneaky."

You wink. "There’s a lot you don’t know about me."

Then she asks about her present, and you tease her before finally handing her a small box. Inside is a ring.

"It’s not an engagement ring," you clarify quickly, then smirk. "Not yet."

Her cheeks flush—a rare sight.

"It’s a promise," you say softly. "That I’ll always be here for you, love you, cherish you."

She smiles, slipping the ring onto her finger before leaning in. "You do realize this kinda sounds like an engagement?"

You blush, and she laughs, kissing you again—deeper this time.

The rest of the night? Perfect.

Just like her birthday.

[rockinglikemotley]

Something, something, Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish thinking you’re cute at the bar but… you have eyes for someone else.

The 1-4-1 boys were in America on a mission. They were extremely out of place in the Deep South, but they gotta do what they gotta do. They had one rest day and decided to head to a bar that looked a little run down on the outside, but the lot was filled with cars and trucks. People stood outside, conversing with one another as they smoked cigarettes with a bottle of beer in their hands. Their accents were loud and drawn out as they spoke about the town drama.

Johnny was the first one inside seeing as this was his idea to go get a pint before they continued on their mission the next day. Gaz followed him inside with Simon and John right behind them. Simon scanned the room for anything odd or out of place as they went up to the bar to get themselves some drinks before going and sitting at one of the few high tables there was.

People were all around, some stumbling, some singing along with the singer on the stage, and many of them dancing together at the slower song being sung. Johnny turned around in his seat to watch the girl on stage sing. “Oi. She’s a looker.” He smirked, nudging Kyle with his elbow and pointing up to the stage. “Oh yeah she’s quite fit.” He agreed with a nod of his head. John shook his head at the young men of his team while he took a drink of his draft beer. Simon sat stoically as her usually did, a glass of bourbon sat between his big hands.

The song changed into another slow country tune making the scenery of the bar slightly solemn. The lights cast an orangey hue, people weren’t as rowdy as the 141 thought they were going to be, and the slow song being sung brought everyone together. Couples danced, women were spun in slow circles, and people shared kisses in the sea of cowboy hats.

Simon finally looked to the stage after deeming the bar was safe from any potential threats. He always sat facing the door, so with his head turned he gazed upon he country singer on stage. From under a tan cowboy hat came long (H/C) hair and a sweet face. The woman sat upon a stool, even while singing her lips sat in a light pout, colored in a pretty pink color that shined in the light above her. She was in a matching denim vest and flared jean outfit with silver and turquoise jewelry. She was easily one of the most prettiest women in the bar, but Simon kept that thought to himself.

Especially when Johnny had his eyes glued to her like a dog with a bone.

As time went on, the guys nursed their drinks, Johnny and Kyle going back to the bar a few times to get more. Simon and John talked amongst each other as Soap and Gaz looked around the bar for a lady for Kyle. The pretty country woman on stage had ended her song, taking the mic in her hands and standing from the stool she had been sitting on. “Alright y’all,” Came her sweet southern drawl with a rasp to it. Johnny’s head snapped towards the stage with a boyish grin on his face.

“I’m gettin’ tha’ lassie’s number so help me God.” He uttered to Gaz who laughed and listened in on what the singer had to say. “This is our last song for the night so I hope y’all brought your dancin’ boots.” Her smile was gleaming as she moved her long hair over her shoulder and turned back to her band. Her guitarist started the tune and some of the crowd started to cheer with excitement towards the song. The pretty woman laughed into the mic, “I know y’all like Reba now!” She pointed to the people in the front.

“Steamin’ Jesus. She’s bloody fit.” Johnny huffed and downed the rest of his drink as his fair lady sang ‘Fancy’ by Reba. He was familiar with the redheaded country singer, Dolly as well. All thanks to his mother who had little shrines for them both. She often made him swear to them if she thought he was lying. “That she is.” Gaz chuckled as they watched her dance with the sway of her hips, her free hand raised above her head.

Johnny was damn near bouncing in his seat by the time her set was finished. John couldn’t help but laugh something low at the young man sitting across from him. Simon just huffed at his antics and watched him go off to find his ‘dream girl’ - Johnny’s words - as soon as she stepped off the stage. His mohawked head disappeared in the sea of people and orange light.

Johnny had a few close calls of almost running people over to get to the stage’s exit. He merely send absentminded apologies and went on his merry way to find the pretty country singer. He stood by the exit, watching as her guitarists walked out together, chuckling, as they fixed their hats and bolo ties. Then the drummer of the band came out and finally here came the singer.

He could see her darkened silhouette coming down the hall. Her full hips swaying as she walked, the muffled clack of her boots against the hard flooring. She was lucky she looked up in time to stop just before him or else she would’ve ran into his broad chest. “Oh, sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” She giggled, her accent making Johnny fawn all over again. “Ach. It’s okay.” He waved it off. Her brows raised at the sound of his thick Scottish accent. “Wow. You’re far from home.” She pointed out with a toothy grin.

“I came all this way just to see you.” Johnny smoothly joked with her. The apples of her cheeks went pink as she tipped her head back and laughed. “Hope it was worth it.”

“It’ll be more worth it if I could buy you a drink.” Soap smirked down at her, his big arms crossed over his chest. “Alright.” She nodded and off they went through the crowd to the bar. They ordered their drinks and while she wasn’t looking he turned his head over his shoulder to give his team members a big grin before turning back to her. “I’m Johnny.” He introduced himself, thankful the bar was lowkey and wasn’t loud so he didn’t have to yell his introduction. “I’m y/n. Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart? Already with the pet names, love?” Johnny smirked at her. She shrugged while she took a sip of her drink. “It’s a southern thing.” The pretty woman brushed off. “Well it’s a Scottish thing too.” He chuckled and shifted his feet. “I’m here with some of my mates, you can come sit with us if you’d like.” He offered, deep down just wanting to show her off already and to show them that he could get a woman since they joked too often about him scaring them off with his ‘Scottish-ness’ as Simon would say. “Sure, I can hang for a little.” She nodded and followed along right behind him.

When she got to the table she laid eyes on a charming looking man with a big smile, then to another one that had a thick beard and stache and wore a bucket hat, then finally she laid her eyes on one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. Simon sat there all big and brooding with scars littering his face and a half sleeve of tattoos on his forearm. Johnny gave her his chair and she felt a little bad knowing he had come over to flirt with her.

But hey, she was only a woman.

They all introduced themselves to her with laughs towards Johnny and gave her kind smiles. She introduced herself back and took the time to talk to them all. Simon didn’t say much, he was as stoic as every but she figured he didn’t do well in social situations. Or maybe he was the nonchalant type. Hell, she didn’t care she couldn’t take her eyes off him for half of the time she sat there amongst the four of them.

By the time she finished her drink, Johnny was carrying back more for himself and Kyle. She reached across the table for the napkin holder that sat in the middle of the table and fished out the pen she kept in her back pocket to write her name and number down. With a sigh she slipped off the chair as her cheeks grew rosy. John watched her with a small smile which quickly went to shock as she slid the napkin across the table and over to Simon.

He looked up at her in shock as she stood there with a cheeky grin. Johnny had witnessed it with his own two eyes and his jaw dropped. Kyle couldn’t help, but laugh out of shock. “Well it was nice meetin’ y’all.” She grinned and rounded the table. “Hopefully I’ll be seeing you.” She gave Simon’s arm a squeeze, sending Johnny a wave before going off and disappearing back into the crowd.

“You just stole my girl!”

“I didn’t do anything.” Simon uttered as he picked up the napkin with the pretty writing before slipping it into his pocket. Part of him just wanted to spite Johnny and the other part of him was glad she had chosen him over his friend. “I can’t even be mad. That was sly as hell.” He shrugged and sat down in the chair.

Later that night, her phone buzzed with a text.

‘So I take it you perfer Brits over Scots?’

~~~~~

Just had his idea on my mind for a few days. Hope you liked it xx

[heliosunny]

Hi! An idea I'd love to see - Fae!Phainon with a Reader that used to play with him where they were a child and visited the little village they grandma lived in. It's too bad they made a little promise to him long time ago without thinking through the consequences and now that they are back...

Yandere!Fae Phainon x Reader

You were only a child when you first met him, lost in the dense, whispering woods beyond your grandmother’s village. The elders always warned you about the Fae, about the creatures that watched from the shadows, their laughter mingling with the rustling leaves.

They said the Fae despised humans. That they could see through human nature, through the greed and the lies, and that no bond between mortal and fae could ever be genuine.

But you were young. You didn’t understand hatred. Not yet.

You found Phainon sitting in the roots of an old, gnarled tree, silver hair tangled and matted, his strange, sharp blue eyes narrowed in pain. Bruises marred his skin, dark against his pale complexion. His fine, delicate clothes were torn, though even in their ruined state, they were more elegant than anything you had ever seen.

It was clear that he was not human. He glared at you, his small hands curling into fists as you stepped closer.

“Go away!” His voice was sharp, like the cold bite of winter. “I don’t need your pity.”

You hesitated.

“I just want to help” you said.

Phainon bared his teeth at you, his pointed canines flashing in the dim light. “Help? Like a human could ever help me.”

Even at that young age, his hatred for humans ran deep. You should have listened. You should have left. But instead, you did something foolish. You took him back to your grandmother’s house.

It was not easy. He resisted at first, lashing out like a wounded animal, but he was too weak to fight you properly. The moment your grandmother saw him, her face paled, and she immediately started whispering old protection charms under her breath. But she did not turn him away.

“Fae or not, a child is a child” she murmured as she tended to his wounds.

Phainon never forgot that.

For days, he was silent. You would sit near him, chattering about the village, about the flowers that bloomed in spring, about how you wished you could fly like the birds. You never expected him to respond. Until one evening, when the fire crackled low, he finally spoke. “I hate humans” he whispered, staring into the flames. “They’re cruel. Selfish. Liars.” You were quiet for a moment. Then, you asked, “Do you hate me?” Phainon turned his head, and for the first time, he truly looked at you. “…I don’t know yet.”

Time passed, and Phainon became your only fae friend.

He showed you the hidden places in the woods where the fae danced under the moonlight. You brought him food from the village, and in return, he whispered the names of things humans had forgotten, the true names of the wind and the rivers, the secret paths that bent reality itself.

But the fae did not forget. Phainon was warned, again and again, that no good would come from caring for a human. And yet, he stayed.

When the time came for you to leave your grandmother’s village, you saw something you never expected in his eyes. Desperation.

“You’ll come back” he said.

You smiled. “Of course, I will. And when I do, we’ll be together. Forever.”

It was just a childhood promise. A silly thing. You meant it in the way children always do fleeting, thoughtless, without weight.

But words have power. And the fae never forget.

Years passed. The world changed. Fate pulled you back to that village, back to where Phainon waited, where your long-forgotten promise had never been forgotten at all.

Phainon had changed.

Once a wary, quiet fae, he had risen through the ranks, becoming one of the most revered among his kind. Where once his presence had been dismissed, now fae spoke of him in hushed admiration, their words laced with awe and devotion. He was no longer just Phainon, he was an elite, his power undeniable, his beauty otherworldly.

When you returned to your grandmother’s house, the air felt different. She was no longer there.

The fae had not forgotten you, nor had they forgiven. The moment you stepped into the village, whispers slithered through the wind, voices filled with contempt.

“The human has returned.”

“They dare come back after abandoning him?”

“Phainon will visit them. Let’s see if they still holds that promise.”

You barely had time to react before you felt it, an undeniable presence looming nearby. And then, from the shadows, he stepped forward.

Phainon stood before you, taller, sharper, his gaze piercing through you with unreadable intensity.

“You came back!” One evening, while wandering near the village, you stumbled upon a scene that made you pause. A beautiful fae woman, adorned in glistening silks and with eyes full of admiration, stood before Phainon, her voice carrying through the air.

“Phainon, you have become someone great. Would you consider taking me as your bonded one?”

A silence stretched between them before he replied, his tone cold and dismissive. “No.”

The fae woman's face twisted in disbelief. “Why? Is it because of the human?” Her gaze flickered in your direction before she turned on her heel and vanished into the night.

Later, you found Phainon sitting beneath the same ancient oak you used to share. Smirking, you teased “So, rejecting admirers now? You must be quite popular.”

He sighed, but the corner of his lips quirked slightly. “Their affections are meaningless.”

You nudged him playfully. “I dunno, she seemed quite taken with you.”

Phainon only looked at you, his gaze unreadable.

However, what you didn’t see was the seething anger lingering in the eyes of the rejected fae. She had seen the way Phainon looked at you, the way he reserved his softer moments for you alone. Her heart burned with jealousy, and she would not accept being cast aside so easily.

That night, something was slipped into your drink. A strange, shimmering liquid that clouded your vision and made your limbs feel weightless. Panic gripped you as the world spun, and before you could cry for help, only one name slipped from your lips.

“Phainon…”

He was there in an instant, catching you as you collapsed. His grip tightened as he caught the scent of foul magic laced within you.

“Who did this?” His voice was deathly quiet, but rage simmered beneath his words.

You barely managed to whisper “I... don't know.”

His expression turned lethal. Whoever dared to harm you would pay.

A flush spread across your cheeks, and your fingers instinctively gripped his cloak. "Phainon... I feel strange."

Realizing something was terribly wrong, he scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you inside your room as you buried your face against his chest, your breath ragged.

Laying you down on your bed, his fingers brushed your damp hair back, his gaze flickering with a mixture of worry and something deeper. "Focus on me." he whispered.

A strange, intoxicating need curled in your gut, making you shift restlessly. Your hand trailed up his arm, seeking warmth, grounding. He exhaled sharply, his resolve flickering. "Damn it" he muttered, reaching into his pouch with one hand while the other took out a dagger. He brought a bundle of crushed herbs to your lips. He used the dagger to cut his wrist, leaving blood flows upon your lips "Chew on this. Careful."

You obeyed, the bitterness jolting your senses. The fog clouding your mind slowly lifted, though your body still trembled with residual heat. Phainon's thumb brushed against your bottom lip as he ensured you swallowed the antidote, his eyes lingering on yours.

"Better?" His voice was quieter now, rough with restraint.

You nodded slowly, the frantic beating of your heart beginning to settle. "Phainon... thank you."

His fingers traced your cheek before he pulled away, visibly struggling with his emotions. "They won’t get away with this" he vowed. But the fae were relentless. The whispers started first, mocking murmurs whenever you walked through the village. "Pathetic human" one sneered. "Thinking you belong here just because Phainon protects you."

Another laughed cruelly. "He only pities you. Do you really think he’d ever choose a weak creature like you over his own kind?"

Shoves in the marketplace, stolen goods, malicious pranks that left bruises and cuts, each incident only added to the growing tension. When you confronted Phainon about it, he merely stared at you, his eyes unreadable. Then came the worst of it. You had been walking near the cliffs, taking in the salty air, when you felt an unnatural shove against your back. The world blurred as you teetered dangerously close to the edge. A voice whispered "Oops, did you slip?"

A shriek tore from your throat as you struggled to regain balance, the abyss below calling to you. Just as you began to fall, strong arms wrapped around you, yanking you back with inhuman speed. Phainon.

He turned to your attacker, his expression deathly cold. "You dare lay a hand on Y/n?" His voice was low, laced with a promise of suffering. The air crackled with an ominous energy, the fae responsible shrinking back in fear.

You clung to him. "Phainon, don't waste your energy on such matter."

But the damage was done. When you returned to the house, you made a firm decision. "I should leave" you said firmly. "If they keep coming after me, it’ll only put you at risk too."

"But... You promised me that we will be together forever." he whispered, brushing his fingers along your wrist, where your pulse trembled. "You said we'd never part. That no force in this world or the next could take you from me."

You didn't remember making such a promise. Forever? That word felt too large, too binding. Yet Phainon gazed at you with the certainty of someone who never forgot. His ethereal blue eyes shimmered in the dim light, holding you captive in their depths.

You tried to deny it, but a distant memory stirred, laughter echoing beneath the silver moon, hands clasped tight. Oh the naivety of youth. You hadn't thought it serious. But Phainon had.

"And now..." He raised your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against your fingertips before turning your palm upward. A faint, sharp sting followed, his nail slicing just enough to draw a drop of crimson.

Your protest died on your lips when he did the same to himself, allowing a single droplet of his shimmering fae blood to meet yours. The moment they touched, the world shifted.

A searing warmth crawled through your veins, more intoxicating than fire, more binding than chains. Your breath hitched as unseen threads wove around your soul, pulling tight. You swayed, gripping Phainon's arm for balance, and he only smiled, his touch gentle, his eyes alight with triumph.

"It's done. I've been planning this for so long." He licked on your fresh wound, it healed almost immediately. His voice held no malice, only devotion "You are mine, as I am yours."

"Do you remember the night you drink my blood along with those herbs. I didn't expect them to act so careless. But lucky me, you didn't even doubt a thing. With this bond, you can never leave."

A chill ran through you, even as your senses sharpened. You could hear the whisper of leaves outside, feel the heartbeat of the forest in time with your own. You had changed.

The following days brought a drastic shift. Barriers of ancient magic wove around your grandmother’s house, binding you in an invisible cage. Phainon's voice carried over the wind "No matter what happens, you’re staying here. With me. Forever"

[hederasgarden]

Eternal Devotion (2/3)

Summary: Months after your husband's untimely death, his presence lingers, haunting you in ways you never expected. Pairing: Vampire!Friedrich Harding x Wife!Reader  Word Count: 4.4K Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Heavy angst and grief, period typical sexism, creepy things, vampirism, and murder. A/N:  The reader has always been Friedrich’s wife, Anna does not exist in this AU. Big thanks to @ryebecca, @otaku-girl-ao3, @whatblogisthis216 , @eremeldanin and @caught-reading for their help with this fic.  Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Part 1 ♡ Aaron Taylor Johnson Character Masterlist

Speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life. - Mahmoud Darwish

Kerstin’s frantic voice drags you from sleep, the panic in her tone barely piercing the heavy fog that clouds your mind. Your head lolls as she pulls your body from the bed, and for a fleeting moment, you feel the lingering sensation of Friedrich's kiss on your skin. Your lips part to whisper his name, but only a raspy croak escapes your throat. When your eyes finally flutter open, she shrieks in fright.

It feels as though you're swimming through sand, every movement sluggish and weighted. With great effort you manage to look at her. She lets loose a great shuddery breath, helping you to sit on the edge of the bed as you come back to yourself. The light streaming through the windows is bright and you shield your eyes. 

"Oh," Kerstin sobs, her trembling hands brushing your face and neck. "I thought death had stolen you too."

The sound of the floorboards creaking beneath hurried footsteps is the only warning before the door to your room is thrown open with a sharp crack. 

“What is the meaning of this racket?” your father demands, his voice laden with irritation. "I asked for my daughter to be brought to me, not for you to bring the whole house down with your theatrics, woman."

Kerstin freezes at his harsh words, glancing between you and your father with wide, fearful eyes. You try to stand to ease her fear, but the motion makes the ground tilt beneath you, your body swaying dangerously before you manage to steady yourself. 

“My God,” your father mutters under his breath, turning abruptly to face away from you. "Cover yourself. Have you no shame?"

You glance down in confusion, only to be shocked to find your nightgown hanging loosely, half-unbuttoned, and barely covering you. 

“It is you who have come into Friedrich’s and my bedchamber,” you remind him hoarsely, accepting the heavy robe Kerstin drapes over your shoulders. 

“Are you decent?” your father demands, waiting until you confirm before facing you again. “You must prepare yourself. Pieter is coming shortly to take you and the girls on a stroll through the glass gardens.”

“So early?” you ask.

Your father’s eyes narrow, a flash of irritation crossing his face. “It is nearly noon,” he snaps. “You are to make yourself presentable. Quickly now,” he adds at Kerstin who springs into action. 

It is only through her tireless efforts that you are ushered down the stairs in time, looking every inch the proper lady your father demands. You feel brittle, your body stretched too thin, each step a strain. But Pieter is there in the doorway, his gaze sweeping over you with open interest. 

“Such beauty,” he compliments, his voice smooth. 

The kiss he presses to the back of your hand burns and you withdraw it, rubbing your thumb over the skin anxiously. You watch as he greets your children with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He bends stiffly at the waist to offer them both fragrant bundles of roses. Your oldest daughter examines the flowers with a little frown and places them gingerly on a side table. She eyes them and Pieter distrustfully. Your youngest, wide-eyed and eager, chatters excitedly at him before rushing to show you her prize, her hands holding the roses out with delight.

“They are lovely, sweetling,” you murmur, forcing a smile. 

“I cannot wait to show Papa!” she beams joyfully.

A flicker of unease passes through you and you glance at your father but he is engaged in conversation with Pieter, his back turned to you. You pull your daughter close, her small body pressed into yours as you kneel down to her level. With trembling hands, you cup her face gently and press a kiss to her temple. You think of Ellen and fear rolls in your belly at the thought of how your father might respond to such innocent nonsense. 

“We have talked about this,” you whisper. “Papa is gone. You cannot speak like this.”

Her bright eyes falter for a moment and she looks past you, to the grand staircase. Then she rocks back on her heels and her smile returns. You hear the floorboards creak under a step, and without thinking, you turn to see. But there’s nothing there, just the empty expanse of the hallway leading up to the second floor. A strange chill prickles your skin and you rise, ushering her into the parlor.

Pieter is quick to pull you into his side, his touch insistent and shameless, like it’s his right, even in the house that once belonged to your husband. You want to throw him off you but one look at your father has you shrinking down, complacent. You must think of your girls. The smile you share with Pieter is strained. He does not notice, patting your hand absently as he bids your parents goodbye. 

Stepping into the street with him, the light of the day seems too bright, the sun pressing against your skin in a way that feels wrong. You squint, shielding your eyes, though it does little to stave off the overwhelming brightness. Behind you, your children’s governess walks a few paces back, dutifully playing her role as chaperone for the outing. The girls, blissfully ignorant, skip ahead, their laughter light and carefree while they run down the cobbled street. But Pieter’s hand remains heavy on your side, his fingers wrapped too tightly around you, guiding you, controlling your every step.

The longer you walk in the sunlight, the more the dream of Friedrich fades from your mind, until the memory of it is as faint and ghostly as him. Even though you try to cling to it, you know last night was nothing more than a fleeting illusion, a desperate fantasy born of grief. No more real than the hope you hold that your husband will miraculously return to you. 

There is nothing to do but push forward into a future you never wanted. 

–

That night, you lie in bed, waiting for sleep to claim you, and pray for Friedrich’s ghost to visit you once more. You long for a dream so vivid, so real, that you would swear he is with you in the flesh again. You long for his touch, for his kiss. For him.

But as the hours drag on, the silence remains unbroken. You close your eyes, hands clasped tight against your chest, silently begging the heavens for something. Even the strange, fevered dreams that twisted reality and fantasy into a blurred mess would be a comfort. Yet, your prayers go unanswered. The night stretches on without a sign, and when you finally slip into a dreamless slumber, it offers no solace. The morning light, cold and harsh, pulls you from your restless sleep. The disappointment is a sharp ache, a heavy pressure beneath your breastbone that lingers as you rise to dress and prepare for the day ahead.

Kerstin smiles brightly when she finds you nearly ready without needing her assistance. 

“You look hearty,” she remarks, draping a heavy shawl over your shoulders. “The fresh air yesterday did you good.”

You acknowledge her comment with a soft hmm, listening while she informs you of your father’s presence in the drawing room. His unwelcomed visits have become more frequent, a constant reminder of what looms ahead. As you descend the steps you resign yourself to more ill news, perhaps another forced engagement with Pieter — likely for another outing he’s arranged without considering your wishes. He had suggested the opera yesterday, bold enough to claim you could use the box Friedrich owned.

Your husband had spared no expense to secure the central box for you despite his distaste for theater. Although he was bored senseless by it, that didn’t stop him from attending every performance by your side. He was content to watch you become so enraptured by the music and drama unfolding on stage and, perhaps, he found a secret pleasure in the way the privacy of the box allowed him to touch you more freely, hiding the way his bold fingers would slip under your dress. Or the way it allowed him to drag his lips over your throat while the crescendo of the music drowned out the sound of your breathy little moans as he worked you to rapture. The memory of it leaves you teetering on the bottom of the staircase, needing a moment to collect yourself. Beneath the current of desire grief follows and you blink away the tears that gather. 

In the drawing room, a rich assortment of breakfast is laid out on the table. Your father sits at the head of the table, holding the newspaper aloft, his face hidden. It galls you that he sits so easily where Friedrich once did. 

“Father,” you greet quietly, sitting down beside your children. Your youngest scurries into your lap and you tuck her close, tearing off a piece of toast to share with her.

"Pieter seemed pleased with your outing yesterday," your father remarks, the rustle of his newspaper loud in the otherwise quiet room. “I expect a proposal soon. Perhaps then we can put this business behind us.”

You bite your tongue, offering him no response. Instead, you focus on your daughters, allowing yourself to be swept away by their animated conversation about some new imagining they’ve created. You spread jam on a pastry for your eldest, so caught up in their tale that you nearly miss the servant who brings a small envelope to your father. He seems surprised by its presence, glancing at you before he sets his paper aside to accept it. 

He reads it quickly, his eyes scanning the note, and then exhales sharply, a look of disbelief crossing his features. For several seconds he only stares at the letter in his hand, the silence stretching between you until you prod him quietly. 

“Father? What has happened?”

He blinks as though pulled from a daze.

"Pieter. He is dead," he whispers. He stands abruptly, the paper crumpling in his hands, his gaze unfocused. “Thrown from his horse sometime last night. His groom discovered him this morning. A broken neck, it seems."

Shock renders you mute and you glance at your children but they are absorbed in some game between them, unaware of the weight of the conversation unfolding in front of them. 

“We…we must send our condolences to Herr Gothrim.”

“Yes, yes,” your father replies absently, his fingers tapping against his lips. “There is much to do now with this news.”

You stare at him, waiting for him to say more, but he offers nothing further. His gaze is fixed on the letter in his hands, his mind already moving ahead to whatever next steps he deems necessary. He doesn’t even look at you as he summons a servant to bring him paper. The scratch of his pen fills the silence, while you struggle with conflicting emotions, relief that you will not have to wed Pieter, and the sharp, uncomfortable sting of shame because a man is dead. He was boorish and controlling but that did not mean he deserved to die.

Above you the old house creaks, its weight shifting. Your daughter glances up and claps her hands softly, sharing a whispered laugh with her sister who is quick to shush her. 

“Mama?” your oldest questions, watching you with concern. 

“All is well, liebling,” you lie. “Go, play. We will visit the bookseller later, would you like that?”

"Yes!" they cry in unison, their voices bright with excitement as they race toward the stairs.

__

In the weeks after Pieter’s funeral, time slips by in odd, disjointed fragments. Each night, you dream of Friedrich, grasping at the fleeting hours between dusk and dawn as if to hold back the morning. The dreams are never the same, sometimes you speak, and others you don’t. But his lips always seek yours, his mouth lingering on your body, drawing both pleasure and pain to the surface. 

No matter how hard you try, drawing the curtains tight, desperate to keep the daylight at bay, his ghost always fades with the first light. And with each passing day, Kerstin’s worry grows, deepening with the weight of your silent unrest. She suggests, tentatively, that you see a doctor. You dismiss her concern. The memory of Ellen and the cruelty of the men Friedrich brought in his attempt to help, lingers at the edges of your mind, a quiet reminder of both her suffering and your own guilt. 

You have not gone mad. You are simply holding on to what fragments of joy remain — your daughters, and the fleeting dreams of Friedrich that come and go. And if you are tired it is only because you are worn down by your father’s relentless demands to entertain potential suitors.

Herr Mueller and Herr Klein, both men pushed upon you in the wake of Pieter's death, are frequent visitors to your home, claiming your time nearly as much as your children do. The former, old enough to be your father, is a man whose gnarled hands always seem to drift too close to where they shouldn’t, even in the full view of others. Despite having sons your age, he is still greedy for more heirs, and his desires are a constant reminder of what little value you hold. 

Yet, it is Herr Klein who causes you the greatest unease. 

He is younger than you by several years, possessing the kind of beauty you’ve only seen in the angels Botticelli painted. His appearance should be comforting, but the way his gaze lingers on your eldest daughter fills you with a cold, creeping dread. He masks his interest in her as a desire to know those closest to your heart, yet each time he reaches toward her, your body instinctively tenses in revulsion. You watch him carefully, doing everything you can to ensure your daughters are otherwise occupied when he comes to call. You decline his invitations for them to join you on outings, feigning prior obligations, but it is inevitable they will spend time together if he is the one your father chooses. 

The powerlessness and anger weigh heavily on you, a suffocating force that builds and builds until it becomes too much to bear. When Kerstin finds you weeping without restraint, the pain and frustration spilling from you in waves, you can’t even find it in yourself to feel shame.

“What am I to do?” you ask her tearfully, your voice quivering. "I care not what becomes of myself, but my sweet girls…what will become of them if we do not secure the right suitor? It cannot be Herr Klein. You see how he looks at them."

Kerstin helps you from the floor onto the bed. “Perhaps Herr Harding’s cousin that your father spoke of.”

You shake your head, a ragged hiccup stealing your breath. “No. He has a wife and child of his own. He only wants the business. He...he would cast us aside. I know it.”

“Oh, mistress,” Kerstin whispers, pulling you close, wrapping you in her arms as if trying to protect you from the weight of the world.

You’re not sure how long you weep in her arms, only that once you stop your whole body aches with the weight of it. In the end, Kerstin has no answers for you. There is only the quiet, resigned look in her eyes that tells you she, too, knows what needs to be done.

And you realize, with a sinking certainty, that there is only one choice left to you.

You must convince your father to choose Herr Mueller.

–

Over the coming weeks, Herr Mueller’s visits become less frequent as his health seems to decline sharply, his ghostly pallor growing almost daily before word comes that he has returned to Munich. News of his death arrives soon after and in his absence, your father pushes you towards Herr Klein until his visits stop abruptly without explanation. You only learn the truth from the hushed whispers among the servants. He has suffered some kind of horrific accident — one that no one dares to explain in detail. More often than not, you find yourself seeking out their gossip as your father grows increasingly distant and worried. 

Tonight, on your way back from settling your daughters, you come across a cluster of servants huddled together in the hallway. You freeze, half-hidden behind the old grandfather clock, its steady ticks loud enough to mask your movements but not their murmurs.

“It is as though she is cursed,” the scullery maid whispers, her face drawn and pale. “Three suitors, all dead.”

“Perhaps God has struck them down, for surely it is an affront to him the way Frau Harding’s father behaves,” the cook adds. “Anyone can see she grieves still. ” 

“The governess says the children speak of their father, God rest his soul, like he still lives,” another adds softly. 

“‘Tis wrong the way her father persists. Kerstin was asked to ready the mistress for another party tonight.”

You close your eyes, trying to push away the unease their whispered words have stirred. You force yourself to retreat down the hall, the sound of their voices fading. In your room you find Kerstin has laid out a beautiful red gown across your bed. The fabric shimmers faintly in the dim light, and beside it rests a matching ruby necklace, its stones gleaming like drops of blood. You run your fingers along the dress, feeling its soft texture, its weight. It’s expensive — far more so than anything you would have expected your father to choose. An unsettling sensation creeps up your spine as your thumb brushes against the diamonds encircling the rubies.

What does he have planned for tonight that requires such rich adornment? 

You know regardless of the answer you must accept it. For the sake of your girls. 

You dress quickly, sparing a cursory glance at yourself in the mirror. Friedrich always loved you in red, the color made him bolder with his touches and stolen moments. It’s impossible for your father to know such a thing, and yet the sight of the gown twists the knife in your gut deeper. Tonight you wear it for a man who is not your husband. 

As you finish adjusting the dress Kerstin enters, holding something in her hands. She freezes in the doorway, her eyes widening when they take in your appearance. The silence between you stretches. Her gaze flicks nervously to your closet and back to you, her expression twisting in confusion, as though she doesn’t know what to make of you.

“I...I shall fetch you a different cloak,” she stammers, hurrying away with a dark blue coat still clutched in her hands.

–

At the party you hold onto your father’s arm while he makes introductions to his guests, most of whom seem to linger in hushed conversations, casting sidelong glances at you. Your father’s smile, stiff and strained, mirrors your own, and your mother hovers nearby, her expression pinched with worry. A sense of wrongness clings to the room, a discomfort that you can't quite shake. 

It does not escape you that the number of men in attendance is smaller than usual, and none of them seem eager to engage with you as they had before. Your mind drifts back to the servants’ hushed conversation and you nervously adjust the largest ruby resting at the hollow of your throat. Your father notices your fidgeting and glances at you, his frown deepening.

“I had expected you to wear the blue dress. The red is too bold for a widow,” he mutters, his voice tinged with annoyance. "No matter.”

He brings you to another gentleman whose severe expression doesn’t change as he takes you in with a cold kind of assessment. The two of them speak of you as if you are not there and you take a sip of your champagne. The sweet drink has long gone warm and flat. You force yourself to drain it before your gaze turns to the darkened window, catching the shadow of a man’s grey top hat when he passes by. 

Though it is impolite, you allow your thoughts to drift away from the conversation at hand and to your daughters. You find yourself looking forward to the end of the evening when you can finally check on them. Perhaps tomorrow you’ll take them to the Marktplatz to buy new hair ribbons or visit the dollmaker. Though they seem just fine you can’t help but worry. 

A sharp, startled scream from your mother, followed by the unmistakable sound of glass shattering pulls you from your thoughts. You turn to see the cause of such commotion but your view is partially blocked by your father, whose shocked inhalation sounds as though the breath has been stolen from his chest. When you try to shift around him, his grip on your arms tightens painfully and you wince. 

“Mein Gott,” the woman beside you whispers, crossing herself.

“Father? What…” your words trail off when at last, you manage to edge past him and catch sight of the room beyond and the unexpected guest standing in the entryway. 

It’s Friedrich.

For a moment, disbelief freezes you in place. You wonder if the grief has finally driven you to madness, if his ghost has returned, risen from the depths of the sea, to haunt you in full view of those gathered. He looks just as you saw him last on the bow of the ship beside Ellen, tall and broad, handsomely dressed.

The rest of your father’s guests seem equally as transfixed, whispering amongst themselves as Friedrich removes his grey top hat with a practiced, fluid motion. He passes it to a startled servant who stands frozen, manners forgotten. His eyes find yours immediately, and now that he is no longer hidden beneath the shadow of his hat you can see the golden warmth of his skin has all but faded, leaving him unnaturally pale and drawn. He looks as though the very life within him has dimmed.

But then he smiles, the one you know so well, filled with affection, and a tenderness that melts away all doubt. You know in that moment that he is no ghost but your beloved husband returned to you, as solid and real as the other men in the room.

You go to him, drawn by some invisible thread, heedless of those around you. Everything else feels distant now. It’s only Friedrich you see, his presence consuming your every sense. His lips find yours, and in that moment, it feels as though the very blood in your veins comes alive, singing with the sensation of his touch. He is here, alive in your arms. His lips do not leave yours until your lungs burn with the need for air. 

“I do not understand,” you cry, touching his face. “I thought…”

“That I was lost to you?” He questions with a smile, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkling. “No, my love. We are bound together always.”

His choice of words stirs an errant, unsettling memory from your dreams, but before you can linger on the thought, his kiss silences your mind. You melt into his touch, desperate for more despite the crowd. He parts from you regretfully, rubbing his gloved hands up and down your arms as he looks beyond you to the gathered crowd.

“I must apologize for such a dramatic entrance,” he says, his tone shifting to something more composed. “I was lost for some time, first to the sea and then to an illness that prevented my travel. I regret I could not send word earlier.”  

“Oh, you look like death,” your mother exclaims with concern, taking in his pale appearance.

“I am still recovering,” Friedrich replies calmly, though there’s a sharp edge to his tone that surprises you. “But what matters is that I have returned.” He speaks the last words with a quiet, simmering intensity, his eyes locking onto your father’s.

Friedrich’s words linger in the air as your father’s gaze flickers uncomfortably over your husband’s form, searchingly. There’s an unsettling pause before he finally responds, his smile forced. “And we thank God for it.”

Friedrich glances at your father one last time, the tension in his jaw fading as his face settles into a placid expression.

“We can speak on this tomorrow,” he says with a note of finality. “For now, I am eager to see my children and spend time with my wife.” His hand encircles your wrist, drawing you to his side.

“Of course,” your mother agrees, patting his shoulder comfortingly. “We shall join you for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Dinner,” Friedrich corrects, accepting your cloak from the servant. 

With deliberate care, he drapes it over your shoulders and fastens the clasp at your throat. His fingers linger over your fluttery pulse, the rough fabric of his gloves creating a barrier between you and the warmth you so crave. When he stares at you, his bright blue eyes sweeping over your features, you find yourself unable to look away, as if ensnared by some strange spell. It doesn’t break until he finally steps back, his hand gently guiding you toward the waiting carriage. Even then, the lingering feeling of his eyes on you stays, a quiet pull that you can’t quite shake.

Inside the carriage, you sit beside him, your hands linked together. Your fingers move restlessly over his as if trying to convince yourself that this is real. That he is real. Because some part of you fears you’ll blink and find yourself back in your bed, waking from this dream.

 “My love,” he soothes, kissing your brow. “I am here.”

“I know," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. "How will we explain this to the girls? Or the servants?"

He squeezes your hand and urges you to rest your head on his shoulder. "I will take care of it all, just like I have always done. You needn’t worry."

“Of course,” you agree, relief flooding through you as you rest your cheek against the velvety fabric of his coat. 

You inhale the familiar scent of him, the one that has always grounded you, comforting and light. But beneath it, there’s something else. A faint sweetness, like old wood surrendering to the earth, something unfamiliar and unsettling. You pull back just enough to glance up at him, your eyes searching for something you can’t quite place.

Then he smiles, his soft pink lips curling beneath his mustache, and the unease fades, swallowed by how sure and steady he is beneath your hands. 

“All is well,” he promises you. “I am here and we will never be parted again.”

[dementedkittenribbon]

Rafe Cameron with his neurodivergent girlfriend! (Based on my own experience!)

18plus only!! Smut!! Daddy kink!!

You were hyper focused on the movie as the night went on, informing Rafe facts you’d learned by hours of research on your own time and he listened best he could. But you didn’t notice his hand lingering around his crotch. Not until the movie was over and you had laid flat on your back with him next to you. You felt him shift and you grew quiet. Your own needs rising as Rafe switched his LED lights on a dimmer setting. His fingers drifted to touch your arm, tracing your skin as he looked at you.

“You’re driving me insane, doll. I feel like I’m gonna fuckin bust in my pants.” You swallow and stare at the ceiling.

“Driving you insane?”

“Yeah. Your body is perfect. Shorts barely covering your ass and tits bouncing. You don’t even have to try. I’ve been thinking about you staying here for days. I jerk off about it.” He admits without an ounce of shame and your face heats up.

“Me too.”

“Yeah? You finger fuck that wet pussy thinking about me?” Rafe asks, his voice growing lower and you nod. Play with that pussy then you’re gonna cream on my dick.”

You suck your fingers, getting them damp before you tug down your shorts and panties. Your cunt clenches as you circle your clit, wetness pulsing as you feel Rafe take his cock in his fist. You slide two fingers in easily, your body accustomed to this as you pump them. You moan as you hear Rafe pant and feel him roll his hips.

“Ah, fuck. Something about you alone in your room, fucking yourself while you think about me.” He strokes harder before he finally breaks and pulls you on top of him.

Your legs straddle his lap, his hands gripping your ass as he pushes you down on his dick, he sits up and you tear off his shirt. Your fingernails lightly dig into his chest. You take him to the hilt, your right hand moving to play with his balls.

“Look at me,” He orders and you bounce on his cock, avoiding his eyes but he refused to let it go. “No. Keep your eyes on me, princess. I wanna see how it good it feels when you cream on my cock,” he growls and you obey him as you grind down.

He massages your tits as he helps you, your movements growing sloppy as you get closer. “Rafe-it feels so good-“ You stammer and he grunts.

“Yeah, babydoll? You like it when daddy fills you up? You like being a greedy little slut for me?” You nod with a whimper and he slaps your ass hard. “Cum for me, princess. And then I’m gonna fucking pound you until you’re screamin.”

You cum all over his dick, whining as you shake and your vision goes white but he’s relentless as he flips you on your back. His hand around your throat. He lifts one leg over his shoulder, getting a deeper angle and thrusts harder.

You shriek from overstimulation but your hands clutch his shoulders. “Open your mouth,” He says and you do. He spits inside, “You’re such a good girl, baby. Taking me like a fucking whore,”

“Mhm, needed this so bad, daddy. I want you to cum in me, want it to spill out and soak the bed.” You beg and he moans, tightening his grip on your neck, keeping your eyes on him.

“That’s it, princess. Proud of you for talking through it,” He huffs before he cums in you, the headboard slamming against the wall and your pussy squelches. He lets go of your throat, hands on either side of your head as he fucks through his climax.

“Fuck, princess. Squeezing me so hard, your cunt feels so good,” He praises and you blink rapidly as he pulls out, pumping his dick and cum drips on your tits. “Messy little slut. I want you to get on all fours. Gonna cum on that pretty tattoo on your back.”

[im-so-normal-iswear]

triple S x celebrity! reader thats in a band. They constantly get bombarded by fans whenever they go out and deal with creepy fans all the time, but one day it goes a little too far when a weird fan somehow finds readers home and breaks in, how would they deal with it? (You can choose whether they are yandere or not) I absolutely love your writing!! Take your time

A/n: i just realized that for some of you, or like anyone that isnt in California my update schedule is really weird, since usually i post at like 9-11 pm since i have time to at those points, but for most people im actually posting the next day bc of time zones.

Triple S x Celebrity!Reader

The flashing lights of cameras were nothing new. Neither were the overwhelming crowds, the hands reaching out, the screams of your name blending into the air. Being in a band meant attention, whether you wanted it or not. You had long since accepted that privacy was a luxury you could rarely afford. But even knowing that, you never expected it to escalate this far.

At first, it had been like any other outing. You had been out with your bandmates, grabbing food after a long rehearsal. The restaurant was high-end and supposedly discreet, but that didn't stop fans from finding you. The moment you stepped outside, a swarm surrounded you, cameras flashing, voices shouting over one another in desperation.

"Look here, please!"

"Can you sign this?"

"Marry me!"

You had smiled, signed a few autographs, and tried to keep moving. The three had been there, of course, Sonic, Shadow, and Silver, your closest friends (and, depending on who you asked, your unofficial bodyguards). They had always been protective, standing close whenever the crowds got too aggressive, making sure no one got too handsy. Sonic had taken the lead, flashing his signature cocky grin as he casually redirected fans with smooth conversation. Silver had done his best to help, though he had an awkward way of handling social situations. Shadow, on the other hand, had simply glared at anyone who got too close, his mere presence enough to keep the more unhinged fans at bay.

It had been manageable. Until it wasn't.

A hand had grabbed your wrist, too tight. You had tried to pull away, but they had yanked. Sonic was the first to react, prying their fingers off of you with surprising force. "Hey, back off!" he snapped, his usual playful demeanor gone. Silver had immediately placed himself between you and the fan, his expression unusually serious, while Shadow had stepped forward with a look so dark it made the offender shrink back in fear.

"Try that again," Shadow had said, his voice deadly quiet, "and see what happens."

The fan had scurried away, and you had managed to escape with their help. Just another day in the life of a celebrity, right?

You had laughed it off later, pretending it hadn't shaken you. But when you got home that night, something felt… off.

Your apartment was in a secure building, meant to keep obsessive fans and paparazzi at bay. But as soon as you stepped inside, a chill ran down your spine. The air felt wrong, like someone else had been there.

Then you saw it.

Your couch cushions were slightly out of place. A framed picture on your shelf had been moved. But what truly made your stomach drop was the note sitting on your kitchen counter. A single piece of paper, with words scrawled in red ink:

"I finally found you. You belong to me."

Your breath hitched. Every instinct screamed at you to run, but before you could even move, you heard it, the faintest creak of a floorboard.

You weren't alone.

Panic surged through you as you backed away toward the door. But just as your hand reached for the handle, something moved in the shadows of your hallway. A figure stepped forward, disheveled, wild-eyed, grinning.

"You're even more beautiful up close," the intruder whispered.

Your stomach twisted.

Before they could take another step, the door behind you burst open.

Sonic was the first inside, moving faster than you could even process. He grabbed you by the wrist and yanked you behind him, shielding you with his body. His usual carefree smirk was nowhere to be found. Instead, his eyes were sharp, his muscles tense.

"Who the hell are you?" Sonic demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

The intruder took a step back, startled by the sudden dangerous, but then their gaze flickered to you, and their smile widened. "You're mine," they breathed. "I know you feel it too-"

They didn't get to finish that sentence.

Shadow moved in next, and before the intruder could react, he had them pinned against the wall, one hand gripping their throat. "You broke into their home, Give me one good reason why I shouldn't break your neck right now"

The fan gasped, struggling against Shadows grip, their bravado crumbling in an instant. Their eyes darted wildly, looking for an escape, but there was none. Not with his merciless glare burning into them.

Silver followed close behind, his expression unreadable, "You don't get to do this," Silver said quietly, his usual softness nowhere to be found. "You dont 'own them'."

The intruder whimpered. "I-I just wanted-"

"Shut up." Shadow's voice was cold, his patience nonexistent. "You don't get to talk."

Your hands were shaking. You hadn't even realized it until Sonic gently grabbed one of them, squeezing reassuringly. His touch was warm, grounding. "Hey," he murmured, turning to look at you. "You're okay. We got you."

You swallowed hard, nodding, but your heart was still pounding.

The next few moments were a blur. Sonic called the authorities. Silver took place for Shadow, using his own powers to hold the intruder in place.

When the police arrived, the stalker was hauled away, still muttering about how they "belonged" to you. The officers assured you that they would be charged with trespassing and harassment, though that did little to ease your nerves.

Even after they were gone, your apartment still felt tainted.

"You're not staying here," Shadow said bluntly, as if the decision had already been made.

You blinked at him. "What?"

"You heard him," Sonic chimed in. "You’re coming with us. No way in hell you're spending the night alone after that."

Silver nodded, his expression softer now. "We just… We don't want anything like this to happen again."

You hesitated, but the thought of staying in your apartment, alone, after what had just happened, made your stomach churn. With a quiet sigh, you nodded.

That night, you stayed at their place. Shadow took first watch, sitting by the door like a sentry, his arms crossed and eyes sharp. Sonic did his best to lighten the mood, cracking jokes, pretending like everything was normal, but even he stayed close, keeping an eye on you. Silver, ever the worrier, made you tea, using his powers to float a blanket over your shoulders.

"You're safe now," Silver murmured, and for the first time since stepping into your apartment that night, you actually believed it.

Because if there was one thing you knew for certain, it was this:

No one, not a stalker, not a crazed fan, not anyone, was getting past them. Not while you were under their protection.

A/n: i love elipses, you can probably tell that by now.

[semisasseater]

BUT I SEE HER IN THE BACK OF MY MIND ALL THE TIME ─ se-mi

⤷ Like a fever, like I’m burning alive, like a sign

│pairing : gf!se-mi x dead fem!reader │ genre : angst, tragedy, psychological horror │tw : graphic violence, murder, blood, self-harm, suicide, hallucinations, grief, trauma do NOT read if you don’t like this│summary : after losing you in the brutal chaos of the night, Se-mi is consumed by grief, guilt, and an unrelenting thirst for revenge. She knows exactly who killed you—Nam Gyu—and she won’t let him get away with it. │wc : 1k │authors note : uh i don’t have anything to really say expect i love my gf and again don’t read if your sensitive to these topics ;-; not proofread. part 1

if you enjoyed likes or reblogs would be amazing! feedback is appreciated also requests are open!!

The floor was cold beneath her. She had been sitting here for hours, unmoving, staring at the dark stain on the ground—the only thing left of you.

They had taken your body away, sealed you in one of those black and pink coffins, stuffed you into a furnace like you were nothing. Like you never mattered.

But you did.

You were everything.

Se-mi dug her nails into her palms, jaw clenched so tight she thought her teeth might crack. She could still hear your voice. That final, broken whisper.

“Get out of here… for me… okay?”

But how could she?

How could she leave when the last place you existed was right here?

Her mind was fraying at the edges, unraveling thread by thread, a gnawing, maddening rage eating away at her insides. And beneath it all, a thought burned like fire—

“This is my fault.”

If she hadn’t left. If she had just stayed. Maybe she could’ve taken the hit instead. Maybe she could have stopped it from happening.

But she didn’t.

And now you were gone.

Se-mi exhaled a shaky breath, dragging her fingers through her tangled hair. Her eyes were hollow, ringed with exhaustion and something feral.

She knew who did it.

Nam Gyu.

That smug bastard had always had it out for both of you, spitting insults, pushing buttons, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And he had taken his chance the second the lights went out, leaving your body crumpled and bleeding on the floor.

He left you there to die because he killed you.

Se-mi’s fingers twitched.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew nothing would bring you back.

But she could make sure he never walked away from this either.

The announcement rang through the room.

“Player 381 eliminated.”

Y/n was dead. Another body burned. Another pile of money added to the piggy bank.

Everyone moved on.

Se-mi didn’t.

She watched her die. Watched the number disappear.

And then she knew.

Tonight, it was over for Nam gyu.

The others had gone to sleep, exhaustion keeping them in their beds despite the horrors of the last few days. But Se-mi was wide awake.

She stood over his bed, her gaze sharp and empty, her fingers curling around the metal fork she had swiped earlier. Her breathing was slow, steady.

This was it.

She moved with eerie silence, lowering herself onto his bed, hovering above him.

Then—

BOOM.

The pillow pressed over his face before he could even make a sound. His body jerked beneath her, limbs flailing, trying to shove her off. But she was ready.

The first stab went into his stomach.

The second into his chest.

The third—his hand.

Every wound a reflection of what he did to you.

She didn’t stop.

Didn’t stop when his blood splattered across her face.

Didn’t stop when his body convulsed beneath her.

Didn’t stop when his muffled screams turned into choked gasps, then silence.

Even when she knew he was gone, she kept going, blade plunging into him again, again, again.

Until there was nothing left.

Nothing but a corpse.

Nothing but the suffocating, crushing weight in her chest.

Blood dripped from her hands, soaked into her clothes.

She should’ve felt something.

Relief. Satisfaction.

But all she felt was empty.

Her hands trembled as she backed away from the bed, heart hammering, breath ragged.

And then—

“Do it Se-mi.”

She froze.

That voice.

Her head snapped up, eyes darting across the room.

And there you were.

Standing in the shadows, your silhouette cast against the wall.

“Do it. Kill yourself.”

Se-mi’s breath hitched. Her vision blurred, her chest tightening.

“We can finally be together if you do it. You can’t live without me can you?”

Tears welled in her eyes.

No.

No, she couldn’t.

You were everything.

She took a step forward, reaching out taking your hand, taking her to where you died.

“Pick it up Se-mi.”

Her gaze fell to the ground.

The glass shard.

The same one Nam Gyu had driven into your body.

Her fingers curled around it, lifting it, the weight of it familiar, cold.

Her whole body shook as she brought it to her chest, right above her heart.

Her breathing steadied.

She closed her eyes.

“We can finally be together Y/N.”

And then—

…

The glass plunged into her heart.

A sharp, piercing pain spread through her chest, but she barely registered it. Her body swayed, blood dripping from her lips.

She smiled.

She could almost see you now.

Waiting for her.

The room spun.

Her knees buckled.

She collapsed onto the cold, bloodstained floor.

Her vision dimmed.

And then—

Darkness.

The morning announcement rang loud and clear.

“Player 380 and Played 124 has been eliminated.”

The guards moved efficiently, lifting her lifeless body and placing it into a pink coffin.

Another two numbers gone.

Another pile of money added.

And the games continued.

As if nothing ever happened.

As if you, Se-mi, and Nam gyu never existed at all.

@semisasseater

[saebyeokbliss]

ONCE MORE TO SEE YOU— PART XIV.

FINAL CHAPTER

synopsis: on a cold january day, you were worrying about the reason your girlfriend wasn’t texting back. when she finally does and asks to meet at your apartment, you’re met with heartbreak as she ends your relationship. no explanation. two years later, you run into her at a cafe with someone new. what are you to do?

warnings: fluff for once, nothing else

pairing: sae-byeok x fem!reader

The idea of going on an actual date with Sae-byeok felt surreal.

Not just because it had been years since you last did something like this together, but because now, after everything—the fights, the heartbreak, the pain—you were finally here. Together again.

It had been Sae-byeok’s idea.

After your shift at the diner, she had wiped her hands on a dish towel, leaned against the counter, and said, “You free tonight?”

You had blinked at her, caught off guard. “Uh… yeah?”

“Good,” she said, tossing her apron aside. “Come with me.”

And that’s how you ended up here—walking through the city at dusk, your hands brushing against hers as the neon lights flickered to life around you. You didn’t ask where she was taking you. You just followed, trusting her in a way that felt natural.

After a few blocks, she finally stopped in front of a small shop tucked between two larger buildings. Your breath hitched when you recognized it.

Your favorite bookstore.

The one you used to drag her to all the time, the one you had told her was your safe place.

You turned to her, eyes wide. “You remembered?”

Sae-byeok looked away, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets. “Of course I did,” she muttered. “You never shut up about it.”

You laughed, warmth blooming in your chest.

She remembered.

Even after all these years, after everything that had happened, she still remembered.

The moment you stepped inside, the familiar scent of old paper and fresh coffee wrapped around you like a warm embrace. The soft hum of a jazz record played in the background, and the dim, golden lighting made everything feel intimate, cozy.

It was exactly the way you remembered it.

Sae-byeok watched as you wandered through the shelves, trailing your fingers along the spines of books, a soft smile playing on your lips. She didn’t say much—just followed behind at a comfortable distance, watching you with something almost like awe.

She had seen you smile before—at Cheol, at Ji-yeong, at customers at the diner. But this?

This was different.

This was you, happy in a way that was entirely your own.

And damn it, she had missed that smile.

After a few minutes, you pulled a book from the shelf and turned to her, eyes sparkling. “This one,” you said excitedly. “This was my favorite.”

Sae-byeok glanced at the title, then shrugged. “Alright.”

Before you could ask what she meant, she took the book from you and walked toward the counter.

You blinked. “Wait, what—”

She ignored you, pulling out her wallet and handing over the cash without hesitation. The cashier rang it up, placing the book in a small paper bag before handing it to her.

When she turned back to you, she smirked at your stunned expression. “What?”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said, still caught off guard.

She shrugged. “I wanted to.”

And for Sae-byeok, that was enough.

After leaving the bookstore, you both ended up at the small café next door. It was quiet, tucked away from the busy streets, the perfect place to sit and just be.

Sae-byeok handed you your coffee before sitting across from you, her fingers wrapped around her own cup as she watched you flip through the pages of your new book.

She liked this.

Liked watching you get lost in something you loved. Liked the way you absentmindedly tucked your hair behind your ear as you read. Liked the way you glanced up at her every now and then, like you were making sure she was still there.

“I missed this,” you murmured after a moment, closing the book and setting it aside.

She raised an eyebrow. “The bookstore?”

You shook your head, meeting her gaze. “Us.”

Sae-byeok swallowed, looking down at her coffee. “Yeah,” she admitted quietly. “Me too.”

You reached across the table, your fingers brushing against hers. She hesitated for only a second before turning her hand over, letting your fingers intertwine.

Neither of you spoke.

You didn’t need to.

For the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

The walk back to your apartment was slow, unhurried. The city lights flickered above you, the distant hum of traffic filling the silence between you and Sae-byeok. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It was easy, the kind that settled between two people who didn’t need words to understand each other.

When you finally reached your door, you hesitated before turning to her.

“Do you… want to come in for a bit?” you asked, your voice soft. “We could watch a movie or something.”

Sae-byeok raised an eyebrow. “A movie?”

You shrugged, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You know, like normal couples do after a date.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes, but the faintest hint of a smirk played on her lips. “Fine.”

You both ended up curled on the couch, a soft blanket draped over the two of you as the movie played on the screen.

Sae-byeok had started out sitting stiffly beside you, but as the minutes passed, she slowly relaxed. At some point, you shifted, resting your head against her shoulder, and she didn’t move away.

Instead, she leaned into you—just a little.

The warmth of her body against yours was comforting, grounding. The kind of warmth you hadn’t realized you’d been missing until now.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but at some point, Sae-byeok’s head tilted slightly, resting gently against yours. Her breathing evened out, her body growing heavier against you.

She had fallen asleep.

You smiled sleepily, your eyes drifting closed as well.

And just like that, with the soft glow of the screen flickering over both of you, you let yourself fall asleep too—wrapped in warmth, in comfort, in her.

For the first time in years, neither of you had to worry about tomorrow.

For tonight, this was enough.

The subway was packed, as it always was during the late afternoon rush. You stood near the doors, one hand gripping the pole for balance, your mind still lingering on the night before.

Sae-byeok had fallen asleep on you.

You smiled to yourself at the memory—her body warm against yours, her soft breathing lulling you into sleep alongside her. When you woke up that morning, she had still been there, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, grumbling about how you should’ve woken her up.

She had kissed you before she left.

It was soft. Barely there. But it meant something.

And now, here you were, lost in the thought of her, the gentle sway of the subway car lulling you into a daze—until a voice pulled you back.

“Excuse me.”

You blinked, turning toward the sound.

A man in a suit sat across from you, a briefcase placed neatly beside him. His smile was polite. Familiar, in a way you couldn’t quite place.

He held up a red and blue folded paper tile in one hand.

“Would you like to play a game?”

You hesitated, glancing around as if to make sure he was really speaking to you.

The man’s smile didn’t waver. “It’s simple,” he said, holding up the tile. “We each take turns trying to flip the other’s ddakji. If you win, I’ll give you 100,000 won.”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly. “Wait, really?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

You eyed him, then the paper tile in his hand. There was something oddly formal about him—his suit was crisp, his hair perfectly styled, his demeanor calm yet purposeful.

But still, it seemed harmless enough.

You shrugged. “Alright. Why not?”

His smile widened.

He placed the blue tile on the ground between you, then handed you the red one. “You go first.”

You crouched down, gripping the ddakji before slamming it against the blue tile. It barely budged.

The man chuckled. “Not bad. Try again.”

You tried again. And again. Each time, the tile barely moved.

The salesman only smiled, picking up his own ddakji. “May I?”

You nodded, watching as he wound his arm back and snapped the tile down against yours with practiced precision.

The blue tile flipped instantly.

Your mouth parted slightly. “Damn.”

He let out a short laugh, sitting back. “We can go again, if you’d like.”

You smirked, determined now. “Yeah, okay.”

So you played again.

And again.

And again.

You lost every time.

But the salesman never seemed frustrated, never rushed you. He only smiled, encouraged you, and kept playing.

And slowly, without realizing it, you started winning.

After nearly twenty minutes, you finally flipped his tile.

You grinned, triumphant. “Ha! Finally!”

The salesman laughed, nodding approvingly. “Well done.”

True to his word, he pulled out a crisp 100,000 won bill and handed it to you.

You hesitated. “You were actually serious about the money?”

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “A deal is a deal.”

You took the bill, still slightly stunned.

Then, before you could say anything else, he reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a small, simple card.

He held it out to you.

“If you’d like to play more games for a much bigger prize,” he said, voice even, “call this number.”

You took the card, flipping it between your fingers.

A phone number.

And beneath it, a symbol.

○ △ □

You frowned, your thumb brushing over the strange shapes. “What kind of games?”

The salesman only smiled.

“You’ll find out if you call.”

The subway slowed to a stop. The doors slid open.

The man stood, grabbing his briefcase. “It was a pleasure playing with you,” he said, stepping onto the platform.

You watched him walk away, disappearing into the crowd.

Then you looked down at the card again.

○ △ □

Something about it sent a shiver down your spine.

But you ignored it.

After all, it was just a game.

Right?

taglist: @monroesturnns@everly-summers-solace@holyshtimgay@knfthxv@delfinadolphin@madebysae@jetaimeeeee@m0rtifiedg0th@katieschry1@erika-mon2-blog@tcvazq

[babybeeelle]

Hiii, long time no see. I was writing a different story, but I wasn't satisfied in the direction it was going so this just spouted from my brain. This was based off a request, but I'm dramatic so I amplified it :)

Summary - When Agatha's grief causes her to lash out at the reader, she hurts them deeply.

Warnings - Agatha needs therapy, mention of self-harm scars, near-death experiences, and detailed? suicide attempt.

Word count : 4400+

a/n - Very important Warnings. The is a very detailed fic. Please please please read them and make a safe decision to continue reading💖

What's Said and Done

You didn't intend for your reminiscing of Nicky to trigger Agatha the way it did. You had hoped that maybe the decades upon decades spent grieving together created a safe space to talk about the short, but treasured time you all had with Nicky. You craved to fill the hole his death left with the precious memories that had filled your heart with joy. You wanted that for Agatha. You wanted to mend the corrupted memory of him. He deserved to be cherished.

It was obvious now Agatha couldn't. You knew that unadulterated grief that was entangled into her loving soul very well. You thought her forgiving Rio, inviting her back into her heart after two centuries, meant that she was in a stage of grief where she would want to talk about him.

You had so many memories of Nicky etched into your heart, moments that glowed like a lighthouse in the violent weather of grief.

The day he first came into your lives, his tiny hands were gripping tightly to your fingers as Agatha held him, and his wide, curious eyes darted around the unfamiliar space in the bedroom of the little cottage you shared.

Rio had been cautious at first. Viewing his birth from the door frame, knowing she was going to be the one who would lead him to the afterlife before he could truly live.

Yes, she created him, but she also knew the possible complications of creating a precious life unnaturally. But when Agatha looked at her, tears brimming in her eyes as she nodded her head, she could see Agatha was thankful for giving her the time he deserved. To Rio, the pain would be worth it.

Anyone could tell Nicholas was made from Rio. The resemblance was uncanny as he grew older. His facial structure mirrored hers perfectly, from his sharp jawline to the delicate angles of his cheekbones. His eyes a warm chocolate, filled with mischief, were identical to hers. Even down to the smile lines that shined so brightly with his perfect smile. He truly was a mirror image.

There were the little everyday moments that had became everything.

Rio kneeling in the backyard, dirt smudged on her cheek as she pressed her hands to the soil, coaxing life from the earth. Nicky crouched beside her, his tiny fingers buried in the dirt, eyes wide with awe as delicate petals bloomed before him. Every time a new bloom appeared, he’d clap his hands and turn to Agatha with Rio's smile.

Then there were the nights Agatha loved most. She would sit on the edge of his bed, her hands glowing with a soft purple light as galaxies lit across his bedroom ceiling. Stars twinkled, planets drifted in slow, mesmerizing orbits, casting his room in a cosmic glow. Nicky’s small hands would reach up, tracing constellations only he could see, his laughter light and full of wonder.

It was all the things Agatha didn't want to remember.

Her shoulders stiffened while she was putting away laundry. “Why?” Agatha asked finally, her voice low and clipped.

You frowned, caught off guard by her tone. Feeling the sudden change in energy, you began to rub your scarred arm, a self-soothing habit you picked up when you began to feel on edge. “Why what?”

“Why do you have to bring him up?” she said, halting the chores. She turned to face you as you stood beside her. Her eyes were trained on yours, unwilling to break eye contact. “Do you think that helps? Reliving every little memory like it’s going to bring him back?”

The words stung, but you took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay calm. “I don’t bring him up to hurt you, Agatha. I just... I miss him. I thought maybe we could talk about the good times, try to focus on—”

“On what?” Agatha snapped, her voice rising. “On how he was never ours to keep him? How we couldn't heal him? On how everything we tried wasn’t enough?” She slammed her hand on the dresser in agitation causing you to jump, eyes-widened as your breath was caught in your throat from surprise. “Because that’s all I see when I think of him.”

Your heart clenched as you watched her unravel, the grief in her voice morphing into anger. “It wasn’t your fault, Agatha,” you said quietly reaching out for her hand. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head as she avoided your touch, crossing her arms defensively. “Of course you’d say that. You always have to be the understanding one, don’t you? Always so composed, so...forgiving”

Her words hit like a slap, but she was being unfair. “You’re not the only one who lost him, Agatha. I lost him too. And Rio—”

“Don’t,” Agatha interrupted, her voice cutting through the room. “Don’t you dare bring her into this.”

The tension between you thickened as your shared grief and unresolved pain collided.

“Why not?” you challenged, ready to defend. “She loved him too. We all did. And maybe it’s hard for you to see, but she’s been trying, Agatha. She’s been trying to make things right with you.”

Agatha's lips curling into a bitter smile. “Trying?” she repeated mockingly. “Trying to what? Pretend like everything’s fine? Pretend like she didn’t—”

“Like she didn’t what?” you demanded as you cut her off, beginning to believe she had never truly forgiven Rio. “Say it, Agatha. Whatever it is you’ve been holding in, just say it.”

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her body trembling with fury. “Like she didn't take him from us. He’s gone, and all you can do is sit there and talk about him like that’s going to fix anything.”

You stared at her, a silent conformation of your theory. "It wasn't her fault and you know it. He was our boy too," you whispered in defeat. You weren't sure if she had even heard you. But her response showed you she did.

"It wasn't her fault?"

But before you could respond, she delivered the blow that shattered your soul.

“He was never your son,” she said, her voice sharp as she looked at you like you were nothing to her. “Not you. Not Rio's. He was my son. I'm the only one that did anything and everything to keep him alive, and here you are defending Rio like you always do,” she spat out with a sneering expression.

The words hit you hard. You felt physically sick. Your breathing was shallow like Agatha's words were constricting your lungs.

“No,” You protested, your voice breaking. Your eyebrows scrunched as your eyes shone with tears, searching Agatha’s face, desperate for any sign that the woman you loved hadn’t truly meant those words. “You don’t mean that."

Agatha’s expression hardened leveling down to look you straight in the eyes. “I mean it from the bottom of my heart,” she seethed, annunciating every word. “God, I can’t even look at you. It's pathetic. You have no right to be crying right now.” Pushing past you, she walked to the door like your very presence disgusted her.

You staggered back a step, clutching the edge of the dresser to steady yourself. Your tears fell freely now.

“Where are you going?” You asked, your voice thick from crying, inadvertently pleading for her to stay.

“Anywhere but here,” Agatha bit without looking back.

With that, she stormed out, her footsteps echoing down the stairs. The back door slammed shut moments later, leaving the house in a suffocating silence.

Letting the dam crumble, you clasped your chest, trying to ease the ache that felt like it was tearing you apart from the inside.

Your legs seemed to move on their own, carrying you to the bathroom in a haze.

As you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, the reflection staring back at you felt foreign, like someone you barely recognized. You searched your own face for something, anything, that might explain why you weren’t enough. Why Agatha couldn’t bear to look at you.

"How could anyone love you?" that dark, familiar voice in the back of your mind whispered. It had been gone for a while, but it has returned making its mission to demolish all the progress you've made.

You gripped the edge of the sink so tightly that your knuckles were turning white. Agatha's words echoed endlessly.

"He was never your son." "Not you. Not Rio. He was mine."

The venom in her voice, the disgust in her eyes—how could she say something like that? How could she not see how much you loved him, how you would've given everything if it meant saving him?

You couldn't wrap your head around it. She couldn't actually think that of you, right?

The intrusive thoughts came in waves, each one dragging you deeper into despair.

"She doesn’t want you anymore. She'd be better off without you. Rio too." You squeezed your eyes shut, as though it could stop the endless spiral.

The thought of Rio did it for you. Rio’s face flickered into your mind. Her eyes, usually filled with warmth, was devoid of any love for you. She's death, literally. She is a cosmic being, and you are so...ordinary. You didn't have a sharp, captivating aura like Agatha who demanded anyone and everyone's attention the second she walks into a room.

Your love wasn't worth all the pain. You weren't worth all the pain. You're a burden to them.

The weight of those thoughts pressed down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. You needed both of them. There was already a piece of your heart missing, but Agatha and Rio kept your heart from crumbling. You wouldn't survive that pain again.

You glanced down at the sink, where droplets of water had leaked from the faucet. For a moment, you began to visualize your arm as the faucet, slowly leaking blood.

Your gaze shifted back to the mirror. The self-hatred hit you like a tidal wave. How could they love you? Agatha’s words weren’t just anger—they were confirmation of your deepest and darkest fears. That they didn't need you the way you needed them.

The familiar ache in your chest morphed into a dangerous mission. You opened the drawer beneath the sink, your trembling hands rummaging through its contents until they found what they were looking for. You hesitated for a moment, pausing as you were unsure if this is what you wanted. You had been so good, so happy. Then you remembered what your reality had shifted to.

It was a little purple jewelry box. It once held the ring on your finger from a day you'd never forget. A vow of a love that would be everlasting. But as you opened the box and found the blade hidden within, none of that mattered anymore.

Freeing it from the packaging, you noticed it still had the same sharpness from the last time you used it, and the glint made your stomach twist in anticipation.

The blade felt cool and familiar in your hand as you slowly sank into the cold, empty tub, the icy surface sending a chill down your spine. You hesitated again, gripping it tightly, the thoughts racing through your mind almost convincing you to stop. But one reason kept you convinced: you were doing this for them. This way, you could take the burden of yourself off their shoulders. You were doing them a favor.

With a shaky exhale, you glided the blade lightly across the center of your arm, testing the waters. The first cut was a shallow line that only allowed little bubbles of blood to come to the surface, but the sting grounded you nonetheless.

With more urgency, you pressed down harder, carving another line into your skin. Blood welled up, slowly making its way down your arm like a raindrop rolling down a window.

Taking a deep breath in, you moved the blade down to your wrist where you knew the blood would really flow. As you exhaled, face scrunched, you swiped quick and deep, finally getting to the point where you knew you did damage.

But it wasn’t enough. You craved balance, symmetry. You mirrored the cuts on your other arm, your movements growing more frantic, wanting you're relief to come faster. The tears flowed in rhythm with your blood, causing a hysterical laugh to escape from your throat.

Your vision swam as exhaustion began to set in, your body growing heavy. The pain that had once felt grounding now dulled, your consciousness blurred. It never really dawned on you who would be coming soon.

On cue, a familiar presence filled the room. The usual warmth was now an unwelcoming cold. Her usually composed demeanor was gone, replaced by wide-eyed panic as she took in the scene before her.

“No, no, no, no,” Rio panicked, her voice raw and breaking as she kneeled beside the tub. Her hands were trembling as they hovered over your wounds.

“You can’t do this to me. I won't do it. I refuse to take you,” she cried out in anguish as tears streamed down her face, denying her duty as Death, denying the natural order.

Her hands glowed a faint green as she pressed her palms to your arms. A tingling warmth spread through the cuts, knitting the torn flesh back together. She murmured soft reassurances under her breath, though they were as much for herself as they were for you. Her power wasn’t meant for this, for preventing death, but she gave freely of herself, pouring every ounce of her strength into pulling you back from the edge. The strain showed in her creased forehead, but she fought against it because her heart depended on it.

When the bleeding finally stopped, Rio sagged back on her heels, her hands trembling as the adrenaline drained from her body. Her breath came in uneven gasps, her pulse pounding in her ears. She stared at you, her vision blurring with a mixture of relief and pain.

Carefully, as though you might shatter at the slightest touch, she reached out and gathered you into her arms. Your body was limp against her, your head lolling weakly onto her shoulder. She could feel the shallow rise and fall of your chest—too faint, too fragile—but you were breathing. That was enough.

She pressed a trembling kiss against your temple, her lips barely grazing your skin as she carried you from the bathroom. Each step was slow, deliberate, as though she feared moving too quickly would send you slipping away from her again.

By the time she laid you down on the bed, the world around you was a hazy blur, shifting in and out of focus. The weight beneath you felt unfamiliar—softer than the cold tub, warmer than the tile floor. A distant pressure tugged at your limbs, grounding you, but your thoughts drifted in a fog. Sounds came muffled, like you were underwater.

Rio’s voice, low and strained, broke through the haze. You couldn't make out the words, only the shape of them, the warmth in them. Then she was gone, footsteps fading, leaving you adrift in the silence.

A moment later, something soft slipped over your head. The scent of lavender and something faintly smoky curled into your nose, stirring something deep in your chest. A trembling breath left your lips, the familiarity of it pulling you back, dragging you closer to the surface of awareness.

Your lip quivered. A whimper—barely more than a breath—escaped before you even realized it. The sweater clung to your skin, warm and safe, and for the first time since your body hit the tile, the numbness began to crack.

“What is it?” Rio asked urgently, cupping your face with her hands, searching your face for any signs of pain or discomfort. “What’s wrong?”

Tears welled in your eyes, spilling over as you whispered, still dazed, “She doesn’t want us anymore.”

Rio froze, her heart dropping at the words and the hopelessness in your voice.

She cupped your face, her thumbs brushing away the tears that continued to fall while she forced herself to stay calm, to steady her voice. “That’s not true,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. “Agatha loves you. She loves us. She’s just... hurting.”

You shook your head weakly, your gaze unfocused, lost in the thick fog of exhaustion and heartbreak. "She said it. She said... he wasn't ours, only hers. She doesn't want us.” Your voice cracked, breaking on the last sentence. “She doesn’t want us.” Your words grew softer, fading into incoherent murmurs as exhaustion pulled you under.

Seeing you like this brought bile up. Your pain was making her physically nauseous. Rio’s arms wrapped around you tightly, as though sheer force alone could keep you from slipping away again. “She’s lost in her grief,” she said softly, resting her chin on top of your head. “She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t.”

But your eyes were already fluttering closed, exhaustion and despair pulling you into an empty, restless sleep. As your breathing evened out, Rio stayed by your side, her hand resting on yours.

For a long moment, she simply sat there, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. She leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

She wanted to believe Agatha hadn’t meant it, that the words had been spat out in grief and anger, not truth. But seeing you like this—weak, barely conscious, drowning in the pain Agatha had inflicted—made it impossible to excuse.

“She’s lost in her grief. She didn't mean it," Rio murmured again, this time to herself.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The argument replayed in Agatha’s mind as she sat on the bench, viewing the garden Rio created centuries ago as the cool night air brushing against her skin. Her fingers pressed against her temple, rubbing slow, desperate circles as if she could knead away the headache forming beneath her skull.

She took a swig from the half-empty beer bottle, the taste flat and useless to distract her from the ache in her chest. Her words had been cruel, sharp-edged daggers thrown in anger. "He was never your son. Not you, not Rio. He was my son." The memory of your devastated expression was seared into her mind.

She’d meant it in the moment. Or at least, she’d convinced herself she did. Grief over Nicky had festered into something raw and ugly, and in her anguish, she had taken it out on you—the person who had only ever tried to love her through her faults. Your love was pure.

While Nicky had inherited little of your features, what you had given him was more personal than any resemblance. Your ability to love someone regardless of their past and all the terrible things they've done is one of a kind. Agatha was sure there was no one who could ever grace this world the way you did. That was what made you stronger than any power she or Rio could ever possess.

But that purity was suffocating. It was too much like his. It was like he had never left. And yet, he was gone.

That was the worst part. Every time she looked at you, at Rio, it was a reminder of what she had lost. Of what she could never get back.

It wasn’t fair that you and Rio were still here with her when he wasn’t. It wasn’t fair that you kept loving her, even after all the ways she pushed you away. It wasn’t fair that you could carry on, bearing his memory with softness, while she was drowning in the weight of it.

Maybe that was why she lashed out. Because she hated that you were proof love could survive grief. And she hated herself even more for resenting you for it.

But now, in the openness of the garden, regret gnawed at her, eating her alive. She wished she could take it back, wished she could go back in time to undo the pain she’d caused. She hated herself for how easily the words had slipped out, sharp and unforgiving. It was a defense second nature to her. It was as unstoppable as her magic siphoning. It relented before she could remember that the people she lashed out at were the ones she loved most.

The sound of the back door slamming and heavy footsteps jolted her from her thoughts.

Agatha shot to her feet, as she carelessly discarded the bottle she had been nursing. She turned sharply, her heart hammering against her ribs as Rio strode toward her. The guilt and sorrow clung to Agatha like a shadow, but Rio wasn’t here to acknowledge her pain. This wasn’t about her.

She didn’t speak at first, only stood before Agatha, her entire body trembling with a rage barely containable as she tried to formulate her words carefully. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths, her fists curling so tightly at her sides that her knuckles went white.

Agatha froze. The half-empty bottle hung uselessly at her side, momentarily forgotten. Her gaze flickered toward Rio, taking in the rigid set of her shoulders, the barely restrained fury rolling off of her in waves. Then Agatha saw it—dark stains smeared across Rio’s hands, stark against her skin. The realization hit her like ice water.

Your blood.

Her stomach twisted violently. She felt the breath hitch in her throat as her gaze snapped back to Rio’s face. The rage was still there, burning bright, but beneath it—buried just deep enough to go unnoticed by anyone else—was fear.

“You know what you’ve caused?” Rio’s voice was low and deadly, trembling with restrained rage.

Agatha swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “I—”

Rio cut Agatha off before she could try to explain. “Do you know what Y/N tried to do because of you?” The words were spit through clenched teeth, but her voice cracked on your name.

“What... what-” she stammered. Once again, getting cut off.

“She thought you didn’t want her anymore. That you didn’t want us anymore.” Rio’s composure shattered, her breath coming in ragged bursts. “Do you have any idea what it felt like to find the love of our lives bleeding out in that tub? Because of you? Because you let your grief fester into something that poisoned her?”

Rio’s hands trembled as she dragged them through her hair, her breath coming in sharp, angry heaves. Then, suddenly, as if overwhelmed by the weight of it all, she pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes and let out a harsh, shuddering breath.

Agatha couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Her vision swam, your face flashing in her mind—not the way she had last seen it, but the way it looked utterly lifeless

Tears welled in her eyes, her hands trembling as she clutched at the edge of the bench for support. “I... I didn’t know,” she choked out, her voice barely a whisper.

Rio dropped her hands, her gaze snapping to Agatha with something close to disbelief. Then she laughed, humorless and bitter. “You didn’t know?” she echoed, voice raw. “How could you not know, Agatha? Don’t give me that pathetic reasoning, Agatha. You know her more than you know yourself. You know how deeply she feels everything. Love. Pain. And now she thinks you hate her.”

Agatha’s tears spilled over, her chest heaving with the weight of her guilt. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I just... I didn’t know how to deal with it. I didn’t know how to-.”

Rio’s expression softened for a fleeting moment, the raw pain in Agatha’s panic stirring something deep within her. But she quickly steeled herself, unwilling to let sympathy distract her from the truth.

"You need to fix this." Her words were quiet. Firm. And final.

Agatha blinked through the blur of tears. She hadn't felt this type of fear since Nicky.

“If you’ve ever loved her, if you’ve ever loved us, then you’ll make this right,” Rio said filled with tiredness and desperation. “Because if you don’t, you’ll lose us both.”

Agatha’s breath hitched.

Rio’s words hung in the air like a heavy, suffocating fog. Without waiting for a response, she turned and strode back inside, the door swinging shut behind her with a thud.

She had been so consumed by her own grief that she hadn’t realized she had become the very thing she had feared, the thing that had broken you.

Agatha stood there in stunned silence, her mind reeling. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed into the dirt of the garden, her fingers dug into the soil as though it could somehow anchor her to the ground. The weight of Rio’s words crashed over her like a tidal wave, and for the first time, the full gravity of her actions hit her.

Her guilt twisted like a knife in her gut. Her sobs were quiet at first, but soon they grew louder, wracking her body with the force of hardened grief. Her pain pulsed around her, a sickness that spread without forgiveness. Her gaze darted around, watching in anguish as the pink azaleas she had once tended with such care now wilting, their petals curling in on themselves as if recoiling from her presence. The energy emanating from her twisted the life around her, black veins creeping up the stems, the poison of her emotions seeping into the earth.

Just like she had seeped into you. It was a silent parallel of how she had poisoned you.

The thought made her sick.

She had always known that her anger and pain had pushed you and Rio away, but she hadn’t realized just how far it had gone until now. The fear that she might lose both you and Rio, it was too much to bear. And for the first time, the full weight of her actions hit her, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She didn’t know how to fix it, how to undo the damage she’d done. But she knew one thing for certain: if she didn’t try, she would lose you both. And that was a price she couldn’t afford to pay.

[judesmoonbeauty]

A Day With Jude Jazza: Chapter Three "16:00 Negotiations at Twilight"

Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

[Ellis POV]

Jeweler Man: And so, this is…..

After the three of us had eaten lunch, Kate was escorted back to the company, and I joined Jude for a business meeting.

(I’m just standing at the back but….)

From the view behind Jude, who’s sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed while smoking a cigarette, 

Those who know him, can see that he finds the situation annoying—.

Jude: My company recognizes the superior quality of the gemstones your company handles, 

Jude: Therefore, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to look over the products, if I may?

His fluent Queen’s English is a far cry from the usual Jude.

Jeweler Man: Certainly, here are the newest pieces that have just been completed.

When the man calls out, a person appears with a tray in hand, and places the products on the table. 

All of the various accessories that were superbly designed were decorated with colorful jewels.

Suddenly, Jude reached for a single necklace.

Jeweler Man: This one is made with a moonstone, and due to it being a delicate stone, we left it simple without much polishing.

(Somehow, it resembles Kate.)

The milky-white moonstone emits a soft light, giving a gentle impression. 

I didn’t miss the moment Jude’s profile softened as he gazed at it.

(Oh, he’s thinking about Kate now.)

Since they started dating, Jude looks kind from time to time.

I realized that he was thinking of Kate, because he has the same expression as he does when he looks at her from behind. 

Jeweler Man: Please take it, if it pleases you.

Jude: Hm? 

Jeweler Man: As a token of appreciation for the opportunity to do business with Raven.

As Jude hesitates, I discreetly whisper from behind.

Ellis: I think it suits Kate.

He glared so hard at me that I could’ve heard it, so I kept my mouth shut…..

Jude: ….I’d like to take this one, but I’ll pay for it.

Jude: To build a better relationship from here on.

That’s what he says, but I get it.

(It seems like he doesn’t want to give Kate something without doing anything for it.)

He has a strong sense of duty, that’s just how it is. 

(But I’m sure it’ll suit her and she’ll be happy.)

After watching the man rise from his seat to package the necklace, Jude then turns around.

Jude: What’re ya grinnin’ ‘bout, it’s creepy.

(Jude probably doesn’t realize it.)

Whenever he thinks of Kate, his expression softens.

Ellis: No, it’s nothing.

Jude: …..Tch.

(So, until the time Kate notices.)

Until then, I’ll keep playing dumb.

[Event Master list] [Next - ⏱♡ 18:00 - Night Raid: Jude POV]

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