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wobblingjello · 22 days ago

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Shadows of His Past

Summary: Spencer had a routine he always did on Maeve’s death anniversary. Lost in his own grief, something, or rather, someone, completely slipped out of his mind. You. He was hyper-focused in his grief that he hurt you in the process.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5111 (This is now officially the longest fanfic I’ve ever written!!!)

Author Notes: This fanfic was born from one line that stuck in my head for days: “Do I have to compete with her for a place in your heart my entire life?” I’m clearly not an expert on the language of flowers. I simply read people’s blogs/articles about flowers and their meanings as I wrote this. Sorry for any inaccuracy.

In the last two months, you’ve noticed that Spencer has been acting a bit off. It became more noticeable every time you spent the night at his apartment. You’d find him standing in front of the bookshelf, simply staring at his collection, or maybe one certain book, you weren’t entirely sure. Yet he never actually took anything off of the bookshelf. He clenched his fists, as if he restrained himself from reaching out to that book. After a few moments, he’d usually go to a different part of the apartment; either it was the kitchen or the bedroom. You didn’t know if he was even aware of what he was doing, and you didn’t know the reason he did that either.

Knowing that something bothered him but didn’t know how to help him irritated you. One night, you’ve had enough of this behavior, so you pulled him to the couch, and confronted him. You could tell that he was taken aback by the question — proving your suspicion that he wasn’t aware of his actions. He didn’t answer immediately, but you knew his big brain was running its gears to form an answer for you.

“It’s almost Maeve’s death anniversary.” His voice was shaky, and it was barely audible.

That was the only response you got from him, before he buried his face in the palm of his hands. You didn’t know what kind of answer you expected from him, but that was entirely off the table. You weren’t sure what to do, but you offered him a hug. The moment you pulled him to your embrace, he immediately held you close. As if he was afraid he’d lose you.

One of the first things he had brought up when you two started dating was how his job could possibly be a danger to the people in his life. The people he loved. That was also the day he first ever mentioned a woman named Maeve, who tragically had been murdered by her stalker, right in front of him. Possibly the first woman he ever loved.

You didn’t think much of it when he told you about her. Didn’t even think she was still relevant to the relationship you had with him right now, because it’s been years since it happened anyway. Right?

A week after Spencer told you about Maeve however, when his female colleagues invited you for a girls night’s out, you instantly said yes — thinking it could be the perfect opportunity to ask them about her. After the second round of drinks, you mustered up the courage to ask them about her. Once the question left your mouth, you were greeted by an uncomfortable silence. You clearly had put them in the hot seat, and most likely ruined the night. They hesitated to tell you, afraid that it wasn’t their place to share the story. You encouraged them that it was alright, that Spencer had already told you, you just wanted to know the story from their perspectives.

So, they eventually told you everything they knew about Maeve, which was pretty much the same things Spencer had told you. However, they revealed that what happened to her greatly affected him mentally and emotionally. Which at some point also clouded his judgment in the field. It took him weeks to seek out help from the team, and another weeks to give himself a proper closure. The topic surrounding her and the relationship with Spencer seemed to be more sensitive than you let yourself to believe.

The sound of a muffled cry brought you back to the present. You were so lost in your own head you didn’t even realize that Spencer was crying. You tried to sooth him as best as you could; one hand rubbing his back in gentle motion and the other hand brushing his curls. At one point, you managed to convince him to call it a night. That night you slept with his hands tightly wrapped around you, like he needed proof that you were real.

The next day, you wanted to ask him when exactly her death anniversary was, but he didn’t even try to give you a further explanation, so you went along with him. Pretending that the conversation from the night before had never happened in the first place.

Days, weeks, passed by since that night, and things have returned to normal. At least, that was what you wanted to believe. Both of you still communicated like you two normally would. He still informed you when he was about to travel for a case or when he was about to go home. From time to time, you still spent the night at his place, or him at yours. It was just that both of you carefully avoided the subject altogether.

One day, the buzzing sound from your phone wouldn’t stop. There were dozens of texts in the group chat. The one group chat that consisted of you and Spencer’s female colleagues. You were overjoyed when they added you to the group chat — how they considered you as one of them. However, today, as you read through the texts, you felt… confused? They were talking about going to another state to catch yet another bad guy, guessing who they’d share the room with, etcetera.

You were confused because you received no text from Spencer that indicated those things. No, scratch that. You received no text from him at all. You thought he was busy juggling piles of case files, thus he hadn’t responded to your text, but apparently that wasn’t what was happening.

You tried to send him another text before putting your phone aside. Trying to ignore the unsettling feeling in your gut, and getting back to your work.

By lunch time, you still hadn’t heard anything from Spencer, and you began to worry. A bit desperate for an answer, you made a phone call to Penelope.

“Hey, sweetness. It’s always a great time when you call. A distraction that I need. Anyway, do you need anything?” She sounded like her usual cheerful self on the other side of the line.

“Hey, Penny. Um, it may sound weird, but I wonder if you happen to know where Spencer is? I haven’t heard from him all day.”

“Oh. I don’t think I’m the right person to tell you about it, hun.”

“Will you please tell me what’s going on? I won’t be mad at you. If he’s going to be mad at you for telling me, then it’s his problem with me. I promise.” Considering what’s been going on between you two, you didn’t like the implication that he hid something from you.

She went silent for a moment. Probably contemplating her choices. Then you heard her sighing. “Every year, on this day, Reid always takes a day off. Today’s Maeve’s death anniversary.”

Your heart dropped to the bottom of your stomach. You vaguely heard Penelope’s worried voice through the phone, but you barely registered what she said after that. Her previous words echoed in your mind — played over and over, like a broken record.

Every year…

He takes a day off…

Today’s Maeve’s death anniversary…

You didn’t even remember how you ended that phone call. All you could remember was the pain that grew in your heart.

As reality started to kick in, a bitter laugh escaped your lips. Knowing how demanding his job was, you two rarely made a plan for dates. Your dates always revolved around his day off. Even on your birthday, you only received a phone call because he was miles away solving a crime. Meanwhile he willingly took a day off, to do God knew what, on his almost ex-girlfriend’s death anniversary?

What did he do that he needed an entire day off? Did he visit her grave? Where was he now?

You had so many questions, yet you didn’t have any idea how to communicate with Spencer, when he hadn’t responded to any of your previous texts.

The rest of your day went on a blur after that phone call with Penelope.

---

Even after years had passed, waking up on this day never got any easier. The moment Spencer opened his eyes, everything that happened that day flashed before his eyes as if it just occurred yesterday. Then the guilt would follow close after. As he laid on his bed, he constantly asked himself the same question; was there something he could’ve done differently in order to save her?

Every year, today, he’d do the same routine. He’d start his day by reading “The Narrative of John Smith”, the book she gave him. At this point, he had completely memorized every word page by page. He didn’t really mind, because this was the only thing he had left of her. If he normally could read 20,000 words per minute, he took his time when reading this one. He wanted to completely immerse himself in the memory of her.

When he was done reading the book, he’d take a ride. His first stop was a florist, where he always bought 2 bouquets of flowers for different purposes. Beth, the lovely elderly woman who owned the place, would have the bouquets ready for him when he arrived. She knew Spencer would stop by to get the bouquets every year on this day.

Once the bouquets were secured, he drove to his next destination; the crime scene. He put the first bouquet at the entrance of the loft. After the first year of Maeve’s death anniversary, he learned that her parents went to her grave around noon, hence he opted to go to this place first. Spencer would stay in his parked car, pull out the “The Narrative of John Smith” book from his messenger bag, then read it again for an hour or two, before finally driving to the cemetery.

There was a bouquet at her grave when he arrived, definitely from her parents. He put his bouquet next to it. He’d stay there, and simply talk to her. Over the years, he’d tell her the same things. To this day, aside from the fact he failed to save her, his other regret was he didn’t get the chance to tell her how he felt. He knew that Maeve was smart enough to realize that him saying he didn’t love her was part of the plan, but he wished he didn’t have to do that. He wished for the alternative outcome where she was alive, and he could tell her how he felt in person. He’d apologize for what happened to her, how he couldn’t save her, asked her if she had forgiven him, and asked if it was okay to forgive himself.

He felt lighter when he drove home. Usually he’d try to recall their phone call conversations. How Maeve laughed when he attempted to make terrible jokes, how she often made intellectual puns, or how she sounded like when she told him that she loved him. It scared him that someday he would forget the sound of her voice.

The sun had already set by the time he was back to his place. Spencer was exhausted and starving. The last time he had meals was before he left his apartment. He’d make himself a quick dinner, then get ready for bed. He was about to get a few ingredients from the fridge, when he saw it; a bottle of juice he usually didn’t drink. Odd. Then the realization hit him like a ton of bricks . That was your favorite juice that he stocked in his fridge for you.

Shit.

He quickly pulled his phone from his pocket and turned it on. Once it was on, Spencer noticed tons of texts and calls from you and surprisingly Garcia too.

He had completely forgotten about you.

You [09:47 AM]: Hey, genius. Are you heading somewhere or stuck in Quantico doing paperwork today? You [11:29 AM]: Spence, are you okay? I haven’t heard anything from you. You miscalled (3) You [04:31 PM]: Can you at least tell me that you’re okay? You miscalled (2)

Garcia [01:15 PM]: Your girl found out through the ladies group chat that the team headed to San Francisco today. She asked me about you because she couldn’t reach you. I’m so sorry.

The last call from you was one and half hours ago. He grabbed his bag and car key, then in an instant went out of his apartment again. Before he started the car engine, he tried to call you once but it went straight to voicemail.

Garcia miscalled (2)

Garcia [04:26 PM]: Please call her back. She’s worried about you.

How could he be so ignorant?

The fact that you had called him out for his odd behaviors lately was bad enough, then you found out the significance of today from someone else. Not from him. That felt like a punch to his face. You were kind enough for not forcing him to explain everything to you immediately that night. No, you tolerated him enough to not bring up that topic again. He should’ve told you sooner.

On his way to your place, his brain ran a mile a minute; thinking of what would be the best explanation to give you. At this point he knew his explanation would probably sound like an excuse to you, but he’d still try. If you wouldn’t listen to him today, then he’d try again, and again, and again.

Once Spencer parked his car, he realized he didn’t know if you were even home. There was still a probability that you were somewhere else. He remembered how you once stayed the night at Garcia’s place when you weren’t feeling well, and he was unfortunately away for a case — you could be at her place again. Now that he was standing in front of your door, however, he could vaguely hear the sound from your TV. He released a sigh of relief. You were here. He could do this.

He knocked on your door twice — you didn’t answer. The sound from your TV was gone. He tried knocking again. Still no answer.

“Sweetheart. I know you’re in there. Can we please talk?” He pleaded as he rested his head on your door.

Silence.

The silence stretched too long for his liking. He tried knocking again. He didn’t want to give up on you. On this relationship.

Then he heard a shout from inside the apartment. “Just go away, Spencer! I don’t want to talk to you!”

Even through the door, he recognized the hurt in your voice. He hated that he caused that pain. You were alone inside your apartment, hurting, and it was because of him.

Determined, he simply had to try again. “You don’t have to talk, if you aren’t up for it. I just need you to listen to my explanation. Please.”

He heard footsteps coming his way, and he allowed a tiny hope blooming in his chest. You opened the door, and the sight of you made his heart shattered instantly. Your eyes were red and puffy, the unmistakable proof that you were crying. Spencer was furious at himself, looking at the undeniable evidence that he caused that. He wanted to caress your cheeks so badly, and to tell you that everything would be fine, that you both would be fine. But he restrained himself from doing so. How could he? When he was the source of your distress to begin with.

“Babe—”

“I’m tired, Spence.” Your voice was hoarse, definitely from the crying. “I don’t want to deal with any of this now. Just go home.”

You didn’t entirely turn down his effort to make it up to you, he’d take that. So he tried a different approach. “I’m helping the team from Quantico, so if you’re up to have the discussion tomorrow, or any day really, just let me know.” He eventually reached for your hand, and the tiny hope from earlier grew a bit bigger when you didn’t flinch at his touch. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you like this.”

“Good night, Spence.” You let his hand go, and closed the door on his face.

---

When Spencer woke up the next day, he couldn’t shake the guilt that lingered within him. The look on your face kept replaying in his mind like a movie. You looked so broken and defeated — a far cry from your usual bubbly self. He felt sick to his stomach knowing he did that to you. If he had to spend the rest of his life making up to you, then he’d do exactly that.

As he walked out of his bedroom to get ready for work, he checked his phone, and no text from you. Understandable. After all, he ignored you all day yesterday, why would you text him today?

Before he left his apartment though, he texted you.

Spencer [07:18 AM]: Hey, sweetheart. I know that you’re still mad at me. Rightfully so. But let me know if we can meet up today. I want to properly explain everything to you. I love you.

As he stepped into the bullpen, he immediately walked to Garcia’s office. It’d be more efficient if they assisted the team together from her office. After he knocked on the door, he didn’t bother to wait for an answer, he just walked right in. He was hoping for the usual witty greetings from her, but the moment she saw him, her expression was a mix of sadness, worry, and perhaps pity.

“Oh, Reid.”

Knowing what she was probably about to say, he held his hand up to stop her. “Let’s not talk about that, yeah?”

Having his mind occupied with the case was the distraction that he needed. However, Spencer couldn’t help himself from checking his phone every now and then, in case you texted him. You didn’t. He could feel Garcia’s stare every time he checked his phone, but he didn’t really pay attention to it.

He appreciated her for granting his wish to not talk about his personal life, and they were strictly discussing anything work related. Although, he knew she was dying to say something; asking him how you were, had he apologized, or something.

Ever since Spencer introduced you to the team, they instantly adored you. Of course they were. How could they not? You were kind, funny, smart, and beautiful. They told him that the two of you were a perfect match, but also joked that you were too good for him. That wasn’t wrong, because for him, you were perfect. To this day, he couldn’t believe the fact that you two were dating.

If the rest of the team easily welcomed you, then Garcia practically adopted you as her sister. He had lost count how many times you had lunch with her when the team was away. You once joked that you were actually in a relationship with her, and not him. He didn’t really mind, in fact, he was glad knowing you could share such a bond with one of the people he considered family.

Frankly, he wasn’t even surprised that Garcia told you the significance of yesterday for him. Spencer might know her longer, but you were her chosen sister. He also understood that she had no ill intention when she informed you. She simply helped someone she cared about.

As he packed his stuff, ready to go home, his phone buzzed. He immediately checked it. A text from you.

You [05:47 PM]: You can come to my place now if you want.

He hurriedly packed the rest of his stuff, not caring if the folders were folded in his messenger bag. In all the years he had worked in the BAU, he didn’t think he ever ran to the elevator that fast.

When he arrived at your apartment, he tentatively knocked on the door. This time though, it didn’t take long for you to open the door. As if you were waiting for him to be there.

You already changed your work outfit to your favorite pajama set, makeup had been washed, and you put your hair on a messy bun. Despite all of that, you still looked beautiful to him.

“Hey.” Spencer greeted you with hesitation.

You didn’t respond, simply step aside and let him in.

The two of you sat on the couch, but you kept him in an arm’s distance. He disliked how you even needed a space from him, as if being in any close proximity with him would hurt you.

You still hadn’t said a single word since he stepped into your place. The tension that filled the silence started feeling unbearable, so he began talking.

“I’d like to apologize to you first. For the way I behaved lately, but especially yesterday. I didn’t mean to hurt you, at least not intentionally. I’m so sorry.” You just shrugged it off, and he took it as permission to continue. “It’s like a habit at this point, something I do every year. It wasn’t my intention to ignore you. It’s just… I always have my phone off.”

“Because you don’t want anybody to disturb your time with Maeve.”

It felt like you mocked him, and perhaps he should be ashamed that he pitied himself for how you reacted.

“No, that’s—”

“Then what, Spencer? You forgot that I existed for the entire day.”

“I didn’t mean to.” It sounded like a pathetic excuse even to his own ears.

“I’m here, still breathing, and pretty much alive, while she’s 6 feet under! Yet, she’s still at the top of your priorities.”

“That’s not true.”

“Is it? You willingly take a day off to spend it with someone who’s dead, while I constantly got rescheduled dates. No, shit, Spence, that sounds like she’s more important to you.”

To some extent, it was perhaps true that there were other things at the top of his priorities, his job for example. However, he never put Maeve above you. No, never mind, she wasn’t even on the list of his priorities to begin with. He never thought he made you feel like that.

For someone who once saved both his and Hotch’s lives by talking, right now the gears in his brain stopped working, and he couldn’t form a proper response for you. Besides, he felt like no matter what he said to you at this moment, you wouldn’t believe him. He couldn’t even blame you for that. After all, it was him who put you both in this situation.

Big fat tears freely fell from your eyes. He ached to reach for you and hold you close.

“I feel like I’m living under her shadow. Do I have to compete with her for a place in your heart my entire life?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“What? No! I love you. I’m so sorry for making you feel that way, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making up to you.”

Spencer tentatively moved closer to you, and when you didn’t react, he tried reaching for your hand. A sigh of relief escaped his lips when you didn’t take your hand away from his.

“Sweetheart. I’m really sorry for what I did. Please give me a chance to make this right.”

“I don’t know, Spence.”

He panicked. “You… Do you no longer love me?” The question left his mouth before he even realized.

“I still love you, but I don’t know if I can forgive you yet.”

He’d gladly take that answer. At least he knew that he still had the chance to right his wrong. He could plan what to do in order for you to forgive him. He would grovel if he had to. He didn’t really care, as long as he could obtain your forgiveness.

“What can I do to make this right?”

“Give both of us time and space to thoroughly think about what we want.”

“No, but… I don’t need those to know what I want.”

“I do, Spence.”

That night, Spencer reluctantly left your apartment, but not before promising you one more time that he’d do whatever it took to right his wrong.

---

It’s been two weeks since Spencer came to your apartment. True to his words, he continuously made amends while still respecting your wish for time and space. You didn’t contact him as often as you usually did, but he would still tell you about his whereabouts throughout the day. You knew from Penelope that he would ask about you through her, because of course he knew you would talk to her. You apologized to her that he kept bothering her, but she only shrugged it off like it wasn’t a big deal for her.

While he was away for a case, every other day, he sent bouquets of flowers to your apartment. He had sent 3 bouquets so far. Knowing Spencer, each of the flowers must’ve been chosen with intention, and not random at all. Therefore, you looked up the meanings for each flower.

The first bouquet he sent was a mix of Lily of the Valley; the classic apology flower, Red Tulip; for one’s true love, and one that represented your birth month. The second one was a mix of Statice; for remembrance, Dahlia; the symbol of commitment, and one that represented the month you both started dating. The last bouquet you received yesterday was a mix of roses in different shades. Red Rose; the ultimate symbol of eternal love, Peach Rose; for gratitude, White Rose; represented a new beginning, and Yellow Rose; for lasting happiness.

As you were about to make yourself dinner, you heard your phone buzzing. A text from him.

Spencer [06:29 PM]: The case is closed. We’re going home tonight.

You reread his text a few times, then glanced at the flowers he gave you — now neatly put in a vase and placed in your kitchen counter. Maybe it was time to have another talk with him?

You [06:34 PM]: Can I come to your place tomorrow?

The response came immediately, like he was waiting for you to reply.

Spencer [06:35 PM]: Of course. Just let me know when you’re on your way.

Truthfully, you weren’t even sure what you wanted to talk about, but one thing you knew for sure was how you missed Spencer. You just hoped you made the right decision.

The next day, after informing your boyfriend, you went to his apartment around noon. Aside from your rapid heartbeat, the commute to his place was uneventful. The last time you felt this nervous at the prospect of meeting Spencer was probably on your first date with him, which was funny considering the current situation you both were in.

It only took two knocks before he opened his apartment door. The corner of your mouth drew downwards at the sight of him. Penelope had told you that Spencer looked like a mess ever since he left your apartment two weeks ago, but you didn’t know he looked this awful. His hair was in disarray, as if he’s been running his fingers through his curls in the last hours. The dark circles under his eyes were more noticeable, perhaps he had trouble sleeping. It wasn’t like yours were any better, but at least you managed to conceal them with your makeup.

“Hey.”

“Hey, please come in.” He stepped aside to let you in.

You immediately went to the living room, and tried to make yourself comfortable. From the couch, you could see Spencer in the kitchen, probably making tea for both of you. Your guess was correct when he walked to the living room with two cups in his hands. A tiny smile adorned your face when you noticed one of the cups — doodles all over it. You insisted on buying it when you two went to the local market close to his apartment a few months ago. You wanted to have something that was yours in his place. He always made your drink of choice in that cup. Spencer put the cups on the coffee table, then sat on the other corner of the couch.

You could tell that he was nervous. Probably more nervous than you were. He was most likely afraid he’d say something wrong that’d jeopardize the relationship further. You put an end to the silence by striking up a conversation — something easy.

“Thank you for the flowers. They were beautiful.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“I also did my own research on the language of the flowers.”

“You did?”

You noticed the way his eyes lit up from your confession. “Of course. I didn’t even know there’s a flower that represents my birth month.”

You missed this, having a laid-back conversation with him. However, you knew the heavy conversation was also inevitable, so you told him that he could start his explanation if he wanted to.

He told you everything, from the beginning down to every tiny detail, like the book “The Narrative of John Smith” and the bouquets of flowers. He even mentioned how Beth, the florist, had remembered him and his order after the second year.

The knots in your stomach felt more and more undeniable as his story went on. It hurt knowing how the guilt still consumed him, and the fact that to some extent Spencer still cared about Maeve.

By the time he was done with his explanation, his eyes were looking anywhere but you, and his hands were fidgeting the hems of his cardigan. The guilt you saw in his eyes wasn’t the reflection of how he felt towards her. It was the regret for causing you pain.

“Spence. Honestly, I’m still hurting, and I don’t know if I can fully forgive you just yet.” You saw the moment the light in his eyes dimmed even more, and maybe your heart cracked a little. “But I’m willing to try again. You have to be patient with me though.”

He looked directly into your eyes, probably searching for any hint of doubt in them. “Anything. I’ll do anything to gain your forgiveness.” He slowly moved closer to you on the couch, but still maintained some distance, afraid he might startle you. “I love you. I’ll do everything in my power to correct my wrongdoings. I promise.”

You offered him your hand, which he immediately took. You smiled at him as he squeezed your hand. For the first time in a while, you knew it’d be alright. It might take some time, but you knew that the two of you would survive this one.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #penelope garcia #bau team

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tanzaniiite · 25 days ago

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NOT SO BAD • EDDIE & VOLT

requests: open

warnings: angst

word count: 1.5k

a/n: sooo i got their hate ending and after crashing out for 40 days and 40 nights (30 straight minutes) i decided to write an after ending. to give myself some closure if nothing else. i apologize if this isn’t the greatest, i haven’t written fanfic in yearsss.

*cross-posted on ao3

You flinch as the door to the Breaker Box is slammed in your face.

Your dateviators sit askew on your nose as you try to process what just happened. Eddie and Volt hate you? Everything was going swimmingly up until now, where did you go wrong? Could you fix it? As you go to speak with them again, the specs on your face make a power down sound.

Out of charge.

It’s only then do you realize how late it is. The sun has set and the stars have begun littering the sky. This was your last interaction for the day, talk about depressing. And even if it wasn’t you could only talk to an object once per day, per Skylar’s detailed instructions. It’s fine, you’ll just… give them some space, check back in a day or two. Surely everything would blow over by then.

In the meantime, you kept yourself busy. You met new datebales, continued conversations with the ones you already met. And yet, your mind kept drifting back to Eddie and Volt. Really, where did you go wrong? Maybe kissing Volt wasn’t the greatest idea. It seemed right at the time, considering the atmosphere and all that. Or maybe you didn’t get close enough to Eddie? You should’ve been more persistent, asked more questions, his dislikes be damned.

This loop of “could’ve, should’ve, would’ve” continued until you finally had the courage to approach the Breaker Box again. It’s been a couple of days, surely whatever “hatred” they had for you has dissolved or at the very least, dampened. You didn’t expect them to not be mad at all, but maybe they would be willing to hear out and you guys could repair your relationship. Become friends if not anything else. That hope quickly drained as Volt approached the entrance, a sour and borderline terrifying look on his face.

He was different now, blue and electrifying. It was a far cry from the charming and sweet Volt you’ve gotten to know. He didn’t say anything at first, just staring at you like you have done the most unforgivable thing in the world (and maybe you did, you still weren’t sure exactly what it is you did). That silence stretched until you tried to break it, in which Volt immediately cut you off.

“Volt, I–”

“Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough last time. You’re not welcome here.”

“Please, can’t we just talk this out?”

“No, we can’t. I was foolish to trust you the first time around. I won’t allow you to have the opportunity to hurt us again.”

It took everything in you to not sob right there and then but you’re sure the tears that shone in your eyes got the point across clearly. “I care about you and Eddie so much, I never meant to hurt either of you. I swear.” The tremble in your voice was as clear as day but you couldn’t really find it in yourself to care. Not when it felt like everything was on the line. And for a moment, that hope you had fluttered in your chest as Volt’s expression softened. He sighed deeply and leaned against the door, reminiscent of the dramatic flare he had when you first met him.

“I’m sorry live wire, I don’t think we can trust you again.”

Your breath caught in your throat as the tears that have taken up residence in your eyes, slipped down your cheeks silently. You could do nothing but stare as the door to the Breaker Box was closed in your face once more. Part of you preferred the slamming, the yelling, and the volatile way things had originally ended. This felt non-negotiable. Final. You weren’t sure how to feel about that.

So, you stood at the entrance for what felt like an eternity. Not sure what to do or where to go from here. You knew you couldn’t get every dateable to love you, hell, even like you but hatred? Not indifference or some weird limbo state? Just pure hatred? As you finally began to turn away, Reggie popped into your peripheral vision. God, you were not in the mood for him. You had met him before as you and another dateable didn’t exactly see eye to eye. The details aren’t important as you didn’t care for that dateable nearly as much as you care for Eddie and Volt. Still, it seemed you were stuck and had to hear Reggie’s spiel.

“It’s one thing to be rejected and another thing to lose trust completely, yeowch!”

“....”

“Still, I dig your style. Rejection really isn’t so bad when you think about it. Helps you pick out the duds that simply aren’t worth your time.”

That’s the thing though, Eddie and Volt weren’t duds, far from it actually. And even if they hated your guts right now, you couldn’t find it in yourself to speak ill of them. “They aren’t duds, Reggie.” You mutter, arms crossing over your chest. Reggie raised a curious brow, “Don’t tell me you still have feelings for them? Do you not realize they kicked you to the curb? That they want nothing to do with you?”. You sucked your teeth in frustration, you knew that. Volt had made that painfully clear both times you spoke with him. As if reading your mind Reggie continues, his hands finding your shoulders and his head dipping down so his mouth is right next to your ear. “I know you have this good person act going on but doesn’t that make you angry? Isn’t that hatred mutual?” He questions.

You were mainly sad and confused. And sure, maybe a little bitter too. You still didn’t know what you did that was so wrong to warrant them to hate you but you didn’t hate them. Still… as Reggie’s hands stayed firmly placed on your shoulders, you couldn’t help but get angry. It was as if that energy was radiating off of him and seeping into you. Or maybe, that anger was always there and Reggie gave it the space to roam free. Either way, you were starting to get pissed. The low chuckle that came from Reggie wasn’t lost on you as you swiftly took off your dateviators. Volt and Eddie wanted to hate you? Fine, you’ll give them a reason to hate you.

It almost seemed weird, looking at the Breaker Box and seeing… a normal breaker box. You close the box firmly, a little rougher than you normally would but you didn’t care. They didn’t want to see you, so you didn’t want to see them. You surveyed the small closet wondering what else you could do to relieve that pressure that had started building in your chest. In all honesty, you wanted to scream, maybe cry some more, put the dateviators back on and curse both of them out. Instead, you dropped down and picked up Tony and Beau– er, your toolbox and spare boxes. You didn’t want any reason to come back here if you didn’t have too. You placed them in the closet in your makeshift home gym. It wasn’t much bigger than their previous residence, and they certainly had more roommates but hopefully they wouldn’t mind too much. You made sure to lock the door to the breaker box too. You’re not sure how that would translate to their world, if Dorian would simply just unlock it, but maybe it would slow the business of the Breaker Box.

You still had four more uses of your dateviators for the day but you really couldn’t find it in you to want to talk to anyone else. Your mood was dampened and you would hate to take it out on the other datebables. You would come back when you felt slightly better, when you could give them your full and undivided attention. Plus, it probably wasn’t the healistest to be talking to the inanimate objects of your home day in and day out. Considering how much emotional turmoil this one rejection put you in, maybe this was for the best. Maybe a break was needed. An hour tops.

That hour turned to hours.

Those hours into days.

The days into weeks.

And so on.

You haven’t put on the dateviators since your last interaction with Volt and by extension Reggie. That anger was still there, simmering in the back of your mind but all that you felt currently was sadness. As you went on with your day to day life, you’ve come to the conclusion that maybe there’s nothing you can do. Maybe whatever was going on with Eddie and Volt wasn’t meant to be. That you shouldn’t sit here, making yourself sick and miserable dwelling on it. And while this was your general takeaway, a part of you still held onto hope. Hope that with time; you, Eddie and Volt could make amends. And be friends. You’d never say it to the other dateables but they were your favorites, still are honestly. But it’s time to move on. You guess Reggie was right, in his own twisted way.

Rejection really isn’t so bad when you think about it.

#date everything #date everything volt #date everything eddie #date everything reggie #date everything scenarios #date everything imagines #dateables x reader #dateable x reader #date everything x reader #dateable x gn reader #date everything x gn reader #date everything game

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loveemagicpeace · 2 months ago

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🍓Jupiter In Cancer🌙🦋✨

⚡️Aries Rising- During this time, you may travel more, or find out where your home is and where you feel more at home. You may find your home outside of the area you have been in so far. It may mean a longer trip with your family or being a little estranged from them during this time. During this time, family traditions may be different or you may spend major holidays in a foreign country. You can break free from comfort or familiar things and go outside your comfort zone. During this time, you can also decorate your house, the space you live in, more.

✨Taurus Rising- During this time, you can travel more and your travels can include more short spontaneous trips. You can be more considerate of other people's mindsets and you can also express yourself more optimistically and you can learn a lot during this time. You can meet people who are wiser and give you advice. You can express your opinions much more and stand by what you say. You can also meet your relatives more. You can buy a new car or drive longer distances than usual. You may meet people during errands, short travels, online interactions, or even in your neighborhood. You can also hear more clearly what people really mean, especially when it comes to tone, hidden meaning, or intention.

🍋‍🟩Gemini Rising-You can expect more luck with money and financial matters. If things have been more reserved until now, new options and new possibilities will now open up. You can gain money from traveling. You can improve your memory. You can have a better relationship with food and you can prepare different meals than before - it can also mean changing the way you eat or what food you eat - you can try a lot of foreign foods. Your inner feelings and the feelings of those around you may become more optimistic and lighthearted. You may gain greater belief in yourself and your worth. Maybe you can get back the things you thought were lost. You can experience greater comfort and get more gifts.If you have children, their success or recognition may bring you pride during this time. If you don't have children, this could also symbolize the "creative offspring" of your efforts-such as projects, investments, or business ideas-that now start to gain respect or value.

🍊Cancer Rising- During this time, you can express yourself more, your desires, your opinions, and you can find happiness on your own. Jupiter can give you a sense of being able to do things on your own and confidence in how you present yourself. Especially if you don't like being alone or doing things alone, Jupiter can bring you a sense of losing that fear. You may experience many happy coincidences during this time. You can start doing some sport or something related to your body. You may become more aware of inflammation, weight, or digestive issues (upiter rules the liver and metabolism). There's a greater need to balance expansion with discipline-watch for overindulgence in food, drink, or overexertion. Healing childhood impressions by rewriting your personal narrative with greater faith and optimism. If you're a parent, your child may become more curious about philosophy, religion, or foreign cultures.

🐯Leo Rising-During this time, you will be more intuitive and will be able to perceive things differently than usual. You can be more connected to your subconscious and spiritual things. This transit often coincides with temporary or long-term stays abroad, especially for spiritual, healing, or retreat purposes. Jupiter here brings divine support, but it's still a time of inner work, letting go, forgiveness, and closure. Your sleep, dreams, and downtime become more meaningful and healing You will sleep more deeply or need more rest, have vivid or symbolic dreams, discover spiritual ways to relax (yoga, meditation, water rituals). Jupiter expands your subconscious, psychic, and intuitive faculties. Jupiter brings a chance to merge with the divine, your higher self, or the universal flow. It's a sacred time-often quiet, misunderstood by others, but rich with insight.

🐠Virgo Rising- during this time you can socialize more and spend time with friends. You can meet a new circle of people and connect with people from abroad. You can also meet someone new from abroad. You can find a new path that suits you better and makes you feel more like yourself. You can manifest things more easily. You attract allies, mentors, or groups that help your dreams grow faster than you imagined. Receive more income or bonuses. Get recognition or support for your work. Jupiter brings a wider perspective. Your dreams may become more collective-you want to make a difference, help people, or create something meaningful beyond yourself. Humanitarian, global, or innovative causes may call to you now. It brings social luck, dream expansion, greater confidence in your vision, and meaningful allies. It's a powerful time to network, share your purpose, and receive the blessings of the seeds you've already planted.

🌸Libra Rising-During this time you may get more luck related to work or a reward for work. Maybe you can adjust your path or career depending on what stage of life you are in because you can also take a break from work during this time. You have more freedom, period, and you don't have to work as much anymore. You can change careers or achieve a desired goal during this time. You can experience many fateful moments and things that take you in a completely different direction. Jupiter in this house can also mean getting married or engaged because it also represents a sign of getting married in a more serious way or making a serious commitment to someone. Earning money through international or digital means. Outgrow certain friendships. See friends experience hardship while you're focused on your path. Feel disconnected from your old community. This is a classic "success can feel lonely" kind of theme. Stay grounded and compassionate. These interpretations reflect possible major karmic closures connected to visibility, status shifts, or public transitions. They are not guaranteed outcomes: Bring status changes (e.g., divorce, loss, or major transitions in family structure), Trigger ancestral or karmic events (especially if Saturn or Pluto are also involved). Success or outer growth leads to inner questioning. You might feel the pressure of status and crave authenticity over ambition. You could step back temporarily to redefine your mission.

🦋Scorpio Rising- During this time you can travel more and travel longer distances, which are further away. You can go on the trip you've always wanted. This usually symbolizes larger journeys that give you more meaning in life or through which you find yourself and your faith. Dive deeper into philosophy, theology, or law. Develop or restructure your belief systems. You can move abroad, connect with foreigners or foreign culture, study or teach overseas. You might join or leave a religious/spiritual group. Explore new belief systems. You may find faith and meaning in new or deeper ways. Even skeptics may have a spiritual awakening during this transit. You might: Publish your work (books, blogs, creative content), gain recognition for your philosophical or visionary ideas. More fun, optimism, and expansion in your romantic life. You feel freer to love, play, and express joy-especially when it connects to meaning and passion.

🍒Sagittarius Rising- you can get a lot of money from other people. Jupiter acts as a guide through the underworld-not in a negative sense, but by expanding your access to depth, mystery, intimacy, shared resources, and spiritual power. Access deep spiritual states (meditation, astral travel, dream work). Receive messages from spirit guides or the unconscious. Experience personal death and rebirth moments-symbolic or energetic. Support from others financially (partner, bank, inheritance, grants, investments). Opportunities to manage or benefit from pooled money. Jupiter brings abundance when you combine forces, not when you try to do everything alone. If you're in a committed relationship, your partner may come into new resources or be more generous. Some may literally receive an inheritance (money, wisdom, or property). If single, you might attract a partner with financial stability-or someone who opens the door to emotional or material transformation. You may deepen your emotional and sexual bonds. Learn to trust and be vulnerable at new levels. Heal from past trauma around intimacy, abandonment, or power struggles. Jupiter brings expansion through surrender and soul merging. You learn that true intimacy is a gateway to freedom, not loss of control. Gain wisdom through loss, endings, or psychological breakthroughs. Jupiter can also save you from accidents or saves you from illness.

💍Capricorn Rising-During this time, you can enter into a serious relationship that will bring you a lot of joy and happiness. You can find someone who will really suit you and even a person who can be from another country. Someone who is wise, adventurous, optimistic, and fun. You can usually get into a relationship with someone you know from before, or a relationship that may have started recently can turn into something more serious. You can also get engaged or married during this time. You can also meet a serious partner or soulmate-type figure. Attracting partners who are wise, foreign, older, or more spiritual. You may be drawn to someone older, well-traveled, or with a teacher/guru vibe. Your partner could bring new belief systems, worldviews, or cultures into your life.Realizing the spiritual purpose behind your relationships. You may see clearly who truly supports you and who doesn't. You can also start your business or attract business partnerships or collaborations. Some friends may leave your life if your values no longer align. Jupiter teaches us that others are often mirrors, showing us what we need to grow through. If you have saturn & jupiter in this house it can means you will very serious about commitment.

🌌Aquarius Rising- The focus will be on your routine, daily life and work. You can get the job you wanted. During this time, you can have more job interviews and people can see potential in you. Your relationship with your body can change and you can start to love your body more and accept yourself for who you are during this time. A shift in how you see your physical body-more respect, less shame. A desire to treat your body like a temple, not a machine. Jupiter brings optimism and expansion. Can expose issues if you've neglected your health (inflammation, overindulgence, liver or weight issues). Encourages holistic or natural healing approaches-herbs, nutrition, body-mind awareness. You may feel more enthusiastic about structure, or even crave it after chaos. Jupiter helps you expand your daily rituals into something meaningful-morning walks, gratitude practices, or study routines. You may adopt or foster pets. It teaches that growth isn't only spiritual or romantic-it's in how you treat your body, how you serve others, and how you care for your space, pets, and work.

🌙Pisces Rising- During this time you can meet someone new and have a new romance. This is a highly romantic transit—new love can come in, or an existing romance can be rekindled with more joy and adventure. Jupiter attracts partners who are fun, creative, and possibly foreign, spiritual, or generous. If you're healing from past heartbreaks, Jupiter brings light, confidence, and hope for love again. Creative investments (like starting a business, selling art, etc.) are favored more than reckless gambling. You might become pregnant, give birth, or be surrounded by children more than usual. If you have children already, this transit brings growth, travel, joy, or spiritual learning through them. You may write poetry, music, or stories. You may feel more drawn to play, leisure, and pleasure. Sports and performance activities may bring recognition, fun, or healing. Play, laughter, romance, and creativity become your medicine. Relaxation now often comes from doing things you love. Travel, dance, painting, nature, or falling in love might all feel like soul restarts.

✨U can book a reading here✨

-Rebekah🌊🦋

#astrology #energy #zodiac signs #planets #astrological houses #scoprio rising #my notes #capricorn rising #jupiter in cancer #transits

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tiamathh · 6 months ago

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2025: A Brief Look (love n career) ☆

Hi angels! Happy new year may all of you be blessed and prosper and get everything you want and more <33 This PAC has Love and Career the other 2025 PAC will include social life and personal growth! Love you take care 🤭 here's to posting more this year and being consistent which is my new years resolution LMAO LIKES N' REBLOGS APPRECIATED

Masterlist || Paid Readings + FB || Tip Jar

Love [1 -> 3]

Career [A -> C]

Pile 1 ♡

Hey loves! So your love life is going to be really fulfilling this year, starting off there is this deep focus that you will feel when it comes to your social (romantic and platonic) connections and these may be what you will be caring about more in this year. Whether you’re single or in a relationship, this year brings choices that align with your desires and what you may have wanted for a long while.

Dam pile 1 I am getting that you may have to make some really tough decisions this year, because there will be too many good choices, and it could make you a little confused, this im getting may be between a past love and a new one, one which you have been craving (past) and one which you may have wanted for along time (new) this is going to be tough for sure because the person from your past may come into your life this year when you are going through a time where you are on a nostalgia trip. This energy is sos trong that I just envisioned the 2oC, which talks about this year bringing a lot of harmony and balance in your romantic connections. This is the kind of love where you see eye to eye with the other person, and you guys have this almost atomic connection between the both of you, and is a pairing that feels equal and deeply cherished. If you’ve been waiting for someone special, this could signify a soulmate-like meeting. For the ones who are already with someone this year will deepen your bond, inviting more emotional intimacy and a lot of plans for the future, you guys will be taking things to the next level. However, as I already said with the tough decisions part, there may be moments of hesitation or misalignment in the way you express what you want and your emotions which can lead to miscommuncication that could have been avoided. You may feel overly idealistic, which could lead to disappointments if reality doesn’t meet your expectations entirely, you may also (due to your hesitance) hold back romantic gestures because of the fear of uncertainty.

Oof this year is definitely filled with a lot of healing, growing from your wounds and finding closure in simple things when it comes to love, if you’ve been carrying heartaches from previous relationships or struggles with self-love, 2025 will give you a chance to heal and almost get a restart. Romantically, the worst is a 100% behind you, as you are letting go of old pain and stepping into an environment which can foster a lot of love. Okay very very specific message, some of you may be welcoming or starting a new family this year, this can be with regard to fertility or marriage so have fun y'all and stay safe out there lol

x◉

Pile 2 ♡

Hey pile 2, love in 2025 this feels like it is mostly for the people who may experinece romantic love or relationships for the first tie this year, I sense the energy of the AoC with new relationships and the energy here is very very fresh, and this year may be the beinning of that long romantic journey and dating life that you may have wanted for a long while. There are going to be a lot of celebrations this year and you may meet someone at one of these celebrations, I am getting the celebrations and joy will revolve around family stuff, like engagements, marriages, birthdays, a party related to your family fs though. This is also a message that things may be getting serious this year for the people who have selected the pile and are in relationships, theres a message that there will be huge milestones that will be achieved in love this year like moving with your partner, and for the singles one out there like me, this could also apply to you guys because your relationships may be getting serious this year.

This pile is the longterm pile for sure, whatever the case may be single or taken, you will find someone who will be there with you for quite a few years. However, theres a lot of confusion here, may be some of you feel like you do not deserve the kind of love that is coming your way or feel like the love is "too good" for you or that there are some terms and conditions applied that you did not know of. This fear due to a lack of self love is going to be the biggest obstacle when it comes to your love life, here you are your own worst enemy. You need to be more reflective and loving to you and you are being encouraged to reflect on your approach towards love both for others and for you. If there are opportunities but your heart is closed, then it will be impossible for love to blossom no matter how strong it is and how badly it wants to come into your life. Unprompted advice here, don't get caught up in the fantasy of a relationship or what it should look like, your relationship can be just as loving and deep as someone elses even if the ways of expressing things are different. Now I am also getting that you could be someone who may be used to rationalising things very often. You need to go with your ut this year when it comes to love, listen to your intuition do not make a pros and cons list (even though thats what i do) just let your gut guide you and you will have the best love year you have ever had muah <3.

x◉

Pile 3 ♡

Hi my pile 3 <33 this is an amazing pile because I instantly SAW cards as soon as I started, okay so starting with the 2 main cards that I saw here those being QoC and the 6oP rx. With the first card here you will be coming into a space where you will completely embrace your empathetic and nurturing side, not being too worried about looking tough anymore.

This card shows that you are embodying the traits of the QoC, which will lead to your cup being filled by someone else as well, maybe someone older than you (romantically) here, they will help guide you and in return love just being in your presence because of this warmth you will be exuding this year. You will be connecting with people on a deep emotional (heart) level, feeling seen and supported in ways you’ve always craved and this is a year where emotional connection is key, and you’ll notice that you will attract a lot of people who may need healing. However, even though thes epeople will be lovely, and you will help thema lot, remember it is not your job to "fix" anyone, and that not everyone will be as giving and ready to reciprocate all the effort and love you put in. Now with the 6oP rx, the same thing I just said is being reiterated that there may be moments where the give-and-take in relationships feels off-balance. You could find yourself giving more than you receive which could almost make you feel like you are obligated to give without getting anything back.

But 2025 has a lot of "victorious" energy, like its fast paced and there will be a LOT of suitors coming to you this year with minimal obstacles, you will be actively partaking and taking steps to look for people, maybe even being the one who approaches people ooo sexy bold energy coming from you here in the dating sphere dam. Although this year is very positive for you in love, and filled with potential you are being tested, how long are you going to stay when you feel like you aren't getting much? How much are you willing to give? It's going to test your perseverance and see if you can stand strong in these situations or maybe make the best of them. Just because you have been hurt before, you will be cautious but don't let these past wounds hold you back, you can always grow.

Ok I just saw the KoC, this is PERFECT OMGG okay okay so I love that we have gotten court cards for the same suit, this shows me that someone who embodies this energy is going to be coming into your life, to balance things out, and give you what you deserve, but you will have to go through quite a bit of rocky talking stages to find them, that is if you are able to identify what you want and from whom in a relationship.

Pile 1 ✈︎

Pile 1 hiiii, your career in 2025 is all about stepping into your power and taking control of your career, you will be very structured and disciplined this year, you have a plan in mind and it will help you improve your leadership skills and be in the spotlight, I am getting star student/employee, someone others will aspire to be like. This year will help you improve your work ethic and create a solid foundation for your work in the future and embrace being in a position where you are in authority, you will also get way better at setting boundaries that means not doing more than you need to, and not being overly generous with the people who wokr alongside you.

You are going to be ON THE GRINDDD this year, working hard and being insanely focused, you will be putting in effort to also refine your communications skills mainly so that you can network more, maybe joining certification courses or mastering your craft but you will definitely be upskilling and trying to make the most of your time. I love this pile omg, you are going to be breaking free from unhealthy patterns or limiting thoughts you may have that could have held you back in the past, like stepping away from toxic work environments, not engaging in petty gossip, MAINTAINING WORK-LIFE BALANCE so you do not burnout and gaining more confidence in yourself. If there is someone with prominent fire energy in your life who may be causing some trouble, they will be toning things down, as you start becoming more self assured.

Although you will be making big big strides in your career and establishing yourself well, you may still find yourself in moments where you feel like you aren't financially stable or where family obligations can lead you to making choices you would not have otherwise, please keep in mind your family is important but you are allowed to make your own decisions removed from your family, not everything has to be done as a unit especially if it is very important to you.

x◉

Pile 2 ✈︎

Hi pile 2, 2025 is going to be a mix bag for you lot like although you’ll experience some significant new opportunities, it will have a lot of challenges. For some of you, there could have been like some strain and dificulty when it comes to financial stability or you could be feeling a lack of support from your family, you guys are my dreamers, you have passion and you want to pursue it, so the trade off for doing something you love is that things may be harder sometimes. You financial strain or lack of support you’ve been feeling might persist longer than you expect. There will be progress, but it may be slower than you’d like, and there might be times when you feel like things are still a bit unstable or just like stagnant, because it can be harder to see your own success and progress at times but trust me you will be progressing, but don’t lose hope babes because you will continue to rebuild, and the find financial abundance around the last quarter of the year.

Teamwork is a big thing here, you’ll need to focus on collaboration more than ever it's like when musicians colab with each other, very artistic vibes coming through here. Although you will have moments where you want to take charge or stand out, your growth will depend on your ability to work with others, being a lone wolf will only take you so far, you cannot and don't need to do everything on your own. I know it can be hard to put your ideas to words sometimes and articulate well, but just remember different opinions and ideas are not an attack on your opinions and ideas, they are simply just different and that's it. There will be a lot of breakthroughs and achievements, but most will require you to step outside your comfort zone and won’t always be smooth, and you may question whether your efforts are paying off or if its even worth it sometimes, wanting to take a more traditional route rather than making your own path.

x◉

Pile 3 ✈︎

PILE 3 MY LOVES this year you are going to get all the praise and recognition you DESERVE for all the work you put in. This will feel validating, and you’ll have moments to truly appreciate what you’ve achieved, but with this will comes the pressure to maintain that level of success, and you might find yourself feeling overwhelmed at times. Despite the recognition, you may find yourself holding onto things because of fears around scarcity or losing control and its natural to want to protect what you’ve worked hard for, but 2025 will require you to take risks. Invest in yourself, whether through further education, expanding your network, or making a different career move, trying to go for something new, will be crucial for growth.

While it might feel uncomfortable at times to loosen your grip, doing so will open the door to new opportunities that could lead to even greater success. The hard work you’ve been putting in will start paying off in a big way, and you’ll feel a sense of accomplishment as you complete major goals. This is a time of fulfillment, where everything you’ve worked toward begins to come together. However, within all this like fast paced stuff you may start to feel signs of burning out and may start having less and less time for your friends and family, it wil. be like you will have tunnel vision for olny work because you want to succeed so bad which is valud but if you don't take care of yourself, the challenges will just keep being added to.

Success doesn’t happen overnight, and sometimes it takes patience and steady effort rather than burning too bright and overworking yourself and then just not being able to keep up. This is your year to nurture what you’ve started and ensure that you’re building a solid foundation for the future, so don’t rush into the next big thing just for the sake of it. Now last message coming through is that there will be opportunities to resolve any conflicts or lingering negativity in your career. If you’ve been dealing with tensions at work or internal struggles about your career path, this is the year to let go of what’s been holding you back, where you will focus on releasing grudges, ego battles, or any negative energy that’s draining you and you will learn how to compromise better too.

#tarot reading #tarot #pick a card reading #pick a pile #pac #pac reading #pick a card #tarot community #tarot cards #tarotblr

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les4elliewilliams · 5 months ago

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❝SHE’S A MANEATER!❞ ─ 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.ᐟ

LOSER!ELLIE ﾒ MEAN!READER—LOSER LESBIAN GETS PLAYED!!!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ SYNOPSIS. . . After bumping into you on her first day of college, Ellie spends the entire year captivated by you from a distance. You're everything she could never be—popular, wealthy, and effortlessly alluring, with a perfect, disgustingly rich family to match. Convinced she didn’t stand a chance, Ellie resigns herself to watching from the sidelines. But when her best friend Dina suggests they work at a public pool for the summer, Ellie agrees, hoping to save up some money. What she never expected was to find you there, commanding the space with a magnetic, dangerous charm that pulls her in. Now, Ellie’s summer is about to take a turn she never saw coming, and she’s about to find out just how close she can get to you before it all falls apart. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ PART ONE CONTAINS. . . 18+ CONTENT (𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 shit with plot), ANGST!, toxic relationship, controlling behavior, use of alcohol and drugs, fingering, oral sex, semi-public sex,tribbing, thigh riding, coworker!ellie, dom!reader, sub!ellie, player!reader x jackson!ellie, slapping, jealousy issues, unlabeled relationship, manipulation, overstimulation, choking kink, use of names (dollface, sweet/pretty girl, baby, babe, slut, etc...) ‘i love the smiths’ scene, ellie wears spiderman boxers cause she's a fucking loser, they 69 on a big canvas, ellie is a little very naive. ✶⋆.˚ CHAPTERS. . . ００１ ⋆ ００２ ⋆ ００３

❝SAVE YOUR TEARS.❞ ─ 𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝚰𝚰

PLAYER!ELLIE ﾒ MEAN!READER─ALWAYS PLAY THE PLAYER.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ SYNOPSIS. . . A year after that devastating summer, Ellie is stunned to see you again—this time at a summer camp where you’re both working at. The girl who once led her on and then disappeared without a trace is back, but Ellie’s no longer the naive girl you once played. Still aching from the way you broke her heart, Ellie is filled with a desire for revenge. She wants to make you feel the same confusion and hurt she felt. She’s ready to pull you into the same emotional game she was trapped in, to finally get her payback. But as she carefully lays her plans, Ellie finds herself in uncharted territory. She’s never been one for revenge, and now that the opportunity is in front of her, she begins to question if it will really give her the closure she craves or if it will leave her with something far worse. Is revenge really worth it, or will Ellie learn the hard way that some wounds can’t be healed by hurting the person who caused them? .𖥔 ݁ ˖ PART TWO CONTAINS. . . 18+ CONTENT, ANGST! (eventually with a happy ending, i promise), use of alcohol and drugs, santabarbara!ellie, player!ellie, coworker!ellie, campcounselor!ellie, switch!ellie/reader, campcounselor!reader, head-campcounselor!abby, mommy/daddy issues, homophobia, blackmail, strap-on sex (r!receiving), fingering, oral sex (e!receiving), emotional dependency/fear of abandonment ✶⋆.˚ CHAPTERS. . . ０００ ⋆ ０１０ ⋆ ０２０ ⋆ ０３０ [to be estimated...] .⊹⋆.˚ TAGLIST. . . @rew1nds @satellitespinner @boobdrug @ivying @elliewilliamsbelovedwife @mina-281 @hysteriawillnotsuccumb @chxrryvalxntine @bookpagecandlescent @fionaapplelover2010 @andersonslove @macaroni676 @elliesbabygirl @vampcubus @visupremacysstuff @elssaphica @kaykeryyy @nenas19 @rxreaqia @fatbootymuncher @dying-brb @euphoric-rush @intothespidersweb @d1psht [COMMENT TO BE ADDED!]

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dyingswanpavlova · 5 months ago

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"Your girl" - Part 13 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: If you don't make up soon, things will either escalate or stay that way forever. Which one would be worse?

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder/gore/death, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation and low self-esteem, mentions of sexual activities, loss of identity, mentions of pregnancy, threatening, mentions and threats of suicide and self-harm, (rough) oral sex, penetration, breeding kink, degradation kink, not beta-read, if I've missed any warnings or tags please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

It started off small.

The tension in his jaw. The clench of his fists. The way he lingered in rooms he had no reason to be in, as if expecting you to finally give in.

But you didn’t. And then his evil twin took over again. Just like that.

Your books went missing. From one day to the other, you woke up and when you stepped into the warmly-lit living room, you immediately realized it. The shelf was empty. He didn’t leave you a single one.

That same night, when you made your way back to your room in order to cry and weep yourself to sleep, you realized something else was missing. Your blanket had disappeared. The radiator was turned off. And when you tried to turn it back on, it stayed cold.

Eventually, the meal portions became smaller. For each meal, the plate stayed the same size, but it got emptier. In the end, it was hardly enough to feel full. Just enough to pick at it and feel incredibly sad.

And why?

Because he wanted a reaction. A word, a glance, a single sign that you were still there. That nothing had changed, that you still belonged to him. But for once in your life, you were being stubborn, far too stubborn. The moment you realized he would punish you anyway, even if you did things the right way (you didn’t try to escape), you gave up. You gave him up. Gave up whatever it was between you two. Because there was one thing you wanted even more than him.

An apology.

Not your freedom. Not even your goddamn hair.

You wanted an apology.

You knew how incredibly stupid it was to assume he would ever break the façade of cold and ruthlessness, even if it was for you. And after all, he had done his best, hadn’t he? In his eyes, sure. He had.

He hadn’t apologized with words, of course. That was sheer impossible. But you saw it in his actions. The soft touches, the lingering glances. The hesitation in his grip. And the softness in his eyes.

The way he stood in the doorway of your room, night after night, watching and waiting. Brooding. Hoping, maybe.

At first, he tried to play along and approach the situation nicely. You’d wake up and find something sweet on your nightstand. A book even. Back when you told him what your favorite book was, he went and bought it. A hardcover book and what was even worse, an old one. Original cover, worn out pages. It smelled like an old bookstore. It smelled familiar. Like the only home you knew. Words. Phrases. Imaginary worlds.

The moment your eyes registered the title, you felt a sinking feeling in your chest.

Wuthering Heights.

You loved it especially, because, during the course of your twisted childhood, it allowed you some closure. It made your terrible home of Yorkshire feel like more of a home. The thought of Catherine Earnshaw running around the moors, Heathcliff yearning for her, their combined pain and their longing – it turned the battleground of your childhood into something beautiful, something romantic. Like your tragedy wasn’t the only that took place there. It was the birth of something beautifully sad.

At some point, you had told him about it. The meaning the book held to you and how you loved old book stores. Second hand pages and the smell of words.

Of course he remembered it. He was always considerate like that. And back in the day, when you found that beautiful book on your nightstand, covered in dark blue and the title in an innocent white, you almost broke the spell. You almost found yourself running back to him, forgiving him, being his girl.

How could you not? It was obvious that he felt something for you, wasn’t it? Even if he would have rather died than ever admitted to that.

But you stayed strong, for that one time in your life. You stayed true to yourself and the promise not to give in first. Let him feel that he hurt you. Let him feel that he broke your heart, just after he brought you back to life.

You stayed stern. Ignored him during every meal, even though you felt his gaze on you.

The blister stayed firmly in place as well. After you had woken up that one morning and found it on your nightstand, you first reaction had been to feel fear of course. You had almost forgotten about that. You still didn’t know what had occupied your mind to make you do that. What devil had possessed you to stop taking the pill?

He had been so loving at times, so gentle. Maybe it was that. You had felt too safe in his embrace. You didn’t want to ever leave it. And after all, he left you the choice of taking it, right? So, you stopped. Four days you took it and after endless, heated arguments with yourself in your head, you stopped.

Try and live for once.

Maybe something good will come of this, after all.

But then he locked you away. Cut your hair. He didn’t believe you. And suddenly, everything was different. He didn’t speak first. And, God, you wouldn’t be the first to speak, either. If he took every inch of your hair, if he took every last bit of you. You wouldn’t give in. Not you. Not this time.

Of course you missed him. Dearly. You spent your days longing and your nights yearning.

Catherine and Heathcliff.

But you had managed a lifetime without a gentle caress before. Why would you budge now, just because you knew it now?

Eventually he got impatient. And he took the books. The blanket, the food. The warmth. He took your comfort and all the love you felt for him. You felt the loss of his touch, of his love, like a physical reaction in your body. Something was missing. And despite your anger and your resentment, despite the disappointment and the sadness you felt, there was a part of you that wanted nothing more than to curl up beside him, rest your head on his lap and have him read to in this painfully soft voice of his, that made you feel like you were home.

You knew he didn’t do it as a punishment. He wanted a reaction. A cry, a yell, an angry word, a fight even. Everything was better than this silence.

The silence was a living, breathing thing, that took up all the space in the apartment and pressed down onto your chest, hard enough to suffocate you. And to your immense satisfaction, he seemed to feel the same way. Until, finally, he snapped.

You sat hunched over your ridiculously tiny amount of rice and a small broccoli rose. Your stomach grumbled loudly and you knew this wasn’t going to help. But you sat in silence nonetheless and tried to savor every bite.

He stood at the counter and stared down at it, his hands gripping the edge tightly. And eventually, the silence broke.

You heard the crash before you saw it – his plate, shattered against the kitchen wall. You flinched and cowered, digging your nails into your palms painfully. But you still didn’t look at him. Until his voice cut through the silence in a low growl.

“Enough.”

It was enough to make you glance up, slowly and almost carefully. It was the first time that you looked at him in weeks. You had played this game for weeks. And now it was him who lost it.

“Say something.”

You were tempted to. But you stayed strong.

You took in his appearance, the way he looked like he hadn’t slept in a while. His eyes were bloodshot and his charming smile formed into a scowl. You suddenly realized, despite it all, you felt bad for him. You didn’t want him to suffer.

Behind that whole horrible mask, there was something human inside him. Someone who felt pain and who had been through a lot. Someone who had been betrayed and hurt, by the person who was supposed to protect him.

Just like you.

Someone who cared about you, in his own twisted way.

And yet you stayed stubborn.

“Say something!” He growled again and took a step closer to you. He was angry, you could tell as much, but he was also frustrated. Behind the fury in his eyes, there was also a hint of desperation. More than a hint, a whole lot, actually. Despite the growl which was tinged in anger, you heard the softness of a plea between his words.

You opened your mouth and closed it again. Then you slowly unclenched your fists and looked down at the plate in front of you. He would never apologize. Because to do so, he would have to admit that he did something wrong. And he was far too proud for that. He was too full of himself. Also, he preferred getting angry for no reason. Apologizing wasn’t really his cup of tea.

You stayed silent and it tore at his soul. And hurting him hurt you.

When you still didn’t answer, he huffed in frustration and took another step closer. His stance was menacing and threatening. Even though you hadn’t felt the pain he could inflict on you in a few weeks now, your body remembered. It was hard to forget how the humiliation seeped into your bones like a cold, how his fist felt, whenever it connected with your body. The sound of the countless slaps to your cheek, which were echoing through the halls. The sound of your quiet despair.

He gritted his teeth and you knew, you were about to get reminded of it. Somehow you didn’t even expect it. It was almost like he had forgotten how touching you worked. After all, it had been a while. His movements seemed somewhat uncalculated. He reached out his hand above his head, but before he could land the first blow, he froze at the sound of your voice.

“I want to leave.”

Your voice was soft and gentle, small and timid, yet determined. It was such a contrast to his own anger. When he heard it, he stopped immediately. A part of him seemed relieved, like he hadn’t expected you to ever speak again. He seemed to savor the sound of your voice in his head. But by the time his brain registered your words, he frowned and slowly lowered his hand.

“What?”

You nodded and slowly looked up at him again. “I want to go. I want you to let me go. I want to go home.”

He scoffed. “This is your home.”

You shook your head. “I want to leave.” You said in the same, soft voice.

His frown deepened. “There’s no such thing. You knew the deal, when you accepted it. You belong to me. You’re not going anywhere.”

You took in the way he didn’t even look angry. Just frustrated and so very confused.

“I knew the deal. But I don’t want to stay.” You took a deep breath. “I don’t feel safe with you.”

Something flashed in his eyes, something that was equally dark as it was hurt. He hadn’t expected that. He had expected you to fight him or give in eventually, not for you to demand him to let you go. What a silly thing to hope for, right? But it was the only thing you could do.

“You don’t feel safe with me?” He all but spat out. He was disguising his pain very well behind a stony mask of anger and disgust. But you had known him for quite some time now and you slowly grew to lean the different masks and what he hid behind them.

“No, I don’t.” You said quietly. “I did everything right and I still got punished.”

He scoffed. “You tried to leave!”

“No, I didn’t!”

He gritted his teeth and eyed you up and down in a way that left you unsure how to feel.

“Yes, you did.” He spat out. “I had to kill that old bastard, because of what you did.”

His words made you flinch. “You had to?” The disbelief in your voice quickly turned back into anger. He couldn’t mean this. “You looked pretty content doing it!”

“What do you want to hear?” He hissed. “That I made a mistake? I didn’t. You made a mistake.”

You took a deep breath to calm yourself down, but failed miserably. “I had the chance to leave. I even considered it. But I decided against it and I know that you know that!”

He clenched and unclenched his fists the whole time and you suddenly realized how lucky you were, that he hadn’t fully snapped yet. You were sure, by the end of the day you’d end up either dead or with some bone in your body broken. But so far, he did really well in his attempts to stay calm.

It was a dead end. He wouldn’t give in and the only way you could go back to oblivious co-existence was, if you gave in. But you still stood your ground and you realized just how good it felt.

“I saw you there. You stood right in front of the door. You looked at him and spoke to him, instead of- Instead of calling me and-“

That was the moment you realized something. Something that felt like a bucket of ice water on your head. Your heart squeezed tightly in your chest and the sinking, painful feeling of disappointment left you nearly breathless.

“You knew that I didn’t try to leave.”

The words were barely audible. You might as well have thought them in your head, but no. He heard you. You could tell by the way he stiffened and couldn’t meet your eyes.

“Oh my God!”

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous!” He growled and suddenly he looked very determined. But his eyes told another story. “You tried to leave!”

“Oh my God!” You jumped up and glared at him with every ounce of anger you could find in yourself. “Why the Hell did you cut my hair then?!”

He pointed his index finger at you. “Because you deceived me.”

You ignored his words, too caught up in a haze of disbelief and fury. “Why did you ignore me all this time?” You nearly asked yourself that. “And the fucking pill?! What business did you have placing it there, while I was asleep? You knew I didn’t do anything wrong! That’s why you hesitated! That’s why you were suddenly so nice to me!”

“Shut your fucking mouth or I will shut it for you!”

“What did you punish me for then?!” You felt angry tears sting your eyes as you took a step closer to him. The part of you that longed for him still did. You hadn’t felt him so close to you in weeks. The warmth of his skin, the faint smell of his cologne surrounded you like a warm hug.

“You nearly killed me!” You snapped at him, very unlike yourself. Your sense of self-preservation was suddenly near-dead. All you wanted was for him to answer your question. “Why?!”

His expression was the same mix of frustration and anger. But his anger became more and more apparent. You knew he wouldn’t need much more and he would explode. Would he break your nose? Would he squash your kidney? Or would he finally finish what he started that day and choke you to death?

“One more word.” He hissed as he towered over you, ready to strike.

He hadn’t hit you yet. He wasn’t even yelling. He was just…

Was he just…

“Oh my God.” Your voice was barely audible, just a small whisper, hardly to be heard under the sound of his heavy breathing. “Oh my God, you didn’t punish me, because I tried to leave.”

He frowned and shook his head. “What are you fantasizing about now? What are you cooking up in your-“

“You did it, because of what I said to you.”

The second you realized it was the same second your anger suddenly vanished. You were obviously still angry. Mostly so, because he ignored you for so long, without really ignoring you. But you weren’t furious anymore. You were more…curious. Disappointed. And sad.

But the second you said it, you saw a brief flash of something in his eyes. You couldn’t quite tell what it was. You had seen that in him once or twice. But it always left as quickly as it came. And suddenly you were certain.

“You punished me, because of what I said to you.” You said firmly.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

He scoffed. “Stop being an idiot. Stop acting like anything you could say to me would ever be enough to influence my actions. You’re nothing! I told you that! You’re-“

“Then let me go.”

He stopped and regarded you with a frown. But he was slightly calmer now, all the while you sounded almost panicked.

If he did all these vile things to you, when you were no more than a stranger to him…

What would he do to you, if you were more than that?

If he was comfortable around you?

And why on earth were you allowing it?

It was like someone suddenly pulled up a curtain in the fog that was your brain and you realized, something was wrong.

You had had no chance to escape your mother. After all, you had been no more than a child and she was your mother. Nowhere to flee and no one to rescue you. You spent your life begging and pleading and hoping to find a way to finally break free.

But this.

This.

You were letting it happen. It was you.

You were allowing this. You knew what he was doing to you and you still let him. You let him touch and kiss you and even take you.

Your first time had been with the same man, who slapped the living hell out of you. Who punched your gut and left you tied to the bed, your bladder ready to explode in pain and humiliation. The man who called you vile names. The man who committed heinous crimes on you. On your body and mind.

What were you doing?

What, for God’s sake, were you doing?

Your eyes widened impossibly and you backed away against the counter.

“I don’t want this.” You gasped out. “I don’t want any of this. I want to go home. Let me go home.”

His frown deepened. You suddenly realized, you had no idea who he was.

“Why are you suddenly…”

You saw yourself. Years from now. Tied to a bed, your body bruised and battered. Maybe there was a child on the way. Maybe you already had one. Or three. Or seven. Who could tell? Maybe you’d make a perfect baby machine. He wouldn’t let you go to the hospital to have your poor, little bastard children. No, he’d make you bear them alone, with no one to assist you but him.

And the children?

God, the children.

What would they have to go through? What kind of miserable life was right there, waiting for them to endure it? You were sure, your mother would probably look like a saint compared to him.

Years and years and years. No one ever got to go out. All they would know would be this place. They wouldn’t ever understand that there was a whole world outside, for them to explore. With kindness, with love. In a way where people’s motivation was positivity rather than fear. Where peace ruled and love didn’t equal pain.

You couldn’t do this, you suddenly realized.

You just couldn’t.

It didn’t take you longer than two seconds to reach for the block. He had stopped being careful around you approximately by the time you allowed him to use you as he pleased.

You forgot the way his lips felt on yours, the second your fingers curled around the handle of the knife.

His eyes shot open and he rushed forward, ready to beat you to it. He wouldn’t let you stab him, no matter how careful he was.

Silly man.

That wasn’t your intention.

You took a step to the side, your back pressed against the wall and raised your hand. The cold metal felt uncomfortable against your neck. The feeling was unwanted and unwelcome, but if it was indeed your only out, oh God, you would take it.

He froze in his tracks and his eyes widened to a nearly ridiculous degree. He stared at you like you were an alien and slowly held up his hands in a gesture that came close to surrender.

“What are you doing?” He asked in a soft voice. “Give me the knife.”

Your eyes were equally as wide as you stared up at him, the blade tightly pressed against your jugular.

It was funny, really. You remembered at least one time when it was him who did the exact same thing to you. But back then, he didn’t look as horrified. Instead, his brows were furrowed and his eyes half-lidded in pleasure. But now, he looked straight-up terrified.

“Let me go.” You whispered. “I want to go.”

“Darling.” He whispered back and took the tiniest step closer. When you pressed the blade even harder against your skin, he immediately stopped and raised his hands a bit.

“Okay.” He whispered. “Okay. I get it. You’re angry. I understand that. But-“

„I’m not angry!” You felt tears running down your cheeks. You had been here far too long.

“Okay. Whatever it is that you are, please listen to me. Give me the knife.”

“Why do you care?” You hissed. “After all, it was you who almost killed me!”

He took a slow breath and nodded. “I know. But I didn’t, did I?”

“No.” You gritted out. “And why not? What stopped you? What did I say to you, that made you stop?”

He frowned. He was getting impatient, you could tell. “Set the fucking knife down, do you hear me? You don’t make the rules around here.”

But you weren’t trying to get the upper hand. You weren’t even trying to prove any point. Not anymore. All that you wanted was some clarity.

What was going on inside your head?

You choked out a sob and with a shaky hand, pressed the blade harder against your skin, hard enough to draw blood.

“No!” He rushed forward, ready to yank the knife away and shake you back to your senses.

You huffed furiously and took another step away from him, shooting a glare his way.

“Let me go.” You demanded firmly.

“I can’t!” You didn’t expect the way his voice suddenly cracked. It happened so fast and was so unlike him, that your brain hardly registered it.

His gaze was fixed on the small droplet of blood that was trickling down your throat, but you hardly felt the pain. Your chest heaved rapidly and you took a deep, slow breath.

You had to get your answers. You had to get out. Or you had to die. It was the only outcome.

“I…”

You looked at him, your expression trying to gauge what he was thinking. Was he getting angry? Impatient? Was he having violent thoughts? Was he more than ready to make you pay for this?

But his expression was soft. Almost pleading. And you suddenly realized, it was not a trick.

“Please.” He said so quietly that you nearly missed it. “Just stop.”

Please?

Your breath caught in your throat, when you heard the desperation in his soft voice. His bloodshot eyes were so wide and terrified, it was unlike anything you had ever seen in him. He looked so helpless that you nearly pitied him. This wasn’t the same man. It couldn’t be. What had changed?

The only thing that could be heard were your breaths mingling in the cramped space of the kitchen. He kept stalking closer and closer, until your chest nearly touched his. And this time, you didn’t back away. He didn’t seem like a threat for once. He seemed…broken.

“You’re right.” He suddenly whispered. You felt his breath tickle your skin and everything else seemed to fade away. Nothing mattered anymore. Your body longed for him. Yearned for him.

“You’re right. I knew you didn’t try to leave. I always knew.” He whispered and reached out a hand. It hovered above yours, you felt its warmth even through the air. Just a few inches and he’d get you. But you didn’t care about the knife. All you cared about was his hand, gently wrapping around your own. The moment his palm brushed over the back of your hand, you were done for.

You were weak.

The curtain fell back into place.

And the fog, it was heavier than ever.

He held your hand with such gentleness and care, that you hardly even understood what he was doing, until he did it. What he was saying.

To what he just admitted.

“When I saw you standing there…That man right there, ready to take you away.” He swallowed and shook his head, all the while his fingers gently moved yours out of place and he finally wrapped them around the handle of the knife. “It didn’t matter to me if you tried to leave or not. All that I saw was that��You were nearly gone.” He breathed.

The knife fell to the floor with a loud thud. He then kicked it away until it bumped against the opposite wall.

“All that I saw were you. Gone. And God, I…God, I…” His voice was barely more than a breath. And his lips were so close to your own, that you could almost taste them.

His brows furrowed and he used the same hand to gently cup your cheek in his hand.

“You can’t leave me. I can’t let you go. I can’t lose…” He stopped himself.

It took you weeks, tears and anger to realize. He wasn’t angry.

He was afraid.

“Why not?” You whispered breathlessly.

He bit his lip. “Stop this.” He hissed. “I know what you’re trying to do here.”

You slowly shook your head, your gaze fixed on his eyes. “Why not?” You whispered again. You leaned even closer and now it was you who initiated the contact. The moment you felt his body pressed against yours, you were done for. You had spent so many hours craving and dying to feel him again, asking yourself why, what did I do wrong? And now he was here and he was so desperate and God, you were, too.

You never actually wanted to leave anyway, did you? It was just your way of provoking a reaction.

That was what you told yourself.

“Tell me why not.”

He opened his mouth and hid his feelings behind a deep frown. He was obviously still very deep in the game of denial. And you weren’t going to be the one to pressure him. After all, he had his own things going on. You didn’t understand them, but you knew they were there. So, instead of waiting for his answer, you tilted your head up and brushed your lips over his. The touch was barely there, it was so soft and subtle that your body hardly recognized it as a kiss. But when you kissed, he made the most desperate sound you had ever heard. His eyelids fluttered and he dipped his head forward. Craving.

He was your Heathcliff.

He was your desire, your love and your tragedy.

He was all the bad there was in the world, when you live in a world full of darkness. But within the dark, he was also the light that painted the apricot walls of the halls you found yourself in into a warm white. Into all the good in the world. Into a world of warmth.

Warm. Good. Perfect.

A soft shiver ran down your spine when you felt him press against you, desperate for more. But you wouldn’t, you couldn’t, give it to him. Not yet. Despite the way your body craved his touch, you found yourself pulling back ever so slightly.

A strangled sound grumbled in his chest, like he was moments away from having his way with you, any way you could imagine.

But to your great surprise, he didn’t. He didn’t force anything on you, despite his frustration. His need was so apparent, you felt it in the way he breathed and you saw it in the way his eyes bore into yours. But he held himself back.

All for you.

“I didn’t try to leave.” You whispered. It was the one thing that was still between you, quiet and brooding, but oh-so obvious. He had hurt you. He had hurt you far worse than he had so far. Not because of the hair you lost, not because of the way he almost strangled the life out of you.

You had expected these.

But what you didn’t expect was for him to ignore you and make you feel like you did something wrong, when you didn’t.

“I know.” He said after a while. He sighed deeply and gently pressed his palms against your hips, holding you in a tight, near-bruising grip. His fingers dug into your flesh with an intensity that quickly reminded you of how much he needed you. It wasn’t like you were deliberately trying to tease him. You just needed…

“Forgive me.”

Your head jerked up and you stared at him speechlessly.

“You…You’re saying…”

“It was my fault.” He said very quietly. “And I’m sorry.”

Your heart nearly burst in your chest as you stared up at him. You couldn’t tell how sincere he was being. But then again, would he really say that, if he didn’t mean?

Would he say that at all? To anyone else? Ever?

You inhaled shakily and parted your lips in order to make any sound, but there was nothing. Your head was empty. All that there was, was him.

He leaned forward and pressed you against the wall behind you with the weight of his body against yours. His head dipped forward and his lips grazed your earlobe as he spoke.

“Can you forgive me, my sweet girl?” He whispered.

Your eyelids instinctively fluttered shut, when his breath tickled the sensitive skin of your ear. A hard shiver shook your body and you bit your lip to keep yourself from making any more sinful sounds.

“I…Yes.” You whispered back. “Yes, of course.”

He hummed softly and slowly ran his hand along your back, up your shoulders, until his fingertips carefully ran up the side of your neck. He felt the drop of blood on your skin and released a low growl.

“No one gets to hurt you”, he gritted out, “no one, but me. The rule applies to you, too.”

Your eyes stayed shut and you inhaled softly, when his fingertips slowly ran along the small wound. You had almost forgotten about that.

“I don’t know, if I should punish you for misbehaving…or take good care of you, because my darling girl is hurt.”

Your chest heaved rapidly and it only ever got worse, when his hand slowly wandered down along your chest. His hand was flatly pressed against it, like he was feeling your heartbeat. Which seemed to be exactly what he was doing.

“Your heart is racing.” He whispered. “Are you nervous?”

You nodded breathlessly. It had been a while since he last touched you. You had lived in the memory, of course. A few times even more so than you dared to admit. You weren’t normally an overly sexual person (or at least you thought so.) But the nights without him got harder and colder, so that you caught yourself a few times, with your mind on him and your hand wandering down your body.

Pathetic, you thought. But you couldn’t help yourself.

“I missed you.” You whispered, before you could stop yourself.

Of course you expected a satisfied smirk or even that he made fun of you in some way. But instead of being condescending, he hummed softly and breathed another kiss against your lips.

“Show me how much.”

You bit your lip in thoughtful hesitation. A part of you was nearly there, ready to ask How?

But another part of you, a part that you only ever had gotten to know after you met him…That part wanted to be daring.

And wicked.

And even fucking naughty.

You took a shaky breath and leaned in, meeting his lips halfway. This time, he didn’t give you the opportunity to back out. His mouth dominated yours in a deep, desperate kiss. His tongue forced your mouth open and began exploring the warmth of it, meeting yours in a wicked dance.

The moan that reached your ears was enough to make your legs go weak and the fabric of your underwear grow damp.

Slowly and tentatively you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Closer.

Your leg around his waist.

Closer.

You felt the bulge in his pants press and rub against your heat in a way that made you moan in return. God, you were hungry. Hungry for him.

He bit your lip almost hard enough to draw blood and when a pained whimper left your lips, his arousal only seemed to grow and he responded with a low growl.

He pulled his head back and regarded you with a long, intense look.

“I missed you being fucking naughty for me. Look at me.” His hand shot out and he slapped your cheek, before you even realized it. You didn’t even have the time to be surprised about it, because an involuntary moan came over your lips in response.

“Good girl. Be a good girl for daddy.” He breathed. “Open that pretty mouth for me.”

You obeyed without question, parting your lips to allow two of his fingers entrance. Your eyes were half-lidded and desperate as you stared up at him, while he rubbed his fingers over your tongue.

“Suck on them, baby. Show me how much you missed me.”

Your lips closed around them and you began teasing him with your tongue, sucking on his fingers lightly. His eyes immediately darkened and you were sure you felt the hardness between his legs throb.

“My good girl.” He murmured. His free hand wandered down your body, until he cupped one of your breasts and squeezed it lightly. He hummed in response and tore at your dress with impossible strength. It didn’t take long for the material to give in. You ignored the slight pain the friction brought you, because a moment later, he pulled back and ran his tongue along your now exposed breast and sucked on the peak, causing you to arch your back and moan.

“Oh God.” You breathed. “Oh God, please.”

“Beg me.”

“I’m begging you. Please. I need you.”

“Good girl.”

He hummed again and gently nibbled on your skin, before his lips wandered up and found the uninjured side of your neck. Instinctively, you tilted your head to the side to give him better access and he made good use of it, because he kissed every inch of your neck and lightly bit down it. When he did, you moaned again. And you also moaned when he bit down on your earlobe, hard enough to hurt.

You were a puddle under his touch, ready to melt, mindless. He did the thinking for you.

“Touch me.” He breathed.

You didn’t need to be told twice. In a fit of courage, you began to undo the buttons of his shirt. Your fingers were shaking, but you managed to undress him fairly quick. The sight was enough to make you go into a frenzy. You leaned in and brushed your lips along his neck and down his bare chest. Every sound he made, motivated you further. Your tongue glided along his flawless skin and flicked against his stomach, making him arch his back in return.

“My naughty girl.” He murmured. “Did you miss me that bad?”

You nodded absentmindedly, licking a path up his toned torso.

“Look at me.”

You froze, before you quickly pulled back your head and looked up at him with wide eyes. He sounded so stern and determined, like he had just detected some kind of flaw in you, a mistake you made.

Please, you thought to yourself, however you want to punish me, please don’t go back to ignoring me.

He didn’t. Instead he gently ran his thumb along your lower lip and murmured: “How do you want me?”

Your face instantly flushed as you were pulled back into the abyss of your desire. “I…”

“If you don’t choose, I will.”

“Taste you”, you gasped out half a second later, “I want to taste you.”

His eyes darkened even more and he looked at you with a mixture of untamable desire and something akin to pride.

“On your knees.” He growled.

You were on your knees, before you realized it. He undid his belt with nimble fingers and you felt the leather wrap around your wrists. You didn’t protest. If anything, it turned you on even more. He wasn’t being rough about. Not tonight. It was almost like he was trying to decipher if this was what you wanted. After all, it had been a complicated few weeks. He had mistreated you. But you forgave him. And now, now he was trying to be the good guy. At least this once, he wanted to make sure he wasn’t being too rough.

When you didn’t protest and only ever licked your lips in response, he exhaled a soft growl and slowly undid his pants. You watched him with a keen eye and parted lips. You had imagined and remembered the way he looked, the way he felt. But it was nothing compared to the reality of it.

His slacks landed by his ankles and you were greeted by the sight of his hardened length, throbbing and needy for your touch.

“Open wide.”

You parted your lips and stuck out your tongue, while the fire in your body only ever became bigger, hotter and far harder to put out, until it was near impossible.

He took a step closer and you felt him press against your cheek. Your eyes fluttered shut and you inhaled sharply. Just a second later you felt him rub his tip along your tongue, causing him to groan. And you moaned in response.

It was very unlike yourself to be so wicked and let go of any inhibitions like that. But in that moment, you were so terribly desperate, you would have done anything for him. And you wanted him, needed him. Badly.

So, when he began to move and slowly push forward into your mouth, you let him guide your movements, but you acted just the same. He pushed forward, but you pulled back just enough to spit down at his length. He moaned in response and he moaned even louder, when you began to coat him in your saliva, right before you took him back into the warm, soft and wet embrace of your mouth.

His fingers tangled in your hair and he held your head in place, as he began to thrust forward and use your mouth to his own pleasure. His pace quickly became punishing. He was impatient, you could tell. He was desperate, just as desperate as you were.

Had he touched himself and thought about you? God, the thought drove you mad. And suddenly, you felt even more wicked.

You strained against his bruising grip and pulled your head back. For a moment, he hesitated, but then he allowed you, a frustrated groan on his lips.

“Did you touch yourself?” You breathed. “Did you think about me?”

His eyes widened briefly, but then they got surrounded by darkness again. “You stopped to ask me that fucking obvious question?”

“Say it.” You whispered. “Please, I want to hear it.”

“Every night.” He gritted out. “I touched myself every night, thinking about. The only way I could ever cum was when I imagined that I aimed for your face. Your lips. Your tight, little- Fuck!”

You didn’t give him time to finish his thoughts, because you resumed the movement and took him back between your lips, teasing and flicking, licking and sucking on his throbbing member, until the way his eyes rolled back nearly became audible.

You could hardly breathe and he kept his hard grip on the back of your head, while he used your mouth and breathed out sweet words and curses.

“My beautiful…beautiful girl…My cumslut…My whore…My dirty, little…My brainless…Ah, fuck…”

The way he throbbed inside your mouth was enough for you. You were dripping wet and you needed him. With a soft plop, you pulled your head back, which earned a hard look from him.

“Fuck me.” You gasped out breathlessly, your voice horse from the way he had just ravaged your throat. “Please, fuck me. I need you.”

He growled in response and immediately reached down to undo his belt from your wrists. A short moment later, he yanked you up to your feet and pushed you against the wall.

“How?” He growled.

“How what?” You croaked out.

“How do you want me to fuck you? Decide or I will!”

You opened your mouth.

“Too late.”

He picked you up as though you weighed nothing, making you gasp out in surprise. And then he carried you in a direction that made no fucking sense.

The balcony.

You never thought about the balcony, because after all, it wasn’t real in your book. You didn’t get to open the door or try and breathe real air, so why bother to act like it was real?

But he carried you that same way and before you knew it, he pressed something against the sensor by the side of it – a chip? Was it a chip? A card? – and the door opened.

You nearly cried. Oh no, you did cry.

He carried you outside and suddenly you felt the cold air hit your skin. The same air you had missed out on for weeks. Was it months? At least eight weeks. Two months.

It was dark and cold outside, but the city ahead was shining in countless different colors and lights. You had almost forgotten where you were, which country this was. It was so very different from the sight you had grown up to see from your window every night. The cold fog, the storms, the moors. This was different. Another world.

You were different.

You were his girl.

He pressed you against the railing and you choked out a sob. Real air. You breathed real air.

He pressed himself against you from behind, his lips grazing your ear. “How is this?” He breathed.

You swallowed thickly and tried to come up with a response, but it was impossible. You were so high up in the sky and yet you felt like everything was right. Like you were hovering above the sidewalks, the busy streets, the cobblestones.

“Thank you.” You breathed out. “Thank you.”

You heard the way he smiled. “Don’t thank me yet.”

He yanked your dress up, until it pooled around your hips. For a moment you had forgotten how badly you wanted him, but when he pressed a finger against your soaked panties, you remembered it again. You inhaled sharply. You would have closed your eyes under the sensation, but you had to keep them open. You didn’t know when or if you would get to see the real world again, so you wanted to savor every moment. The cars, the bicycles, the life down there.

“Make space for daddy.”

A shiver ran down your spine and you held onto the railing tightly, while you slowly spread your legs further for him. He ripped your panties apart, the sound echoing through the dark of the night.

You felt him press the tip against your entrance, slick and ready, to needy to go slow.

“Oh, baby, look at me.”

You didn’t hesitate to look over your shoulder and meet his gaze. He looked more desperate than you had ever seen him before. And when he finally pushed forward and claimed you as his once again, you had to choke back another sob. Of relief, of need, of desire.

And love.

It felt like the first time again, because it had been so long. He pushed forward slowly, taking his time to fill your body with his. A strangled sound came from your throat and he joined you in that. His head fell forward until he managed to press his forehead against yours.

“My darling, my love.” He breathed out.

My love.

This time, he didn’t take it back. He didn’t even seem to realize. And you didn’t feel the need to pretend not to have heard.

“You’re so tight.” He groaned out and captured your lips in another kiss. He began to slowly quicken the pace, pulling back, just enough so that he got to thrust into you again with renewed strength and ferocity. You moaned with every thrust he gave and you moaned louder, when you felt his fingers press against your clit and rub it.

I love you. God, the words were on the tip of your tongue. I love you.

But you stayed quiet between your moans and gasps, only being interrupted by his groans and grunts.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He repeated. “I want to fuck you all night.”

His pace became punishing yet again and he bent you over the railing. Your head fell forward and you arched your hips against him, seeking more.

He hit every right spot and his fingers against your skin were enough to make you writhe. You moaned breathlessly, the sound mingling with his grunts of pleasure. A few particularly hard thrusts were all it needed from him, to send you over the edge. You nearly screamed out your release when it hit you. It felt so warm against the cold of the night, his warmth seeping into your skin and bones, his hardness sending you into oblivion. Your walls clenched around him, making him go insane. It was all he needed to go over the edge with you. He came with a low growl, filling you with his seed, while your body practically milked his orgasm out of him. He gave another hard thrust and fucked his own release back inside you, causing you to gasp out in a mixture of relief and overstimulation. It felt heavenly and you didn’t want him to ever stop.

Once the both of you slowly came back down from your high and you stopped gasping for air, he tangled his fingers in your hair and gently pulled your head back. He rested his chin on your shoulder and breathed against your ear. Your eyes slowly fluttered open and you looked at the scene in front of you again.

You wanted this. For the rest of your life.

Him. Only him. And the rest would follow.

“I’ll stay like this for a little while longer.” He whispered. “I know that you like it.”

You slowly closed your eyes, your face flushing in a mixture of shame and embarrassment. He smiled slightly.

“You still get flustered. God, you’re sweet.”

He sounded so…normal. So gentle, so sweet, so teasing, like a normal partner would, like a lover would.

You leaned back against him, savoring the feeling of his warmth and his scent, which surrounded you like a warm blanket.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” You whispered. He hummed and buried his face in your neck.

“What a silly question, my sweet girl. I’m far from done with you.”

__________________________________

Tag list 1:

@mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q @luvr4miya

Author's note: Hey, sweet people! I'm sorry the chapter took me so long this time! IMPORTANT: A great part of it was inspired by sweet @hayakamis-blog

First of all, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! 🎉🎁🤍 I said it already, but I'll keep saying it, hehe

She wrote a lovely text which inspired a whole lot of this chapter and I'll link it here, so you can see for yourself, which you totally should!

The second thing is, I'm HELLA tired, so I'm not sure if I've proof-read it correctly...Also, my eyes are closing already, so I'll just finish the upload and hopefully answer all your lovely messages by tomorrow!

I'm sorry if it sometimes takes a while for me to respond. My depression has been rather cruel on me lately, so I sometimes find myself struggling to get things done. But you still motivate me sooo much and I really love you for that. It's a great light in the middle of darkness. So, that was enough of that for now. I love you all to the moon and back! Yours eternally,

Lana 🤍

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theambitiouswoman · 2 months ago

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It’s never your loss, it’s always a lesson✨

It’s so easy to feel like we lost when we get rejected, ghosted, betrayed, didn't get the job, lost a friend, had a love that didn't last

But those things are not losses, they are lessons

Rejection isn’t a reflection of you, it's a redirection That job would’ve drained your spirit That relationship would’ve dimmed your light That person couldn’t see your worth because they’re still blind to their own

Every “no” was protecting your yes

Some people enter your life just to trigger your healing To show you where your boundaries are weak To help you confront your wounds, patterns and expectations Yes, it hurts. But pain is a powerful teacher when you stop trying to avoid it and start asking yourself what the experience came here to show you

You either win, or you get the wisdom And that wisdom is your protection moving forward

Our brain loves closure, but we don't need it to grow

Our nervous system craves answers We want to understand why someone hurt you We want the apology. The explanation. The final conversation But growth only requires clarity within you

The moment you stop asking yourself why they didn't choose you and start asking why you thought that was enough is when you reclaim your power

You're becoming. The version of you who went through that needed to die, so the version who knows better could be born

Every heartbreak taught you something: How to spot a red flag How to stop over giving How to choose yourself How to listen to your intuition

You didn’t lose love You gained self respect You didn’t lose them You found you

Let go of the idea that loss equals lack Sometimes, the universe subtracts to protect. And that’s not a tragedy at all, that’s transformation

So the next time something or someone exits your life instead of asking yourself "why me?" tell yourself "thank you for the lesson"

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noliniodeaes · 1 month ago

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Sylus x f reader

🍓: I'm not a writer and english is not my mother tongue. Writing tips are welcome though. Not proofread

Genre: light angst

"I've found my soulmate" He anounces with a gentle smile and you can't help but feel like he is mocking you. Right, he's happy. Why wouldn't he be.

You knew it'll happen sooner or later and yet; you take a shaky breath. You did this to yourself. He isn't the one to blame for your sad predicament

"I know"

His smile falters, his eyebrows raising in surpise.

"You did? How?"

"I just... always knew"

I just hoped...

"And you didn't tell me? Why?" He doesn't look so dazed anymore. He looks confused and almost as if... hurt.

Which makes you feel a little better for ruining his mood. You think you are a bad person. Can't you just be happy for him?

... Can't he just be upset for you?

Show some empathy, damn it.

" I didn't know how. It's not as if... Let's say it was your destiny to find out on your own."

I don't owe you an answer.

Or maybe you do. You're not sure. You weren't prepared. Despite knowing this from the start you still weren't. Maybe if you had a little more time, at least one more day, you would be ready. It's a lie.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. The happy dazed expression is gone from his face. Finally.

"I understand you had your reasons,"

Do you now? Do you really?

You want to get out. This conversation feels like it has been going on for 17 business days. It's awkward. It's sad. It's infuriating. It's... just please let's get this over with.

"It's late. I'm going to bed"

You don't look at his face. You can still his eyes on you though.

You sleep in the guest room that night. The room is chilly and quiet. Weird.

You don't sleep much. Instead you pack your things.

You feel like you risking your life opening the door to the master bedroom, but Sylus isn't there. Still, you don't waste your time. You grab what you deem necessery and slip out of the room. Then out of the mansion. You don't look back. You can't.

He decided to give you time, but his patience ran out pretty quickly. Just one peek. Just to make sure you're okay.

He was pretty sure you went into that guestroom. He checked another one. He checked all of them. He tasked Luke and Kieran with searching every room , every crook and cranny.

He already knew you weren't in the mansion.

What is that? Do you want him to go get you? Do you want to play a game?

No, it's not that. It's just that for some reason you're taking the news not how he expected you to. You need time and space. To process your emotions. He's going to respect that. He's still going to make sure you're safe though.

Mephisto searches for a week. Sylus stays patient. He appreas patient.

Turns out you didn't even bother to hide. He wasted time searching more secluded areas.

He finds you just going about your day. He doesn't expect you to look so drained. You have dark circles under you eyes, your complection changed. He feels lost, among other things.

Why? Do you hate him? Does this... Disgust you? Scare you? If so, why did you stay with him?

Everything was going great between you two.

Wasn't it?

He starts to doubt himself and your relationship. Should he reach out or should he erase himself from your life? Is it really such a burden for you? Is it unbearable?

Even if he's going to leave you alone he needs closure first.

For the last week and a couple days he's been overwhelmed with emotions he though he long forgotten how to feel. Fear, doubt, sadness. Anxiety was gnawing at his ribcage.

So he stood before the door to your appartment. A shabby one, he couldn't not notice.

Five knocks. Two slow and three fast. A code.

"What do you want" Your voice is muffled by the closed door.

"To talk"

"About what? It's over. Leave me alone."

Oh. Now that's interesting.

"Let me come in."

You open the door, looking like a poor stray kitten — messy and tired.

He fights the urge to comfort you, to pull you into a hug and whisper words of reassurance.

"What is this about?"

"What is what about?"

You tilt your head. Cute.

"Your escape. You saying it's over. Why? Tell me a reason. After that I'll leave and you'll never hear of me again."

You doubt that. It's hard not to hear about him. His presence, his whole existance is just way too loud.

"You found your soulmate. You don't need me anymore, so I'm... stepping down."

"Just like that? So you're ending things by... Making an escape at night? I didn't take you for a coward."

"I am a coward.And I just didn't have the strenght to talk to you, to look at you."

"What's so scary about being soulmates?"

"Being abandoned by the person you love is scary"

"Then why did you abandon me?"

You finally look at him. He is disheveled and visibly exhausted, looking like he aged a decade in a week. It's heartwrenching sight, really.

"I... I don't understand."

You finally manage to get the words out.

"Why did you abandon me?"

He repeats the question as if it would make it make sense that way.

"I- I didn't!.. I mean I did, but you- you abandoned me first!"

"How- what?"

"By finding your soulmate! I know you will leave me for them eventually so why waste time, staying with me?!"

There is a pause, silence charged with emotions while the two of you just look at each other. You - with accusation, panting from getting worked up and he - with confusion, holding his breath from shock.

And then - then he has the audacity to break into a laughter.

He holds his stomach, bending over, shaking. He only stops as he sees your hurt expression, your lower lip trembling as you frown.

In a blink of an eye he pulls you into his arms. He cooes soft nothings as he strokes your hair.

"Kitten... Sweetie, I'm not leaving you. You are my soulmate"

#lads #lads sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus #silly writing #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads x reader #sylus fluff

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janus-cadet · 7 months ago

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Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it! As a special treat, here is another taort card- from a new fandom, yes, yes, but... the last one of the Major Arcana !

Arcana. Ah. Arcane.

Yeah, this is some Jayvik. Here, as The World.

(explanations under the cut!)

Upright, first ! When The World card appears in a Tarot reading, you are glowing (literally, for them) with a sense of achievement, fulfilment, and completion. A long-term project, period of study (the hextech, perhaps?), or relationship has come full circle (from strangers, to partners, to whatever fluctuent situationship season 2 was, to soulmate on an astral plane), and you are now reveling in the sense of closure and accomplishment. Everything has come together, and you are in the right place, doing the right thing, achieving what you have envisioned. You feel whole and complete (with him)

Reversed, now.

The World Reversed suggests that you are seeking closure on a personal issue (POV, you're Jesus now, but you can't let go of one silly little blanket). You know, deep down, that to accept and embrace where you are now, you need to let go of the past and move on. Trying to leave the lab, for example. Or take a hammer to Jesus's face, who knows, no one would judge you, dear.

The World Reversed can signify that you want to fulfil a big goal or complete a big project (the great evolution ! come on! It's free!), but you’re not taking all the right steps to get there (you want to make people's life better? Good, but perhaps, maybe, don't start a cult, it's a very bad look). You may opt for the easiest or quickest path to attain your goal, but it won't lead to the outcome you intend. World domination, you know... Or, reaching the top of PIltover's society, and taking some *decisions* that sure are... things to think of...

And that's it for today! Trulyhope you enjoyed that- and who knows, maybe, a Jinx card could be expected before the end of the year....

#arcane #arcane fanart #jayce talis #viktor arcane #jayvik #viktor league of legends #tarot project #the world #viktor fanart #jayce fanart #jayvik fanart #arcane season 2 #arcane season 2 spoilers

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hcneymooners · 3 months ago

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౨ৎ summer slasher!pazzi: the finale.

best friends to lovers!pazzi. men & minors dni.

🫀⋆ you're at the end. turn back .ᐟ .ᐟ

cw: high gore (final showdown), blood, violence, typical horror disturbances, misplaced sexual tension, psyopathic behavior, morally ambiguous!p, morally ambiguous!a, the power of lesbians vs a mass murderer, unhealthy relationships bc it's a horror au, codependence, obsession.

notes: i genuinely thought you guys would bury me alive if i didn't post this, so here you go. i hope you enjoy. for all the threats i was getting, i better see some reactions in my inbox tonight! in all seriousness though, thank you for being here.

love you.

it turns out that even if your best friend is a killer, it will destroy you when she dies. it seems people you love are still people you love, even at their worst.

azzi doesn’t realize how much she has seen paige as infallible until now. her hands shake as she runs them over paige’s blonde hair, the blood soaking it so dark that the strands appear white. paige’s eyes are so blue, so bright in the cold call of the sun as she stares into nothing. there is so much blood, so much fluid leaving her from the neat slashes beneath her sternum.

her ribs peek through, the white bone arcing gracefully like dancers’ legs, curved in a reverent kneel around the pulp of her heart.

azzi doesn’t know where they are. when she looks up, eyes wild and wide, she can only see an aching, open forest. it was as if the two of them had been on a private anabasis, marching inland to something she was unsure of now. her throat burns as if she has been screaming, but when she lifts a hand to her mouth, she doesn’t find it open—she only feels the plump, even line of their closure.

her hands are shaking and covered in red. she reaches down and picks up paige’s head, which lolls like a broken doll. azzi’s grip keeps slipping, the crimson spray of blood across paige’s shirt and the base of her neck making it impossible to hold on.

finally, a sound leaves her.

it’s a horrible rattle, a combination of death and grief. azzi chokes it out, her back snapping outward as she leans over paige’s body and keens. she is nothing but an animal now—nothing but a pit of loss and rage. with a hand still on paige’s cheek, azzi glances up. she’s searching.

ashlynn must be here. she must be.

who else would be the killer?

as she turns to look in a new direction, something flashes—a hot arc of light. azzi stumbles to her feet and is surprised to feel the earth beneath them. when she peers down, she sees they are bare, her brown skin pressed into the rotting, maggotted soil. she doesn’t have any more energy to be horrified.

she pushes through the thrush and works toward that bouncing sphere of light. every step away from the woman on the forest floor behind her, away from the woman she loves, feels like glass cutting through her skin.

it is salt in the wound to leave her behind. it is a slow-burning; it’s an unforgivable evil.

but she reaches her destination, despite the pain. she is not clear about what she expected to find. maybe ashlynn—her knife siphoning the light like the leech she is, her weapon an extension of her parasitic life.

but it’s not.

azzi finds nothing but a mirror.

its body is long. its surface ripples like skin beneath a pulse.

she stares into it, desperate for answers. nothing is there except for herself: bloodied, bruised, and broken. she grits her teeth and tucks a shrill shriek of rage behind them.

she swallows down her terror. swallows down her mindless hatred. tries to taste only the love—the drive of paige’s death—tries to make it sweet.

and then, she sees something rise behind her.

a horrible, dark figure rises silently from the ground. she knows what it is. the knowledge snakes deep into her chest and coils in her stomach. this is paige’s killer. the creature that took her without remorse.

she has nothing to fight with except her bare hands. but still, azzi turns to face it. to face her.

she is hot-blooded. ripened by her anguish.

and then—she goes cold. because—

azzi is staring at herself.

behind her, the mirror stills. it has given her her answer.

𓇼

azzi jerks awake.

no scream. no gasp. just the sudden, animal twitch of her limbs like something’s been severed inside her.

she lies there for a second, disoriented. the air is too still. her chest heaves once, twice, but no sound escapes her. she’s soaked in sweat, the sheets clinging to her ribs, the echo of a scream trapped in her throat like a swallowed bullet.

she turns. slowly. like her body has a gravity it hadn’t before. she shifts beneath the blankets, knee brushing warm skin, and then she sees her.

paige.

on her back, sleeping deep, with one arm thrown above her head. her hair is a mess across the pillow. her face is soft, the tension of living drained from it in sleep. there’s a damp spot just at her collarbone where azzi must’ve cried into her in the night without knowing.

azzi stares. her own hands are trembling. there’s no blood on them now, no forest rot under her nails, but she still feels it. she still sees the wet gleam of paige’s ribs and the arc of bone cradling the red, weeping muscle.

she shifts forward, almost timidly, and crawls on top of her. her weight settles gently on paige’s hips, and she leans down, hands smoothing back the loose blonde strands. one at a time. every strand is a prayer. out of the two of them, paige is the religious one, but azzi still tucks paige’s name behind her teeth for protection.

she thinks about paige’s connection to god more often since discovering that paige could kill people without a hitch in her breath. she wonders if the avowed faith is more about penance than true belief. maybe there is room for both.

(paige understood that god was real when azzi saw the monster of her and did not scream. only unearthly hands could have made such a kind, forgiving heart.)

she presses her face into paige’s neck. breathes her in. the iron tang of her skin. the faint, dry vanilla sweetness of her shampoo. the heat of her pulse just beneath the surface.

paige stirs, brow furrowing slightly before her arms lift and fold around azzi’s waist. “you okay, mama?” she asks, voice sleep-rough and soft.

azzi doesn’t answer right away. she wants to. she opens her mouth. closes it again.

the dream still clings to her ribs like ivy. she can feel it in her gut, in the space behind her eyes, in the echo of her name shouted from far away. she can feel the end of something. like a bell that’s been ringing long before she heard it.

finally, she lifts her head and looks down at paige. her lips part, and this time the words come, low and fragile.

“this is going to change me.”

paige is quiet. just blinks at her for a long moment. then she reaches up, slides her hand into azzi’s hair, and cradles her.

“shh, baby,” she says. “just sleep.”

but azzi knows she won’t.

something in her has already broken loose.

𓇼 jana’s asleep on the couch. curled up in one of paige’s hoodies, headphones half-falling off, arms wrapped around her stomach like she is forcing her spirit to live inside of herself. azzi tucks the blanket up over her shoulder, gently, and when she picks up jana’s phone to place it on the charger, she sees that the younger girl is listening to morgan’s sleep playlist. she feels the familiar prick of tears, the sickly reawakening of grief in her legs and chest.

𓇼 she leaves a cup of tea on the table beside her. koshary shai, with a twist of mint. just how jana likes it.

𓇼 in the kitchen, the quiet is almost too loud. paige is on the floor with blueprints and maps, and two empty mugs already. her hair’s tied up. she looks like she hasn’t slept despite them pressing together last night. azzi doesn’t ask—she wasn’t able to sleep well after either.

𓇼 “she shouldn’t be here,” paige says, not looking up.

𓇼 “i know.” azzi’s voice is low, rocking with something she’s trying to keep under control. “but she has nowhere else. and i—i don’t want her anywhere else.”

𓇼 paige sighs. folds up a map like she’s trying not to rip it in half. “we should’ve told her. she deserves to know.”

𓇼 “and then what? she dies too?” azzi snaps, and then closes her eyes. quieter now: “i can’t let her be part of this. not again. she’s already struggling to live with…it.” she still can’t talk about morgan.

𓇼 paige watches her for a moment, something unreadable flickering across her face. then: “you were planning on going alone.”

𓇼 azzi doesn’t answer.

𓇼 “azzi,” paige says. and it sounds like she’s saying, please don’t die. azzi crouches beside her, takes paige’s face in both hands. her thumbs press softly beneath her eyes. “i keep having dreams of you dying, p. not like nightmares. more like… soft prophecies. i’m not psychic, but it has to mean something, right?”

𓇼 paige looks at her and then says, “it’s probably a manifestation of your trauma, az. i’ll be fine.”

𓇼 silence. outside, the wind shifts. azzi lets her go and walks away. she turns on the nespresso machine, which sits on the countertop, gleaming black in the weak sunlight, and brings it to life with a press of a button. “i don’t want to take the chance.”

𓇼 “azzi,” paige finally says. “i was willing to kill for you. i did kill for you. do you really think you’d make it out of this apartment without me right behind you? you’re smarter than that, ma.”

𓇼 moments like this one remind azzi that paige is—still—incredibly dangerous. she’s only barely tamed the beast inside her, has only trained it to heel beneath azzi’s hand.

𓇼 in the other room, jana stirs. her tea goes cold.

but of course, ashlynn is always one step ahead. azzi has to hand it to the bitch: she’s evil with a true purpose.

the basketball court is eerily beautiful at night. quiet and sacred. the polished hardwood catches slivers of moonlight filtering through the high windows, creating long, creeping shadows that stretch across the floor like abstract fingers.

it’s easy to slip in and be alone inside of it. everyone else left after morgan died, and those who stayed wouldn’t have left their rooms even if offered a million dollars.

paige had insisted they come. i need to clear my head, she'd said, and azzi had, like always, understood. basketball is paige's ritual, her form of meditation. the steady rhythm of the ball hitting the floor grounds her in ways little else could.

azzi watches from the lowest bleacher, small and still. paige runs drills like she's trying to outpace death. dribble. step. shoot. each motion lands with ghostlike precision. the ball arcs clean, kisses the net with a sound softer than breath.

“you’re still favoring your right,” azzi calls out, voice too light for what she’s carrying.

paige catches the rebound, pauses. gives a half-smile that doesn’t touch her eyes. “old habits.”

die hard, azzi finishes in her head. she doesn't smile back.

overhead, the fluorescents hum like dying bees, casting everything in a bleak, clinical glow. the emptiness of the gym amplifies every sound: the squeak of paige's shoes against hardwood, the hollow tremble of the rim as the ball beat against it. their words hang strangely, echoing back warped.

azzi checks her phone. no new messages. no calls. no blue dot from jana. her stomach knots. she’d made the girl promise, promise, to stay in, to lock everything. the girl had argued—of course she had—but eventually relented when azzi's voice cracked with a shrill squeak of desperation.

"she'll be fine, baby," paige says, reading the emotions off her body like a book. "she's smart."

"she's coping," azzi counters sharply. "there's a difference."

paige nods, slow. you aren’t yourself when you deal with grief. it makes a beast out of your nerves. it is easy to act out, to slip into a version of yourself warped grossly by your loss. jana is capable of anything during this time, plagued by a deep, miserable irrationality.

they all are.

the ball balances on paige’s long fingertips for a moment before she sends it spinning up toward the basket again. swish.

that's when azzi feels it. not a sound, not a sight. just a pressure. like the gym is inhaling. her spine prickles. her body knows before she does. she's developed a sixth sense for danger these past months, an animal awareness that prickles along her blood. her gaze darts to the shadows that gather in the corners of the gym, the observation deck above, and the corridor leading to the locker rooms.

“p,” she says. barely.

paige stills mid-dribble. doesn't turn. doesn't ask. but azzi sees the shift in her shoulders. she felt it too.

“paige, we need to go.” azzi stands. her hands won’t stop shaking.

the lights flicker once. twice. then plunge them into darkness.

azzi doesn’t think. she only moves instinctively toward where she last saw paige. her arms cut through the dark. her body is pulsing with an unnamed energy. she’s not calling out. sound feels like a risk now. her fingers graze skin, and paige catches her fast.

their fingers connect and tangle, hold. paige pulls her closer, their bodies pressing together in the dark. azzi’s body, ever uncontrollable, warms slowly as it registers their proximity. azzi exhales against the curve of paige’s neck, breath hot with fear. her lips brush bare skin, sweat-slicked. paige’s hands find her waist, urgent, grounding.

“emergency exit,” paige whispers, her mouth against azzi’s ear. “we’re gonna move slow, okay, mama?”

they begin.

one step. two. it’s as if they’re dancing.

the dark feels alive. the court groans under them.

ten steps. maybe more. time is liquid here. the silence crushes.

then, a sound. metal screeching against metal.

a lock clicks into place.

then another.

another.

“she’s sealing us in,” azzi moans. paige’s body is so tense it could be stone. they stop their migration, unsure now.

and then,

“i always hated that stupid bracelet.”

the voice sings through the dark like a near bullet.

azzi stiffens. paige turns, shielding azzi instinctively.

“such a pathetic little charm. all that sentiment for something mass-produced.” the voice drips honey and venom. amused. almost tender. “you kept it, though. of course you did. you probably felt so good thinking you had it all figured out. god, i hate arrogance.”

silence.

then footsteps. slow. deliberate. from the direction of the locker rooms. the echo carries strangely in the dark gym, like the space itself is struggling to breathe. it does not want to release her.

they switch: azzi steps in front of paige because she’s the one closer to the heat of ashlynn’s evil. her body is trembling, but her hands are fists.

“ash,” she says into the dark, hoping to coax some memory of their history with the nickname. “you don’t have to do this.”

ashlynn laughs mockingly. the sound is so soft, so broken at the edges. “ash. god, you’re still so romantic. you still think this is about choice?”

the lights snap on. all at once. blinding white.

and there she is. standing near the half-court line, hands at her sides, head tilted like a question.

she looks wrong.

thinner than she was. more angular. her limbs are too long for her body, or maybe it’s just the way ashlynn holds herself, like a doll that’s been overextended at the joints. her skirt sways with every shift of weight: white, cheap pleats, bloodless. a cropped uconn jersey is taut over her ribs, the fabric faded and curling at the hem. there’s blush smeared along her cheekbones, or at least azzi prays it's blush. she doesn’t know how deep the violence runs in the other woman.

ashlynn’s lip gloss is smudged pink and sweet. she’s dressed up, azzi realizes with mounting horror.

ashlynn’s eyes are too wide. unblinking. like she’s seeing a vision none of them can.

“there was never a choice,” she says, voice now deadly quiet. “there was always only this.”

wings. it’s a match to the bracelet azzi found missing.

ashlynn notices her staring.

“oh,” she says, tilting her head further, mock-embarrassed. “you like it? it was a set. my mom got them for me. one for the wrist. one for the throat.” she touches the charm gently, like it’s precious. “guess she didn’t want me to forget how easily things can break.”

azzi’s throat tightens. the gym feels colder now.

“you killed her,” she whispers. “you killed morgan.”

ashlynn doesn’t flinch. she only sighs. patient. as if disappointed in a child.

“yes, that. god, that was awful, wasn’t it? it was supposed to be jana or, well, you.” azzi’s blood runs cold at the mention of jana. ashlynn watches her, her lips twitching. “morgan was an outlier. an unfortunate name added accidentally to the list. but despite whatever you’re thinking, i swear this is all for a very good reason.”

azzi feels paige’s hand on the small of her back, right in the middle. she tries to focus on it. ashlynn saunters closer. both girls step back.

“all they ever did was hog the light,” ashlynn says, walking forward steadily, slow and calm. it’s as if she's giving a lecture. “gold medals. scouts. scholarships. even in their failure, they were praised for being brave. strong. legendary. but there’s no room to grow in soil that’s already choked.”

she steps closer. her charm swings gently. again, the girls step back. ashlynn pauses, her eye twitching almost imperceptibly.

“someone had to rip out the roots.”

ashlynn finally stops, now a few feet away. looks directly at azzi. her eyes shine sickly. azzi can feel her words, her disregard for every life she’s spilled into an early grave, settle slow, stringy, and sticky inside of her. it clings to the ribs.

“you—you were supposed to be different,” she says. “a signal that things could change. that we didn’t have to keep worshipping the same ten girls forever. but azzi, you stayed small.”

her tone shifts again. silk-wrapped. almost pitying. she tilts her head, seems to smell azzi's disgust.

“i’m not a monster, azzi.” a soft shrug. “i’m only a gardener.”

and something in her smile twists like she believes it. like it wasn’t pain she inflicted on real people, only a kind of pruning.

only love, in its most warped, most desperate form.

azzi suddenly becomes aware of how much her body is showing. she’d only thrown on an oversized, black zip-up hoodie over an unforgiving sports bra and low-rise cotton shorts. they were from adidas, vintage soccer style ones that ashlynn had gifted her just last year. i thought you’d look so good in these, she’d said.

azzi wonders if she’d thought of her dying in them, too.

ashlynn paces closer. her voice is still lilting, syrup-sweet.

“you know, you should’ve thanked me. i carved a space for you. you could’ve led.”

azzi’s voice is steady, but there's a tremble at the edges. “you didn’t make space. you made graves.”

a beat. ashlynn’s smile flickers. falters. that wasn’t the response she wanted. that wasn’t in the script.

then, paige steps forward. she easily maneuvers azzi to the side. she can see the coil of ashlynn’s body, that same killer’s rise that she houses in her own.

“bullshit,” she says coldly. “you’re a fucking coward. you don’t have the talent, so you’re cutting the real players up? come on, ash, that’s pathetic.”

ashlynn closes her eyes and cracks her neck. she speaks with her eyes still shut. “and you. god, we could’ve been great together. then, you had to go and get all moral about it. ‘nah, azzi is off limits.’” the impression of paige drips with derision. ashlynn’s eyes open. “why do you always have to be the fucking hero, bueckers?”

paige doesn’t flinch. “i didn't say all that. i know what i am. i’m not that deluded.”

ashlynn lunges—not for azzi, but for paige. swift as death.

but paige is ready. she ducks, somehow shoves azzi away, and ashlynn back, hard. azzi feels the air get knocked out of her as she falls to the floor, paige’s strength much more than she ever could have anticipated. her side hurts from where she’s hit the court, and she realizes just how softly paige has always treated her. even when she was being mean.

when she gathers enough strength to look back at where ashlynn is, she sees paige is managing to hold her own. there’s a moment where she even has her—back foot planted, adrenaline surging. she almost wins.

until ashlynn shifts direction, sharp and serpentine, like a dancer who missed a cue and made it part of the choreography. she feints toward where azzi sits stupidly on the ground and, of course, paige moves to intercept—too late.

ashlynn smiles, and azzi feels a horrible twisting ribbon of dread around her neck at the sight. she watches in slow motion as ashlynn whips back around and drives the blade in.

right under the ribs. the blood that follows is deep and red.

azzi screams.

the sound tears out of her like a rupture, and then there is only blood. blood, ruby and leaking, and the echo of metal. there is only paige, crumpling like the world stopped holding her up. azzi was a fool to think violence couldn’t reach her.

azzi scrambles forward, knees slamming the ground, hands skidding through something warm. she falls, slips as she pushes herself back up. her vision is thin and hot and wrong. she can’t hear anything except the pulse between her ears and paige gasping, trying to say her name through lips turning white at the corners. paige is still trying to be strong, her teeth grinding together as she lets out a pained groan.

azzi is going to kill her. she’s going to kill that fucking cunt.

“fuck,” azzi chokes. “okay. it’s okay. i’ve got you.”

she shrugs off her hoodie, blood on the sleeves already, and presses it hard against the wound. paige hisses, jaw clenched, but doesn’t pull away. azzi makes her hold it there.

“fuck, this shit hurts,” paige whispers. azzi lets out a weak laugh. “ah, shit.”

her blue-eyed gaze flickers over azzi’s shoulder. she reaches out, her free hand cupping azzi’s chin.

“look at me. azzi, look at me.”

azzi struggles to look away from the way her hoodie is becoming more and more soaked. her eyes are wide and glazed over. paige takes her hand away, slaps her. azzi gasps. not from the sting, but from the grief of it.

paige has never hit her before. not even once.

“sorry. ‘m so sorry, baby. but i need you to listen to me. you need to run.” she pushes past azzi’s strangled protest. “she wants to finish me off. it’ll keep her distracted, and it gives you a good chance.”

“p—” azzi begins, but paige cuts her off.

“you knew what this was, mama. i said the point was protecting you.” her gaze is hard. “this is it.”

azzi doesn’t answer. she’s somewhere else now. something else. her hands are soaked, sticky. her breath goes in sharp, shallow. paige’s blood is on her neck, her chest, her mouth maybe. it doesn’t matter.

“azzi, if you don’t fucking move, she’ll kill you too.”

azzi meets her eyes.

“she already tried.”

paige’s brow furrowed. azzi pressed her forehead against it. her lips parted, and the words ghosted out like smoke.

“do you remember seventh grade?”

𓇼 they were thirteen.

𓇼 paige never cried. not really. at least not when people could see her. she was the kind of girl who moved through the world like it owed her something sweet. so self-assured in a way that didn’t feel fair.

𓇼 she was perfectly coded. she knew exactly how to flick her ponytail and land a beautiful free throw. azzi had always watched her sideways, had memorized the slope of her smile and perfect nose.

𓇼 so when she found her behind the concession stand after practice one afternoon, sitting with her knees pulled up and her face red and wrecked, azzi had gone still.

𓇼 she knelt down. touched her. paige flinched.

𓇼 “it’s nothing,” paige said, laughing in that fake, strained way. “it’s stupid. that girl—whatever, man. it’s just words.” but there was a mark on her neck. a little welt like a thumb had pressed there, too hard.

𓇼 azzi didn’t ask. she just stood up and walked back toward the gym. past the vending machines, around the corner where the field shadows stretched long. she knew exactly who it was, who had done this. who kept doing this.

𓇼 amerie. eighth-grade cheerleader. lip gloss always too fucking pink. always looking at paige like she was—like she was something she could ruin. a small piece of meat that wouldn’t put up a fight between her teeth.

𓇼 she was behind the school alone, talking on the phone. azzi didn’t say a word. she grabbed her by the hair first.

𓇼 the phone went flying. amerie screamed once, short and stupid. then azzi slammed her to the ground—knees scraping, elbows cracking. she sat on her chest, legs pinned on either side, weight down hard like she wanted to be inside her ribcage.

𓇼 “you think you’re tough?” azzi said, breathing fast, too fast. amerie was clawing at her arms, crying now. “get off of me, you freak. what the hell—”

𓇼 azzi punched her. then again. then she dug her fingers into her cheeks, thumbs pushing up hard until amerie’s mouth split open at the corner.

𓇼“you like to call girls dykes?” she hissed. “you want to call paige that? huh? hurt her? make yourself feel big, bad, and strong?”

𓇼 the girl sobbed. azzi spit. she wasn’t sure if it was blood or bile or lip gloss on her tongue. azzi touched her own mouth, smearing whatever was there. then grabbed amerie’s chin and smeared it across her lips.

𓇼 “now you’re one too.”

𓇼 she leaned in close. maybe kissed her. maybe just hovered. she wanted her to remember this. her smell, her taste, the fear.

𓇼 “i’ll come back if you say her name again. and i swear to god, amerie, you’ll never forget mine.”

𓇼 and with that azzi stood, wiped her hands on her shorts. left the other girl curled on the asphalt, pink glitter gloss mingling with blood. she glanced down at her hands, saw the smear of dirt and glitter and blood.

𓇼 she sucked it off.

paige looked at her, her face pale from blood loss and now twisted in a mixture of surprise and something azzi couldn’t place. then, paige let out a long breath, and azzi understood.

it was desire.

“i never knew you did that. i just thought she’d finally fucked off.”

azzi smiled and leaned down, pressing a sloppy kiss to paige’s mouth. paige moaned into it, and azzi felt a rush of pleasure at the idea that paige was called more to her than the shadow of death at her door. she almost lost her sense of the present, but then ashlynn shifted from where she was watching with an almost detached boredom, and the floor creaked.

azzi grew cold.

“stay down,” azzi murmured. her voice was glacial. “you always take it. let me do it this time. please. just stay.”

she pressed her cheek to paige’s temple. felt her nod.

she rose.

azzi’s eyes are wide, unfocused. her body was already wrecked, always had been. but something sharp is crawling back up through her.

she remembers the feel of skin giving beneath her knuckles. the split of a lip. what it feels like to mark someone and walk away.

that’s what ashlynn doesn’t understand.

azzi hasn’t survived because she’s strong. she’s survived because she’s mean when it counts. love has never softened her. in fact, love, and paige, were her triggers. she doesn’t feel the blood trailing down her own leg until she sees it, shiny against her thigh, a relic from paige's wound that she hadn’t registered.

her hoodie is a makeshift bandage, and she’s left in her sports bra, which clings to her ribs, soaked through with sweat. her shorts hang low. her whole body hums like a struck wire. carefully, azzi turns to look at ashlynn. azzi—bleeding, breath stuttering, heart thudding like a war drum—laughs.

ashlynn’s face contorts.

she hates being humiliated.

“you’re such a piece of shit, ash,” azzi says. “on and off the court. you want me, but you can’t even make the proper effort to kill me. there’s always somebody else you go for.”

“tread carefully, az,” ashylynn says, her voice deceptively easy.

“or what?” azzi asks, head falling to the side like a dog. “you’re going to kill me? stab me? go ahead. at least then you’d finally fucking do something to me.”

ashlynn’s mouth twists into a sneer, and her hand tightens its grip around her blade. she wipes the strip of metal on the white of her skirt, the contrast jarring. azzi steps back, feet still slick. she moves toward the locker room.

“and here i was, trying to be nice and give the two of you a chance at saying goodbye,” ashlynn hisses. she’s moving away from paige. “this could’ve been sacred, azzi. you ruined it. again. but hey, at least you’ll be together in the end.”

azzi slides into a crouch, her body keyed up. she locks their gazes together, calls to the beast.

“eat shit, bitch.”

she turns and runs.

azzi knows she isn’t a fighter. but she also knows she wants a kill.

the lights flicker, buzzing and half-dead. steam coats the mirrors, and the floor is slick with water, blood, and shattered glass from a kicked-in fixture. she skidded into it when she burst into the room. somewhere, a towel drips blood into a puddle.

azzi is crouched low between lockers, her breath stuttering. she’s bleeding from her thigh, her side, her shoulder—flesh opened like peeled fruit. her hands are slick and shaking as she pulls another shard of glass from her side. it’s long and jagged, and her tattered skin flutters as she tugs it out like fleshy butterflies.

her shorts hang low on her hips, threatening to fall right off. her v-line is soaked. her sports bra clings to her chest, black and wet and shining in the low light. from outside the door: a thud. then another. footsteps.

azzi’s vision narrows to a tunnel. the fluorescent lights above flicker like a dying star, casting fractured shadows across the locker room tile, smeared with blood. hers, probably paige’s, maybe even someone else’s. who knows how long ashlynn has been here?

the air reeks of sweat and iron. her eyes are burning. her bare feet slip slightly as she takes one step forward, then another. she carefully snags the towel on the floor, wrapping it around the bottom of the piece of glass she just pulled from her side. she stands there with her makeshift blade trembling in her hand.

ashlynn moves like a ghost. calm. confident. as if none of this matters.

“she told you to run,” ashlynn calls out, her voice syrup-slow, tilting her head like a curious predator. “you should’ve listened.”

azzi doesn’t answer. she can’t. every word lodges in her throat behind a scream that hasn’t broken free. she pauses, closes her eyes, licks her lips, and tries to place ashlynn’s location.

she takes a leap and lunges. she’s off.

the blade barely grazes ashlynn’s thigh. just enough to tear fabric. just enough to draw a bead of blood. enough to enrage her.

they crash into each other: teeth gritted, knees hammering into ribs, fingernails clawing through sweat-slick skin. ashlynn’s knife goes spinning across the tiles. gone. azzi doesn’t care.

she slams her shoulder into ashlynn’s sternum. the pain is immediate and electric, sharp enough to make her vision go white for a split second, but she doesn’t stop. doesn’t stop when her elbow cracks against the corner of a bench. doesn’t stop when ashlynn swings the bat—where the absolute fuck did that come from?—and beats it against her forearm. doesn’t stop when the bone splits like a breaking tree branch.

azzi keeps going.

not because she thinks she’s primed to win. but because she refuses to lose.

they end up near the showers, and ashlynn uses azzi’s weight against her, slams her hard into a wall of mirrors and porcelain sinks. azzi feels an army of glass go into her, and she shrieks. ashlynn’s smile nearly overtakes her face. her teeth are pink with her lip gloss.

blood slicks the floor. they fall into it. slide in it. roll.

ashlynn is strong. but azzi is meaner.

azzi headbutts her. a sickening crunch. blood gushes from ashlynn’s nose. she rears back, and azzi strikes again. ashlynn catches her this time, pushes her back, and kicks her hard in the ribs. glass pushes in. azzi lets loose a horrible wail of pain.

god, she hopes paige can’t hear her.

“you’re not like her,” ashlynn hisses as she pins azzi to the floor, their limbs tangled in blood and water and broken tile. “you’re soft. paige is out there, gurgling like a pitiful little insect. she’s killed for you. and you? you can’t even protect yourself.”

azzi meets her eyes. something dead and ancient opens in her chest.

“you’re right,” she says, her voice flat. “i’m not like her. i’m not even like you.”

her eyes slide down to her thigh, to where a jagged chunk of mirror is protruding at a grotesque angle. her hand closes around it. she screams, raw and loud, as she drags it out.

the world tilts.

azzi grits her teeth, sobbing through the pain as she finally frees the shard and slashes it across ashlynn’s neck.

the sound ashlynn makes isn’t human. it’s not like she was one.

“i’m worse,” azzi finishes, her voice monotonous. she’s an animal now.

blood sprays across the wall. ashlynn gurgles. falls back. grabs her throat. tries to stand. but azzi tackles her. ashlynn worms her way out, still desperate to keep going.

azzi is so fucking tired of her.

somehow, the fight spills into the gym. azzi barely registers her surroundings anymore. it’s all just shapes and echoes and blood. the bat has been dropped. the wood shines red and begging.

azzi picks it up with her broken arm, pain lighting up her nerves like fireworks. doesn’t matter. she spits blood from her mouth, tilting her head back to breathe.

ashlynn is up. she’s stumbling. gasping.

rage floods azzi. she pushes herself forward, steps slow and heavy. she is aware of paige just off to the side, her body writhing to life as she sees the ways in which azzi is destroyed. the gym lights are strobing, or maybe that’s just azzi’s vision going in and out.

ashlynn is swaying. still moving. still swinging. so determined not to die.

azzi follows. she is her harbinger.

she hefts the bat. cocks her shoulder back and raises it high. her shadow elongates past ashlynn’s bloody, burbling body.

here they are—framed center court. azzi stands, slick with gore and sweat, chest heaving. her body is shaking, the bat trembling in the air. she’s frozen for only a moment. not with fear, but with the aftershocks of violence, like a bell still ringing long after the strike.

she looks savage. beautiful.

her shorts ride low on her hips, exposing more bruises than skin. patches of raw flesh bloom across her thighs and abdomen; a cruel constellation of survival. her stomach rises and falls sharply. blood traces the curve of her spine.

her mouth parts, lips raw, a streak of crimson trailing down her jawline like war paint. her eyes are half-wild, rimmed with salt and pain.

she is radiant.

she is herself, finally.

behind her, paige coughs, wet and broken. azzi doesn’t turn. she’s focused, but she can feel her. she knows paige is still on the ground because she made her promise to stay down. to let her fight. to let her win.

ashlynn turns, her knees beginning to buckle. her eyes widen. there’s a flicker of fear. azzi’s face twists into a snarl. her teeth flash, and she swings.

the first strike lands in the ribs. the crack is beautiful. next swing: the side of the head. then the shoulder.

the bat rises and falls. again.

and again.

she beats ashlynn down with everything she has.

azzi is screaming now. she doesn’t remember starting. the raw, bestial sound claws out of her chest. she drops the bat mid-roar and keeps going. keeps wailing like her body has become a speaker for everything she ever buried.

her grief. her love. her shame. her fear. her rage. it all comes up at once, ripping through her like a second spine.

she screams until her throat gives out. until she vomits. she falls to her knees, hands holding her up as the bile falls. she looks up, remnants dripping from her mouth.

ashlynn is unmoving. she’s finally stayed down.

azzi looks away and blinks blood from her lashes.

behind her, paige lets out a rattle. it’s moist and weak.

azzi turns. her injuries scream. agony spears through her. still, she crawls over.

paige is alive, but barely. azzi begins to cry.

the doors crash open. the police—late as always. she wonders what finally clued them in.

sirens scream outside. floodlights streak in through broken windows, blue and red flashing against the blood-slicked floor. a crowd is gathered just inside the gym entrance: cops, students, and jana, stunned and silent.

azzi stands, heaving.

she steps forward, bare feet flexing, each move unsteady but deliberate, like her body weighs more now. her breath drags out in short, shattered exhales.

“mmm,” she moans, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from fainting.

she places herself in front of paige.

one step. then another. she turns to the crowd.

her eyes lock with theirs. someone is sobbing. someone else whispers her name like they barely recognize her. in azzi’s face: no remorse. no apology. only choice.

the bat glints on the floor next to what used to be ashlynn, still wet.

azzi raises her hands, palms open. blood pools in the creases. her arms shake.

she’s drawn the line. they can think what they want.

azzi’s already decided.

paige is trying to sit up, always trying to take the fall for her. but azzi is different now.

but she doesn’t mind.

she will do anything to keep paige alive. to keep them both alive.

final girl stands alone. one killer behind her. one in front. she loves the one behind. their instincts are twinned. the other is gone. final girl has survived. but there is no peace inside her. only the hum of violence, like rabid bees. there is an aftertaste. almost holy. final girl with her blood-stained hands in the sudden silence. final girl declares: i did this. i would do it again. i had to choose, and i will always choose her. final girl stands cut open. many things bleed out. from her: a red river of love, but no peace.

𓇼 the hospital is quiet at 3 a.m. everything is bleached and humming.

𓇼 paige has a private room. no visitors allowed for now. but rules don’t apply to girls who almost died for each other.

𓇼 azzi’s got six stitches along her ribs, butterfly bandages blooming down her forearms where glass sliced her open. her body is stiff as she rises. a nurse tried to stop her from leaving her bed. azzi didn’t stop walking.

𓇼 she finds paige propped up in bed, pale but awake, one arm bandaged tightly against her body. the stab wound missed anything fatal by an inch. azzi has replayed that inch in her head a thousand times.

𓇼 paige blinks as if to check if she’s dreaming when azzi shuffles inside. “hey, princess,” she says. soft, so soft.

𓇼 azzi doesn’t speak. she just crawls in beside her, every joint aching. she presses her face into paige’s shoulder, careful not to touch the dressing, and exhales for what feels like the first time in days.

𓇼 paige tips her chin, kisses azzi’s hair. “i’m so proud of you, mama,” she whispers. “thank you for saving my life.”

𓇼 azzi barely breathes. paige pretends not to notice her hospital gown growing wet. “you’d do the same for me.” it’s quiet. not solemn. bone-deep.

𓇼 then paige mutters, “she got me early. she knew i’d shut that shit down.” azzi huffs, a crooked little laugh. “i am so gonna fuck you when we get out of here.”

𓇼 paige blinks, surprised, then breaks into a smile. “yo, chill,” she grins, hand curling into azzi’s. azzi smiles too, but paige can see through it. this is all bravado.

𓇼 they lie there a long time, and eventually paige falls asleep. azzi listens to the monitor beep steadily in the dark.

𓇼 she brings a hand up to her neck, where the sleek gold evil eye jana got them both for protection glints against her collarbone.

whether it’s that—or paige’s lips dragging across her throat—that’s the only line azzi wants drawn across her neck.

#mine ; 🐎.#pazzi slasher au.#pazzi #pazzi fics #paige x azzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconn wbb #uconn huskies

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kwanniverse · 9 days ago

Text

is it too late to say sorry?

pairing: idol seungcheol x reader troupe: already lovers genre(s): est. relationship, some angst but mostly comfort and fluff at the end! warning(s): none word count: ~1.7k summary: he shows up at her doorstep with a box full of memories, apologies, and the question he should’ve asked sooner: “is it too late to say sorry?”

pt 3 of seungcheol short series, read pt1, "words hurt more than you think." here, and pt2, "words that bleed" here!

work all mine, no reposting without creds, no stealing of published work, copyrighted:D

it started with silence.

the kind that wasn’t empty, but too full. full of unsaid words, shattered trust, unfinished memories. a silence that screamed in the corners of your apartment, that wrapped itself around your chest every night as you tried to sleep but only ended up staring at the ceiling, reliving the way his voice broke you. a silence that clung to the walls like smoke, curling into everything... your coffee, your shower, your reflection, reminding you of what once was, and what never would be again. it followed you like a shadow, uninvited but constant. like silence. like him. and for weeks, that’s all you gave him.

not because you wanted to hurt him, but because you had to protect yourself. after what he said, after the look in his eyes that night — sharp, cold, unfamiliar, there just wasn’t anything left to say. he had cut too deep, and it wasn’t just the words. it was the way he didn’t stop himself. the way he didn’t even flinch as you stood there with your heart in your hands, waiting for him to take it, and instead, he dropped it. dropped it like it meant nothing. like you meant nothing. so you left. not loudly. not with slamming doors or shouted curses. just… quietly. painfully. and you didn’t look back. no goodbye. no dramatic closure. just silence in return — the same silence he once gave you while you begged him to say something, anything, to explain. you gave it back. not to get even, but to get free.

your phone remained untouched. no read receipts. no notifications from him that you didn’t delete. you didn’t block him — you couldn’t bring yourself to. but you didn’t answer either. not once. because how do you respond to someone who only realised what they had after they lost it? how do you open the door to someone who didn’t fight to keep it closed? you saw the messages, even if you didn’t open them. one-liners at first. then longer ones. the kind that sounded like they were written at 2am, when regret feels loudest. then none at all. silence from him too — the kind that meant he was probably giving up. and still, that hurt more than it should’ve. because part of you wanted him to keep trying. even if you didn’t know what you’d do if he did.

until one night, there was a knock at your door.

you weren’t expecting anyone. your hair was messy, pulled up in a lazy bun. you wore the sweatshirt you always wore when your chest felt too heavy. your apartment was dimly lit, the rain tapping lightly on your windows. a half-drunk mug of tea sat forgotten on the counter. and when you opened the door just a crack — you saw him.

seungcheol.

hood pulled over his head, soaked from the light rain, holding a cardboard box in his arms like it weighed more than he did. his sneakers squelched slightly against the welcome mat, water dripping from the frayed edge of his sleeves. he looked like a ghost. one that still knew your name. you didn’t move. didn’t say anything at first. you just stared at him. he looked pale, tired, worn down — like he hadn’t slept well in weeks. the dark circles under his eyes told stories no words could. and finally, your voice came out, low and flat. “what do you want, seungcheol?” he blinked, momentarily taken back because normally you would never call him his name like that, but he deserved it. of course he did. exhaling shakily, he said four words. just four. “to fix what i broke.”

you didn’t say anything.

he adjusted his grip on the box, fingers curled too tightly around the sides. the cardboard looked damp near the edges, and you wondered if it was from the rain or from the way his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. “you can’t undo what you said,” you replied, the words falling out before you could stop them. not bitter. just honest. he nodded slowly. “i know.” “then why are you here?” his eyes met yours, and for a second, it looked like he might cry. he looked like he already had. “because i love you,” he said, and it felt like the air shifted. like the earth tilted just a little under your feet. your breath hitched. you didn’t know what to say. because those were the same words he’d used before — back when you believed them. back when they felt like safety, not a bruise. “because you deserved better than the way i treated you,” he continued, voice shaking now. “and i didn’t realise how much damage i caused until you were gone. and now i don’t even know if i have the right to ask…” he swallowed. looked down. then looked right at you.

“but… is it too late now to say sorry?”

your fingers tightened slightly on the door. his words hung in the air like fog. you finally spoke, slow and tired. “…what’s in the box?” “memories,” he said. “apologies. the truth. and maybe something that could be a start. if you’ll let it be.” you stared at him, heart tight. you hated how much you wanted to believe him. how much you still wanted him. “you think a bunch of letters can fix what you did?” he shook his head. “no. they’re not meant to fix anything. they’re just proof. that i haven’t stopped thinking about you. that i remember everything. that i still… want this. want you. if there’s even a small part of you that wants me too.” your chest ached.

“…i don’t forgive you.”

he nodded again. “i wouldn’t forgive me either.”

and maybe it was the way he didn’t try to fight that, didn’t beg or rush to defend himself — that made something in your expression shift. because for once, he wasn’t asking you to forget. he was asking you to feel. “…you look like shit,” you muttered. his laugh was short, breathless. “i feel worse.” still, you didn’t close the door. “…i’m not ready,” you whispered. his eyes softened. “i don’t need you to be.” and then — slowly, like he was afraid the moment might break — he crouched down and set the box gently by your feet. you didn’t touch it. not yet. but you saw it. saw the hoodie you hadn’t realised you missed. the envelope. the corner of a small photo album peeking through.

he backed up a step, hoodie dripping water onto your welcome mat. he looked like a boy again. someone who had once held your hand and made promises he didn’t know he’d break. “but when you are ready,” he said, voice steady despite the shaking in his chest, “i’ll be here. every day. same place. no pressure. just me. waiting.” he turned. and for some reason — you didn’t close the door. “…you really kept that polaroid of us in the rain?” you asked quietly. he turned back instantly. “of course i did.” you looked down. your voice came out smaller than you meant. “idiot.”

he smiled. but he didn’t say anything more. and then he walked away.

you didn’t open the box right away. it sat on your coffee table for a full day before you even touched it. and when you did, it broke you. the hoodie still smelled faintly like him. like cinnamon and clean laundry and memories you thought you’d buried. you buried your face in it before you could stop yourself. it was stupid how much comfort it brought. how much pain too. the letters — forty-three of them — were all numbered. some long, some short. all raw. all written in his unmistakable handwriting, smudged in places where it looked like tears had fallen. some had dates. some had drawings. one had a dried flower tucked inside. you cried at letter seventeen.

he did too, according to the page.

you didn’t know why that made you cry harder. the photo album — messy, scribbled, heartfelt — made you laugh and cry all over again. captions in his messy scrawl. inside jokes only the two of you would get. pictures that felt like time machines. you weren’t ready to miss him. but you did. more than ever.

you read everything. every note. every caption. every silent apology. but still, you didn’t text him. not yet. until a week later — when the silence finally stopped feeling like safety and started feeling like fear. when you realized your heart was still broken, but not closed. and that night, you sent a message.

[you free tomorrow?] simple. short. but it carried more than you would ever know. a pause. then another. [i’m not saying yes. just… meet me at the old bridge. 7pm.]

you didn’t know why you were crying. only that you couldn’t stop. he was already there when you arrived. hoodie. jeans. hands shoved into his pockets. eyes scanning the path like he didn’t want to hope — but couldn’t help it. you walked up slowly. neither of you said anything for the first minute. then you asked, “you really wrote forty-three letters?” he nodded. “i read all of them.”

his breath caught. “i didn’t know if you would.” “…i cried at letter seventeen,” you whispered. he smiled. eyes shining. “me too.” you looked at him. really looked. and for the first time in weeks — you smiled. small. shaky. real. “i’m still angry.” “i’ll hold your anger until you’re ready to let go,” he said softly. “i’m still hurt.” “then i’ll be gentle.” “i’m scared.” he reached out, fingers brushing your pinky. hesitant. trembling. “me too. but i’m not leaving this time.”

you stared down at your hands. then — slowly — you hooked your pinky with his. you leaned into his side. not all at once. not fully. just enough. “…you’re still an idiot,” you muttered under your breath.

he let out the softest laugh. “but i’m your idiot,” he whispered. and for the first time since he broke your heart — you didn’t let go.

#finally caved and wrote it cuz yall were chasing me and i agree ive been lazy these days #100 follower event is coming back too!#seventeen #seventeeen au #seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol #scoups x reader #svt carat #svt x reader #svt #svt au #kwanniverse #asheyxash #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol angst

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oddinary4bts · 9 months ago

Text

Sweet | ksj

☆request:

Congratulations on the milestone ! Can we get a Drabble of idol Jin coming back from the military and trying to sort out his situationship with the girl he left behind when he went into the military?

☆pairings: idol!Seokjin x female!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: idol!au, a bit of angst, fluff and smut

☆warnings: unedited, cursing, explicit content: oral sex (female receiving), fingering, jerking off, protected sex (with mentions of unprotected sex), big dick!Jin

☆word count: 3.5k

☆a/n: i did not expect to write smut in this but here we are haha i hope you guys like this one! i had a lot of fun writing it <3

☆☆☆☆☆

It's so sweet, knowing that you love me Though we don't need to say it to each other, sweet Knowing that I love you, and running my fingers through your hair It's so sweet

Sweet - Cigarettes After Sex

☆☆☆☆☆

Seokjin hasn’t seen you in ages, his military service whisking him away from…

From whatever his relationship with you was. Not quite a relationship, but more than friendship, Seokjin thinks he was too immature a year and a half ago to understand you. But when you sent him a message two days ago to congratulate him for finishing his service, he figured he should see you.

If only so that he can give you the closure he never gave you. Because he practically ghosted you when he started his service, not replying to your messages after his obligatory training where he couldn’t touch his phone anyway.

He felt bad. Horrible even, but the distance seemed necessary after the words you last exchanged.

After you all but confessed your love for him.

It was too much too soon, or maybe he truly was just immature then. Because today, as his car is eating the miles to your apartment, he thinks maybe he was wrong. The heaviness in his chest makes it feel so, as does the rain battering his windshield.

Seokjin parks outside on the street in front of your building, glancing up to see the lights are on in your apartment. His hands turn clammy, and he rubs them on his jeans in a failed attempt to dry them.

It doesn’t work, because the second you’re buzzing him in, they become clammy again and he’s too anxious to even think about drying them again. The anxiety only keeps increasing as he climbs the stairs to the second floor, worrying at some skin on his bottom lip, and it reaches a never-seen-before high as he stops in front of your door.

He takes a deep breath to ease his nerves, thinking about the many times he was here before. That night after your first date - a blind date his friend set up for him - when you told him to come home with him.

He should have known then that it was setting your story in a way that wouldn’t end well for you, to go home with you that night.

Seokjin raises his fist, and he thinks his hand is shaking. He ignores it, pretends he’s as confident as always, and he knocks three times, lowering his hand as he waits for you to open. It doesn’t take you long - he wouldn’t be surprised if you were waiting on the other side of the door.

You’re… beautiful. You were back then, but the months apart have done you good, and Seokjin’s throat dries as he just looks at you, his lips parting on a silent vowel. You just stand there, shining like an angel as a small, shy smile lights your features, your eyes crinkling at the corners.

Seokjin doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Has never believed it, and though today may not be his first sight of you, it surely renders him speechless, his brain emptying until there’s just you.

“Hey,” you greet him, your voice like a melody conjured from a dream.

“Y/n,” he answers, and your name feels right, righter than anything before.

Your smile widens, and you step aside to let him in. He walks in, fully aware of how close your bodies are as you shut the door, but then you move back and he immediately misses your proximity.

What is wrong with him?

“How have you been?” you ask.

“Good,” he replies, swallowing. “Better now.”

He means the words. He means them more than he’s ever meant anything in his life, and he thinks you catch the meaning behind his sentence. Because blush creeps on your cheeks, and your gaze drops to the floor.

“What about you?” he quickly adds, not wanting you to feel embarrassed.

“I’m… good,” you answer, and you let out a small chuckle. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”

You’re direct. It’s something he’s always thought was admirable about you, but the revelation hurts, sending a pang through his chest.

“Y/n…” he trails off.

“But you’re here now,” you say, and your smile turns pained, sad.

How many sleepless nights has he caused you?

“I am,” he says, voice small. “I’m sorry.”

“I get it.” You shrug your shoulders. “You were busy with your service, it’s not like it was easy to maintain a…” You never finish the sentence, even though Seokjin waits patiently for you to say it.

For you to acknowledge that it was just a situationship, that maybe you both just played each other.

“I really am sorry, though,” Seokjin insists, looking down at his shoes. “You did not deserve that.”

You nod once, your gaze trailing to the side. “Then, can I ask… Why did you want to see me?”

His heart stops in his chest. He’s still struck by the sight of you, barely unable to form coherent sentences, but you deserve an explanation.

You deserve closure, if that’s what you want.

“I thought…” he trails off, wets his lips before continuing, “I thought you deserved closure.”

You take a deep breath. “I don’t think it’s necessary.”

He thinks you’re dismissing him. It feels like you are, like you’re telling him to leave, but he just stands there, drinking your features in.

Choking on the hurt he knows he’s caused.

“I really apologize, Y/n,” he adds, voice barely above a whisper. “You did not deserve the radio silence. I… I kind of thought it would be better for you, that you deserved better than being stuck with someone that was going to be gone for months.”

“You could have just said so…” you point out.

Seokjin sighs, his gaze dropping to the ground in shame. “I know. I was stupid, and I was immature too. Which is bad considering I’m in my thirties now but… yeah. I’m really sorry.”

You don’t say anything for a time, the silence getting heavier with every second passed. Seokjin meets your gaze, and he wonders if you can tell how guilty he’s been feeling. He thinks you might, because you wet your lips, glancing to the side, and then you say, “You came all the way here to say this?”

He nods. “You deserved better than a text message. When you texted me two days ago, it reminded me of all the good times we’ve spent together.” The truth comes to the surface, and Seokjin whispers it, afraid he’s going to scare you away. “I’ve missed you, Y/n.”

The world must have stopped turning. Time must have stopped, because you just stand there unblinkingly. He’s not sure you’re even breathing. But then slowly, like the first sun rays in the morning, a smile spreads on your lips.

You’re beautiful, too beautiful, and Seokjin can’t believe he got scared last year. He doesn’t think there’s anything scary about the woman standing in front of him.

“And you think I’ll just forgive you like this?” you ask even though you’re smiling.

It’s like a stab to the chest. His heart aches, and Seokjin doesn’t know what to reply. He’s aware he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness, but he wanted to give you his truth.

“I don’t think I deserve it, honestly,” he says. He gulps around a sudden lump in his throat, glancing around your apartment if only so that he can commit it to memory. “But I have missed you. I’ve felt guilty about it for months, but didn’t know how to approach you. Didn’t think you’d want me texting you out of the blue. I just… When you reached out, I just couldn’t let you go without at least having apologized.”

You nod, leaning against the wall as if your legs can’t support you anymore. “Thank you for apologizing.”

He reckons he’s losing you. Not that he really had you to begin with, but Seokjin thinks he’s losing you, and it hurts more than he ever thought it would.

“Of course.”

There’s another silence of lingering heaviness, and then you nod your head. Push up from the wall and walk in your apartment, sitting down on the couch. You offer him a small smile, patting the spot next to you.

“Come in,” you tell him. “Let’s catch up.”

He widens his gaze, not really believing what you just said. But then again, he knows you’re a forgiving person - he’ll make sure you don’t regret your decision.

And he doesn’t think you do. No, you spend the rest of the afternoon chatting, with you telling him all about your work and that annoying coworker that used to get on your nerves last year too. It’s easy, filled with smiles and laughs and reminiscing, and when you invite him for dinner, Seokjin decides to cook for you.

He doesn’t want you to lift a single finger for him, not when he wants to make it up to you. And he thinks he does, to a certain extent. You’re beaming by the time you’ve finished eating, telling him that you missed his food the most, and Seokjin complains that you only like him for his food. You just laugh it off, and then tell him that he’ll have to cook a thousand more meals for you.

Call him crazy, but he knows he will. He’ll cook every meal for you if that means he gets a chance with you again. One that he promises to himself that he won’t fuck up. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t make a move tonight - he tries to respect you, to respect the fact that you might need a bit of distance from him before you want to be with him like that again.

He thinks it was the right decision. He thinks it was worth the weeks of waiting before you kissed him for the first time again, in a different setting this time. At his own apartment, after you’ve had his Jajjangmyeon. You kiss softly, by the door, and Seokjin wonders if you can hear the wild beats of his heart in his chest.

You have to. Because you lay a hand on his chest right above his heart as you pull away from the kiss. You’re smiling, your cheeks slightly flushed as you look between his two eyes. And then you say, “I want you tonight.”

Seokjin doesn’t need to hear more. He cups your cheeks, stealing a languid kiss on your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers brush the strands of hair at the back of his head, and then you tug on them a little.

He grunts, pushing you back towards the door. He lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist, bringing your heat dangerously close to his dick. He’s already getting hard, blood shooting down from his heart to his cock, and he grinds into you, swallowing the soft moan you let out.

A second later, you tease his bottom lip with your tongue, and Seokjin lets you in, getting drunk to the taste of you. He’s so high with the taste of you that his mind is elsewhere - he doesn’t know how you make it to his bed. All he knows is that, ten minutes later, you’re splayed out on his bed like his own personal feast, and the sight of your glistening pussy makes him go feral.

He kneels between your thighs, hooks your legs on his shoulders before leaning closer, lapping your juices up. You make a breathy sound he remembers from every night he couldn’t sleep during his military service, instead thinking about how much he missed you.

You taste good. You taste sweet and salty, a perfect mix to his senses that makes him forget everything else but you. He circles your clit with his tongue, teases the bundle of nerves before he goes back to your entrance, pushing his tongue in once. You moan, one hand finding his hair to tug at the strands, and you instinctively grind in his face. Seokjin flattens his tongue to let you do it, to let you seek friction on the wet muscle, and then he unleashes himself, eats you out like you’re his last meal on this Earth.

You’re panting already, alternating between mewls and moans by the time he pushes a finger inside of you, fighting against your already tightening walls. They relax when he sucks on your clit, and he takes it as an opportunity to push another finger in, curling his digits to hit the right spot inside of you.

After all, he knows he needs to stretch you out before he’ll be able to fuck you. You’re on the smaller side, and he’s… bigger than a lot of guys, so you do need the stretching. And he’s pleased to oblige, circling your clit, flicking it until your walls start spasming on his fingers. Not even a heartbeat later, you’re coming, his name on your lips in a sinful cry as he rides you through the orgasm, going feral with the sounds you make, and mostly with the taste of you.

His chin is covered with your juices by the time he sits back on his heels. He licks his fingers clean as you watch him through half-lidded eyes, and then he grabs his discarded shirt from the side - he barely remembers getting naked - to wipe his face dry.

You’re naked too. A literal goddess sent from above to grace him with your presence. You’re everything he could have ever wished for, and he still can’t understand how stupid he was last year.

To think he could have had you during the rare breaks from his service…

He was stupid. Stupid, foolish and everything in between, but at least he’s here with you now.

“Wow,” you let out, a small chuckle falling from your lips. You’re visibly fucked out, yet you still manage to rock his world as you reach for his dick, giving him a squeeze. “I want you.”

Shit.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as you start stroking him.

“So big…” He grunts at your crude words. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about sex with you for weeks, Jin.”

He looks around, searching for his pants. They’re over by the door, a lot farther away than he imagined they would be. It feels far, too far, considering he’s already nestled between your legs.

“What?” you let out, and you grip him tighter.

He feels it in his balls. He hasn’t had sex in forever - you being the last one before his service - so obviously he knows he won’t last. He’s so horny he thinks he’d be able to come all over your stomach if you keep jerking him off. But he stops you, gently wrapping his hand around yours to restrain your motions.

“Baby,” he breathes out. “Shit, let me grab a condom.”

“You don’t want to fuck me raw?” you tease, biting at your lower lip. “I haven’t had sex with anyone since you.”

The words please him far more than he thought they would. It feels like, maybe, you were his all this time too.

He says your name like a warning, but you only smirk mischievously.

“Afraid I’ll get pregnant?” you add. “Don’t you think we’d make pretty babies?”

You would. He knows damn well you would and it wouldn’t even be because of him. It’d be all you - your beauty is incomparable.

“As much as I want to get you pregnant one day,” Seokjin replies, moving away from you. He misses your hand on him the second you let go, but it’s for the best. “I don’t think we are there yet,” he continues. “But I promise I’ll fuck babies into you one day.”

You close your thighs instinctively at his words as if you’re still searching for friction.

As if you didn’t come on his tongue just a minute ago.

It doesn’t take Seokjin a long time before he’s put a condom on, discarding the package in the trash can next to your bed. You’ve just been watching him, and he kneels back between your legs, his balls already tightening in anticipation.

He rubs his tip on your folds, collecting the glistening juice. Your mouth falls open on a silent moan, especially as he moves to your clit. One of your legs twitches from oversensitivity, or at least he assumes it’s because of that, and he aligns himself with your entrance.

“Let me know if it hurts,” he tells you.

“Don’t you remember how well I could-”

Your words are cut short as Seokjin pushes in, your walls sucking him in slowly and surely until he bottoms out, some of his dick still sticking out of you. You just look at him, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, and Seokjin licks his lips, saying, “You were saying?”

“I’ve missed this.”

Your words ring in his mind, on and on, erasing everything that he is to build him anew, to build him in a way that finally allows him to be with you. His heart fills with warmth, exploding like fireworks, and he bends down to capture your lips in a kiss that means more than words ever could.

He doesn’t move for a while, warming his cock in you while he just keeps on kissing you, not even stopping for breathing. It’s like he doesn’t need it - hell, he thinks all he needs is you. And you kiss him back with so much passion he thinks this is it, he’s reached nirvana.

The feeling perseveres as he slowly pulls his hips back, before pushing forward again, the motion making his entire body tingle with pleasure. He swallows your soft moan, grunts in your mouth as your pussy clenches on him. Your hands are on his back, in his hair, and the second you pull on the strands again, he lifts his head, meeting your gaze.

“You feel so good,” you praise, eyes sparkling.

He smiles softly, pecking your forehead, and then he kneels back to take in the sight of you as he slowly fucks into you, spearing you open. The sight of your pussy swallowing his dick is indecent in the best way, and he progressively increases the rhythm, making sure not to hurt you.

He wouldn’t forgive himself if he did. So he fucks you gently, faster and faster but never hard, not until your hands find his thighs, your nails digging into his skin. He grunts then, swearing underneath his breath, and then says, “I really don’t want to hurt you.”

“Jin, it’s okay,” you let out. You smile, wetting your lips. “Just fuck me.”

He lets out what could be considered as a whine, and then his motions grow rougher. He stops himself after a few thrusts, and you meet his gaze, looking slightly annoyed that he stopped.

“You have to tell me if it hurts, okay?” he says as he cups your cheek.

You smile softly, nodding once. “I will, I promise.”

Once the reassurance is finally uttered, Seokjin finally lets himself go, fucking you like his life depends on it. You’re soon moaning loudly, and he has half a thought that his neighbours might hear. But then again it turns him on even more to know he’s the one making you scream like that, and he’s soon moaning with you, praising you as he slowly feels his climax nearing.

But he wants you closer when he comes. Wants to feel you in his arms, to feel his skin on yours. So he leans forward again, caging you between his arms as he keeps fucking you into the mattress. Your nails soon scratch at his back, leaving marks he knows he’ll have to hide but can’t bring himself to care about.

“Fuck, Jin,” you moan, and his head drops in the crook of your neck.

“I’m going to come,” he says, and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close as the high finally hits him, and he releases loads and loads of cum in the condom.

He thinks he’s floating. He’s just a leaf floating away on a small lake, unbothered by the world. His whole body feels so light, and the only thing tethering him to the present is your arms around his neck.

He’s never come this hard before.

“You okay?” you ask as you rub his back.

He grunts, trying to lift his head but failing. “Holy shit.”

You laugh lightly, and the crystalline sound is what finally brings him back down to Earth, what has to be minutes later.

“Wow.” He chuckles, pecks your lips. “That was amazing.”

You smile, your fingers drawing idle shapes on his back. “It was.”

Seokjin meets your gaze, taking a moment to observe the feelings swirling behind your irises, deep in the depths of your eyes. The emotions are like northern lights, swishing and shining and more beautiful than anything he’s ever seen before.

This time, Seokjin doesn’t get scared. This time, he takes the emotions in, knowing that they are reflected in his own gaze. And though you haven’t told it to each other, he knows that you love him.

And more than that, he knows that he loves you, too.

☆☆☆☆☆

hope you guys liked it:) let me know what you think about this one shot! love y'all <3

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